gotten him or his team members killed.
But officers and foreigners belonged to his past. Jodie was his future and one hundred percent red-blooded American woman, the prettiest he’d ever seen. His long-suppressed interest soared.
“I can talk,” she was saying, “but only a minute. Want some coffee? I have a fresh pot.”
“Sounds good.”
Jeff reined in his galloping imagination and focused on the job at hand. Since his return, he’d been met with mixed reactions in his hometown, everything from curiosity to encouragement to outright hostility. He wasn’t certain exactly where Jodie’s attitude fell on that continuum, but at least she hadn’t cut him off without letting him speak, more than he could say for some folks.
As a teen growing up in this backwater town, his go-to-hell attitude had been a good cover against loneliness and his outcast status. As an adult, he struggled to overcome the residual effects of that rebellious past in order to succeed.
And he wanted success, not only for himself, but especially for the kids whose lives hung in the balance.
Jodie returned with two mugs of coffee and nodded toward a table at the front of the café. The closest to the door, he noted with wry amusement. In case she needed to bolt into the street.
“You afraid of me?” he asked.
“Should I be?” She settled into a seat across from him.
He swung his leg over a chair and sat. “Most people in town are.”
She leaned her head to one side and studied him again, as if trying to make up her mind. Her incredible eyes, the irises a brilliant green rimmed with dark brown, didn’t blink. “Some folks say the Marines turned you into a killing machine.”
“And what do you say?”
“Did they?”
“Did I kill anyone?” He threw an internal wall around those grim memories, nightmares that sometimes haunted his sleep, and forced a grin. “That’s classified, ma’am. If I told you—”
“You’d have to kill me?” She smiled at the tired old joke. “My brother says you’re a good man. And Grant’s usually right.”
“Well, damn,” Jeff said with an exaggerated drawl, “and here I was, about to ask if you wanted anyone whacked. A decent reputation could ruin my future career as a hit man.”
Her expression sobered for a second, as if she wondered if she’d misjudged him. Then, recognizing his teasing, she smiled, like the sun coming from behind a cloud. Only his deeply ingrained self-control kept him from laughing with delight at her beauty.
Her smile vanished as quickly at it had appeared and morphed into a no-nonsense look. “You mentioned a business proposition.”
Detecting the skittishness beneath her poised facade, Jeff reminded himself to go slow, one phase at a time. “I need a caterer.”
She shook her head. “I don’t usually—”
“Grant told me.” Jeff wouldn’t give her time to refuse. “He also said your business has been slow and won’t pick up till Memorial Day weekend.”
“My brother talks too much.”
“Cut him some slack,” Jeff said. “He’s a vet who works mainly with cows and horses. He needs interaction with people who can talk back.”
“He has Merrilee.”
“Lucky man,” Jeff said with sincerity. “But before you turn me down, at least listen to what I have in mind. It’s really simple.”
“I’m listening.” But she’d crossed her arms across those perfect breasts and leaned back in her chair, closing him out with her body language.
“We’re having a dorm raising this weekend.”
“We?”
“A group of my former Marine buddies. We’re going to build a timber-frame dormitory for the camp. I need someone to provide food.”
Jodie shook her head. “Maria Ortega’s the only cook I have, and Saturday’s a busy day at the café.”
“I don’t need a cook. Just someone to furnish sandwiches, drinks, and enough carbs to keep us going till the job’s done.”
“A few good men can’t make their own sandwiches?” She raised one eyebrow.
“They could if I had time to plan and shop for groceries. But I’m up to my neck buying building supplies. I really need your help.”
He could almost see the wheels turning behind those deep-enough-to-drown-in eyes. “Grant and Merrilee are coming to lend a hand,” he added. “Maybe Merrilee could help you. I’ll pay top dollar.”
“How many to feed?”
“Eighteen, counting the framing crew, and they’re all big eaters.”
She rose and crossed the room, leaned over and removed something from beneath the counter. The movement pulled her green wool slacks taut across her slender hips and small bottom, a delectable sight. His mouth went dry.
She returned with a pad, pencil and calculator. “I’ll figure on a variety of subs and potato salad. Chili, too, if the weather’s cool. Several dozen cookies—chocolate chip, sugar, peanut butter—and some of Maria’s famous cakes and pies. Iced tea and coffee.”
“Sounds great.”
“You haven’t heard the price.” She remained all business.
He clamped his teeth to keep from admitting that cost didn’t matter. He could probably find someone else to provide food for his friends, but since seeing Jodie again, he wanted her more than ever as part of his special plans.
Man, that blow to the head in Afghanistan must have scrambled his senses. This was little Jodie Nathan, he reminded himself. Then why was he struggling to breathe, as if he’d just run a twenty-mile obstacle course with full gear?
“How much?” he forced himself to ask.
She punched numbers into the calculator and named her price.
He tensed to keep his jaw from dropping. That much for subs and cookies? She’d obviously jacked up the cost in hopes he’d go elsewhere. But even if he didn’t need her cooperation later, he would have agreed to the rip-off. He wanted Jodie there when his project started, because somehow she had suddenly become an integral part of his dream.
“It’s a deal.” He whipped out his checkbook, hastily wrote a check, and slid it across the table. He held out his hand to cinch the agreement.
Jodie blinked in surprise, but she took the check and grasped his hand with obvious reluctance. Hers felt small and delicate in his, but her grip was strong.
“Add doughnuts for a morning break,” he said before releasing her. “And I’ll need you on-site
