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“AND IF A STRANGER SOJOURN WITH THEE IN YOUR LAND, YE SHALL NOT VEX HIM.” —LEVITICUS 19:33

S ean looked at the resume lying on his desk and then pushed his secretary’s call button. “Barb, get me Jake Roberts on the phone. Now!”

Jake’s voice came over the line. “Hey buddy, what can I do for ya?”

“For starters, you can tell me why in the devil you went behind my back and hired a female safety consultant.”

There was a pause before Jake cleared his throat. “Now take it easy, Sean. Miss Lassiter came highly recommended, and her educational background and experience are perfect. She has a bachelor of science in business administration and a master’s in industrial safety and hygiene.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m looking at her resume right now. You know as well as I do that the words on this piece of paper don’t amount to a hill of beans. What were you thinking?”

“But she has experience. She’s even co-oped in a hardwood sawmill that’s very similar to ours.”

Sean blew out a breath. “Don’t I have enough to worry about with this OSHA inspection coming up? Now you’re giving me a woman to baby-sit?”

“Look man, I know you’re upset and I don’t blame you, but the bottom line is that she came highly recommended.”

“Oh yeah? By who?”

Silence filled the phone, and Sean heard Jake sigh. “You know I’m not at liberty to tell you everything.”

“Oh, I see. You’ll hang me out to dry, but you won’t tell me why.”

“All I can say is that the decision came through ownership.”

He paused. “Sounds like Miss Lassiter must have some friends in high places.”

“Yeah, looks that way.”

Sean grunted. “Well, that’s just great!”

“Look, this is beyond my control … and yours. I suggest you get used to the idea because the decision is final. And by the way, she’s reporting to work today.”

“Fine!” Sean slammed down the phone.

Barb stuck her head in the door. “Everything all right?”

“Oh, it’s par for the course.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

He clamped his lips shut. “No.”

His secretary stood tongue-tied for a moment. “Suit yourself,” she said.

He didn’t notice she’d left the room.

Barb took the gold compact out of her purse and powered her nose before expertly applying her burgundy wine lipstick. The lines around her eyes and lips were getting deeper. A regimented exercise program kept her body looking like a twenty-year-old, but all the exercise in the world couldn’t seem to restore the vitality she’d had in her younger years. She lifted her chin and patted the flesh under her neck, commanding it to firm up.

It seemed hard to believe she’d worked at this mill as long as she had. It was supposed to be a temporary job, a rung on her way to the top. Now, two divorces and twelve years later, here she sat.

“Excuse me. I’m here to see Sean O’Conner.”

Barb looked up to see the epitome of youth standing in front of her. “Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Her eyes followed the blonde as she seated herself near the window and gracefully crossed her legs. Small pearls adorned her ears, and her hair was twisted in a bun held by a simple pearl comb. She wore a white, silk blouse and pleated navy pants. Barb sucked in her stomach. You had to be tall and lean to get away with looking that good in pleated pants.

Even though Barb didn’t have much to keep her busy, she kept the woman waiting for a few minutes. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I doubt that.” Barb saw the look of surprise that flickered over the young woman’s face. She watched her lean forward in her seat.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what is your name?”

“Sydney Lassiter.”

“Humph,” Barb said and looked down at her appointment schedule.

Sydney studied the petite brunette and guessed the woman to be in her early forties. Good grief. What was the deal? Why was the woman being so hostile? The sound of a vehicle door closing caught Sydney’s attention, and she looked out the window. Two men were getting out of a pickup truck. One of them was ordinary looking, but the other man looked like he just stepped out of GQ Magazine. There weren’t many men who could compare with Adam Sinclair as far as looks were concerned, but even Adam paled in comparison to this man. He was about six foot, four inches tall and had an athletic but slender build. His dark hair and olive skin shimmered in the morning sun, reminding her of a Greek statue she’d seen in Rome, Italy. But there was nothing statuesque about this man; every inch of him screamed alive . For an instant, Sydney forgot her appointment, and her heart skipped a beat. This guy was dangerous, the kind of man who could distract her from accomplishing her goal. If he worked in the mill, she would stay as far away from him as she could get.

She watched the man walk around the side of the building and out of sight.

The secretary cleared her throat, causing Sydney’s face to warm. She realized the secretary had been watching her and hoped her face hadn’t revealed her admiration. Sydney turned to face the woman.

“Mr. O’Conner is out of the office,” the secretary said. “You’ll have to wait.”

“When do you expect him back?”

Barb’s eyebrow arched. “When he comes through the door.”

Sydney nodded and leaned back in her chair. She tried to ignore the flash of irritation that sparked.

Twenty minutes later, Sydney was still waiting. She approached the secretary’s desk. “Is there any way you can call Mr. O’Conner and let him know that I’m here? He is expecting me.”

Instead of answering, the secretary pushed a button on her phone. “Sean, Sydney Lassiter’s here to see you.”

A voice came through the speaker. “Yeah, she’s late. Our appointment was at ten o’clock. Obviously, punctuality is not very high up on Ms. Lassiter’s priority list.” There was a slight pause. “Tell her to wait another five minutes, will you Barb?”

“Will do.” The woman turned to Sydney and shot her a look of triumph. “It will be another few minutes.”

“I heard.” Sydney’s blood began to boil. “You knew who I was all along, and you knew that Mr. O’Conner was expecting me.”

A red light flashed on the secretary’s phone. Barb and Sydney stared down at it. “Yes?”

“Tell Ms. Lassiter that I will see her now.”

“Well that was a mighty quick five minutes. Don’t you agree?” Sydney asked.

Barb stood, but before she could move, Sydney walked around her desk and opened the door to the inner offices. “Don’t bother. I can find my own way.”

It wasn’t very hard to find Sean O’Conner’s office. The house, turned office, was little bigger than a bathtub. Sydney walked through the room, crowded with a copy machine, fax machine, and a few desks, then back to the closed door that read Sawmill Manager . She knocked once and then opened the door.

There was Mr. GQ himself, sitting in his chair with one foot propped up on his desk. He seemed annoyed that he had to remove it and sit upright in his chair.

“Have a seat,” he said, not bothering to stand. “Ms. Lassiter, I presume?”

The man had looked so appealing from a distance. Her first impression of him vanished in the wake of his sour attitude. “That’s right. But you can call me Sydney.”

He attempted a smile, but to her it looked more like a grimace. “Barb, would you please bring us some coffee?” Sydney turned to look behind her. She didn’t realize that Sean’s secretary had followed her to his office.

“No, none for me,” Sydney said, holding up her hand. “I don’t drink coffee.”

Sean raised an eyebrow, as if he couldn’t believe she had the audacity to refuse his hospitality. “Well, I’d like a cup.”

Sydney reached for her briefcase. “Jake Roberts and I discussed the fatal accident that occurred on May 15 th . He gave me a copy of all the citations against the sawmill, two of which are alleged willful citations. I’ve been going over these and I?—”

“I believe I asked for a cup of coffee.” For a brief second Sydney thought he was talking to her, and then she realized his secretary was still standing behind her. He motioned at the woman. “In case you didn’t realize, that’s your cue.”

Sydney was itching to turn around and look but she didn’t dare. The devil secretary, a.k.a. Barb, had pulled out her pitchfork, and it was pointed right at her.

“Why anything you say, your majesty. You are the boss. Although some days I’m not sure why.”

Sydney could hear her harrumphing down the hall. Even the room breathed a little fresher with her gone. She looked at Sean to see his reaction but his face remained neutral. He seemed completely unaffected. What kind of man was she dealing with?

Then Sydney noticed that he was staring at her. “I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Lassiter …”

He didn’t mean to be rude? What did he think he just was? Sydney’s eyes met his in a challenge.

“I mean you just don’t seem like the type to be roaming the woodlands with all these back woods loggers.”

“Exactly what type do I look like?” The words had come out before she could call them back. She shook her head and started over, trying this time to keep her temper in check. “I can understand why you feel the way you do, Mr. O’Conner, but I’m more qualified and competent to do this job than any man you’ll ever find, and I guarantee you I won’t let you down.”

“Well, considering you were hired without my consent, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

She wanted to wither. It took her a second to find her voice. “No, you don’t.” She spoke her next words very deliberately. “I can do the job with or without your help. But it would be in both of our best interests if we work together.”

He seemed to be weighing her words before he spoke. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

His dark eyes were flashing like they held all the power in the world, and she wasn’t sure if she’d gotten through to him or if he was just paying her lip service. “Like I said, Mr. O’Conner, Jake gave me a list of the OSHA citations. I’m also going to need some background information on the safety problems and the accidents that have occurred.”

“First of all, call me Sean. I’m not your father.”

Before Sydney could respond, Barb returned with the coffee. She gave Sydney a hateful look as she traipsed by. I know what’s eating you, and Mr. GQ is all yours, Sydney wanted to yell.

“What’re you doing?” Sean jumped up from his chair.

It took Sydney a second to realize what happened. Barb had spilt the entire cup of hot coffee into his lap. Well, spilt or dumped. It was hard to say which.

Without a word, Barb turned and fled.

Sean grabbed a box of tissues and began furiously wiping his pants. After he’d gone through the entire box, he grimaced at the dark stains that now had shreds of tissue mixed in. “Well, this is just great!” He looked at Sydney, who was trying her hardest not to smile.

“I apologize for Barb. I don’t know what got into her. If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to the rest of this crazy crew.”

Sean led her down the hall where Sydney could hear laughter and a buzz of conversation coming from the far end. Before they went in, a deep voice boomed. “Stop accidents, my foot! I’ve seen this chick and believe me, when she walks through the mill and those guys down there get a look at her, she’ll cause more accidents than an oil spill at the Talladega 500.” The room exploded with laughter.

Sydney’s face burned. Her eyes met Sean’s. Neither of them spoke. Her first instinct was to run and catch the first flight back to Ft. Worth, but she wouldn’t do that. There was too much at stake. Instead, she squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “I’m ready to go in now.”

He held out his hand. “After you.”

Sean scanned the room. “Guys, I’d like for you to meet Sydney Lassiter, our new safety consultant. Sydney, this is the gang.”

Sydney smiled and waved. The men and woman sitting around the huge mahogany table stopped talking and looked at her. She wished she had a camera to take a picture of their facial expressions. They had to know that she’d heard the comment about her. After what seemed like an eternity, a tall, potbellied, burley man with a mustache and auburn hair stood. “I’m Joe Slaton, the manager for the outlying woodlands. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you,” Sydney said.

Next, a short middle-aged man extended a limp hand to Sydney. “I’m Dean Moore the accountant for the sawmill.”

An older lady stood and smiled at Sydney. “I’m Louellen Jackson, the mill’s bookkeeper and payroll clerk.”

“Hello Louellen, nice to meet you.” There was a quiet dignity about the stately gray-haired woman that was a stark contrast to Barb’s tartness. Her appearance was impeccable. It was obvious that Louellen had been a beauty in her day. Maybe this was someone she could be friends with.

“Louellen’s been here longer than anyone,” Sean said. “She’s the historian around here.”

Sydney made a mental note to remember that.

Sean introduced her to a couple of other men and then looked around. “Where’s Buck? And Van Allen?”

“Van Allen’s on vacation this week,” Louellen said.

“And Buck?”

“Knowing him, he could be anywhere.” Joe Slaton chuckled. Everyone except Sean laughed.

“I’ll have to introduce you to them later. Van Allen is our lumber salesman, and Buck Gibson is our mill foreman.”

Sydney had a thousand questions she would like to ask, including who made the wise crack about her, but decided that it was not the time or the place.

After everyone left, Sean turned to Sydney. “You’ve probably already noticed that we’re short on office space.” He pointed. “There’s an empty desk over by the window in the conference room that you can use. I’ll catch up with you later on this afternoon.”

Calling Adam Sinclair was the last thing Sydney had planned to do. It was one of those things that just happened. Quite possibly it was the combination of her awful day at work and visit to the grocery store that culminated in her temporary lapse in good judgment. After her initial meeting with Sean O’Conner, she sat in the conference room, waiting for him to do as he’d promised and “catch up with her later on in the afternoon.” When he never came, she went looking for him. He wasn’t in his office or in the building. She could have asked his secretary where he’d gone but decided it would be best to avoid the demon woman at all costs. She asked Louellen and Dean. Neither of them knew the whereabouts of Sean or where the accident records were kept.

At five o’clock, Sydney called it a wash and left. She couldn’t very well conduct an inspection of the sawmill in her silk shirt and open-toed sandals. Tomorrow she would come to work dressed appropriately so she could explore the sawmill on her own. Sean O’Conner might have pigeon-holed her today, but it wouldn’t happen again.

She left work and went straight to the Piggly Wiggly to do some major grocery shopping. Things had been so hectic since her arrival in town that she’d bought only the bare necessities. Peanut butter and jelly was all she had to eat at her house, and the very thought of choking down one more sticky sandwich was enough to make her gag.

At the grocery store, when she walked down the aisles, every person in the store stopped what they were doing and stared at her. It was as if she were an alien from a foreign planet. She was: Ft. Worth. Everyone in the store seemed to know where they belonged. She watched the ladies talking amongst themselves in the aisles. They had so much to say to each other. She had nothing. Where did she belong?

Back home, Sydney opened her front door and went inside. She listened to the lonely whistle from the nearby train. That’s when she decided to call Adam. She hadn’t heard from him since she left Ft. Worth. Her fingers punched the buttons by instinct, and she waited for him to answer. After the fourth ring, she was about to hang up when his voice came over the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

When he paused, she knew that calling him was a terrible mistake. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

She searched for something to say. “How’s work?”

“Hectic, like always.”

Silence.

“Look, I know things haven’t been that great between us,” she said, fumbling for words. “But I was just hoping that …” She stopped. Was that laughter she heard in the background? A girl’s laughter? “Who’s there with you?”

He snorted. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

“It was just a simple question.”

Her hand gripped the phone. His silence told her all she needed to know.

Her voice broke. “Did I not mean anything to you?”

“You made your decision. It’s too late to come crying back now. Grow up, Sydney,” she heard him say. She hung up.

She stared at the phone. It took her a few seconds to realize it was ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Sydney Lassiter?”

“Yes, it is.”

“This is Kendall Fletcher. Uh, we met a couple of days ago.”

“I remember you.” She knew the tone of her voice was coarse but didn’t care. It felt good to vent her frustrations.

“I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me this Friday.”

“Let me check my calendar.” She reached in the grocery sack and retrieved a box of Fruity Pebbles and glanced at the back. “No, Friday’s not good for me.”

He stuttered around a few seconds, long enough for her to fear that he wasn’t going to ask her out for another day. “Saturday then?”

“Sounds good. What time?”

“Seven o’clock.”

“Do you need directions to my house? Okay then, see you Saturday.”

True to her word, Sydney’s realtor, Tess Lambert, showed up a week later to check on her. And as Murphy’s Law would have it, her visit came fifteen minutes before Kendall Fletcher was to arrive for their date. When Sydney heard the doorbell, she felt a flash of irritation at him for arriving early. Well, he’d just have to wait.

In all honesty, she was more piqued with herself than Kendall. Around 5:30 she decided to go for a short jog, thinking she would have plenty of time to get ready. Unfortunately, time-management was one of her greatest weaknesses. She always tried to cram too many things into her schedule.

When she looked through the peep-hole and saw that it was Tess instead of Kendall, she frowned. Tess was donning green oven mitts clear up to her elbows, juggling two large casserole dishes.

“Tess, this is a surprise.”

“Well, hidy Sydney. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Well, actually … I was just?—”

Tess breezed past her. “I’ll just put these dishes in the kitchen.”

“Those are for me?”

“I brought you a little taste of Stoney Creek hospitality masked in the form of squash casserole and blackberry cobbler. Or in the words of my mother, comfort food .”

“Thank you.” Sydney tried to think. She hadn’t had squash casserole in … she couldn’t remember how long it had been.

Tess was like most Southerners. She’d driven Sydney around Stoney Creek, showing her property available for rent, and in the short span of an afternoon told Sydney her entire family history, going back a generation. Tess Lambert wasn’t originally from Stoney Creek or homegrown as she called it.

“I’m a transplant to Stoney Creek,” Tess said. “Although I try not to show it.” She chuckled. “I love this little town, warts and all. Give it time, and I guarantee that you’ll feel the same way.”

Sydney bit her tongue and smiled.

Tess was examining the place. “Sure does look nice.” She ran her finger over the dining room table. “Stickley?

”Sydney nodded.

Tess was from Charleston, South Carolina, and spoke in a drawling accent that sounded exaggerated, like she was playing Scarlett O’Hara on the stage. All she needed to complete the picture was a hooped skirt and parasol.

Sydney’s polite facade was wearing as thin as a sheet of veneer. She looked at her watch. “It’s so good of you to stop by, but I’m afraid I have an appointment.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you. It looks like you’re getting along all right.”

“Yes,” Sydney lied, “it’s starting to feel like home.”

The two women walked back into the living room and past the front window where they saw Kendall pulling up. Tess gave Sydney an insinuating smile. “Oh, I see why you’re in such a hurry to rush me out the door.”

Sydney’s face flushed. She could have strangled the woman.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew our charming football coach.”

“There are quite a few things that you don’t know about me,” Sydney said, giving the woman a withering look.

Tess laughed good-naturedly. “I look forward to getting to know all of those things. In Stoney Creek, everybody knows everything about everybody.”

Now that was something Sydney could believe.

“Honey, I’m so glad that Kendall has you,” Tess said, catching Sydney’s arm. “He’s had a rough time, losing his father and all.”

Sydney stopped and turned to face the woman. “His father? Did he die?”

Tess leaned near Sydney and spoke in low tones. “Joe Fletcher shot himself. He told his wife not to bother him, that he would be out in the shed, cleaning his guns. Kendall was the one who found him.”

Sydney’s face drained of color.

“I just thought you ought to know.”

The doorbell rang. Before Sydney could respond, Tess opened the door wide and took over the role as hostess. “Kendall Fletcher, you get yourself in here and give me a hug.”

If Kendall was surprised to see Tess greeting him at the door, he didn’t show it. He smiled and gave her a broad hug and a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Sydney was still trying to digest the news that Kendall’s father was dead. She looked at him, standing there on the porch and saw him not as he was but as the little boy he would have been. How could he stand it? Finding his father that way. She felt the sudden urge to throw her arms around him and tell him it would be okay.

“How’s your mama doing?” Tess asked.

“She’s feeling much better.”

“I’ve been meaning to get over and see her. You tell her I said hello.” Tess looked at Sydney and squeezed Kendall’s arm. “This fella here is one of the finest you’ll ever meet.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Sure is.” She winked. “And a nice catch to boot.”

Before Sydney could think up a reply, Tess started out the door. “Y’all have fun. I’ll come back next week to collect my dishes.”

She watched Tess glide to her car. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Tess and Kendall were acquainted, but their familiarity awoke a yearning that confused her. All of the people in this town were so connected.

Kendall turned toward Sydney and looked at her. Time seemed to pause for one breathless second. He gave her a slow, shy smile that melted through to her toes. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said softly. He was standing so close that she might’ve heard the beating of his heart or was it her own? She took a step back to recover herself.

He reached out to steady her while his hazel eyes flickered over her. “Why don’t I have a seat while you finish getting ready?”

She looked down at her bare feet and then at his jeans, loafers, and white v-necked polo shirt. She smiled. “Okay, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

She headed to her bedroom. Her first impression of Kendall Fletcher had been wrong. She’d pegged him as insecure. He was the exact opposite. Beneath his shyness, there was a strong force. It was like he already knew.

She belonged to him.