by Tara Randel
“Smitty’s had a pretty good slow-cooked pork special for lunch. If you’re lucky, Jamey might have some left for dinner.”
“Thanks. I’ll check it out.”
He stepped out to the sidewalk, the accordion-and-brass polka music drifting his way from the park. He really wasn’t in the mood for dancing and heavy German food, so he took Grace’s suggestion and walked the few more blocks to Smitty’s. Since Oktoberfest had started he hadn’t had a meal there. As he grew closer and inhaled the savory scents coming from the pub, he perked up. A decent meal and some small talk with Jamey might pull him out of his funk.
He opened the heavy door and stepped inside the pub, feeling right at home. The place was crowded, music booming from the speakers, loud voices and laughter rising to the rafters. Logan headed to the bar and grabbed an empty stool. Jamey came out of the kitchen with two plates, saw him and grinned.
“Let me serve these and I’ll be back.”
When the bartender came his way, Logan ordered a beer. After the last couple of days, he wanted to wind down.
“So,” Jamey said as he took up his post behind the bar. “The prodigal returns.”
“I was working.”
“Is that what you call it?”
Logan reached over to snag a handful of peanuts from the bowl. “I’m not in the mood for your lame attempt at joking.”
“It’s only lame if it misses the mark.”
“Trust me, you’re missing by a mile.”
“Sour grapes,” Jamey replied, not at all concerned about Logan’s comments. “Where have you been?”
“At the office.”
“I thought you were using my place as your office?”
“My real office. And thanks, by the way. I know I don’t talk about work or much about my life in Atlanta.”
Jamey grabbed a towel and wiped down the shiny wood surface as the bartender delivered Logan’s drink. “You will when you’re ready. But let me guess. Problems with the job?”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
“I played baseball with you in high school. You got the same look whenever you struck out.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.”
Logan had contacted the family who’d filed the fraud complaint. Went for the interview. The family recognized Stanhope’s picture, or Stanton, as they remembered him, and swore he was a representative for the company that had scammed them. He was a single father trying to make a life for his young daughter and he was so sincere and honest, they wouldn’t believe he’d been the one to actually steal their money. Logan tried to explain that he suspected Stanton to be behind the con, but they surprised him with the revelation that all the money they’d lost had been returned to them in full after they’d filed the fraud claim. They had no reason to believe Stanton had stolen their money.
“So what happened?”
“Right lead. Bad timing.”
“That’s why I own a pub. Less stressful.” Jamey placed a laminated menu before him.
“Grace said you featured a slow-cooked pork for lunch. Any chance I can get a box to go?”
“Coming up, my friend. This is sure to cure the blues.”
Logan doubted it, but he was hungry. Once he got his dinner he would head back to Reid’s to eat and then try to get a good night’s sleep. He’d deal with everything else—talking to Deke and catching up with Serena—tomorrow.
As he waited, he swiveled around on the stool. He envied folks having a good night while he had to bring his friend and client disappointing news. He’d been convinced that an interview with the family would prove that Stanton/Stanhope had been involved in a con, just as the Matthews brothers had suspected. He took a sip from his mug and caught sight of Serena seated at a table in the back.
Longing kicked him swift and hard in the gut. Under the overhead lights, her hair shone and her smile took his breath away. There she sat, owning his heart while he was out digging up dirt on her family. For the first time in his career he felt scummy, even though what he was doing was right.
“Food’ll be out in ten,” Jamey said from behind him. “We’re backed up in the kitchen.”
Logan turned around and placed his mug on the bar. “I’m going to talk to a friend.”
Jamey looked over Logan’s shoulder and chuckled. “A friend. Right.”
Tossing a few bills on the bar, Logan made his way through the crowd until he came to Serena’s table. He barely contained his shock when the man he’d been investigating sat with her.
“Serena, honey, you have company,” a woman he didn’t recognize announced. Serena looked up and her smile faded.
“Logan. I didn’t know you were back.”
“I returned a short while ago.”
She stood, as did the man at the table. She wore another of her signature blue-and-white dresses—this one made her look incredibly attractive. Her high-heeled shoes put her on eye level with him. “Logan, I’d like you to meet my father, James, and his girlfriend, Jasmine.”
James reached over to shake Logan’s hand. “Pleased to meet a friend of my daughter’s.”
Logan nodded, too stunned to react. He finally turned to Serena. “I stopped by the store. Heidi said you had visitors.”
“Surprise visitors,” Jasmine added. “Please, join us.”
He glanced at Serena, trying to decipher the unease on her face.
“Thanks, but I’m waiting for takeout.” He leaned toward Serena and said in a low voice near her ear, “But I wouldn’t mind a few minutes if you can spare the time.”
She bit her lower lip, clearly uncertain.
He added, “We can step outside if you’d like.”
She nodded, then told her father she’d be right back. Logan took her hand and they wended their way through the crowd to exit into the cool night. He steered her to the side of the building, where they could have privacy.
“Did your trip go okay?” she asked, running her hands up and down her arms for warmth.
“I’ve had better.” He stepped into the space between them and cupped the nape of her neck with his hand. Strands of her silky hair caressed his skin. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Her eyes went wide at his declaration and he decided to do the one thing he’d been thinking about for hours. He lowered his head, catching the affirmation in her eyes, and kissed her long and hard. Her hands ran up his chest to land on his shoulders as she steadied herself. His free hand tangled in her luxurious hair until he slid his fingers to her cheek. He savored the kiss, her lavender scent, the fact that she was in his arms.
When they finally broke the kiss, Serena’s hands drifted down his long sleeves and her eyelids slowly lifted, her gaze steady as she met his.
He realized then that he was well and truly lost to her.
Inhaling her scent, he rested his forehead against hers. Tried to slow his breathing but his chest kept rising and falling like he’d run a marathon.
“I missed you, too,” Serena finally said. “Didn’t exactly expect this welcome home greeting after the way we left things the other night.”
“I’m sorry about how I acted. I was concerned about my trip and—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “No need to explain. You’re here now.”
He was and didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.
“There are things we need to talk about,” she continued.
At her words his heart froze.
“After my guests leave.”
“Serena, I should probably tell you—”
She stopped him again. This time she whispered against his lips. “Can’t we have this night? Before everything changes?”
“Before what changes?”
She brushed her lips over his and he continued the kiss in earnest, trying to disregard he
r plea. He wanted this time with Serena, the woman of his dreams, before she found out he’d been investigating her. Before her affection turned to anger, because he hadn’t been up-front with her. Never mind he couldn’t tell her at the time, but that wouldn’t matter. Not in the end.
They kissed for what seemed like an eternity and still that wasn’t enough. She stepped back, her eyes dewy, her smile sweet.
“I should get back.”
He nodded, his throat tight.
“But we’ll sit down and talk soon.”
She stepped close, kissed his cheek and went back inside the pub. Logan fell back against the building, resting his head against the solid wood structure. What a mess this job had turned into.
Shaking off the feeling of despair, he turned the corner just as Jamey came out of the door.
“There you are.” He handed over a bag. “Dinner is served.”
Logan reached into his jeans pocket for more money. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
“By the look on your face,” Jamey said, clapping him on the back, “this one’s on the house.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“ARE YOU READY?” Carrie asked as Serena straightened the coffee cups she’d placed on the kitchen table, along with small plates and napkins, then angled the pastry platter and a bowl of freshly sliced fruit in the center. She wanted everything to be perfect.
“Coffee is brewing. Pastries are out.” She tucked her long fall of hair behind one ear. “My soon-to-be family will be here in minutes.” As she said the words, reality overwhelmed her. She grabbed Carrie’s hand, panic-stricken. “Brothers. Four of them.”
“I’m still getting used to the idea of meeting your father after knowing you for all these years,” Carrie said dryly.
“There’s so much...” Serena swallowed. “I have so much more to tell you.”
“Good thing I’m patient.”
“I owe you so much—your support, your advice, but most of all your steady friendship all these years.”
“Yet you never talked about your father.”
Serena grimaced. “It’s complicated.”
Humor flashed in Carrie’s eyes. “The best stories are.”
“I’m going to reveal everything, I promise. I owe you and Heidi that much.” She rubbed her palms over her denim skirt. “But first I need to meet the Matthewses.”
Carrie strolled to the couch to pick up her purse. “I would love to be a fly on the wall for this get-together, but I need to open the store.” She walked toward Serena and pointed at her. “But I want all the nitty-gritty details, got it?”
“I do.”
Tough talk over, Carrie pulled her into a hug. “They’re going to love you. Just like everyone else who knows you loves you.”
“I don’t know about everyone.”
Carrie stepped back. Sent Serena a knowing glance. “Logan?”
“I need to tell him the truth, too.”
“You’re starting to freak me out,” Carrie said. “Are you some kind of criminal?”
“Close.” Serena choked over the word.
“I did not just hear that.”
Serena placed her hands on her friend’s shoulders and turned Carrie toward the door. “Later. If I start talking now I won’t be able to stop, and I need all my wits about me when Dad and Jasmine arrive.”
“Now you’ve got me thinking the worst.”
“I’m hoping it’ll be fine.”
Carrie turned back to look at Serena. “Do you really believe that?”
“I have to.” She waved her hand in a shooing motion. “Now go.”
Shaking her head, Carrie left the apartment. In the ensuing quiet, Serena rearranged the cups and plates on the table, plumped a few pillows on the couch and paced. She stared at the coffee maker with longing, desperately yearning for a bracing cup of coffee, but was afraid to drink too much caffeine in case she became jumpy. No, she needed to be calm.
“Where are they?” she asked the room, stopping before a wall mirror for one last look. Dressed in a long-sleeved, lacy cranberry-colored blouse, black denim skirt and boots, she hoped her style said girl-next-door. Sister-worthy. She’d gone through almost all her clothes last night trying to decide on the perfect outfit, finally opting for dressy casual.
A solid knock thudded against her door and she whirled around. Pressed her hands against her stomach, then walked over to greet her guests.
Jasmine barreled in. “Thank goodness we beat my boys. I wanted to get here first to create a good atmosphere, and they’re running a few minutes late.” She viewed the table and nodded. “How lovely, Serena. I see you’ve gone to a lot of trouble for us.”
James entered and closed the door behind him, a smile on his face. “Good morning, Serena,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Now, one last time before they get here,” Jasmine said. “Derrick is a skilled interrogator. He can squeeze information out of a rock. Dylan is fair, but overly protective. Dante is—”
A knock came from the door. As Jasmine hurried over to answer, Serena leaned into her father. “That’s only three sons.”
He grimaced. “Relax.”
She shot him a glance. “Like you?”
“Okay, I’m nervous, too. I’ve only met Dylan briefly.”
“This is a train wreck,” she whispered.
Her father took her hand. “We’ve weathered worse,” he whispered.
They had. And life went on.
Serena met his gaze, knowing they were both thinking about her mother. She straightened her shoulders. Watched as, one by one, the tall, dark-haired brothers came into view.
“Dante,” Jasmine said as the first man pecked her cheek.
“You’re in trouble with the others,” he said, hooking his thumb toward the door as he sauntered into the apartment, curiosity written on his face.
Another brother entered. “That’s because we don’t like secrets.”
“Like you don’t have any, Derrick,” Jasmine accused, playfully tapping his arm.
“I do. I’m just better at keeping them than you.”
“Believe me, Mom’s been pretty closemouthed,” said another. The third brother gazed across the room and latched on to Serena’s father. She moved closer, as if to protect her dad from what was about to happen.
Jasmine said, “Dylan, you remember James.” She went on to introduce Serena’s father to the brothers he hadn’t met, who greeted him with hard stares.
Through the open door Serena heard boots thudding up the stairway and soon the final brother loomed in the doorway. “I knew you’d figured it out, Deke.”
“Hello, Serena,” he said, face chagrined as he closed the door behind him.
“I knew... I mean...”
“It’s okay. Deke has that effect on people,” Dante quipped.
“Why didn’t you just ask me about my dad?” she questioned when she could get her voice to work.
“It’s called surveillance.”
“Hmm, you might want to rethink your technique,” Serena countered, appalled at her remark. She placed a hand over her mouth.
Derrick swiped a bagel from the pastry platter. “I like her.”
“Let’s hold off on a verdict until we hash this out,” Dylan said.
There they stood, a wall of brothers sizing up her father. Instead of letting them get the upper hand, she returned their stares, looking them over.
She already knew Deke, but the brothers all had similar characteristics. Tall. Varying degrees of dark hair. Blue-eyed, but different shades. There was no mistaking that Jasmine was their mother. All good-looking, but not one could hold a candle to Logan.
Logan. Oh, no. She had to muster up the strength to face him. Tell him her truth.
“Please,” sh
e invited. “Everyone, get a cup of coffee and some food.”
Now that the introductions were over, the Matthewses all filled plates or settled for coffee.
“Why don’t we sit,” her father said.
When he took the cozy chair, Jasmine perched beside him on the arm, and Serena took the chair next to his, hoping they presented a united front. Derrick and Dylan took the couch, while Dante and Deke pulled table chairs into the circle.
“You must know why we’re here,” Dylan started, obviously the spokes-brother of the group.
“You don’t like me dating your mother,” James replied.
Jasmine huffed.
“It’s more than that.” Dylan didn’t blink as he stared at them with his gunmetal-blue gaze. “Who are you? Really?”
Serena grabbed her father’s hand.
“My name is James Stanhope. Serena is my daughter. My wife died when she was a child.”
“Then why go by Tate?”
Her father flinched but answered. “I have a checkered past.”
Serena looked across the group to catch Deke’s gaze. Not one bit of surprise on his face. Seemed like he already knew this.
“You have to understand—” Serena began, but her father stopped her.
“It’s time, Serena.”
She nodded and let him explain.
“I was involved in some less-than-legal business endeavors years ago. Unfortunately I brought Serena, unwillingly, into the mix. I sold bogus insurance plans and ran a few other moneymaking enterprises.”
“You’re pretty brave telling us all this,” Derrick said, his deceptively smooth tone serious.
“I love your mother,” her father stated, simply and with force.
Serena felt the testosterone in the room flare.
“And I love him,” Jasmine said in return, her look sincere when she glanced at James.
“You knew?” Dante asked.
Jasmine nodded. “Of course I knew. Just because I’m a widow doesn’t mean I’ve lost my head.”
Serena hid a grin at the varying looks of guilt and frustration on the brothers’ faces.
“I can make decisions without all of you going behind my back to find information on James.”