Too Hot to Handle

by Aleah Barley

  Stopping in front of a Matisse sketch, she bit back a giggle. Matisse had been one of the greatest artists of his time, but just because the sketch was an original Matisse didn’t mean it was any good.

  “It’s not very good, is it?” Logan was back.

  “Not really.” Honey turned to look at the old man. “You know why I’m here,” she said. “Someone’s fucking with my life, and I’ve got a feeling it’s you.”

  “You’re just like her, you know?”

  “I’m like your wife? That’s what this is about? My life’s in danger—someone’s trying to kill me—all because I look like some woman who has been dead and buried for years?” It was idiotic, absurd, but she didn’t feel like laughing. She bit her lip to keep the tears from trailing down her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burrows, but I never met your wife. I only ever heard about her last week, and I’ve got a feeling she wouldn’t have liked me anyway. Rich old ladies tend to hate my guts. Now, I never asked you to put me in your will, but I’d be beholden to you if you took me out.”

  “My wife was a beautiful woman.” Logan’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, like he was trying to remind himself of something he already knew. “So damn beautiful. Ginger hair and emerald eyes. What is it that you kids say? Great body? She had a great body, but I didn’t fall for her body. I fell for her smile. It was crooked. Like she knew she’d done something wrong, and she didn’t give a damn. You probably see the same smile every time you look in the mirror.”

  “I’m sorry that your wife died, but—”

  “It was love at first sight. Right here in this very hotel. I was closing my first big business deal at the bar, and she was singing with the band. She couldn’t really sing, but no one cared as long as they could watch her dance. I bought her a drink, and I bought her dinner, and I asked her to marry me.”

  He reached up, smoothing his hair. His hands shook. “Cherry Jubilee. That was her stage name. She laughed in my face. Told me I was a sweet boy, but I didn’t know what I was getting into. She was married, a wife and mother.”

  A polite knock sounded, and the door to the hotel room opened. A waiter in black pants and a white jacket pushed a rolling tray in. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask for a tip, but his presence served to break whatever spell Logan was under.

  The old man smoothed his shirt, a red linen number with fraying cuffs and bone buttons. “Your lunch is here. I hope you don’t mind room service.”

  “Are you kidding? I love it.” She’d never been in a hotel with room service before. Most of the places she stayed didn’t even have a shower. Walking over to the tray, Honey took a deep breath. The food was mouthwatering at five paces.

  “What was I talking about?”

  “Meeting your wife. You were in love, and she was married.”

  “You never know what you’ll be willing to do for love until it’s right there in front of you. I didn’t let up. I courted her, I seduced her, I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Sounds like a lot of fun.” Honey picked up the mocha and took a sip. It tasted heavenly, like real chocolate, not the sugary syrup used in most places. The whipped cream was fresh, wilting slightly as she drank it. If this was what opulence tasted like, she could get used to it.

  Was this what Jack had given up, moving to the apartment in Venice? The man was an idiot.

  “Her husband didn’t mind?”

  “He was in jail. A six-month stretch for petty larceny, and by the time he got out, I’d already hired her the best divorce lawyer in the city. That was back when divorce was a lot less common, and the laws were hard on women. Cherry was smart and capable, but her husband was a man. He got custody of their son. She cried for days.”

  It had been more years than Honey could comprehend, but the thought of his wife’s pain still made him hurt.

  “We tried to have children of our own, but we couldn’t. Something about a doctor error when she delivered her son. It was a great tragedy.”

  For the first time in days, Honey felt sympathy for Logan Burrows. The man had caused her more trouble than she knew how to deal with, but she couldn’t imagine the pain he’d gone through.

  “What does any of that have to do with me?”

  “Surely you’ve worked it out by now. You’re a smart girl, just like Cherry.”

  Cherry Jubilee. Honey ran over the facts in her head.

  The woman had been a married dancer with a single son. She’d been smart, with red hair, a crooked smile, and a criminal husband.

  Most important, Logan Burrows was looking at Honey like she was the answer to life, the universe, and everything. The expression in his eyes said she was his salvation. She’d never been anyone’s salvation before, and she didn’t care for the idea.

  “Cherry was my grandmother.” The mythic dancer who’d been married to her grandfather for five years and three days before running off to greener pastures. Honey couldn’t imagine any pastures greener than the hills of Black Palm Park. “You married my grandmother. You broke my grandfather’s heart.”

  Logan reached out a hand slowly to touch her, but she flinched away. “I am sorry.”

  “He couldn’t have known. He never would have let me go to school in Black Palm Park if he knew.”

  “He knew,” Logan said. “Sixteen years ago, your grandfather came to me and asked for my help. You were doing badly in school, and he didn’t have the money or the pull to send you anywhere else. He was a proud man, your grandfather, but he got down on his knees and he begged me to help him.”

  “Liar. You’re lying.”

  “He loved you very much.” Logan sat down, limp on a fancy couch that almost swallowed him whole. “I took care of everything. I got you into the school, I paid the tuition, and I arranged for tutors to help you catch up. I would have paid for college if you chose to go, but I didn’t tell Cherry about you. Her heart—her heart was already weak. You have to understand that it might have killed her.”

  His head dipped slowly until it was resting in his hands. “She would have wanted to know. She’d have done anything to see you, and I couldn’t even tell her that you were driving past the house every morning on the way to school. Have you ever loved someone like that, Honey? Loved someone so damn much that you lied to them because you thought it was the right thing to do?”

  His name slipped out. “Jack.”

  She didn’t want to sympathize with Logan Burrows. The man was cruel, mean, a monster. But sixteen years earlier, Logan had lied to give his wife more time to live.

  Honey had lied because she wasn’t strong enough to face down Amelia Ogden. Then she’d lied again when she’d accepted the keys to the Super Bee, letting Jack think she’d meet up with him at the coffee shop near his police station.

  “He’ll never forgive me.”

  “You’re talking about Jack Ogden? Amelia’s boy? He’ll be fine.” Logan glanced up, cleaning his face on his sleeve. “I never imagined revising my will would get you in so much trouble.”

  Right. The will. The reason she was homeless and dressed in borrowed clothes.

  “Why did you do it?”

  “When my car went missing, I thought I could hire you, give you some money. That sort of thing. But when I saw you, you had your grandmother’s smile, her laugh, and then we were talking for hours. I know we’re not family, but I was hoping we might be friends.”

  She remembered their conversation. It had been simple, easy. They’d shared a couple of beers and watched the sun go down. It had been a nice night, but not one of her top ten.

  Certainly no reason for him to give her all that money.

  Clearly, it had meant more to Logan than it had to her—but then, she had a full and busy life. She wasn’t a retiree whose wife had been dead for more than ten years.

  “You don’t have to pay me money to hang out with you.”

  “It’s what your grandmother would have wanted. Anyway, it’s my money to give away. You might as well have it. Otherwise, it goes
to my third cousin twice removed.”

  The man who’d been written out of the will. “Do you think that’s who set the fires?”

  “Clay Parsons? He couldn’t set a fire with a match and a gallon of gasoline, but he could hire someone to do the job. He always was too ambitious for his own good. I know he’s the one who stole the Volvo. He’s been having money problems recently, and the dumbass thought I’d never notice one missing car.” An angry snarl. “He didn’t even have the good sense to hock it for what it was worth.”

  “You should tell the police.”

  “The police?” Logan snorted. “I have a private investigator looking into things, and he’s got a few solid leads. Everything should be back to normal soon.”

  “Normal? My house burned to the ground.”

  “I’ll pay for it to be rebuilt, of course. Do you have a place to stay for now? This suite does have an extra room. I’m going to a party tonight,” Logan hurried on eagerly. “You can come with me.”

  An hour earlier, Honey had been all alone, a single drop of water at sea in the raging oceans that made up Los Angeles. Business had died down since the arson. People were changing their own oil instead of taking the chance that their cars would get torched. The only money she’d had coming in was from a bartending job over the weekend.

  Now she had a comfortable place to stay, money to rebuild her house, and a party invitation.

  Like her grandfather always said, if something seems too good to be true, you’re probably about to get shot. She could feel the bull’s-eye being painted on her heart already.

  But something about the way Logan looked at her made it difficult for her to disappoint him. Difficult, but not impossible. “I can’t.” She swallowed a sigh. “Someone’s trying to kill me, remember? I can’t just go to a party.”

  “You’ll be perfectly safe. It’s the hospital fund-raiser at the Black Palm Park Country Club.”

  “The hospital fund-raiser.” Ice wrapped around her heart, making it hard to breathe. “I definitely can’t go to the hospital fund-raiser. Jack’s going to be there.”

  “Why would his presence deter you from attending?”

  Honey licked her lips, buying herself the time she needed to decide what she was going to say. She didn’t need to tell him everything, but then her mouth opened, and the words began to pour out.

  Logan blinked, obviously surprised, but she couldn’t stop herself. She told him about the date she and Jack had gone on back in high school, how happy she’d felt, and what had happened when Amelia Ogden showed up the following day. She told him about the jokes she’d played, the petty theft and the blue hair. She told him that when her house had burned down, Jack was the first person she’d thought of going to for help, the only man she’d felt safe with.

  After all the years they’d spent fighting, the few hours they’d been together had made her hope for something more. She’d allowed herself to dream about a different sort of future for the first time in years. And then it had all come tumbling down.

  The scene at the house. The knowledge that she’d put Jack’s career in jeopardy. The fact that she’d endangered his well-being. Anything could have happened, all because she didn’t think things through.

  Just like she hadn’t thought stealing Jack’s patrol car would lead to her grandfather’s death.

  Jack would never forgive her. And even if he did, how could she forgive herself?

  Logan listened without interruption. He didn’t make any crude jokes like her cousins or offer the kind of folksy wisdom her grandfather had been able to recite on cue. He just heard her out, listening to everything she had to say, his expression bright and attentive. When it was all over he brought his hands together, turning the gold band on his left ring finger.

  “You could stay here and hide from Jack. I’d stay with you. I’ve already made my donation for the year. We could watch a movie and order more room service. Or you could go to the party and tell Jack how you feel about him. It all depends on what you want.”

  “I want Jack to be safe. I want him to be happy.”

  “Of course you do. You’re a good girl. But Jack’s safety isn’t your concern. As for happy, he’ll be happy either way. If you decide to stay here, he’ll think about you. He’ll wonder what might have been, but eventually he’ll get over it. If you go after him, he might need a few weeks to forgive you, but eventually he’ll love you as much as I loved your grandmother, if he doesn’t already.”

  Honey had no reason to believe what Logan was saying, but something about the steady weight of his voice had her paying attention.

  “It all depends on you,” Logan said. “Do you want to let Jack get away because it might not be the right thing? Or do you want to fight for the man you love? I fought like hell for your grandmother. Sometimes it hurt more than I thought I could handle, but it was all worth it when I held her in my arms.”

  “I want him to be safe,” Honey repeated.

  “Safety’s overrated. Any time you get close to a person there are going to be risks, but that’s what makes it worthwhile.”

  With the choices laid out in front of her like that, there was only one decision she could make.

  Staying away might be the best thing for Jack, but when she closed her eyes at night, he stalked through her thoughts like a lion across the savannah. She would lay there, tossing and turning, trying to forget the warmth of his arms wrapped around her and the sweetness of his kiss. The way he laughed at her jokes, his whole body rocking with amusement, and the way he smiled at her when he thought no one was looking.

  A long time ago, she’d promised herself she was going to stop stealing cars and loving Jack Ogden. Time had brought fresh knowledge and experience.

  Now, she knew she could only keep one of those promises.

  “I want to fight for Jack.”

  “Good to hear.” With the decision made, Logan became all business. “I’ll have to call for another ticket, and then we should get ready. Do you have a dress?”

  “A dress? I don’t have a dress.”

  Even before her house had burned down, she hadn’t had a dress she could wear to the Black Palm Park Country Club for lunch, let alone a formal fund-raiser. For an event like that, she didn’t need just any dress. She needed a gown that swished when she walked and made grown men babble like three-year-olds.

  “I also don’t have shoes or a purse.”

  “Jewelry,” Logan said. “A girl can dress in rags and tatters, but if she’s wearing the right baubles, everyone will listen to what she has to say. I still have your grandmother’s emeralds. You can wear them.”

  Emeralds that would weigh heavy around her neck like iron chains she’d have to return before she could do anything else. “No thanks.”

  If they were going to be friends, it wouldn’t just mean Logan listening to her problems and giving her good advice. He was an old man, with no one to look out for him. Sure, he might have been tough when he was younger, but that didn’t mean someone with a slick computer and a forceful personality couldn’t convince him that the world was a living organism about to be sucked dry by a giant spider.

  “I’m from a bad bit of town, Logan. You shouldn’t loan someone like me emeralds. For that matter, you shouldn’t go around telling people like me you have emeralds to loan. They’ll take advantage of your good nature.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of having a good nature before.” Logan’s smile was bright, reaching all the way to his eyes. “I’ll loan you the emeralds, and I won’t take no for an answer. Now, can you find a dress?”

  “No, but I know someone who can.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  This was it. No matter how much he fought for a real life—one with good food, great company, and a girl to call his own—Jack would always be stuck here. Standing in the middle of the Black Palm Park Country Club’s grand ballroom, sipping champagne, and wishing he were anywhere else.

  If he lived to be a hundred,
he’d never understand the country club lifestyle.

  His sister, on the other hand, was in her element. Buzzing around the room in a lemon cocktail dress, she had a big, beaming grin on her face. When she saw him, she laughed out loud.

  “Jack, you look like someone ran over your puppy with their car.”

  “I don’t have a puppy.”

  “Fine, you look like someone gave you a puppy and then ran over it.” Jessica turned slightly so she could keep an eye on the rest of the room. “Not a bad turnout, if I must say so myself.”

  “You look beautiful.” The compliment was a bit of polite fluff, but it was also true. Jessica had her chocolate curls pulled up into a fancy arrangement accented by a pale yellow rose. Diamonds that had been a gift from her second husband glittered at her throat.

  “Of course. I was going to wear red, to go with the ‘Strawberry Fields’ theme, but I changed at the last minute.”

  “The theme is Strawberry Fields?” That explained the strawberry shortcake on the dessert table and the garnish in his champagne.

  If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have noticed the theme. He’d have complimented Jessica on her hard work, taken his mother on a tour of the dance floor, and left already. Instead, he was stuck there with his feet glued to the floor and his tongue flopping around awkwardly in his mouth.

  Things had been going wrong for him all week. Ever since he’d loaned Honey his car, expecting to see her a few hours later across the street from the police station, and she’d vanished into the night.

  He’d looked for her all over the city, rousting assorted family members who’d been less than thrilled to find a police officer at their door. They hadn’t known where Honey was, or they weren’t willing to tell them.

  Either way, Jack had been left feeling frustrated and angry. Where the hell was Honey? Why had she run away? What if something had happened to her? He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his breath even.