by Meryl Sawyer
"What is this brown stuff?" asked Woody, putting his fork down.
Ginger's gaze shifted to Benson, then she said, "It's huitlacoche."
"That's French for what?" Woody asked.
Ginger hesitated, then said, "It's an Aztec delicacy."
"It looks like something the chef scraped out of the bottom of the garbage disposal," Woody told her.
"It's supposed to taste like a cross between corn and truffles." Ginger's voice was barely above a whisper, and blotches of red mottled her face.
"I don't care what it tastes like. What is it?"
Ginger's lower lip quivered, and Benson answered for her. "It's a fungus that grows on corn cobs."
Alyx piped up, "It's all the rage in L.A."
"Logan likes it," Tyler added.
Woody's brows drew together as he cast a glance at Logan's nearly clean plate. He picked up his fork again and began to eat. Kelly took a bite, finding the huitlacoche tasted much better than it looked.
She could resist saying, "It's yummy."
Under the table, Logan squeezed her knee. The ludicrous way Kelly smiled at him and batted her lashes would have made Pop laugh, but the Stanfields didn't know her that well. She kept eating, as did Woody.
Ginger must have felt silly not trying the dish she'd had the chef prepare. She jabbed at it with her fork, then forced a bite between her lips. Benson studied her a moment before forking down a bite or two. The twins had no choice but to sample the concoction as well.
Woody finished his huitlacoche, chatting about his Arabians, obviously trying to fill the awkward silence. Kelly wondered if he realized Ginger had deliberately ordered something repulsive to embarrass Logan. If he did, he gave no indication.
Ginger projected a fragile vulnerability that Kelly always associated with Southern belles—before the Civil War. Remembering all the rumors she had heard about Ginger's drug problems, Kelly wondered if that accounted for her slightly distracted air as if she existed on another plane. Benson's sidelong glances at Ginger silently indicated his concern.
"I guess you must have eaten some really interesting food doing your work in South America," Tyler said.
"You'd be surprised," Logan replied as the maid cleared their plates.
"Isn't that what you commando types do?" Alyx asked. "Smear your face with black tar and slip into the night to do God-only-knows-what and live off the land?"
"Alyx," Woody warned his daughter in a tight voice.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, a depth charge of anger exploded deep inside Kelly. What a bitch! Kelly felt oddly concerned about Logan even though she was positive he could protect himself.
Didn't anyone but Woody care about Logan? Apparently not. They hadn't asked a single question about his past. They saw him as a threat.
"You know, Alyx," Kelly said, her voice saccharine sweet. "It's a leap of faith to think you and Logan come from the same gene pool. You couldn't survive anywhere without your American Express card."
Ginger's face had been splotchy red before, but now every bit of color had drained from it. She nervously dabbed at her lips with her napkin.
"Ladies, please," Benson said. "You're upsetting Ginger."
What a tragedy.
"Actually, Cobras put soot on their face, not tar," Logan said without a lick of humor. "We take supplies, but if we run out, we usually can find a rat to eat." He looked right at Alyx. "Rats are everywhere."
"Why don't we try the wine?" Woody suggested in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
Benson launched into a dissertation about the relative merits of California wines versus French wines. Tyler added a few comments about the new Australian wines he'd tried.
Alyx held her crystal goblet up to her nose then inhaled so deeply that Kelly had expected the bitch to suck it up through her nose. Then she took a dainty sip. "Excellent. It's not one of those pretentious little wines produced by a small-time boutique vineyard. The flavor is subtle, very subtle."
There was something so condescending about the way Alyx spoke and the look she cast toward her brother. It seemed to Kelly that Alyx was implying that Logan couldn't tell the difference between a great wine and grape juice.
"I've always despised pretentious wines," Kelly told everyone with a smile. "I select wines with nifty-looking labels."
"Good idea," Benson said. "Rothchild has reproductions of Impressionist art on its labels. You can't go wrong."
"No, no. I meant cute labels and cute names like Frog's Leap."
"That's Stag's Leap," Tyler said. "It is one of the better California wines, although I prefer French wine."
Kelly shook her head. "Haven't you tasted Frog's Leap? It has an adorable green frog on the label. It's almost as precious as Rabbit Ridge with the gold bunny with the huge ears on its label."
For a moment, Kelly thought Alyx was going to laugh, but a stern look from Woody kept her quiet. Benson looked slightly baffled as if he didn't know whether or not to take Kelly seriously. Ginger merely gazed into her wine glass as if some message had been written there, and she was attempting to decipher it.
Kelly couldn't stop herself from adding, "I just bought a bottle called Marilyn. It has Marilyn Monroe on the label. I'll bet it's really good."
Woody remarked at what a great investment wine had become, and Benson agreed with him. Tyler explained which years he'd personally chosen for the estates wine cellar, which was in the basement.
"You're doing great," Logan whispered in her ear, his warm breath ruffling her hair.
She forced another sappy smile and lowered her lashes. Tyler was boldly staring at her, inspecting her cleavage. Her breasts were okay, but she wasn't expecting a call from Playboy. The halter top probably did reveal more than she normally did, but she'd selected it because she always got compliments when she wore it. But Tyler's scorching gaze made her feel like a two-bit hooker, who was cheap, not pretty.
Logan leveled Tyler with a glare that said only someone with a death wish would look at his fiancée like that. Tyler quickly turned to his sister and mumbled something Kelly didn't catch as the maids served the main course.
"Great! Steaks," Woody said a little too effusively. Clearly, the dinner was not working out the way he'd hoped.
Kelly looked at her plate and knew the slab of meat next to the polenta and French haricot beans was not from a cow. It was probably elk. They were common in the area, but if this was fresh, someone had shot the poor thing out of season.
"What in hell is this?" Woody's voice ricocheted off the two-storey ceiling as the maid served him.
Logan cut into his meat, then took a bite while Ginger stammered something about the newest craze. The twins weren't eating, but they didn't seem surprised at what had been served and neither did Benson. Kelly suspected they were all in on this together, thinking this would somehow humiliate Logan.
"It's bison," Ginger confessed. "It's fat content is lower than chicken."
"Bison?" Woody barked. "That's just a fancy word for buffalo. I told you to ask the chef to prepare a first-class meal, and you serve buffalo?"
"Well, I-I thought it would be something new and different," Ginger muttered, her blue eyes filling with tears.
Benson touched Ginger's shoulder. "It's served in many French restaurants."
"If the French serve it, bison must be the height of culinary ecstasy," Kelly told Logan.
Benson tried to smile and nearly succeeded, but instead his shrewd eyes narrowed as he glared at Kelly. She was convinced he had the disposition of a Rottweiler—if he was that friendly.
Logan kept eating.
"It is interesting," Alyx commented even though she had yet to try the bison. "I believe they serve a lot of it in Montana."
"We're in Arizona," Kelly said, implying Alyx was either lost or stupid. Probably both.
Logan paused between bites, down to his last piece now. "It's mighty tasty and not one bit like anything I've ever eaten."
Ginger pe
rked up a bit. Tears glistened on her lashes as she gazed at Benson for reassurance.
Tyler shoved his plate aside. "Logan, it looks like you can eat just about anything."
Logan finished chewing the last of his bison. "You'd be amazed at what I've eaten. I've learned how to survive—anywhere."
The air wasn't just thick any more. It shrouded the room like a poisonous gas. Woody kept staring at the twins as if he held them responsible for the fiasco. Benson put his arm around the back of Ginger's chair.
This whole food bit was childish, stupid. It made Kelly want to hurl her hunk of bison at Alyx's smug face. Instead she, grinned at Logan. This time she was the one to reach under the table for his knee. Her hand missed the mark as he shifted in his seat. She touched his firm thigh, dangerously close to the no-no zone. She gave him a quick pat, then jerked her hand away.
"We met at a barbecue, right, darling?"
Logan winked. "I'm a hell of a cook."
Alyx took the bait. "Really? What did you prepare?"
"Lizard. Slow-roasted on a mesquite branch."
That got her. It floored everyone, actually. Tyler went slack-jawed. Benson's lips crumpled inward. Woody's quick intake of breath startled Kelly. Ginger's tears disappeared with a flutter of her lashes.
"Logan's so talented. He knows how to gut a lizard, starting here." Kelly pointed to the underside of her chin and made a slashing motion downward. "You skin it while it's still alive, so you can drain the blood quicker. Many lizards have sacs of poison at the base of their neck. You have to squeeze them dry," she said, making this up as she went. "Of course, you remove the innards last. You can't believe the smell."
"Mercy, me!" Ginger's voice reached a decibel only achieved by opera singers. She gagged, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She dashed from the table with Benson at her heels.
"You're not serious. This is a joke," Woody said.
"It's true," Kelly informed him. "That's exactly how we met. Logan had roasted a lizard."
Woody's eyes widened and he stared intently at his son. He seemed to want to say something, but was at a loss for words—a rarity for a politician.
Logan's large hand settled on her thigh in a way that was disturbingly familiar. She was becoming accustomed to him touching her. And she liked it more than she dared to admit. He gently squeezed, giving her the impression he found this as hilarious as she did.
"You learned all this training as a Cobra?" asked Tyler.
Logan shook his head. "Nope. I've been hungry most of my life. Long before I became a Cobra, I learned how to survive."
Kelly hoped this wasn't really true. Perhaps Logan said it to make them feel guilty about serving bison.
Tyler wouldn't let it go. "What's the most exotic thing you've eaten? Snakes? Cockroaches?"
Alyx had sense to glare at Tyler to warn him to shut up. Even Kelly was sorry she'd started this. She imagined Logan had seen more than his share of hell, and she didn't want these people making fun of him.
Benson returned to the table, saying, "Ginger's in her suite. She's not feeling well."
Woody nodded, and Kelly hoped this would end the discussion about eating to survive.
"You were going to tell us about the most exotic thing you've ever eaten," Tyler reminded Logan.
"If you're ever stuck in the Amazon," Logan said, "try the Orinoco tarantula. It's about the size of a grapefruit. Skinning it is tricky, but it's a whole meal."
The stupid grin on Kelly's face kept her from gasping, but Alyx stood up and excused herself. Woody summoned a maid and ordered an assortment of ice cream and toppings, so they could each make their own sundae.
"I'm not taking any chances with whatever Ginger ordered for dessert," Woody said, in a futile attempt to lighten the mood.
One maid took coffee orders while the other cleared the plates and removed the wineglasses. Such waste was a shame, Kelly reflected. Too many people in the world went to bed starving.
"It's going to take some adjusting, Logan, but I want you and Kelly to become part of this family," Woody said with a sharp look at Tyler.
"We'd really like to come to your wedding," Tyler announced.
"We're looking forward to it," added Benson.
Kelly's stomach roiled worse than it had when she'd thought about eating a tarantula. Wasn't it enough that Pop insisted on a reception following the civil ceremony? All her life, Pop had taught her to be honest. Living a lie was much harder than she'd anticipated.
"We're being married in Judge Hollister's chambers," Logan said. "There'll be a reception afterward for close friends at Kelly's home."
"I'd love to be included."
The stark emotion in Woody's tone touched Kelly. He truly cared about the son he'd lost so many years ago. He wanted to attend the wedding, to become part of his son's life. Evidently, he didn't blame Logan for costing him a chance to become president.
"We'd love to have you," Kelly heard herself say.
She didn't dare look at Logan. Having the Stanfields at the wedding had not been part of the plan. Heaven only knew if Pop would even allow them on his property. When Woody announced his retirement from the senate, Pop had written a scathing article, claiming Haywood Stanfield had done about as much for Arizona as Idi Amin had done for Africa. It took a vivid imagination to envision them in the same room together.
"There may be something you can do to help us." Logan's voice was flat as if he were speaking to a total stranger.
Tyler leaned forward slightly, and Kelly would bet Tyler was anticipating Logan was going to ask his father for money. She almost laughed, but this meant too much to her. Woody might be able to help.
"Kelly and I want to adopt a child. It's a paperwork jungle, then we'll have to go through miles of red tape, including visits from social workers. If you could help us speed up the process, we would appreciate it."
"Of course, I'll do anything I can," Woody said without hesitation.
Tyler had the nerve to say, "Shouldn't you at least try to have your own baby?"
"Good idea," Benson added. "It's too soon to give up hope."
"I never was exposed to childhood diseases, so I never had them. I was on a mission in Chile when I caught the mumps." Logan shrugged and gave Kelly an adorable grin. "They went south on me. I can't father a child."
* * *
Chapter 17
« ^ »
Logan walked out of his father's home with his arm around Kelly's waist. He led her down the flagstone path to where she had parked Pop's car. He waited until they were too far from the house for surveillance equipment to pick up their conversation.
He stopped and pulled her into his arms, whispering, "You were great tonight. Just great!"
She no longer tried to get away from him all the time, but he could feel the slight resistance in her body. She would have to get used to him because he intended to touch her often. He was more than a little amazed at how much he enjoyed just holding her.
The only female he'd ever gotten to know had been at the camp. Amy had been pathetically in need of affection, but Jake's rules, the rules everyone had to abide by, forbid touching. Make it on your own or die trying.
He'd never once touched Amy until she became hopelessly sick. Even then, he'd only put his hand on her forehead to check her fever. He'd tried for years to protect Amy, the best way he could, feeling like her big brother. But in the end, nothing mattered.
After he had enlisted, he'd never had a so-called "relationship." He hadn't had time for one, hadn't had a career that allowed for intimacy.
Things had changed.
Now he had time on his hands and one of the more interesting—and certainly the sexiest—partners that he'd ever been with on a mission.
Mission? What a crock! But Kelly had fallen for it. This was not like the missions that were assigned to Cobras. There was only the slimmest element of risk involved. It was possible the drug cartel leader, Manuel Orinda, would discover Logan was in Venezuela and or
der his men to kill him.
"Great?" Kelly hissed into his ear. "You think I was great. Are you kidding? What went on tonight was the most childish stunt I've ever seen. Doesn't Ginger have a brain in her head."
"Don't underestimate her. I think she's a damn fine actress who knows how to manipulate Woody and the family."
Kelly tried to pull away, but he refused to let her wiggle out of his arms. He liked the way her breasts molded against his rib cage and the firmness of her thighs against his. Sexy as hell.
She had a depth and power to her that he hadn't expected. She was tender with Pop and treated Uma with respect, but she turned into a gutsy wiseass with the Stanfields. Amazing! She had been defending him. In his entire life, no one had ever defended him.
Hell. He didn't need her help. He didn't need anyone, but he had to admit he was strangely touched. Even more interesting, he reflected, was that working with Kelly had been fun.
"Don't be fooled. What went on tonight was just a smoke screen."
"What do you mean?" The moonlight caught her expressive brown eyes, deepening the color as she gazed up at him.
"I think someone put Ginger up to the food bit. They hate me and want me out of their lives, but they don't want me to be on guard. By doing something so silly, I'm supposed to think they're mean-spirited not dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Her eyes widened, then the dusky fringe of lashes dropped and she tried to squirm out of his arms.
"Pretend we're so hot for each other that we can't keep apart." His lips found his favorite spot, the soft dip behind her earlobe. He kissed her, savoring the sweet scent rising from her skin and the throb of her pulse beneath his lips. "They're watching us."
"Who?"
He hated to admit he wasn't positive. He'd thought coming here for dinner would accomplish two things: get his father to expedite the adoption certification and discover which of the Stanfields were after him.
Watch your back.
Since Raptor's initial warning, he had again cautioned Logan that more questions were being asked about Logan's activities in South America. Every reporter in the country wanted to find out more about him, but a person with contacts on the Armed Services Committee was also nosing around big-time. It had to be someone in the Stanfield camp.