Cavanaugh's Surrender

by Marie Ferrarella

  Because Paula’s death knocked you for a loop and you’re trying to anchor yourself to something. And that’s understandable. But you know damn well that it can’t be him.

  No, she silently agreed, it can’t be. Because a man like Logan didn’t stay for long.

  Chapter 12

  Logan leaned back in his chair as far as it could go. He was bone weary. It was past his shift and the squad room was empty except for him and the woman pensively staring at the bulletin board with her back to him.

  Even her back looked obsessed, he thought. Where did she get her energy?

  Sullivan had returned from his honeymoon, but the detective had been temporarily partnered with someone else until Logan either brought the case to a satisfying conclusion—or signed off on it. He wasn’t about to give up.

  He and Destiny had been at this nonstop for close to three weeks now, searching for that one common thread that connected all these so-called nonsuicides together. So far, they kept striking out.

  Logan glanced over toward the bulletin board. Six years, six women, and all they’d come up with were paralyzing dead ends.

  And while he liked to think that he was a damn good detective, Logan felt as if his efforts paled in comparison to the efforts of his father’s chief assistant. Richardson was there when he arrived in the morning, she was there when he left at night, eternally going over the information they’d gathered and searching for new angles, for that elusive “something” that would finally and once and for all break the case wide-open for them.

  In the meantime, Logan mused, the woman had to be wearing herself out.

  “An airline attendant, a teacher, the owner of an upscale restaurant, a wedding planner, a trainer and a fundraiser,” Destiny suddenly said out loud.

  Logan wasn’t sure if she was addressing him or the dead women whose photographs were pinned along the top of the bulletin board.

  She was reviewing their high-profile careers and frowned as she glanced at him over her shoulder. “What are we missing?”

  “Right now, my best guess would be our sanity,” he quipped wearily.

  “Besides that,” she retorted, exasperated not with him but with herself. What wasn’t she seeing?

  Turning back to the bulletin board, she looked at each individual photograph. The faces had begun to haunt her dreams.

  “What am I missing?” she said under her breath.

  But he’d heard her. Again he thought that Richardson was coming dangerously close to wearing herself out without even realizing it. Something had to be done before that happened.

  “You want to take a break?” he asked suddenly.

  “You mean like for coffee?” She was beginning to fade, she realized. Coffee might be just the thing to keep her going for another hour or so. “Sure. You can bring me back a container if you’re going to the machine.” She was already on to her next thought and waved in the general direction of the desk she was using. “My purse is in the bottom drawer. Take what you need.”

  Logan laughed to himself. “A loaded statement if I ever heard one,” he commented. Richardson had handed him an absolutely fantastic straight line, and he was doing his best to be good.

  Preoccupied, Destiny had only half heard what he’d said. “What?” When he didn’t answer, she looked at him again. He was still sitting down. Had he changed his mind about the coffee?

  “I’m talking about a real break,” he emphasized. “Like getting away from the office—and this case—entirely. Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he interjected in case she’d lost track again, the way she had last Saturday—Richardson had spent the weekend at the precinct with the dead women and her computer for company, working hard and getting nowhere for her efforts.

  “So?”

  “So I’ve got a wedding to attend. My sister Kendra’s getting married,” he told her before she could ask. “Want to be my ‘plus one’?”

  For a moment, she said nothing, then decided that he had to be pulling her leg. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to take?” The man, according to everything she’d heard, always had a girlfriend—or two—somewhere in the picture.

  His mouth curved in amusement. “As my sister Kari so succinctly says, I’m in between meaningless relationships. And I don’t want to go alone,” he said, appealing to her. “Come with me.”

  Destiny stared at him as his words sank in. Was he actually asking her out? “A pity date? For who?” She was definitely unclear on the concept. “You, because you’re in between ‘meaningless’ relationships, or me, because I haven’t been in a relationship since slightly after the dawn of time?” Or at least it felt that way. Put on the spot, she wouldn’t have been able to say just when her last so-called relationship had ended. It had been that long ago.

  “How about we split the difference?” he offered gamely. “Or, if it makes you feel any better, we can say that it’s for me. Your pity, my date,” he said, summing it up cheerfully.

  Though the idea of going out with him on an unofficial date was intriguing—hell, it was downright tempting—she was still suspicious. “Why do you want me to come?”

  “Because I think it’d do you good to get away from all this, clear your head, put things in perspective. A couple of days away from here will do you a world of good,” he predicted. “And,” he stressed, “because you can’t keep talking to computer hardware indefinitely. Eventually, you’re going to start thinking it’s talking back, and then you’ll really be in trouble.”

  Destiny laughed then. She didn’t exactly know why, but what he’d said sounded so absurd that she had to laugh. It was the first time she’d laughed since before she’d found Paula’s body.

  And then, glancing one more time at the photographs that were lined up along the bulletin board so neatly, Destiny blew out a long, steadying breath.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she allowed.

  “It’s been known to happen,” Logan acknowledged, giving her a killer grin that she was fairly certain had melted more than its share of kneecaps. She felt her own turning slightly watery.

  Her mouth curved in amusement. “Well, even a broken clock is right—”

  He closed his eyes as he finished the old saying for her. “Twice a day. Yeah. I know.” Opening them again, his eyes held hers for a moment. “Thanks.”

  She wished he’d stop looking at her like that. It made her feel completely at loose ends and unfocused. “So you’re really serious about that invitation—to your sister’s wedding?” As she said it, she had to admit that the idea started to appeal to her. Not that she was much of a party person, but a change of scenery for a few hours might not be completely out of order.

  Logan nodded, trying his best to appear solemn rather than just dead tired. “Serious enough to come get you and drag you over to the church tomorrow whether you’re ready or not.”

  “Then I guess I’d better be ready. What time?”

  He thought for a second, trying to get the details right. “Ceremony’s at eleven.” He did a quick calculation backward. “I’ll pick you up around a quarter after ten.” And then he smiled, the expression on his face a self-deprecating one. “Kenny vividly described what she’d do to my anatomy if I show up late.”

  She’d met Kendra briefly at her sister’s funeral. Even so, the woman had impressed her as a kindred spirit. “Is your uncle Adam officiating?” she asked.

  The only way they could keep the priest from presiding over the ceremony would be to have the man kidnapped. Logan laughed. “Absolutely.”

  “And your uncle Andrew, is he taking care of the reception?” The latter was basically a rhetorical question.

  “Who else?”

  Destiny nodded. It was hard to imagine so many people being so close—but they obviously were. “A real family affair,” she commented. And she truly envied him that. Especially now that she had no family of her own anymore.

  Her voice, stripped of any emotion or intonation, gave him no clue as to what she was thinking—but he had a str
ong hunch.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  She would have said that he was the rebellious type, not someone who conformed to the wishes of his family. And yet, here he was, sticking to the script. Just showed that you could never tell about a person.

  “It doesn’t get old for you?” she asked, curious.

  “Hasn’t been going on long enough to get old,” he told her, “although, to be honest, I doubt if it ever will. They’re there,” he said, referring to his family members, “just enough to let you know you’ve got a support system if you need one, and not enough to be annoying or get under your skin.”

  Destiny regarded her temporary partner for a moment. He’d impressed her. “I didn’t know you were that deep, Cavanaugh.”

  Logan shrugged off the compliment. “I didn’t either.” His computer already shut down for the night, Logan pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up. “I’m going to call it a night,” he told her, then asked, “How about you?”

  Destiny rotated her shoulders, working out a kink. “I think I’m going to stay a little while longer.”

  He would have bet money on that. “What a surprise,” he commented dryly. Then, passing her on the way to the door, he said, “Remember, ten-fifteen, whether you’re ready or not, I’m taking you to the wedding.”

  She thought of the clothes in her closet, and a twinge of panic momentarily telegraphed through her. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  He wasn’t accepting excuses. “Naked might be an interesting change of pace.”

  “I’m serious,” she called after him.

  Stopping for a second, he turned around and grinned at her. “So am I.” And then he relented. “I could ask Bridget to lend you one of her dresses.” He did a quick assessment. “You look like you might be around the same size.”

  As far as she recalled, she and Bridget hadn’t been anywhere near one another, so he couldn’t be drawing on that to form a conclusion. “How would you know?”

  He winked then and told her in a low voice, as if he was sharing a secret, “I’ve got an eye for things like that.”

  She found herself dealing with his wink and the unexpected tidal wave it had created in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she was punchy.

  “Don’t bother your sister. I’ll find something,” she said dismissively.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll look great in whatever you decide to wear.”

  Without thinking, Destiny pressed her hand to her stomach.

  His parting words hung in the air long after he had walked out of not just the squad room but the precinct, as well.

  The man knew how to make an exit, Destiny thought ruefully.

  * * *

  This was a bad idea.

  A really bad idea.

  The words echoed in her head the next morning as Destiny looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror on her closet door.

  What was she doing, going to this wedding? She wasn’t good at small talk, and she definitely wasn’t in a festive mood. These people had been nice to her, and she didn’t want to put a damper on the wedding by bringing anyone down.

  She’d just tell Cavanaugh when he came to pick her up that she’d changed her mind. He’ll understand, she assured herself. After all, it wasn’t as if he was going to tie her down to the roof of his car and drive away. He didn’t need her as a date. The second he walked in alone into the reception, he’d have women flocking to him. Most likely, it would become a feeding frenzy.

  The thought didn’t ease her conscience the way she thought it would. Instead, it irritated it.

  Another sign that she needed some rest. Making up her mind to stay home, she started taking off the dress that Paula had given her last Christmas. The one she’d had no occasion to wear—until now.

  Or not.

  There was a militant row of tiny pearl buttons from the base of her neckline to her waist on the Wedgwood-blue dress whose straight skirt stopped a few inches short of her knees. She began working them loose and had only managed to get six of them undone when she heard the doorbell.

  Damn it, Cavanaugh was early. She should have known that he would be.

  Biting off a few choice words, Destiny hurried to the door.

  “I changed my mind,” she announced as she swung it open.

  Logan’s deep green eyes appreciatively went from her face to an even more arresting area of her anatomy. The smile that curved his mouth would have gotten him arrested in several third-world nations.

  “You’ve come up with something else for us to do?” he asked, his voice resonating with sensuality as well as sounding incredibly suggestive.

  “No, I—” And then she remembered that she’d been unbuttoning the top of her dress, affording him a view he didn’t get to see during regular hours. “You could look away,” she pointed out, fumbling with the tiny buttons as she pushed them back through the loops as quickly as possible.

  “I could,” he agreed. “But then I’d really be missing something,” he pointed out. His eyes lowered just enough to revisit the tempting, albeit disappearing view.

  “Nothing you haven’t seen a hundred times before, I’m sure,” she said stiffly, fervently wishing that she could tamp down the flush she felt beginning to creep up her cheeks.

  But she couldn’t.

  Nobody blushed anymore, she upbraided herself. What was wrong with her?

  “Not this particular view,” Logan assured her.

  For a second, she was almost tempted to believe he meant it. But that would make her even more naive than she already was.

  “Okay, I’m not unreasonable. We either go to the wedding, or we stay here and find another way to amuse ourselves,” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed. He was bluffing. “You wouldn’t miss your sister’s wedding.”

  Rather than concede that she was right, he pretended to shrug carelessly. “I have other sisters, there’ll be other weddings.”

  Her eyes widened. “You don’t mean that,” she said, calling his bluff.

  “What I mean,” he told her seriously, “is that one way or another, I’m not leaving you alone today. How we spend the day is up to you.” He looked at her pointedly.

  The flash of heat came out of nowhere, telling her that if she was going to be around him, she needed at least a few other people around, as well.

  Otherwise...

  “All right.” She surrendered. “We’ll go to the wedding.”

  Pleased, he nodded. “Good choice. You’ve made my sister Kendra very happy. By the way—” he indicated her neckline with his eyes “—you missed a button.”

  Caught off guard, Destiny looked down at the neckline that had been plunging just a bit more than she’d intended a minute ago. “I did?”

  “I could do it for you,” he volunteered.

  Over her dead body—then they’d never get out of the apartment.

  “I see it, I see it,” she said, verbally swatting him back.

  Logan laughed softly to himself under his breath as he took her arm and escorted her out the door.

  * * *

  Some twelve hours later, they were back in front of the same door.

  It might have been only half a day later, but it felt as if days, not hours, had passed by since this morning. Or maybe even a lifetime, she amended silently, smiling to herself.

  It had been quite a day, at least to her.

  Rather than keep to herself and sit quietly on the sidelines the way she had intended, almost immediately Destiny had found herself drawn into one conversation after another. Her opinion had been sought out on a variety of subjects, most of which had nothing to do with work.

  Not only was her opinion sought out, but her likeness, as well. Despite her protest, she got pulled into more than a few family photos. It seemed to her that every few minutes, another camera went off and someone else framed a photograph and pulled her into it.

  They were a pushy, boisterous bunch of people, and she enjoyed their company even more the
second time around than the first. But then, this was a wedding, not a funeral.

  “I think your family now has more pictures of me than my mother ever had in her family album.”

  The faded-green album she was thinking of had actually been rather sparse for what it purported to be. Its contents spanned not just her early life but the life of her mother and her mother’s mother, as well. Three generations and there were less than twenty pages of photographs in total.

  She shrugged carelessly as her words came back to her. “My family wasn’t much on taking pictures.”

  That was not the problem with his family, especially not his immediate family.

  Standing on her doorstep, Logan laughed. “Kari has over twenty albums or so,” he told her. “It’s almost an obsession with her.”

  His mind turned to more intimate things as he watched Destiny. Even in this light, he could see her face was ever so slightly flushed. The woman had a slight buzz on. He would have figured she’d need more drinks than the number she’d had to blush. Showed that you just never knew.

  “So, I take it you had a good time,” he guessed. Even as he made the assessment, he found himself fighting a very strong temptation a second later.

  Destiny turned her face up to his and smiled.

  She knew she was feeling the effects of a few glasses of champagne and that margarita—or was it two?—that she’d had a little while ago.

  Better tread lightly here.

  But despite her warning, she had to admit that she did like this fluttery, uninhibited feeling. And she definitely liked the fact that everything felt as if it was smiling inside of her.

  “Yes,” she told him. “I had a very nice time.” Her eyes smiled into his. “Thanks for dragging me.”

  “My pleasure,” he told her. It was getting harder and harder not to close his arms around her. “Anytime you want to be dragged somewhere, just let me know. I’m your guy.”

  I’m your guy.

  Wow.

  The three-word sentence stood out in blaring neon lights, completely cornering her attention.

  Not that the words were true, of course. He wasn’t “her guy.” Why would he want to be? There were so many more exciting women for him to choose. But wouldn’t it be nice if just for a moment, she could pretend that he meant it. And if...