by Jackie Braun
Mallory swallowed. Something inside of her warmed. Logan was ever the gentleman, even at a time like this. He really was a special, special man.
I’m positive, she thought, but what she told him was, “If you want to find out exactly how sure I am, you’ll have to come with me.”
Logan stayed the night. The entire night. Leaving just after dawn the next morning with his suit coat slung over one arm, his tie peeking out of his trouser pocket, stubble shading his jaw and a smile of satisfaction lifting the corners of his mouth.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Me, too,” Mallory said. She couldn’t afford to be late to work for the second time in two days, not with Ruth watching the clock and Sandra gunning for her back.
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Even so, they lingered in the doorway of her apartment for another fifteen minutes kissing farewell.
“I’ll call you later today,” Logan said when they finally broke apart.
He did, though it was much, much later.
Mallory scrubbed off her makeup and brushed her teeth, going about her nighttime routine as if nothing had happened when in fact nothing was the same. Her well-ordered world had rocked on its axis.
She had been able to think of nothing else all day except for Logan…and last night.
What a night it had been. It wasn’t only what had transpired in her bedroom that had her mind straying from work all day. She couldn’t stop recalling the hours that had led up to it.
She kept trying to pinpoint the moment everything had changed. It was the look, she decided. The look on Logan’s face when he’d turned around in her tiny kitchen to find her dressed and ready for their evening out. His reaction had made her knees weak.
Mallory still couldn’t believe that he thought she was gorgeous. Pretty? Oh, sure. She’d been called that on occasion. More often than not, though, with her oversize eyes and blunt chin, she’d been labeled cute. Add in her personality, especially while on assignment, and ruthless was the adjective that most often had been hurled. She’d taken it as a compliment, though obviously the sources who’d issued it hadn’t intended it that way.
But gorgeous?
She stared at her reflection now, both amazed and intrigued that Logan could see her that way. She’d barely managed to wrap her mind around the compliment when he’d all but seduced her while they’d circled the crowded dance floor. To be fair—and Mallory was a firm believer in fairness—she’d been only too happy to return the favor. And later she had.
She dabbed moisturizer on her face and, rubbing it in, sighed. He’d said he would call today, but he hadn’t. Not while she’d been at work, not on her cell phone and not since she’d been home. It was now past eleven o’clock, the last hour of the day ticking away. She tried to remain optimistic, which was something in itself. Even two years into her relationship with her last boyfriend, Mallory had taken every vow Vince made with a grain of salt:
“The next time my boss invites everyone out to dinner, I’ll invite you along.” “When my parents come to town next time, I’ll introduce you.” “I’ve got a buddy who says he’ll get us some prime Sox seats for the next game.”
Yeah, right. Whatever. Mallory hadn’t pinned her hopes on any of her ex’s promises. She’d known he would break them. Just as when she was a kid she’d known her father would fail to honor his word the few times he’d actually made plans to visit with her after the divorce.
For reasons she couldn’t quite comprehend, she wanted to believe Logan. She didn’t want him to disappoint her.
She moved to her bedroom, where she slipped into a tank top and boxer shorts. Pulling back the comforter on the antique four-poster she’d purchased at an estate sale in Lake Forest, she knew there would be no need for down tonight. Even the cotton sheet would be overkill. The air-conditioning unit had been fixed, but even with it blasting on high her skin felt heated.
She was fanning herself and considering a cold shower when the telephone rang. Even before she glimpsed the Caller ID readout she knew who it was. Her heart did a crazy thump and she was glad no one was around to see her foolish smile.
“I was just thinking about you,” she said in lieu of the standard greeting.
“I guess that means I didn’t wake you. Are you in bed?” His voice was low and all the sexier for it as he asked the question.
“As a matter of fact, I just climbed under the covers.” Mallory lowered herself onto the mattress as she made the claim.
“Imagine that. So am I.”
Her already elevated body temperature shot to the combustible range as she pictured Logan stretched out on his mattress wearing what he’d had on late last night…nothing. “Mmm.”
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She smiled at the memory. “Nothing at all.”
“I’m sorry to call you so late. It was a crazy day. After my show I spent a few hours taping promotional spots to run during other programs and then…it doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say it was a really long and tedious day.”
“Sorry. We can talk tomorrow if you’d like. For that matter, you needn’t have called at all.” Though she was so glad he had.
“I told you I’d call. I’m a man of my word.”
Logan said it simply, stating it as fact. Her heart did that funny thump thing again. She wasn’t sure which she found more disconcerting, the flash of fire he could provoke with a look or this new physical reaction.
“I like knowing that you try to keep your promises,” she admitted.
“Everyone should.”
“But everyone doesn’t.”
“You’ve been hurt,” he said.
“Haven’t we all?” Mallory waited a beat, wondering if he might mention his own breakup, and not just because she wanted a story and still smelled one here. But because she wanted to know more about Logan for herself.
He made a sound of agreement, but didn’t expound on it. Instead he said, “It’s pretty much a given that by the time you get to our age someone will have broken your heart or breached your trust. It’s the human condition. Of course, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“No.”
She heard him sigh. “It’s late. I should let you go.”
“Is that a polite way of telling me I need my beauty sleep?” Mallory asked lightly.
“No. You’re already gorgeous. Remember?”
Thump!
“So you say.” She wrapped her free arm around her middle, hugging herself in an attempt to keep the pleasure his words generated from escaping.
“Still don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question. “I guess I’ll just have to keep telling you until you become a believer.”
Because she could think of nothing to say to that, she changed the subject. “What time do you need to be at the radio station?”
“I usually try to get there about an hour before I go on the air.” Which meant he would be getting up in about five hours, given his commute. “What about you? What time do you have to be at the Herald?”
There had been a time in the not-so-distant past when Mallory had beaten in the copy editors, who were traditionally among the first to arrive in the newsroom. She’d stayed late in the day, too. A fifteen-hour shift wasn’t an anomaly, even when she’d had nothing more pressing to do than scroll the national news wires and read the stories. She’d considered it a badge of honor then, a display of her dedication. It seemed a little pathetic now.
“My start time varies depending on what I’m covering. These days, though, it’s a pretty safe bet I don’t need to be at my desk till eight. You know, about the time the lonely and unemployed start phoning your show,” she finished on a laugh.
“They need help, too.”
Something in Logan’s tone prompted Mallory to ask, “Is this how you expected your life to turn out when you graduated from medical school?”
“No.”
Silence stretched after his startlingly candid a
nswer. The reporter in her would have pounced on it, following up his admission with half a dozen questions intended to reveal more. But all Mallory said was, “I’m sorry.”
More silence ensued. When she could stand it no longer, she said, “Logan? Are you there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“We’re off the record, you know,” she felt the need to point out. “It’s just the two of us…talking.”
“The two of us.” He still sounded doubtful.
And though part of her wasn’t sure it was the wisest course to take, she further clarified, “Just a man and a woman. Not a potential story and the reporter interested in writing it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“What I just said could make one hell of a story, especially with a nationally syndicated television talk show in the works.” He swore ripely after the words slipped out.
Another exclusive gem and Mallory was privy to it. But what she asked was, “Have you talked to anyone about this?”
He laughed. “Do you mean a professional? Now that would put your byline on the Herald’s front page. Chicago’s Doctor-in-the-Know seeks counseling over career crisis.”
His comment stung, but even more so, she felt for him. Here was a man who helped thousands with his advice, yet he had nowhere to turn when he needed guidance.
“You know, I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to, Logan. I’m not sure what kind of advice I can offer. Helping people is a little beyond my degree. But I’m a pretty good listener,” she added. “Even when the content of the conversation isn’t for publication.”
“You really mean that.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” He laughed then, though without much humor. “I still can’t believe I told you that.”
“Because I’m a reporter?” Mallory asked, the lead weight returning to her stomach.
“No. Because I’ve never so much as hinted about that to my folks. They’re usually the first people I go to when I need to hash things out.”
What a luxury, she thought, to have parents you could confide in and seek counsel from. “Why haven’t you said something to them, then?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t wanted to worry them. Besides, they’re so proud of me.”
“But you have to be proud of yourself,” she said softly. “You have to be happy doing what you’re doing or their pride won’t matter.”
Soft laughter filtered through the line. “And you said you’re not good at this. Maybe you could take a turn guest hosting my show.”
“Nah. Not my thing.” She kicked the sheet to the bottom of the mattress. She was alone in bed, and yet she couldn’t think of a more intimate conversation she’d shared with a man while being horizontal. Heaven knew, last night the pair of them hadn’t spent much time talking. “Logan?”
“Yeah?”
She felt so privileged that he’d told her what he had, and she was determined to show him his trust wasn’t misplaced. “Let’s make things even between us.”
“What do you mean?” he inquired on a sleepy yawn.
“Ask me anything you want to know.”
“Anything?”
He didn’t sound sleepy now. Indeed, his probing tone raised gooseflesh on Mallory’s skin despite the Chicago night’s sweltering heat.
“Yes. Anything.”
“Okay.” He made a humming noise, apparently considering his options. But he didn’t keep her in suspense for long. “Tell me something about you that no one knows.”
“No one?”
“A deep, dark secret. That will make us even.”
“Something no one else knows,” she repeated, thinking. The memory came, rising up from the recesses of her mind with all the unpleasantness of bile. As such, it nearly gagged her. For a moment she considered telling Logan something else. But honesty demanded honesty. She swallowed and began.
“I told you that I hadn’t seen my dad since my parents divorced. But that’s not true. I ran into him a few years ago.”
“In Chicago?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. We were at O’Hare. I’d been out of town covering a story for the newspaper and I’d just returned home when I spotted him in the baggage claim area at the airport.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, girded her heart. Not that any measure she took did any good. The pain trickled through her system as painful as acid. Three years had passed, but the memory remained fresh. The wound was still festering.
“And?” Logan prompted when she said nothing more.
“He looked the same as I remembered.” She cleared her throat, hoping to make her voice sound more nonchalant. “He had a little more gray at his temples and a few more inches around his waist, but overall he was exactly the same. Tall and imposing and looking like he’d rather be anywhere but the place he was.”
She remembered that look well. He’d worn it during holiday gatherings, during her dance recitals, on those few evenings when he’d been home and she’d asked him to read stories.
Mallory had to swallow again before she could continue. “I saw him, and even with thirty feet and half a dozen people between us, I knew him at a glance. I guess I must have changed a lot, though.”
“He didn’t recognize you,” Logan guessed.
“No.” It was worse than that, though. “Actually, he thought I was a porter.”
“Aw, Mallory.”
“After I tapped on his shoulder, he turned and smiled. But before I could even say, ‘Hi, Dad,’ he handed me a couple of bucks and pointed to his bags.” What started as a laugh ended in a sob. “He expected me to load them on the cart I’d just rented for my own luggage.”
“What did you do?”
Even after three years, shame washed through her. Thankfully, anger followed swiftly on its heels. “I should have told him to go to hell, but I was a little too stunned.”
“He deserved no less, you know.” Logan said it with such conviction that it lessened some of her remaining heartache.
“He had three bags, two of them well over the weight limit. Mom always said he didn’t know how to pack light. You know, in addition to being a lousy father, that day he proved he’s also a lousy tipper. Three stinking bucks.” She snorted. “He should have paid me triple that for the near hernia I suffered.”
“Did you ever tell him who you were?” Logan asked.
“Nah.” Though Logan wasn’t there to see her, Mallory shook her head. “It was too humiliating, especially since I’d already loaded his luggage and he’d handed me the tip.”
“What about your mother? Did you tell her?” he asked.
“And give Maude another reason to gripe to me about him? Nah.” Mallory ran a hand over her cheeks, surprised to find them damp from tears. She hadn’t cried over her father in years, not even after the O’Hare incident. She hadn’t thought herself capable of tears any longer where the man was concerned.
“You chose to protect her,” Logan said.
She didn’t view her actions as altruistic. “He did it to me, Logan. He didn’t do it to my mom.”
“But she would have commiserated and understood.”
“No. Our relationship isn’t like that. My mother never would have let me hear the end of it.”
“I’m sorry.” After a moment of silence, he added, “Thanks for sharing that.”
“You know, it felt good,” she admitted. “Maybe there’s something to therapy.”
“I’m not sure I’d classify this as an actual session,” Logan began. “But it felt good to tell you what I did, too.” He snorted out a laugh then. “And it was a good reminder, too, since I’m always telling my listeners that it’s not healthy to bottle up their emotions.”
“Do as I say, not as I do?”
“I guess you’re right.” His tone was rueful. “But no longer. Nothing gets resolved that way.”
“You have to face things, don’t you?” she said.
“Yes. You do.”
>
Cradling the phone to her ear, Mallory rolled to her side and caught sight of the clock. “Oh, my God, Logan. It’s nearly one o’clock.”
“I know.”
“I really should let you get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired. If you hang up now, I’ll just lie here awake.” She heard his breath hiss through the line a moment before he asked, “Stay with me, Mallory?”
“Okay. I won’t go anywhere.” Cradling the phone to her ear, she turned on her side, and though he was far away, she felt him beside her, filling up a vast emptiness she hadn’t even been aware existed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MALLORY wasn’t sure how she would feel during her next face-to-face encounter with Logan. Excited? Embarrassed? Both? She’d bared her body to him and then a little bit of her soul. They’d spent two nights together, and though miles had separated them during the second one, it had been every bit as intimate as the first. She’d never felt closer to anyone than she’d been with him during those long hours they’d spent talking in hushed tones and sharing secrets until just before the morning sun turned the horizon pink.
When it came right down to it, she and Logan barely knew each other. Yet he already seemed to understand her far better than anyone else. And that was why she knew a moment of uncertainty the following afternoon when she spied him standing outside the Herald as she walked out the building’s grand front entrance.
“Hello, Mallory.”
“Logan.”
The strap of the bag carrying her laptop slipped down her arm. The computer would have crashed to the sidewalk had he not rushed forward to grab it.
She tried to keep a foolish smile corralled as she inquired, “What are you doing here?”
“Besides rescuing your computer, you mean?”
“Yeah, besides that. Thanks, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” When she held out her hand for the heavy bag, he looped the strap over his shoulder instead. “I wanted to see you.”
That foolish smile unfurled. She ducked her head in an effort to get it under control.
“I probably should have called, rather than just showing up at your workplace.”