by Cox, Sandra
“Damn hormones.” Who’d have thought abstinence would wreak such havoc on one’s psyche. She idled the bike at the stoplight. Glancing over she noticed the curious stares from the car next to her and realized she’d stormed out without her helmet or leather jacket. Oh well, it was too late now. She sure as hell wasn’t going back for them.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into her drive. The air had a fall bite to it, but her blood still rolled hotly enough through her veins to keep her warm. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself and Logan, mainly with herself. She’d seen his susceptibility to the opposite sex on more occasions than she cared to remember. She’d lost count of the number of women leaving his place as she arrived.
She raked her fingers through her tangled hair and walked to the door. It swung open and forty pounds of thin legs and arms came hurtling toward her. As simply as that, the concerns and tensions of her traumatic morning melted away. She scooped her child up in her arms in much the same way Logan had scooped her into his.
“You’re home early, Mommy.”
Caroline snuggled up against her.
“That’s right. I decided to play hooky.” She put her head against the silky, gold curls and smelled sunshine and sugar cookies.
“What’s hooky?”
Should have seen that one coming. “That’s when a person goes home when they should be at work or school.”
“So why are you playing hooky?”
“Because I want to be with you.”
“Goodie.” She shifted and leaned back in her mom’s arms. “Why is your neck red? Did a bug bite you?”
Heat rose in her face. “It sure did, a big-mouthed, two-armed, three-legged bug.”
“Bugs don’t have arms.”
“This one did,” she said firmly.
Caroline giggled. “You’re silly.”
As they entered the house, she wiggled down and went pelting toward the kitchen. “Grandpa, Mommy’s home.” She dropped her voice. “Hide the cookies.”
Her dad came out wiping his hands on a yellow-checkered dish towel. “What are you doing home, darlin’? Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, Dad. I’m fine, just tired that’s all. I’m going to take a few days off.”
“Your boss works you too hard,” he grumbled, tossing the towel over his shoulder.
She nodded. If her father wanted to think Logan Hunter was a snake in the grass who was she to argue.
“Come in to the kitchen and I’ll fix you a sandwich.” As they approached the kitchen they heard rustling. “I think Caroline must have decided I was too slow in hiding the cookie evidence and is doing it herself.”
“Grandpa! You aren’t supposed to tell.”
Kendall laughed. “It’s okay, Dad. I’ve already ate. I think I’ll go change.” Kendall grabbed a glass of sweet tea and headed for her room. What she hadn’t told her father was that she had no intention of going back to work for Logan Hunter, ever. That could prove more dangerous than a diamond heist.
She’d just have to step up her gigs. She liked to allow a few months in between to lull the stores into relaxing their vigil. But that was a decision for another day. Since she’d already said she was taking a couple of days off she might as well enjoy it. Like Scarlett O’Hara she’d worry about her problems tomorrow.
Chapter Four
“I bet I’ve gained five pounds. All I’ve done the past couple days is eat, sleep and play poker.”
Her dad just shook his head. “A few pounds isn’t going to hurt you.”
Kendall refrained from rolling her eyes. She loved her dad, but he was a male and they just didn’t get the weight thing.
Caroline frowned in concentration and glanced at her hand.
Her darling baby girl was a poker addict. She blamed it on her dad. He’d supplemented his janitorial income playing cards. The man would have made a great card sharp. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a larcenous bone in his body, just the love of cards. He’d used poker to teach Caroline her colors, shapes, numbers, and even a little history with the kings and queens.
She tapped her toes as she watched her daughter.
The doorbell rang.
“I wonder who that could be?” her dad muttered. Neither Kendall or Caroline responded, both involved in the Theron-Poker-Stare-Down. Both trying to convince the other they held the better hand.
The doorbell rang again. Neither female moved. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her dad look from one to the other then heave himself to his feet. “Don’t get up on my account. I’ll get the door.
“Females and cards,” he snorted under his breath as he made his way to the door.
Kendall listened with half an ear.
“Mr. Theron?”
At the sound of the whiskey-smooth voice coming from the doorway, the back of Kendall’s neck prickled and her poker face collapsed. She managed to hold onto her cards…barely.
“Yes?” her dad asked.
“Is your wife at home?”
“What would you be wanting with my wife?” Bill Theron demanded.
“I’m her employer and she hasn’t been to work in a couple of days.”
“Sonny, I think you’ve got the wrong house.”
For a moment hope rose in Kendall’s breast. Then gasped and died as her father added, “Did you say she hadn’t been to work in a couple of days?”
“That’s right.”
“Are you the clutch-fist who employs my daughter?”
“I believe I may have the wrong address. Sorry to have bothered you.”
Kendall winced. No doubt it was the clutch-fist that threw him. Truth was she received a decent salary.
“Are you that writer feller?” her dad asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Doubt still persisted in Logan’s voice.
“And you’re looking for Kendall Theron?”
“That’s right.”
“Appears you’re in the right place.
“I’m glad to get this opportunity to talk to you. It’s unconscionable the way you have her gallivanting all over the country and don’t pay her better.”
“Excuse me?” Logan’s voice rose a notch higher.
Kendall put her cards to her face and groaned. She could almost see Logan’s eyebrows rising along with his voice.
“I said…”
“No, I heard what you said. I just don’t understand.”
“You must be a smart man to write all those books. What’s so hard to understand?”
Kendall rose to her feet.
“Do you fold, Mommy?”
“Yes, baby.” In every imaginable way. As Caroline raked in her chips, Kendall went to the door. “What are you doing here, Mr. Hunter?”
“There you are.” Her dad turned in her direction his hand on the door.
“Ms. Theron,” Logan began.
This time Kendall didn’t correct him.
“May I come in?”
Caroline came to the door clutching her prized poker chips.
Logan blinked. But all he said was, “Is your husband sick? Is that why you haven’t been to work?”
She gave him a repressive look. As if.
“What’s a husband?” Caroline looked up at her, her expression inquisitive.
Before Kendall could respond, her dad quipped, “What your Mommy doesn’t have.”
Bill Theron turned to Logan. “Not sure why you thought she was married but you might as well come in. Now about that raise.”
“Raise?”
“Yes, raise. My daughter is sorely underpaid for all the work she does for you. Where would you be without her?”
“Exactly where I’m at now, on her doorstep begging her to come back to work. I’m desperate.”
Her dad’s head bobbed up and down decisively. “You’d have difficulty finding anyone else out there with her experience and work ethic.”
“Point taken, what did you have mind?” Logan stepped into the entryway, his expression wary.
“Ten thousa
nd.”
“Ten thousand?” His eyes widened.
“It’s a drop in the bucket compared to what you make while my daughter is traipsing all over the country for you.”
“Traipsing all over the country?”
“Do you have a hearing problem? You keep repeating everything I say. Now about that raise.”
“I’m more interested in her traipsing all over the country.”
“Of course, you are. What’s it going to be? Ten thousand or are you going to start doing your own traipsing?”
Logan, who’d been looking at her father as if he’d escaped from an asylum, turned and studied her as he rubbed the cleft in his chin.
Her ears grew hot and her eye began to twitch. Caught in a trap of her own making, she fought a strong desire to flee, anywhere.
After a long, long moment, he turned his attention back to her dad. “You drive a hard bargain but I know when I’m beat. Done, as long as she comes back to work.” He threw her a quick, thoughtful glance. “We’ll discuss the traipsing later.”
“Great. Great.” Bill Theron rubbed his hands together. Would you like some sweet tea?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Don’t just leave your guest standing in the doorway, Kendall. Take him into the living room.” The ten thousand had miraculously improved Logan Hunter’s standing with Bill Theron.
Kendall turned to her daughter. “Caroline, go with your grandpa. Mr. Hunter and I need to talk.” She turned to Logan who stood staring at the coffee table where cards and chips were scattered, a dazed expression back on his face, no doubt from the trouncing he’d taken from her father.
“Your dad’s a formidable negotiator. Could you imagine if he and Joyce teamed up? Is he an agent? I’ve never heard of him.”
“He was a janitor. He’s retired now. What are you doing here?”
“Since you’ve been ignoring my calls, I came to find out why you haven’t been to work.” He leaned forward. “And apologize…if I was the instigator.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “If you were the instigator?”
“You rammed that fine body into me.” At her dangerous expression he held his palms up. “Okay. I came to promise it will never happen again unless you initiate it. I need you, Ms. Theron. The phone rings all the time. I have constant interruptions. I can’t get anything done. Please come back.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think we can work together anymore.”
“Not even with your raise,” he responded in a dry tone. “Seriously, I’m at my wits end. Come back.”
She wavered. Softened by his speech more than she wanted to be. “I don’t know.”
“Your dad already accepted for you.”
“He did. I didn’t.”
“I’ll make it eleven thousand.” She jerked. “What? Mr. Hunter, I can’t be bought.”
“Make it twelve.”
She caved. “Done.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Now that’s out of the way, what’s this about you traveling on my behalf?”
She threw out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m having an affair that I don’t want my father to know about.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re cheating on Mr. Theron?”
She gritted her teeth. “I thought my dad made it perfectly clear. The only Mr. Theron in the house is my father.”
For one minute she could have sworn she saw a relieved expression on his face before it was quickly masked by confusion. “All this time you’ve let me believe you’re married and you’re not?”
“Yes.” She rubbed at the tension building in the back of her neck then dropped her hand and forced herself to hold her ground and not go on the defensive.
“Your dad’s statement makes a little more sense then.”
She felt her face flush.
“Why did you say you were married?”
To keep you at bay. “Because I have a four-year- old daughter,” she said primly.
He closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Let me see if I understand this. You tell me that you’re married because you have a four-year-old daughter you’ve never told me about. And you tell your father you’re traveling for me because you’re having an affair he doesn’t know about.”
Sir Walter Scott’s words about tangled webs and deceit floated briefly through her mind. “That’s pretty much it.” In spite of the scalding embarrassment ripping through her, she straightened her spine, trying her best not to feel as foolish as he made it sound.
“And why were you traveling for me again?”
“I was doing your research.”
“Doing research, while you’re actually having an affair you don’t want your father to know about.”
“Dad was right. You repeat yourself. I told you, he wouldn’t approve.”
“Why not?”
Good question. Her dad would be thrilled to see her date about anyone on the planet at this stage. “The man I’m seeing is married.”
“Then I can’t say I blame him.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “By the way you climbed all over me the other day, I take it you haven’t seen him in a while.”
She gasped. “That’s a disgusting thing to say.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. But I’ll be damned if I apologize. You’re a fount of misinformation. Is there anything, no make that anyone, else you’d care to tell me about?” His glance remained cool.
Heat flared behind her eyes. She clenched her fists. She was really tempted to wipe that sarcastic smile right off those, unfortunately, kissable lips. Instead she stepped into his space, put her face next to his and lowered her voice. “It’s none of your business if I screw one man or a hundred. Just be assured you’re not going to be one of them.”
“Is that a dare?”
“What’s screw, Mommy?”
Kendall closed her eyes, took a deep breath and stepped back. Caroline and her dad stood in the doorway. Her dad carried a tray with four glasses of iced tea and a platter loaded with her daughter’s favorite treats. Thank God, his hearing wasn’t as acute as her daughter’s.
Before she could frame a reply, Logan squatted down to Caroline’s level and held out his hand. “I’m Logan Hunter.”
Caroline took it. His hand swallowed hers.
“I’m Caroline Theron.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Caroline.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hunter.”
He pointed at the tray. “Those look like mighty tasty. Are you going to eat them all yourself?”
“No we brought them in ’cause you’re company. I’m not allowed sweets between meals.” She spoke primly fooling no one.
“I’d sure like to try one.”
“Would you? They’re haystacks, my favorite.”
He continued to hold her hand as they walked to the couch and sat down. “Really? I’ve never had one.”
Kendall hastily moved the cards and chips, and her dad placed the tray on the coffee table.
Logan helped himself to one of the irregular-shaped treats and took a bite. “These are the best cookies I’ve ever ate.” He studied what was left of his sweet. “Is it a cookie or candy?”
“It’s a haystack.”
He laughed. “Of course. Did you make them, Caroline?”
“Gramps and I did. Would you like to know how? They’re really easy.”
“Of course, I may have to make some of these myself.” He finished off the one in his hand and reached for another.
Kendall snorted. Right. If he had any kitchen skills she was unaware of it.
“You just mix chocolate chips and butterscotch chips on the stove, and add a can of Chow Mein noodles and a package of cashews, stir it up and plop it on paper.”
“I am impressed. You do all that yourself and even remember the recipe.”
“It’s easy. And Grandpa helps.”
She reached for one and looked at her mom. “We’ve got company. It woul
d be impolite to not to eat one. He might think they aren’t any good.”
Kendall bit back a smile and nodded. Her daughter was going to be a force to be reckoned with in another twenty years. “We certainly wouldn’t want that.”
“My mom got bit on the neck by a bug with two arms and three legs. Or at least that’s what she says. I told her bugs don’t have arms but she insisted this one did.”
Logan’s eyebrows shot up.
Her face grew warm and she shifted in her seat.
“That must have been some bug.” His lips twitched.
The muscles in her jaws tightened. “It was.”
Her father looked at them in confusion.
Logan swiftly changed the subject and began to chat with her dad. She glanced at her employer as he conversed with her father on fishing and the weather. His ease with her family, especially her daughter, stunned her.
Logan looked at her and smiled. She smiled back. For one moment, she let a foolish fantasy surface, before she firmly squelched it and turned her head. A moment later she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He still stared at her, this time his expression puzzled.
It amazed her that the man was completely at ease in any situation. The Harvard grad and the janitor. But then why not? Her dad could hold his own with anyone.
“Do you want to play poker, Mr. Hunter?” Her daughter’s eyes gleamed. No doubt in anticipation of relieving another patsy of his chips.
“You play poker?”
“Yup.”
“She’s very precocious.” Her grandpa smiled proudly.
“I can see that. How about if I take a raincheck? And before you ask what a raincheck is, I’d love to at a future date.”
The man was quick to pick up on her daughter’s questions.
“Oh good, how about Saturday?”
Logan looked at Kendall and raised his eyebrow.
“You’ve got the hospital wing charity ball, remember?”
“I don’t have a date.”
“I’m sure you can take care of that end of it.” Her belly began to ache, she knew what was coming.