by Cox, Sandra
While his demeanor was perfectly civil she could have sworn a tiger lurked behind those blue eyes, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. And it was no one’s fault but her own.
“I’m not sure,” she began trying to find a way out of her dilemma.
“Seven.” He gave her an easy smile and motioned her back when she started to get up. “I’ll see myself out.” With a long-limbed, lanky gait he strode out of the room and toward the door.
Her dad grabbed the edge of the table and lowered himself into his chair. “Nice young man. Not at all what I expected. You could do a lot worse.”
“Dad, he’s my employer.”
“And your point being?”
She rolled her eyes.
He ignored it. “You’re not getting any younger, missy.”
Stung, she straightened. “I’m only twenty-eight.”
“Uh-huh, that’s just my point. Your mom and I had been married for eight years by the time she was twenty-seven.”
Kendall slumped forward in defeat but her father gave no quarter.
“Don’t you have a biological clock that’s supposed to be ticking?”
“Dad, you’ve got Caroline,” she muttered, her head in her hands.
“Wouldn’t mind having a grandson.”
“Don’t you want me, Grandpa?” Caroline stood in the doorway, clutching her ragged teddy, looking forlorn.
Kendall jumped up. “Caroline Rose, you’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I wanted a drink of water.”
Her dad held out his arms and Caroline ran into them. He stroked her hair. “Punkin, there’s no one in the whole wide world I love more than you. I just thought you might like a brother or sister to play with.”
Kendall closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, pressure building behind her eyes.
“What about Grandma?” Caroline’s voice came muffled from her grandpa’s shoulder.
“What about Grandma?”
“Do you love me as much as Grandma?”
“Well, it’s in our marriage vows that I’ve got to love your grandma the most. But you’re such a close second, the lines blur.”
“What about Mommy?”
“You and your mom are tied.”
“What about Mrs. Smith’s sugar cookies or my haystacks?”
“Oh you definitely win out over the sugar cookies, though it’s a tossup with your haystacks.”
She grinned then turned serious again. “So how would I go about getting a brother or sister?”
The pressure in Kendall’s head began to hammer at her skull. No doubt about it, she was going to have the mother of all headaches.
“You’d have to put in a request with your mom.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, yes and no.”
“Dad, you know there are no yeses and noes with Caroline,” she murmured under her breath.
“Why yes and no?” Caroline asked on cue.
“Well, you can ask that’s a yes. But only your mom can decide whether she wants to get married again.”
“She doesn’t have to be married to have a baby. She had me didn’t she?”
The child’s logic was relentless. Kendall lifted her head and smiled. “That’s right, honey bear. I don’t have to be married to have another baby.” Seeing the trap she’d just laid for herself, she added hastily. “But that’s not to say I want another child.”
“Why not?” Caroline turned to her grandpa. “And why did you say Mommy had to be married?”
“I should say I would prefer it.” Her grandpa responded, pulling her onto his knee.
“Why?”
“Because that way I’d know that both of you would be looked after when I’m gone.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere for a long time, punkin. Now let’s get that glass of water and get you back in bed.” He scooted her off his knee and gave her a swat before he grabbed the table and pushed up. He winced as he straightened.
My God, he’s getting old. I’ve lost mom. I can’t bear to lose him too. For one moment, grief and terror overwhelmed her. If Logan was sitting here, I’d grab him, race to Vegas and marriage just to make Dad happy. The thought made her smile. Logan was too wily for anyone to rush into marriage. He’d been avoiding that particular trap for years. And there’d been plenty set for him too. Lucky for both of them, marriage wasn’t high priority. Though she might reconsider a quick roll in bed with him. Just remembering that sexually-charged moment between them had her squirming in her seat.
Caroline came back in, holding her grandpa’s hand, distracting Kendall from thoughts of dark sheets and smoky candles.
“Goodnight, Mommy.”
“Goodnight, baby.” She gave her daughter a quick hug and kissed the tousled silken strands on top of her head. “Sleep tight.”
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” her daughter replied.
Kendall giggled. She watched the two people, who besides her mom were the most important beings in her world, walk out of the room. She stood up, stretched and began picking up.
Her dad ambled back in. He grabbed the glasses and followed her as she took the empty pizza container to the trash can in the kitchen. “I can see why Logan’s such a good writer.”
“What makes you think so?” She paused, her hand hovering above the trash can, curious.
“He acts like he hasn’t a care in the world. Doesn’t appear to pay attention to anything, all the while he’s watching everything.”
She shoved the cardboard box into the receptacle. “Oh yeah, he’s observant and too smart for his own good.” And mine.
“He can play a mean game of poker too.” Her dad set the glasses on the counter.
“Caroline beat him.”
“He let her.”
She whirled around. “What?”
“Yeah, I watched him palm an ace. He let her win.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“His heart’s in the right place. I noticed he didn’t pull those tricks on you or me.”
“Good thing.”
“Good thing is right. Want to watch that police show you’re so fond of?”
“Sure.” Arm in arm, they strolled into the living room. Ten minutes into the program her dad was snoring softly. Kendall stared at the screen wondering just what she was going to do about her wily employer.
~*~
Logan sat sprawled on his couch, mindlessly channel surfing. He glanced at his clock—three a.m.—gave up any hope of sleep and decided to work on his manuscript.
Unfortunately, when he walked into his study he was blindsided by Kendall’s elusive fragrance. He raked his fingers through his hair. God, the woman gave him no peace. She was both enigmatic and enchantress. Behind that demure facade lurked a mystery woman who gave off the sensual appeal of a tigress. How could he have worked with her for three years and not realized her allure?
Jittery, he paced. The phone rang. Who would be calling at this hour?
“Hello.”
“Logan?” Laughter and music in the background suggested a party.
“Who is this?”
“It’s me, Cindy.”
Memory kicked in. Petite brunette, liked to party.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great.”
He glanced at the clock. “What can I do for you?”
“Why not come over and I’ll show you,” she purred, though the purr sounded slightly slurred.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“No.”
“Goodnight, Cindy.” He clicked off and shook his head, grinning. Good ole Cindy. While it was a tempting offer, a gentleman didn’t take advantage of a drunken woman.
His attention returned to his willowy assistant. Until recently he’d known nothing about her. Didn’t know she had a daughter—most mothers bored you to tears with pictures of their offspring for Christ’s sake—and was led to believe she had a husband.
The woman was smoke and mir
rors. Either that or a pathological liar. Maybe both. She loved her family, was fiercely loyal to them. He assumed the mother had died since her dad lived with her.
He took a turn around the study and stopped in front of the window where a fat yellow moon shone bright enough to lighten the dark room.
He pushed open the sash and took a breath of air made tangy with sea salt. On the street a tomcat hollered. A cat caterwauled in response. No doubt, a female. “No entanglements for us, huh, ole son?” But somehow the words felt hollow. Even to his ears it sounded like bluster. The tom trotted down the street in the direction of the yowling, his tail straight in the air. "Hope you have more success than I."
He paced some more then finally settled at his desk planning to google heists. Emerald eyes with a smoky invitation swam before him as he stared at the screen. Dammit. He jumped out of his chair, his stomach knotting. And what was she doing sending him smoldering glances if she was involved with someone else?
It didn’t add up. Even though he didn’t know the woman all that well he found it difficult to believe she’d be carrying on a liaison with a married man. His bones told him, it wasn’t in her nature to share. He certainly wouldn’t—if he was emotionally entangled.
Maybe she was lying about the affair. But why? Both his favorite word and her daughter’s, he thought ruefully. Well maybe he’d just have to find out. It was time he got to know just what Kendall was hiding. Tomorrow night was the charity ball, a perfect opportunity for a character study.
Chapter Eight
“You look beautiful, Mommy.”
“Do I, baby?”
“Oh yes. Just like a princess.”
“Since you’re my princess that must make me the queen. The wicked queen.” Kendall deepened her voice and reached down to tickle her daughter.
Caroline giggled and squirmed. “You’re not going to eat me are you?”
Kendall gave a light pinch to her daughter’s arm. “I’ll have to fatten you up first.”
“You’re silly. But still very pretty.”
Kendall curtsied. “Well thank you, my princess. So you think my all-day shopping excursion and primping paid off?” She laughed and glanced at the emerald silk gown that clung to every curve and flared gently from her thighs down to her strapped black heels where freshly pedicured toes peeped from beneath the skirt.
“Your daughter’s right. You look beautiful.” Her father walked in and bussed her on the cheek before handing her a glass of white wine.
“Thanks Dad.” She took a grateful sip. Her dad never drank anything but an occasional beer, but mom had liked a glass of wine now and then before dinner. Said it made the whole meal taste better.
The fruity flavor warmed her chest and tummy. She hoped it would calm her nerves. She could walk into a jewelry store and walk out with a stolen diamond on her finger without a qualm but spending time with her irascible employer made her as nervous as a cat at a dog fight.
Not that she wasn’t fully aware that stealing was wrong, dead wrong. Her stomach tightened and her muscles jumped. But she would do whatever it took whether lie, steal or cheat to take care of her family and if it meant she was a thief so be it. If she had to go to jail she devoutly hoped it wasn’t until Caroline was a grown woman and no longer needed her. The thought sent an icy finger down her bare back in a hard shudder.
She took a breath and clasped the simple gold heart she wore around her neck. A gift from her mom on her sixteenth birthday. It had been her mother’s and her grandmother’s before her. One day it would be Caroline’s. Absently she traced the intricate scroll work and forced herself to relax. Thank God for her dad.
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Caroline skipped to the door.
She heard the murmur of a masculine voice, caught a whiff of lime and spice, and there he was, resplendent in a black tux and tie. He stopped when he saw her. A slow smile spread across his face as his gaze swept over her. “Ms. Theron, you take my breath away.”
“Thank you. You look very dashing.” She still held her wine glass. “Would you like something before we go?”
“Thanks, no.” He held out his hand to her father. “How are you, Bill?”
“I’m fine.” Her dad grasped it.
“Are you planning on wetting a line tomorrow?”
“Haven’t decided yet. If I do, you’re welcome to join me.”
“I’ll let you know.” Logan turned to Kendall. “We should be going.”
Caroline and her dad walked them to the entryway.
Kendall bent down and gave her daughter a kiss. “Be good and mind your grandpa.”
“I will.”
“Have fun, you two.”
“Thanks.” Logan opened the door for Kendall and she stepped out onto the stoop. A soft breeze was blowing, the weather warm for an October evening. A bird call carried over rustling leaves. A mockingbird, she supposed.
Logan opened the car door then shut it when she scooted in. He went to the other side and got in. “Give me just a minute and I’ll put the top up.”
She touched his hand impulsively. “Leave it down. It’s a beautiful night.”
He turned his hand over and his fingers tightened around hers, his grasp warm and firm. He held it for a moment then let go and started the car. “You’re an unusual female. Most would be worried about their hair. Which I might add I like a lot better loose on your shoulders then scraped back in a bun.”
“You have no idea how unusual,” she murmured under her breath.
“Excuse me?” He turned down the radio.
“I said you sound like a typical guy.”
“Really, it sounded like you said…never mind. How did you spend your day?”
“Looking for this dress, getting a mani, a pedi and a facial.”
He glanced at her then back to the road. “It was time well spent.”
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Hunter, this isn’t a date.”
“What exactly is it, Ms. Theron?”
“Work. While you schmooze, I network.”
“Glad you said schmooze not snooze.”
“Oh, I think you’ll be able to stay awake.” She pushed back a strand of hair whipping around her face.
“Thanks to you. Normally, these are pretty boring affairs.”
A few minutes later they pulled in front of one of the historic hotels. Soft music drifted out from open doors. A young man in red livery trotted down the steps to the driver’s side of the car. “I’ll take it, sir.”
“Be careful. No scratches.” Logan slipped a folded bill into the young man’s hand.
“Of course, sir.”
Logan turned to Kendall and offered his arm. “Shall we?”
She nodded, smoothed her hair and put her hand gingerly on his arm. For coming across as somewhat of a dilettante the man obviously worked out. Beneath the crisp tux was pure muscle. She remembered the hard planes and angles of his body pressed against her when he’d kissed her, then gave herself a mental shake as they walked through the door.
A sleek, middle-aged couple moved toward them. The man had a head full of silver hair and his partner’s blonde, perfectly streaked hair was drawn back in a twist. Her features were beautiful but cold, her cheekbones sharp and prominent.
Kendall stiffened in response.
“Logan darling.” The woman’s expression warmed. She raised her face for a kiss. He placed his free hand on her bare arm and bussed her cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Grace.” Next he turned to the man and extended his hand, “Charles.”
Charles shook it. “Just finished Murder at the Mission. Great read. Kept me up most of the night.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. Looks like you’re going to raise quite a bit of money tonight.” Logan nodded at a couple heading for the dance floor.
“I’m counting on it. Who’s your lovely companion?”
Logan slipped his hand on her back and drew her forward. Her skin quivered and heat shot through her from
the slight pressure. She wouldn’t have been the least surprised to find a handprint on her back glowing like a sunburn.
“This is my publicist, and right arm, Kendall Theron. Kendall, this is Charles and Grace Kudlow. They’re the committee co-chairs for raising money for the pediatrics wing at the hospital.”
She held out her hand first to Grace then Charles. “How nice to meet you.” Grace’s touch was brief and limp. Charles lingered. His smile turned puzzled. “Have we met?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“You look so familiar.”
“Just one of those faces.” She laughed.
He shook his head and let go of her hand. “There’s nothing ordinary about that face of yours, my dear.” He snapped his fingers. “The Queen of Diamonds.”
“Excuse me?” Her stomach dropped and her ears began to ring. She looked around for exits to make a quick getaway.
“I happened to be in a store that she robbed about a year ago.” He squinted his eyes, studied her and laughed. “It’s obvious you aren’t the same woman. She had black curly hair, a smaller mouth and narrower eyes. It was just a momentary illusion. “
“Thank goodness. I’d hate to be hauled off to jail.” She forced herself to breath evenly and willed her pounding heart to slow.
Everyone laughed, but Logan’s speculative glance did nothing to calm the skitter of nerves under her skin.
“Charles, the Smiths are here.” Grace pointed to the door where an older couple had just walked in. “Logan, I’m counting on a healthy donation.”
“You’ll get it.”
The pair moved away.
A waiter passed by and Logan snagged two flutes of champagne and handed her one. “Queen of Diamonds, huh?”
She forced a laugh. “Fancy you not figuring that out.”
He gave her a quirky grin. “I must be slipping.”
Keep it light. “It’s the age thing.”
“I’m thirty-two, not sixty.” He took the glass from her hand, set it down and led her to the dance floor.
“I really don’t think…” she began.
Ignoring her feeble protest, he pulled her into his arms and waltzed her around the ballroom. He had a good sense of rhythm and led her with strong sure steps, their bodies a perfect fit.
The other dancers faded into the background. The music softened. Her silk dress clung to her and whispered as she moved. Lights shimmered around them liked crystalized prisms. As everything else receded, Logan’s blue eyes glittered, mesmerizing, drawing her in, sucking every rational thought from her head, leaving her aware only of the way they glided across the floor in total silence, their eyes locked, heat rising from their bodies, his carrying the scent of musk, spice and lime.