Luck Be a Lady

by Cathie Linz

  “And have a treasure hidden in it,” Chuck added.

  Rowdy nodded. “Yeah, those would both be great hooks. We could get the ghost crowd as well as the treasure hunters.”

  “Tell me about the ghost and the treasure,” Megan said.

  “See? It’s working already,” Chuck said. “Our first interested customer.”

  “Your first strandedcustomer,” Logan said. He eyed them suspiciously. “Unless this has happened before?”

  “Unless what has happened before?” Rowdy said. “That someone drove into town in a 1957 Chevy that needs work? Not lately, no.”

  “Who do you know at the Butterfly Ranch?” Logan said abruptly.

  Pepper blinked, then whispered, “Do you mean the brothel?”

  Rowdy glared at Logan. “What kind of question is that to ask in front of a lady? Two ladies,” he amended. “I don’t know what they do in Chicago, but out here, we treat our women with more respect. I think you owe them both an apology.”

  Logan didn’t back down. “And you owe me an explanation.”

  “Of manners?”

  “No, of how we ended up stuck here.”

  Rowdy shrugged. “I can’t explain fate.”

  “Was it fate?” Logan said. “Or was it sabotage?”

  Now Rowdy was the one narrowing his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “It wouldn’t take much for a buddy of yours working as a bouncer at the ranch to tamper with the car so it would break down and force us to stop here. There was nothing wrong with the car until now. I can’t help be suspicious as to why we’d suddenly run into trouble right outside your town. Maybe that’s how you get people to stop here. Maybe you’re running a con.”

  “Why would we want someone who visits brothels with his girlfriend to visit our fair town?” Rowdy folded his arms across his broad chest. “Doesn’t sound to me like you’re exactly a good example of an upright citizen.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend,” Megan said.

  “That’s all you’ve got to say?” Logan stared at her. “How about coming to my defense?”

  “I just wanted to clarify the girlfriend thing first,” Megan explained. “We were only visiting the ranch to speak to the owner. We never actually entered the brothel part of the establishment. The owner knew my mom when they were both teenagers.”

  “Does your mom run a brothel too?” Pepper asked.

  Megan quickly shook her head. “No, she’s a mathematician.”

  “I believe you still owe these two ladies an apology,” Rowdy reminded Logan.

  “I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you,” Logan said stiffly before glaring at Rowdy. “It’s just frustrating when I can’t get a straight answer.”

  Rowdy glared right back at him. “Are you accusing us of tossing cow paddies in your direction?”

  “We’ve tried to be as truthful as we can,” Pepper said.

  Logan immediately latched on that. “As truthful as you can?”

  “Right. I don’t know when the phone service will be working again, so I can’t give you the answer you want.”

  “I just want a straight answer.”

  “She just gave you one.” Rowdy’s expression changed to that of genial host . . . or circus ringmaster. “Now, let’s get back to that burger. How do you want yours? Our credit card machine is out what with the phone lines being down, so you’ll have to pay in cash. We don’t take checks.” He pointed to the sign next to the cash register. It was right next to the one that read NO SHOES, NO SHIRT, NO SERVICE.

  “Things could be worse,” Pepper said. “The electricity could be out as well.” She turned to Rowdy and Chuck. “Remember that time a rattlesnake got into one of the transformers and the lights went out? In that case, we’d be eating fried rattlesnake by candlelight. And that’s not as romantic as it sounds.”

  Megan didn’t think it sounded romantic at all.

  “Rattlesnake isn’t on the menu tonight,” Rowdy said. “So just tell me how you want your burger, Logan.”

  Logan sighed, apparently realizing this was one battle he wasn’t going to be winning for now. “Medium-rare.”

  “How about you?” Rowdy asked Megan.

  “Do you have any salad?” she said.

  He looked at her as if she’d just asked him if he’d seen aliens. “Never mind,” she quickly said. “I’ll have my burger medium.”

  She’d never eaten in a place where the cook and others stood around and watched every bite you took. “How is it?” Rowdy asked.

  “No one makes better burgers,” Chuck said.

  “Even Sinatra would love them. Dean Martin too,” Pepper added.

  “Aren’t you guys going to eat?” Logan asked them suspiciously.

  “Sure. We didn’t know if you wanted us to join you. We didn’t want to crowd you or anything,” Pepper said.

  Chuck pulled over another table, and a few minutes later they were all munching on burgers.

  Out of the blue, the jukebox started playing all on its own, startling Megan. The song was Elvis’s “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog.” The song played through the “you ain’t no friend of mine” verse before stopping as abruptly as it started.

  “It does that sometimes,” Pepper said. “Nobody knows why.”

  “Maybe it’s that ghost from the Last Resort mine,” Logan drawled.

  “I’m just guessing that you don’t believe in ghosts,” Pepper said.

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “You don’t believe in much, do you?”

  “Right again.”

  “It must be difficult being such a pessimist,” Pepper said.

  “Nah, it’s easy,” Logan said.

  “Because you see the dark side of life in your line of work.”

  He nodded. “That would be an accurate observation.”

  “That’s such a shame.”

  His expression hardened. “No need to feel sorry for me.”

  “Sure, there is. Right, Megan?”

  Megan pointed to her mouth, which was full of a bite of burger she’d just taken.

  “You can just nod,” Pepper told her.

  Megan shrugged instead.

  Everyone stared at her, waiting for a longer response. She hurriedly swallowed, grabbing for her root beer when she almost choked. Logan patted her on the back.

  His touch was beginning to feel right and natural and welcome. Very, very welcome. A dangerous sign.

  They were in a place that time and everyone else had forgotten, creating a cocoon that wasn’t real. She couldn’t afford to forget that. Besides, she wasn’t exactly in the most stable emotional state to begin with, given her recent discovery about her mother.

  Earlier in their motel room, he’d demonstrated how vulnerable she was to the physical attraction broiling right beneath the surface between them. Leaning in to kiss her that way . . . teasing her.

  “You okay?” Logan asked.

  She nodded. She had to be okay. She had to stay strong and stay focused.

  “So, do you feel sorry for me?” he asked Megan.

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  The rest of the meal was uneventful, perhaps because Megan remained silent, focused on her reaction to his simple touch. She really should be concentrating on ways to find her mother. Taking notes of things she recalled about her. Or had been told about her was more accurate since she didn’t really have any memories of her. She’d been too young when she’d died . . . disappeared, she corrected herself.

  Pepper picked up the conversational slack by telling colorful stories about the history of Last Resort told to her by her grandfather. “He made a fortune and then lost it on the turn of a card. I tell you, it just brings the hair up on my arm. Not that I have hairy arms, because I don’t. Feel.”

  Megan and Logan quickly refused her offer and instead made their excuses to return to their motel room. Once inside, Megan opened
the drawer in the bedside stand.

  “What are you looking for?” Logan asked.

  “Paper and a pen. A-ha.” She triumphantly held up a small pad. “I wanted to make some notes.”

  “About your mother?”

  “Of course. What else?”

  “Maybe Pepper’s stories.”

  “That was a nice distraction, but I haven’t forgotten my mission.” She perched on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t bring my BlackBerry charger with me, so I didn’t want to use up my battery by putting my notes there.” She paused as a new thought occurred to her. “Won’t Buddy be worried about you disappearing? I sent a text to my father saying I was okay. But Buddy doesn’t have a cell phone.”

  “I was able to reach him before we left Las Vegas. He was in his room for a change.”

  “Why couldn’t you have called him from Chicago to tell him about the annulment papers?”

  “Because he was never in his room. I left voice mails but he didn’t acknowledge them. He was probably staying in Ingrid’s room.”

  Megan’s eyes widened.

  “What, that never occurred to you?” Logan said.

  She waved her hands. “TMI. Too much information.”

  “Maybe they were platonically sharing a room like we are.”

  “You are such a liar.”

  “I’m a damn good liar,” he said.

  “Their situation is different than ours. Buddy and Ingrid were engaged. You and I are strangers.”

  “We’re not strangers any longer,” he said.

  “Sure we are.”

  He shook his head. “I know you like chocolate chip pancakes and your burgers medium. You have ‘Life Is a Highway’ on your BlackBerry playlist. You like vintage clothes and Lilly Pulitzer designs.”

  She was surprised he’d remembered that much about her. Maybe being stuck with her, marooned here in Last Resort, meant that there was nothing else to think about. They were basically out of contact with the outside world.

  “And you read Nancy Drew books as a kid. I also know you’re tougher than you think you are,” he added.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’m a detective. It’s my job to know these things.”

  “Your job?”

  “Right.”

  “Your job really defines you, doesn’t it?”

  “It seems to—in your eyes.”

  “And in yours. I know you’re a Chicago cop who likes his coffee black and his burgers medium-rare. But that’s about it.”

  “That’s not true. I told you about my family. About my marriage. It’s more than you’ve told me about your personal life, aside from your mother.”

  His words made her realize he was absolutely right.

  “Or did you block all that from your memory bank because knowing it would make me more human?” he said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. And it scares you.”

  “I don’t scare easily.”

  “No?”

  “Okay, sometimes I do get scared, but not all that often.”

  “There’s a definitive answer.”

  “Hey, I can be as definitive as the next person. I was definitive when you crashed the wedding.”

  “Yes, you were. You were damn definitive.”

  “Damn right I was. And don’t you forget it.”

  “I’m not likely to. You’re pretty unforgettable.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Not many women hijack you into tracking down their mother, huh?”

  “No, not many.” He looked around the room. “And not many end up with me in a cross between the movies Deliveranceand Viva Las Vegas.”

  She laughed. “That’s an unusual combination.”

  “Everything about the past twenty-four hours has been unusual,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. It has been pretty strange.”

  “Law enforcement officers are accustomed to strange.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “You’re not going to start feeling sorry for me like Pepper was at dinner, are you?”

  “No way.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I think you’re trying to distract me from brooding about my mother. It worked for a while, but now ...” Megan re-focused her attention on the notepad in front of her. “Why would she walk away from her own child like that?”

  “Maybe she thought she didn’t have a choice.”

  “You mean my father threatened her?”

  “No. I mean she could have had her own reasons for leaving that had nothing to do with you.”

  “But to leave your two-year-old daughter behind ...” Megan shook her head. “I need to know why.”

  “Then you need to ask your father. Even if he doesn’t tell you the truth, you have to ask.”

  “How can I know if he’s telling me the truth or not? That’s the problem. I don’t trust him anymore. He’s broken that trust.”

  “Don’t be so quick to dump on your dad. You don’t have enough information to make any decisions. And you’re exhausted. I got some rest this afternoon, but you didn’t get much.”

  “I had a three-hour nap.”

  “So you’re not tired?”

  Her yawn gave her away.

  “Why don’t you go to bed?” he said. “I’ll sleep in the car.”

  “But it’s cold out there.”

  “It’s balmy compared to Chicago in January.”

  “Balmy, huh?”

  “Yeah. One of Buddy’s contributions to my vocabulary.”

  “He does have an interesting way of verbally expressing himself. Faith told me he’d given up cursing, but she didn’t know why.”

  “That’s his story to tell.”

  “Right. I wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything. So, uh, I guess this is good night then.”

  Logan nodded.

  “Okay, then. Well, good night.”

  He headed for the door.

  “Wait.”

  He turned to face her.

  “You’ll need a pillow and a blanket.” She gathered both from the closet and handed them to him.

  “See you in the morning, when we’ll be leaving this twilight zone no matter what,” he said.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  She shivered as the night air hit her. Logan waved her back into the room, his gesture assuring her he was fine. He had his tough cop expression going on, along with a sexy stubble thing that was altogether seductive. He was a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, and she was a woman . . . but what kind of a woman was she?

  Right before the wedding, she’d decided to move away from her girl-next-door image. She supposed visiting that brothel yesterday had been a step away from the good girl behavior. To be fair, she’d only been there because of Fiona’s ties to Megan’s mother. And Megan had been totally clueless about the ranch being a brothel.

  So she wasn’t a wild rowdy girl . . . woman. She changed back into the oversized Last Resort T-shirt and boxer shorts she’d bought at the gift shop. Staring at her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, Megan wondered what her real persona was. Was she like her mother? Would she have gone to Woodstock had she been a teenager at that time?

  Not very likely. Megan had always played it safe. Until now. And look where her spontaneous actions had gotten her: washing her face with a guest-sized bar of Ivory soap in a pink-tiled bathroom. She brushed her teeth before switching off the light and opening the door.

  She yelped when she saw Logan standing near the bed.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I left my iPhone.” He held it up as if to prove he wasn’t lying. His smile slowly grew until it became a grin as he eyed her with definite male interest.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

  Okay, then. What didhe mean? She recalled all too well how she’d reacted to him staring at her cleavage back at the Venetian’s elevator bank. She had gone all weak-kneed and fluttery inside
several times since then. Right now being one of those times.

  “Uh, I should be going,” he said.

  “Right.”

  “Lock the door after me,” he ordered.

  She did. And then she climbed into bed and tried to sleep. She really did. But to no avail. She kept worrying about him out there in the cold. That blanket she’d given him was too thin to provide much warmth. She turned on the light and rummaged through the closet to find another thicker blanket. She took it out to him. Logan’s body, sprawled out along the backseat, had replaced the suitcase she’d placed on the backseat earlier.

  She knocked on the car window—gently because she knew how he felt about the borrowed Chevy.

  He immediately hopped out of the car. “What’s wrong?’

  “Nothing. I just thought you might need a thicker blanket, that’s all.” She started to take it from around her shoulders when he stopped her.

  “You need that.”

  “No, there’s another one just like it inside.” She happened to look up while looking over her shoulder and was stunned by the number of stars. “Wow. Is that the Milky Way?”

  “Yeah.” He moved closer and guided her a little to the right. “And that’s the Big Dipper.”

  “You don’t get night skies like this in the city,” she said, trying to sound calm and nonchalant, while her hormones were shooting stars.

  “No, you don’t.”

  Right. She should move away. She really should. She kept her eyes on the stars. Then her sense of fair play took over. “It’s really freezing out here,” she said. “You should come inside. It’s a king-sized bed. It’s big enough for both of us.”

  “I’m tough.”

  “I can’t sleep if you’re out here.”

  “Afraid of the dark?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “My sense of fair play.” Her teeth started chattering. “Come inside. It’s too cold to sleep in the car.”

  He hustled her inside, thicker blanket and all, pausing only long enough to grab the extra blanket and pillow from the backseat. “I put your suitcase in the trunk, in case you were wondering.”

  “Okay.”

  She scurried into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Logan paused in front of the thermostat to turn up the heat. “Let’s hope that works.”

  “It’s a big bed,” she said. “There’s enough room for both of us.”