by Cathie Linz
Megan prayed that Buddy didn’t know the current connotation of “hooked up,” as in, “had sex.”
“Logan finally admitted it was the chemistry between you two that did it.”
She exchanged a look with Logan. Even though it had only been a few hours since she’d seen him, she’d missed him. She was only now realizing that. She shared a connection with him, a bond that showed no signs of abating, despite him dumping her at the Venetian like unwanted baggage. That really should have cured her of whatever it was she had going with him. “What exactly did you tell Buddy?”
“To mind his own business.”
“He didn’t say those words exactly, just gave me one of those looks. You know.”
Megan nodded. She knew. She’d been on the receiving end of a number of looks from Logan. From that intensely sexual stare while waiting for the elevator shortly after they’d first met to his look of impatience when she and Fiona talked about local history, to his visual seduction when she put on that jumper and white shirt. “Would you mind if I talked to Logan privately for a second, Buddy?”
“Not at all. You two lovebirds go right ahead.”
Once she and Logan were a safe distance away, she said, “What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t say anything about you looking for your mother, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid of that. I could use his help.”
“Hey, the agreement was that I help you and you don’t drag my grandfather into your mess.”
His words stung. Here he was again, making her feel like a nuisance. “Then what did you tell him?”
“I let him think . . . you know . . . that there was something going on between us.”
“You did what?”
“It seemed better than the alternative.”
“To you, maybe. Not to me.”
“News flash: The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“It doesn’t revolve around you either,” she retorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a detective. Figure it out for yourself.”
“Are you upset that Buddy thinks we have a thing going on?”
“A thing? Is that what you called it?”
“I didn’t label it exactly. What’s the problem? We can use that as a smoke screen for a few days.”
So he thought he’d only have a “thing” with her for a few days? Sounded more like a fling to her. She supposed she should warn him about her earlier verbal flubs. “My relatives think we’re doing more than just dating.”
“Why?” he said suspiciously. “What did you say?”
“I let a few things slip.”
“What kind of things?”
“Um, I may have mentioned visiting the brothel and . . . um . . . sharing a bed.”
“You what?”
“And I let slip about the shotgun wedding, but pointed out that we didn’t get married.”
“So you told your relatives that I took you to a brothel, bedded you and then refused to marry you. Great. I’ll bet that went over well.”
“My uncle was pretty upset,” she said. “I had to make up a reason for visiting the brothel.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“I said you were helping me.”
“Right. Helping you. By taking you to a brothel.”
Megan nodded. “Because I was interested in the history of prostitution in Nevada.”
Logan rolled his eyes. It was an expression she was coming to know quite well.
“That’s the best you could come up with?” he said.
“I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it.”
“I can’t believe they bought that.”
“They didn’t really, but I’ve been avoiding them since then. Except for Gram.”
“Talking about me?” Gram said as she joined them. Turning to face Logan, she added, “Megan told me how you helped her in her mission to track down her mother,” she said. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”
“Gram is sworn to silence,” Megan added.
“And I know that I can count on you to continue looking after her once we’re back in Chicago,” Gram said to Logan.
“I don’t need ‘looking after,’ ” Megan said.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Logan said.
“Hey, I’m not the one whose car broke down in the middle of the dessert, stranding us in Last Resort. That was not my fault.”
“It wasn’t my fault either,” he said. “It’s not like I wanted to be marooned there any more than you did.”
“Right. You never want to see me again. I get that.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. The way you dumped me on the doorstep at the Venetian said it all.”
“I didn’t dump you.”
“You sort of did,” Gram said.
“Thank you.” Megan’s look told Logan, See? I was right.
Logan defended himself. “I had a flight to catch, which was canceled when I got here. I’ve got a job waiting for me back in Chicago.”
“So do I,” Megan said.
“Children, children.” Gram shook her head. “Try to be nice.”
“Is there a problem over here?” Buddy asked almost hopefully. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Yes. Don’t propose to a woman if you’re still married to someone else,” Gram said tartly.
“I told you, I didn’t know I was still married. I thought it was annulled. It only lasted two days.”
“A lot can happen in two days.” Gram gave Megan a meaningful look.
“Children, try to be nice,” Logan said, repeating Gram’s earlier words.
“Can I get you girls anything while we wait?” Buddy asked. “A drink or something to eat? I saw a couple of places along the concourse.”
“We’re fine,” Gram said. “We don’t need your help.”
“Now Ingrid, don’t be like that. How long are you going to stay mad at me?”
“As long as it takes.”
“What are you two doing here harassing my family?” Megan’s uncle demanded as he joined them. “Don’t make me call security. Beat it.”
“You beat it,” Buddy said, sticking his chest out like a riled-up rooster. “We were here first.”
“And they weren’t harassing me,” Megan said. “We were having a pleasant conversation, which you interrupted.”
“They’re seeing each other,” Buddy said. “You better get used to it.”
“What do you mean, ‘seeing each other’?” Uncle Jeff demanded.
“What do you think I mean?”
“All I know is that your no-good grandson took my niece to a brothel. Did he tell you that?”
Buddy looked at Logan, who remained silent.
“And then he took her to bed,” her uncle added for good measure.
Buddy’s bushy eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You bedded her at a brothel? Megan, I thought you were a librarian.”
“I am a librarian,” she said. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Librarians shouldn’t be doing such things.” Buddy shook his head.
“I didn’t bed her in a brothel,” Logan growled. “I didn’t bed her at all.”
“There was only one room available at the Queen of Hearts Motel and we had to share the bed, but it was a huge king-sized bed,” Megan explained.
“So there was no hanky-panky going on, then?” Buddy said.
Megan cursed her blushing cheeks. “That’s none of your beeswax,” she shot back, using one of his favorite phrases.
“Look, the car broke down, we were stuck in this rinky-dink town in the middle of nowhere for the night.” Logan’s voice was matter-of-fact. “That’s it.”
“What about the shotgun wedding?” The question came from her father, who’d just joined them.
“It was the mayor’s idea of a joke,” Logan said.
Wow, Logan was a mu
ch better liar than she was. Megan decided to keep quiet and let him do the talking for a while.
“Sounds like a strange joke to me,” her uncle said.
“The mayor was a strange kind of guy. Right, Megan?”
She nodded. She could do that without messing up.
“We got things straightened up and got the car repaired and headed straight back to Vegas,” Logan said.
“Why didn’t you call from . . . where did you say you were?” Her uncle eyed Logan as if administering a visual lie detector test.
“Last Resort. And their landlines were out,” Logan said. “We couldn’t get any cell service. Right, Megan?”
Another nod. She was getting good at this. Not that she was a yes-girl. She had her own mind.
But she needed a break from the inquisition. And she had yet to sit down and talk to her father about the lies he’d told her most of her life. She just wasn’t ready to go there yet.
“It all sounds suspicious to me,” her uncle maintained.
“Everything sounds suspicious to you,” Gram said, rejoining them with a giant smoothie from the health food stand a short distance away.
“You could benefit from being more suspicious,” Megan’s uncle told Gram. “You too,” he told Megan.
“Come along, Megan.” Gram hooked her arm in hers. “We don’t have to put up with this.”
“Wait.” Megan was afraid to leave Logan and Buddy with her male relatives. Not that her dad would do anything, but her uncle was another matter.
As if reading her mind, Buddy said, “There now, don’t you be worrying about us. We’ll be just fine.” His glare at Megan’s uncle belied his statement.
She looked at Logan, seeking reassurance. Instead she got another eye roll.
“Maybe I should stay ...” she said uncertainly.
To her astonishment, Logan slung an arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. Since her other arm was still hooked with Gram’s, her grandmother came along with her, bumping into Megan, which forced her even closer to Logan’s body.
Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “Beat it.” Then he kissed her on the forehead and set her free.
Chapter Ten
“I’m so glad to be home. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Megan told her black cat, Smudge, who greeted her at the door. Megan dumped her suitcases and sank onto the nearest chair. Smudge immediately jumped onto her lap and commiserated by butting the top of her head against Megan’s chin. “I’m a different person than when I left. I have a mother now. A mother who is alive.”
Funny how she could talk to her cat about it, but not her father. She’d managed to avoid him for the most part in their hurry to make it to the airport in time for their flight. And then she’d bumped into Logan. She was sure he’d have already left.
He’d ended up being seated across the aisle from her. Her dad and uncle watched him like hawks from their seats in the row directly behind. He responded to their surveillance by putting his seat back and sleeping for the duration of the flight. Buddy had gotten stuck in a seat way in the back of the plane.
Her cell phone rang and the ringtone of “Memories” from Catstold her that it was Gram calling. “Hi, Gram.”
“I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
“I got home just fine. Smudge was here to greet me. How about you?”
“I think I might have a nap. It was a very busy and eventful weekend.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Yes, it is. Anyway, check your e-mail because Faith sent us some pictures from New Zealand. She and Caine seem to be having a great time.”
“I’m glad someone is.”
“Me too.”
“I don’t want Faith to know about this situation with my mother,” Megan said. “I’ll tell her myself when she gets back from her honeymoon. Unless she already knows?”
“No, she is as clueless as I was.”
“So only my dad, Uncle Jeff and Aunt Sara were in on the deception?”
“That’s what your dad told me. You can’t avoid talking to him forever, you know.”
“I know. I just need to get my head straight first. Remember, you promised not to say anything about me trying to find my mother.”
“I know.”
Smudge bumped her nose against Megan’s chin and gave her yodeling meow that said, “Feed me.”
“I’ve got to give Smudge her dinner.”
After disconnecting her phone, Megan just sat for a moment, petting her purring cat and enjoying the sensation of being home. She’d decorated her condo to be a comfortable space. It started in the living room with one wall covered in built-in bookcases. Another wall was taken up with floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of Lake Michigan. She’d stuck to a palette of just three colors in her decorating—blue, pink and green. A mix of painted wood and rustic pine furniture combined with a soft, light blue slipcover on her comfy couch gave the room a cozy feel. The framed set of Carl Larsson prints on the wall had been a gift from Gram.
Smudge meowed again, reminding Megan to feed her. “Come on, you.”
Smudge’s purr increased several decibel levels as Megan picked her up and carried her to the kitchen. The white cabinets with their glass fronts in the upper cabinets contrasted nicely with the honed black granite countertops and old-fashioned black hardware. The mahogany-stained oak floors throughout the condo provided a warm base.
After giving Smudge some gourmet cat food as a reward, Megan started unpacking. She started with the Wedgwood teacup she’d found in the storage room in Last Resort. Opening one of her upper kitchen cabinets, she carefully placed it beside her small but special collection of other orphan teacup-and-saucer sets. They all displayed similar vivid reds that had turned to pale pink and blues. Most had a floral motif. About half had matching saucers, while the others she’d matched herself, introducing a solo teacup to a new saucer companion.
She had a story for each of her dozen or so collectibles. She’d found the Royal Staffordshire “Devonshire” teacup and saucer when she and Faith had stopped at a garage sale on the way back from the Kane County Flea Market. The Royal Doulton “Spring Meadows” teacup beside it was from the flea market. And the 1930s Polka Rose cup and saucer were a find from a Stillwater, Minnesota, antique shop she’d visited while in Minneapolis for the Public Library Association convention a few years back.
Staring at the Wedgwood addition reminded her of Logan’s suggestion that they have sex in the storage room. On the plane, she’d been amazed to discover that he was just as sexy asleep with his head tilted at an awkward angle. He hadn’t appeared to have any nightmares during the flight.
They’d shared a lot during their weekend together. Not the least of which was that embrace in bed. No, embrace didn’t begin to cover what they’d done. “Making out” wasn’t sufficient either. It was so much more than that. His hands on her bare breasts, his mouth consuming hers.
Megan shook her head and firmly closed the cabinet door. She could still see the Wedgwood through the glass. Just as she could still feel his hands on her body.
The last words he’d said to her were, “Beat it.” Sure he’d kissed her forehead after that, but . . . what did it all mean? She didn’t have a clue.
Megan focused on finishing her unpacking. But the memories continued unabated as she unpacked the new clothes she’d bought from Pepper in Last Resort. She laundered some and set aside those that needed dry cleaning, all the while remembering her time in the semi-ghost town. Especially her time in bed with Logan.
She rushed around, determined to get everything back in order. The clean clothes went in her closet and drawers, the suitcases in the back of her coat closet.
She shouldn’t be thinking about Logan. She needed to focus on her mother. She had so many questions that they were all starting to jumble together, so she got her BlackBerry and started making a list of questions to ask her dad. She’d never really been a huge list-maker in the past, bu
t helping Faith with wedding planning had convinced her otherwise.
QUESTIONS TO ASK DAD.
Why did he say my mother was dead?
Why did they get divorced?
Why didn’t they share custody of me?
Had he been in touch with my mother since she’d left?
Had she ever tried to get in touch with me?
Did he know she’d gone to Woodstock?
No, she couldn’t let him know that she knew that or he’d want to know how she’d found out. She quickly deleted that last question off her list. Surely she had more questions than, what . . . she counted them . . . just five. But these were a good start. And maybe his answers would instigate more questions.
At this point her thoughts were just so confused that she needed some kind of guideline to keep her focused. Because the feeling of having the rug yanked out from under her hadn’t gone away.
Logan headed straight from the airport to start his shift at the police station. The building was old and smelled of industrial cleaner and old coffee. He was greeted at his desk by Ria, aka Detective Maria Delgado, his partner.
“Must be nice to take off for Vegas on a minute’s notice,” Ria said.
“I have a cousin who works for the airlines.” It was the only reason he’d been able to get a seat on the next flight out, even if it meant sitting across from Megan. If her family had had its way, he and Buddy would still be sitting in the Las Vegas airport a week from now. “Besides, I told you it was a family emergency.”
“Yeah, right. As in you had to play some serious poker or you’d go crazy. Was that your emergency?”
“There was a situation with my grandfather.”
“Who is an even more serious poker player than you are. Did the old guy get into trouble?”
“Yes, but not at the poker table.”
“Really?” Ria prodded him with her elbow. “Come on, share the juicy details.”
“Get a life.”
“I have a life.”
“Then focus on that.”
She stared him down. As the daughter of a Marine drill instructor, Ria was damn good at stare downs. Then she slowly smiled. “You met a girl.”
“I meet a lot of girls.”
“No, you met a girl. A woman. In Las Vegas. Is she a stripper?”