Luck Be a Lady

by Cathie Linz

  “If you had problems, the two of you, that’s okay. I get that. Marriages break up all the time. So do families. But what would make my mother walk away from me? It had to be a very large sum of money. And how could you do that to me? Deprive me of knowing my own mother by telling me she was dead? We even spread her ashes over Lake Michigan when I was eight years old. You said she loved to sail on the lake.”

  “She did. And you seemed to need some kind of closure. We never had a memorial service or anything at the time. You wanted a funeral like you’d had for your goldfish. Those were your exact words. ‘Goldie had a funeral and so should Mommy.’ ”

  Megan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So because my goldfish had a funeral you made up one for my mother?”

  He nodded.

  “The difference is that my goldfish really was dead and my mother wasn’t! What was in that urn? What did we spread over the lake?”

  “Ashes from the fireplace,” he admitted.

  “That’s sick!”

  “I was desperate.”

  “And I was just a kid. A kid without a mother.”

  “I tried to make that up to you.”

  “Instead of telling me the truth. That’s all you had to do.”

  “It’s not that black-and-white.”

  “Yeah it is, Dad. It really is. Until you’re ready to tell me the truth, all of it, I don’t think we have anything further to say. Call me when you’re ready to tell me everything. Until then, I’d rather be left alone.”

  She left his office but her little-girl heart remained behind—bruised and battered. Her entire childhood had been based on a series of lies. She needed to go home, hug her cat and eat some pizza. A lotof pizza.

  Later that evening, Megan was curled up on her couch wearing her favorite comfort lounging outfit—a red waffle-knit henley teamed with red-and-black flannel pants—while waiting for the pizza delivery guy to arrive. Smudge was waiting with her, doing her purring lap cat thing.

  “Miss Megan, this is Danny Boone, your doorman, calling.”

  Hearing her doorman’s gentle Southern voice on the phone always made Megan smile. Born and raised in Dolly Parton’s hometown of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, Danny retained his country drawl despite having lived in Chicago for three years. Obsessively polite and fiendishly organized, Danny did his job with Swiss-timepiece efficiency. Or Swedish efficiency, as Gram would say. Tall and lanky with warm brown eyes, Danny sounded more timid than he actually was.

  “Yes, Danny?”

  She expected him to tell her that the pizza guy was here and ask for permission to send him up. Instead Danny said, “There’s a police officer here to see you. He says his name is Detective Logan Doyle with the Chicago Police Department. His badge and ID confirms that. I wanted to alert you to his presence before I allowed him farther. He doesn’t have a warrant or anything like that, or I would have had to let him in without telling you.”

  No wonder poor Danny sounded more timid and concerned than usual.

  “Send him up, Danny. And send up the pizza guy when he comes, please.”

  “Sure enough, Miss Megan.”

  Danny only used “sure enough” when he was really flustered.

  Megan could relate. She felt pretty flustered herself. What did Logan want?

  She soon found out.

  Logan did not look like a happy camper. But he did look like a sexy unhappy one. Grumpy looked good on him. “Did you know that your uncle showed up at headquarters and spoke to my boss about me not seeing you again?” he said.

  “Oh, no! I told him not to do that.”

  “For all the good it did.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll speak to him again.”

  He gave her a mocking look. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

  She gave him a librarian look, the one full of power and reprimand. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here to tell me this. You could have just called me.”

  “I wanted to see your face when I asked you about it. To see if you were lying or not.”

  “I’m not lying!”

  He made some noncommittal noise. Wait a second, was that his stomach growling? She gazed down at his washboard tummy covered with a chambray blue shirt tucked into dark pants. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I had something from the vending machines at the station.”

  As if on cue, the pizza delivery guy stepped out of the elevator. She handed the box of Giordano’s deep-dish to Logan while she signed for the pizza, and tip, to be charged to her credit card.

  “You might as well come in while you’re here,” she told Logan.

  He gave the box he was holding a yearning look before shaking his head. “I’ve got to go. I just wanted to see if you were behind your uncle’s visit.”

  “I wasn’t. How could you even think that?” She paused after catching sight of a neighbor walking down the hallway. A very nosy neighbor. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, she tugged Logan and her pizza into her apartment before quickly shutting the door.

  “I’m guessing you’re not used to men turning down your invitations to come in?” he noted dryly.

  “I don’t issue that many invitations.”

  Smudge meowed as if confirming that statement.

  “Nice cat.” He set the pizza box onto her rustic dining table in order to lean down and pet Smudge. “I had a black cat named Trouble. He died a few years ago of old age.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? Trouble had a good life.” He straightened. “I should be going,” he said abruptly, as if regretting sharing that piece of personal information with her.

  “Come on. Stay. I can’t eat all this pizza by myself.”

  “Then why did you order it?”

  “I was depressed at the time.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I talked to my dad.”

  “I’m guessing from the look on your face and the size of that pizza that it didn’t go well.”

  “He didn’t really give me any straight answers. Just said he was trying to protect me.”

  “From what?”

  “He wouldn’t say.” She stepped into the kitchen to gather plates, cutlery and napkins before returning and setting everything on the table. “I asked, but he wouldn’t be specific. He did confess that he’d paid off my mother to stay away. Here, eat.” She handed him a plate with a two-inch-high piece of deep-dish pizza on it.

  “Bossy much?”

  She took the plate back. “If you don’t want it ...”

  He grabbed the plate and gave her a hot look. “Oh, I want it, all right.”

  She nearly dumped the piece she was trying to serve onto the table, so distracted was she by his husky voice and bad-boy look.

  “I haven’t had any luck finding out anything more about my mom,” she said.

  “I still think it’s strange that there is so little information about her. She’s not listed on any wanted lists, no-fly lists or terrorist watch groups,” he said.

  Her eyes widened as she looked at him.

  “What? I’m a detective. Being suspicious is part of my job. Surely I’ve mentioned that before.”

  “Yes. I never thought she might be a criminal or something. I asked my dad if she was an evil person and he said no.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t know.” She ate a bite of pizza before elaborating. “I think I believe his answer, but lately I’m suspicious of everything he says.” She shot him a teasing look. “Maybe that’s from hanging around with you.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me. You were suspicious before I met you. At least, you were suspicious the second I walked in on your cousin’s wedding.”

  “You didn’t just walk in, you tried to stop it. Faith had already had one wedding go bad. I wasn’t about to let another one go down the drain.”

  “You’re protective of the people you love. That’s a good thing.”

  “Thanks.” Feeling a blush coming on, sh
e said, “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got a nice Merlot from Argentina.”

  “Do you have any beer?”

  “Yes.” She escaped to the kitchen and cooled her hot cheeks with the air from the fridge. There was absolutely no reason for her face to be turning red. It’s not like he’d said anything suggestive or anything.

  We’re just sharing a pizza, that’s it. No big deal. So get back out there and act normal.

  She brought two beer glasses to the table along with two bottles. “I realize that Southsiders drink their beer straight from the can and Northsiders drink it from the bottle, but here we drink it from a glass. Deal with it.”

  He tilted the bottle to read the label. “Goose Island.”

  “I suppose you have something against microbreweries as well?”

  “You suppose wrong. And what do you mean by ‘as well?’ What else am I supposed to have something against?”

  “Me.”

  “If I had something against you, I wouldn’t be sitting here eating with you.”

  She gave him an unconvinced look. “Come on. It’s free pizza.”

  “I can pay for it.” He put his fork down and went to reach in his back pocket.

  She put a hand on his arm. His skin was warm to the touch. “Put your wallet away. You’re an invited guest. Myinvited guest. So eat. Would you like another piece?” Without waiting for an answer, she served him another large slice of the pizza so thick no one would eat it without a fork and knife.

  “You’re nervous,” he noted. “Why?”

  “I told you. I talked to my dad and it didn’t go very well.”

  “He admitted that he paid off your mother to stay away? What else did he say? Did he give you any idea where she was?”

  “No. He wants me to just trust that he did what he did to protect me and to leave it at that.”

  “But you can’t do that.”

  Megan shook her head.

  “So you need my help locating your mother.”

  “It would be appreciated.”

  “And you’ll reward me with . . . pizza?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “What if I want something else?” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like . . . you.”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  He nodded and grinned at her expression. Gazing deep into her eyes, he said, “You making me . . . a home-cooked meal.”

  “How do you know I’m a good cook?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew it.”

  She wondered what else he knew about her, but was afraid to ask. He’d already told her back in Last Resort the details he remembered about their time together. But now they were back in Chicago, back to reality. Yet the chemistry between them was as strong as ever.

  “So is it a deal?” he said.

  She wanted to kiss him so badly, she couldn’t speak.

  He misunderstood her silence for reluctance. “Forget it. You don’t really have to cook for me.”

  “I want to,” she said huskily.

  “You do?”

  She nodded. He was staring at her mouth as intently as she was staring at his.

  He reached out to touch her lower lip with his thumb. “You had some tomato sauce there ...”

  Instead of sitting across from him, she’d made the unknowing decision to sit beside him. She thought it was so they could both face the view out her living room windows. Now she knew that wasn’t the real reason. The reason was so she could be closer to him. So that he could reach her and she could reach him.

  She licked her lips.

  He groaned and moved in to kiss her. He paused millimeters from her mouth. “Stop me if you don’t want this.”

  “I want,” she murmured.

  “Me too.”

  He started out kissing her gently, as if to reward her for her positive reply. He tasted as good as the pizza. Better.

  One kiss turned into ten. Somehow his tie and his shirt were undone and she ended up on his lap as he turned in his chair to face her. Her knees bracketed his hips and his fingers slid through her hair as he tugged her closer to intensify their kiss. His tongue play was unbelievably seductive.

  He slid both hands into her hair to brace her as the kiss intensified. She looped her arms around his neck. He nipped her bottom lip. His hunger for her was mirrored by hers for him. She lowered her hand to his bare chest beneath his open shirt and ended up banging her elbow on the edge of the dining table.

  Logan responded by standing up with her in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her the short distance to the couch where they tumbled down and sank into its deep softness. He shifted so that he was above her.

  “Better?” he said.

  “Mmm.” His body was pressed against hers from her shoulders to her now bare feet. “Much.”

  “Now where were we? I think I was here.” He kissed the right corner of her mouth. “Or was I here?” He kissed the left corner of her mouth. “Maybe it was here?” A nip to her bottom lip.

  “Let me refresh your memory,” she murmured, parting her lips and meeting his kiss halfway.

  His groan of pleasure emboldened her to increase her exploration of his body as she slid her hands beneath his open shirt to his back. She trailed her fingertips down his spine.

  He vibrated against her.

  It took Megan a moment or two to realize that the vibrating was coming from his beeper.

  Swearing under his breath, Logan broke off their kiss and sat up. Yanking the beeper from his belt, he looked at it and then at her, still prone on the couch, breathless.

  “It’s work,” he said curtly. “I’ve got to go.”

  He stood and headed for the door. He was gone before she had time to form a reply or regain her senses. The same senses she’d lost the second his lips touched her.

  Great. Her determination not to get involved with a cop had toppled like a row of dominoes. Which left the score at Chicago cop: 1, Megan: 0.

  Chapter Twelve

  A week later, Faith was back from her honeymoon, but Megan was no closer to finding her mother. She didn’t want to burden her cousin with her problems, but Faith immediately knew something was up. She appeared on Megan’s doorstep Tuesday evening with food from their favorite Chinese take-out and strong-armed Megan into telling her everything.

  Megan ended by saying, “All of a sudden, my life is falling apart.”

  “Well, not completely,” Faith said. “You’ve still got your home, your job and your family . . . certain members of your family. I can’t believe they did this to you. Lying about your mom that way. That’s just so wrong.”

  “I shouldn’t have dumped this on you the minute you’re back in the country.”

  “You didn’t. I’ve been back twenty-four hours.”

  Megan proficiently used her chopsticks to add more walnut shrimp and scallops to her plate. “We should be talking about you and your honeymoon.”

  Faith used her chopsticks to wave Megan’s words away. “And we will. Later. But getting back to your mother, I get how you’d feel totally betrayed.”

  “I knew you’d understand.” Faith’s former fiancé had left her at the altar on their wedding day. But while Faith’s humiliation was more public, the betrayal was by a man she’d only known a year or two. Megan’s betrayal was by the man she’d known her entire life and had trusted more than anyone aside from Faith.

  “I didn’t know the truth about your mom until now,” Faith quickly told her.

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  “I can’t believe my parents were involved in the cover-up for decades. What about your dad? What did he say?”

  “That it was complicated. It was hard to get a clear answer from him.”

  “So what’s your plan now?”

  “First you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Pinkie swear.”

  “Done. So what’s your next step?” />
  “I’m trying to find my mom,” Megan admitted. “But I’m not having any luck.”

  “I can help you with that. I’m the best researcher West Investigations ever had.”

  “You can’t let anyone know you’re investigating her.”

  “No worries. No one knew I was investigating Caine’s father’s case. Believe me, I know how to do this and keep it quiet.”

  “I sure hope so. Logan and I didn’t have much luck.”

  “Gram said something about you and Logan disappearing for a lost weekend right after the reception. What was that about?”

  “Did she tell you about her situation with Buddy?”

  “Yes, but let’s get back to your situation first. What’s the deal with Logan?”

  “There is no deal.”

  “OMG, that is such a lie.”

  “You’re doing your Gossip Girlthing.”

  “Sorry. But everyone saw the chemistry between you two from the second you met.”

  “He was crashing your wedding.”

  “He was trying to save his grandfather from committing bigamy. You can’t blame the guy for that.”

  “Did you know that your father went to Logan’s boss and told him to make sure Logan stays away from me?”

  “Damn. My dad can be such a pain in the butt sometimes. I love him but . . . I thought he knew better.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “What was Logan’s reaction?”

  “He was not a happy camper.”

  “I’ll bet. So you’ve never even kissed him, huh?” At Megan’s startled blush, Faith laughed triumphantly. “A-ha, I knew it! Caught ya. So, is he a good kisser?”

  “Did I interrogate you about Caine this way?”

  “Absolutely. Turnabout is fair play.”

  “I apologize. I should have minded my own business. But you’re a better woman than I am and don’t need to make the same mistakes I did by butting into someone else’s private life to this extreme.”

  “To quote Buddy, toughen up buttercup. Now tell me all the juicy details.”

  Knowing Faith wouldn’t give up until she got an answer, Megan gave in. “Yes, he’s a good kisser. But he’s a cop. A divorced cop.”

  “Buddy told me once that Logan’s wife cheated on him.”