Luck Be a Lady

by Cathie Linz

  Faith shook her head. “Don’t go trying to palm this off on me. I’ve already got my hands full.”

  “I know, I know. You’re already helping me in the search for my mother and I’m really grateful for your help. It’s okay. I’ll keep trying to convince Gram.”

  “And keep in touch with Logan. I’m just saying that maybe you should give the chemistry between the two of you a chance. Find out if it’s real or not. Don’t let your fears hold you back.”

  “It’s hard not to.”

  “You still don’t trust him?” Faith asked.

  “It’s not that as much as it’s me not trusting myself. Getting involved with a cop ...” Megan shook her head. “I don’t know. It takes a strong woman to do that. It wouldn’t be easy.”

  “Hey, I never said it was easy. But we’re librarians. We don’t give up just because it isn’t easy. We like challenges. We live for them.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “So how are things going at work?”

  “I’ve got a big presentation at the library next Monday night. I’ve got an outside speaker coming in. You remember how I told you about Julia Maguire? She’s a librarian from Serenity Falls, Pennsylvania, who served on an ALA committee with me, and we became friends. Anyway, a good friend of hers, Emma Riley-Slayter, has written a book. A couple books, actually. Taking Chances and her latest, Loving Risk Takers.”

  “I read her first book and really liked it.”

  “Emma is on a book tour and our library branch is her final stop. We’re lucky to have her.”

  “Maybe she can give you some pointers,” Faith said.

  “About?”

  “Loving a risk taker like Logan.”

  “That would be a stupid move.”

  “Talking to Emma?”

  “No, loving Logan. Who said anything about love? I thought you were talking about chemistry.” Megan’s voice rose.

  “Hey, calm down. Here, have some more tea.” Faith got up and filled Megan’s cup.

  “I can barely cope with the chemistry. What makes you think I can deal with loving a cop?”

  “Because you don’t give your body without your heart being involved. You’re too nice that way.”

  “You’re as nice as I am.” Megan’s words were not a compliment but rather an accusation.

  “No, I’m not,” Faith said. “You’re nicer.”

  “I am not!”

  Faith just grinned. “You feel guilty if you don’t go out of your way to hold the elevator for someone.”

  “So do you.”

  “So the bottom line is that we’re both too nice,” Faith said.

  “Nice but tough,” Megan said.

  “Absolutely. Nice but tough,” Faith agreed.

  “Maybe we should be tough but nice. I like that better,” Megan decided. “Yeah, that’s us. Tough but nice.” She sighed. “I may need to work on that.”

  “I thought you were tough,” Ria told Logan in a crowded bar on Saturday night.

  “I am tough.”

  “Then why that face?”

  “I hate karaoke.”

  “Yes, but this is cop karaoke. Songs cops like.”

  “Like the Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take’?”

  “It’s by the Police,” Ria said. “Get it?”

  “It’s a song about a stalker,” he retorted. “Get it?”

  “Geez, talk about a buzzkill. You are such a party pooper. If you keep this up, I’m gonna be forced to show you photos of my Precious.” She whipped out her cell phone.

  Ria waved her photo of her pet snake in front of Logan.

  “And when Precious gets hungry, Ria has to feed him live mice,” fellow officer Andy Jablonski said as he joined them.

  “They’re feeder mice,” she said.

  “Just like that famous opera Feedermice,” Andy said.

  At Logan’s and Ria’s blank looks, he explained, “There’s an opera by Strauss called Fledermaus. Actually it’s an operetta. Get it? Feedermice, Fledermaus?”

  As their blank looks continued, Andy said, “Philistines.”

  “Hey, we can’t all have opera-singing mothers the way you do,” Logan said.

  “Ignore him,” Ria told Andy. “He’s just in a bad mood because he’s got woman trouble.”

  “No. I’m in a bad mood because I’m in a karaoke bar,” Logan said before pulling out his iPhone to answer a call, hopefully one to get him out of here. “Doyle.”

  “This is Megan.” She paused. “Is that music in the background? Is this a bad time?”

  “It is a bad time caused by bad karaoke.”

  “You’re singing in a karaoke bar?”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “Not a fan?” she said.

  “No. How about you?”

  “Doing karaoke? Not in this lifetime.”

  “Yet another thing we have in common.”

  “I talked to Gram about Buddy this afternoon,” Megan said.

  “And?”

  “And I didn’t make a lot of headway. But I haven’t given up.”

  “No, you’re not the kind to give up easily. Listen, I needed to talk to you anyway. Are you home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be right over,” he said.

  “Where are you going?” Ria demanded. “Esposito is gonna sing ‘YMCA.’ And Jablonski is gonna do ‘Danny Boy’ after that.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Logan said. “Torture is illegal.”

  “So much for being tough.”

  “Everyone has their limits. And Esposito singing ‘YMCA’ is mine.”

  Logan ignored the taunts and catcalls as he quickly made his way to the nearest exit.

  Megan was waiting for his knock on her front door. She opened it instantly. “Did you find out something about my mother?”

  “No.”

  She frowned at him. “But you said you needed to talk to me about something.”

  “I do. Have you ever heard of the Leonids?”

  “The meteor shower?”

  “That’s right. Where’s your coat?”

  “What?” She blinked in confusion.

  “Your coat? Where is it?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m taking you to see the Leonids,” he said.

  “You’ve got to get away from the city lights to see them.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “You think you can just show up here out of the blue and take me to see a meteor shower?”

  “Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”

  She glared at him. “Yes, I have a problem with that. You kiss me, you sweet-talk me and then you disappear for days.”

  “You could have called me any time.”

  “I called you tonight,” she pointed out. “You didn’t call me.”

  “I was trying to be good. You don’t like cops.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  He gently closed it with his index finger before cupping her cheek with his hand. “I know you’ve got reservations. So did I. But I want to kiss you again. I want to explore every inch of your body. I want to take you to bed and keep you there for days. But before I do that, I need to convince you that it’s okay to be with me. So we’re going to see the meteor shower so you can wish on some shooting stars. Get your coat.”

  “I’d be crazy to go with you,” she muttered.

  “You’ve been crazy before and you had a good time with me.”

  “Is that all I am to you? A good time?”

  “No.” He threaded his fingers through her hair before pulling her close for a hotly intimate kiss that said what he hadn’t or couldn’t. That he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. That he was as confused by their chemistry as she was. That he couldn’t resist her any more than she could resist him.

  His groan when her tongue tentatively met his told her that she had power over him. Their kiss was their way of acknowledging that something worth exploring was going on here. Sh
e couldn’t blame him for not saying the words. She couldn’t say them either.

  He pulled away from her to rest his forehead on hers. “Coat?” he said huskily.

  “Right.” She stepped back and retrieved her coat, hat and scarf. She had a pair of gloves tucked in the coat pocket.

  “It’s not real cold out and it’s clear so we should have a good view.”

  An hour later, Megan found herself out in one of the many forest preserves ringing the suburbs. They officially closed at sunset but that didn’t stop Logan from parking his Ford Explorer.

  “I can’t believe you brought me all the way out here to wish on a shooting star. I think it’s really sweet.”

  “Sweet?” He rolled his eyes.

  “Nice?” she said.

  He rolled them again.

  “Sexy?”

  He grinned. “That’s better.”

  He pulled a couple sleeping bags out of the back of his SUV and set them on top of a picnic table.

  “We need to lie down to do it properly,” he said.

  “Do what properly?” she asked suspiciously, her heart racing a mile a minute at the erotic images that came to mind.

  “Watch the meteor shower. Why? What did you have in mind?”

  Megan knew damn well what he’d wanted her to think. She smacked his arm, which had little effect through his leather jacket. He spread out one sleeping bag for them to lie on and another to cover them. “You’ll be snug as a bug in a rug, as my granddad would say.”

  Logan helped her step up onto the tabletop. A few minutes later she was tucked against his warm body, her face turned to the skies.

  “Remember the sky in Last Resort?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “There! Did you see that!”

  She nodded again. A streak of light across the night sky. A shooting star.

  “Make a wish,” he said, turning her face up to his.

  The next thing she knew, she was kissing him. He was just too damn tempting. And he tasted so damn good. He unbuttoned her wool peacoat and slid his hands beneath her sweatshirt to find her front-fastening bra, unfastening it with ease.

  She tugged his shirt from his pants and slid her hands beneath it to touch his bare chest. His skin was hot beneath her fingertips.

  He cupped her breasts in the palm of his hands, rubbing the ball of his thumb over her nipples. And all the while he kept kissing her. Deep, wet kisses that made her moist between her legs.

  His hands were on the move, sliding around her waist to the small of her back. She shivered with delight. Then he slowly moved his hand beneath the elastic waistband of her pants and underwear to cup her bare derriere.

  Rolling over, he hovered over her, still kissing her. She kissed him back and then some. He shifted his attention around her hip to the place that ached for him. She wiggled against him.

  Bells were ringing. It was his phone.

  “Damn.” He paused, resting his forehead against her, his fingers stilling. So close . . . “It’s Buddy. That’s the urgent ring.”

  Megan knew all about urgent. Her body was humming with urgency. From the feel of his body, he was throbbing with urgency too. Yet he moved away. What was it with this guy and phones and beepers?

  Logan swore under his breath as he took the call.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I need you to come to my house right away,” Buddy told him. “It’s your dad. He’s fallen off the wagon.”

  Logan couldn’t believe it. This was why he didn’t make plans. They always got screwed up. But now it seemed that things got screwed up no matter what.

  “Logan, did you hear me?” Buddy said. “Will you come?”

  “Yeah, I heard you.” Logan swore under his breath. His dad had been sober for five years now, and he chose tonight to fall off the wagon? So much for wishing on shooting stars bringing you good luck.

  Not that Logan had made any wishes. He no longer believed in them. But he knew Megan still did, so he’d planned tonight for her. The Leonids were supposed to appear again tomorrow night. His master plan had been to call her and invite her tomorrow, but when she’d called him tonight, he couldn’t resist seeing her. He’d been fighting the urge to be with her for far too long and now this latest interruption.

  “Can’t you manage?” he said.

  “No, I can’t.” Buddy’s voice broke.

  “Fine,” Logan growled. “It will take me a while to get there but I’ll come.” Logan disconnected the call and turning to Megan. “Sorry to cut this short, but we’ve got to go. That was my grandfather.”

  She sat up and pulled her coat around her. “Is Buddy okay?”

  “He will be. It’s a problem with my dad, not with Buddy.”

  “Was your dad shot? I mean, I know he’s a police officer. Did something happen to him? If it’s an emergency, I can go with you. You don’t have to take the time to drop me off at my place.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” He gathered up the sleeping bags and tossed them into the back of his Ford Explorer. “It’s personal.”

  “Still . . . if Buddy needs you ...”

  “They can wait for me to take you home.” He held the passenger door open for her.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked before hopping inside.

  “No.” He slammed the door and went around to the driver’s side.

  “Right,” she said as he slid behind the wheel and turned the ignition. “Because you’re not a touchy-feely kind of guy.”

  “Damn right.”

  “You don’t talk about your dad much.”

  “Right.”

  “The two of you don’t get along?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Were you ever close?”

  “We used to be.”

  “What changed?”

  “Life.”

  “Yeah, I know how that can happen. I was close to my dad as you know, and right now that’s no longer the case.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Is it? Why?”

  “Because you’re an optimist.”

  “I’m working on that,” she muttered darkly.

  “Don’t. The world needs a few optimists.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone has to believe things will get better.”

  “You don’t believe that?”

  “I don’t believe much,” he said.

  “You must have seen some miracles along with the awful things.”

  “Not lately.”

  “How about tonight? That was pretty spectacular.”

  “Yeah.” He remembered how she responded to his kisses.

  “I was referring to the shooting stars,” she said primly.

  “Yeah, me too.” He loved when her voice went all sexy librarian on him.

  “I thought you said you were a good liar?”

  “I am when I want to be,” he said.

  “Then how I do I know when you’re telling the truth?”

  “I don’t lie in my private life.”

  “You don’t? What about telling my family that Rowdy’s shotgun wedding was just a joke?”

  “It was a joke. I can’t believe Rowdy thought they could get away with that.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Okay,” he admitted. “I do lie sometimes.”

  “Then how do I know when you’re telling the truth?” she repeated.

  “I don’t lie about important stuff.”

  “So the fact that you lied about me to my family means I’m not important?”

  “No, that came out wrong. Look, can we not talk about this now?”

  “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Football. I noticed you’re wearing a Bears sweatshirt. I didn’t expect you to be a football fan.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you like teacups.”

  “So?”

  “And vintage clothes. Girly stuff.”

  “Girly stuff?” she
repeated in disbelief. “Women and girls can be football fans. You can like both football and teacups.”

  “Maybe youcan, but not me.”

  “So you don’t like football? I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He had to smile at her quick comeback. “I like the Bears. I like them better when they win than when they lose.”

  “Ah, a fair-weather fan.”

  “Hey, they have to earn my respect. It’s not like being a Cubs fan out of loyalty.”

  “So you don’t believe in loyalty? I find that hard to believe. From what I understand of cop culture, loyalty is a very strong and very powerful element.”

  “That’s different. You’re thinking about your friend’s asshole abusive ex, aren’t you? What happened to him? Did he try to go after his kid? Did he ever try to hassle you to find out where she was?”

  “He tried it once.”

  Logan felt his blood starting to boil.

  “I told my uncle and he took care of it,” she said.

  Sensing her unrest, Logan tried to lighten the mood by teasing her. “Did he call in the Swedish mob?”

  “He spoke to the mayor and the police commissioner.”

  “That’ll work too. But it could have backfired and made him angrier with you.”

  “Luckily it didn’t. Her ex got a job with the Houston Police Department, last I heard.”

  Logan noted that she still never referred to him by name, a sign that she didn’t trust Logan with any details of the case. It shouldn’t have aggravated him, but it did. Megan should know that she could trust him. She should know that he wasn’t like the bastard who beat up her good friend.

  He clammed up after that. Megan returned to talking about the Bears and carried most of the conversational load, which was fine by him. Talking was vastly overrated, in his opinion. He was more a “just the facts, ma’am” kind of guy. That worked for him. Especially since Will’s death.

  The department had required him to complete a critical incident debriefing after the shooting. He’d given them all the right answers, never unlocking his real feelings of guilt and helplessness.

  He became quieter and quieter the closer they got to Megan’s condo. So did she.

  Finally he had to ask, “You don’t really trust me, do you?”