Luck Be a Lady

by Cathie Linz

  “Another man accustomed to taking risks for the completion of the mission,” Faith said.

  “Why do we love the men we do?” Megan said.

  “Because they’re our soul mates,” Faith said.

  “I agree,” Emma said. Leena and Sue Ellen both nodded.

  “Not that I’m falling in love with Logan,” Megan quickly added. “I just wanted to clarify that.”

  “Right.” Emma and her sisters gave her an eye roll.

  “No, really. I’m not,” Megan insisted. “No way.”

  “Give it up, sweetie,” Faith said. “You’re not convincing anyone.”

  Megan didn’t care about convincing them as much as she was determined to convince herself, hoping that the more she said it, the more she’d believe it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Megan approached her building after work the night before Thanksgiving, she saw someone standing there. It wasn’t Danny the doorman as she first thought. It was Logan. He had this way of just appearing, just as he had a way of not calling her.

  The only reason she didn’t kick him to the curb was that he looked like he’d already been through hell. Sure, he had that sexy stubble thing going on, but he also had dark shadows under his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Can we talk? I just wanted to explain what happened when I was called away by Buddy the other night.”

  She sighed. She could make him stand out here in the cold or she could have him come up to her condo. She chose the latter option, telling herself it was because she was on the verge of having her teeth chatter. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t tough. “Come on in.”

  Logan didn’t say anything in the elevator on the way up to her floor. He didn’t speak until they were in her living room and she’d invited him to sit on her couch. Instead he was pacing back and forth.

  Megan tossed her keys into the carved wooden bowl she’d gotten at the Gold Coast Art Fair and leaned down to pet Smudge before straightening to face Logan. “So what happened? You don’t look like you’ve gotten much sleep lately.”

  “A case I’ve been working on. I’ve been putting in a lot of extra hours. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  He shrugged. “Buddy told me that my dad had fallen off the wagon after being sober for five years.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was an intervention.”

  “For your dad?”

  “No. For me.”

  She frowned. “You have a drinking problem?”

  “Not a drinking problem. I have nightmares, as you know.”

  “Lots of people have nightmares.”

  “Exactly. I tried to tell them that.”

  “So why did they feel you needed an intervention?”

  He shifted from foot to foot. “Have you heard of PTS?” he said abruptly.

  She nodded. “Post-traumatic stress.”

  “They thought I had it.”

  “Do you?”

  Another shrug. “My partner Will was killed in the line of duty a year ago. That’s what the nightmares are about.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He died in my arms.”

  Megan didn’t know what to say.

  “The shot hit him in the neck. I sensed something was up beforehand, but I was too late.”

  “So you felt guilty?”

  Emma had touched on survivor guilt in her presentation at the library. Her husband, Jake, had survived a horrendous climbing accident that had killed his good friend.

  “Will was like a brother to me,” Logan said.

  “Have you talked to someone about this?”

  “I’m talking to you.”

  “I meant a professional.”

  “Cops don’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a good way to get stuck with desk duty.”

  “So you’re saying it might be perceived as a sign of weakness.”

  “Right,” he said.

  “Because a cop would never ask for help. For some backup.”

  “This is different.”

  “So knowing you wouldn’t ask for help, Buddy and your dad offered you some.”

  “They didn’t try to drag me to a shrink or anything. They made me talk about that night.”

  “You sound aggravated about that.”

  “I am. They ambushed me.”

  “They were trying to help you,” she said.

  “Yeah, well your dad was trying to help you when he lied to you about your mother.”

  “That’s different. Your family wasn’t lying to you. They were making you face the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “That you weren’t guilty of causing your partner’s death.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “Do you?”

  When he glared at her like that, she wasn’t quite as sure. But she knew guilt when she saw it. “Did you shoot him?”

  “Of course not.”

  She shrugged. “You could have shot him accidentally.”

  “I don’t shoot people accidentally.” He’d gone from aggravated to irritated. “Don’t you get it? I sensed something was up and I didn’t take evasive action.”

  “You sensed? Like ESP or something?”

  He growled.

  “I’m just trying to follow what you’re telling me,” she said.

  “A civilian wouldn’t understand.”

  “What about your dad and Buddy? Did they understand?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought they staged an intervention. Didn’t you all talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did they make you feel better?”

  “This isn’t something that goes away overnight.”

  “I don’t imagine it would. It’s something that would stay with you the rest of your life. We’ve done presentations about PTS at the library over the years.”

  “And that makes you an expert?”

  “No. I’m just saying that I think talking to your dad and Buddy was a good thing. I’m glad they intervened.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like being ambushed.” He headed for the door. “I’ve got to go.”

  “What is your problem? Every time you show up, you take off suddenly. I’m starting to think that I’m not the one afraid of our relationship, if you can even call it that. I think you’re more afraid than I am. That’s why you kiss and run.”

  “I do not kiss and run.” He turned to glare at her.

  “Yes, you do.” She glared right back.

  “I didn’t kiss you tonight.”

  “And you’re not going to.”

  He came closer. “Aren’t I?”

  “Don’t even think about it,” she warned him. “If you think you can ignore me for days and then just show up unannounced and kiss your way ...” she sputtered.

  “Kiss my way where?”

  “Anywhere.” She put her hand out, stopping him in his tracks. “Go home. Get some sleep. And listen to what your dad and grandfather told you.”

  “There you go. Being bossy again.”

  She grabbed a handful of his shirt, intending to push him away. Instead she yanked him closer and kissed him. She was clearly certifiable. He’d driven her over the edge. She should be booting him out of her condo, not licking his bottom lip and devouring his mouth like a wanton.

  He definitely wasn’t protesting. Instead there was a mutual battle for domination as he tried to take over the kiss and she fought to maintain her advantage. Their dueling tongues engaged in an erotic dance as old as time.

  What was she doing? Eventually the question seeped through the sensual haze. He was a cop. Used to issuing orders and having them blindly obeyed. Refusal to comply was a punishable offense. Was that why he thought he could take her for granted? Just show up and the mousy librari
an would melt at his feet?

  She pulled away. Her lips throbbed and the rest of her body wanted more. “Go home,” she repeated.

  This time he did.

  “The woman is certifiable,” Logan told his brother Connor as they watched a football game awaiting Thanksgiving dinner at their mom’s house. The air was filled with tempting smells from the kitchen where their mom and grandmother were busy doing their magic. “Totally certifiable.”

  “So you’ve told me a dozen times.” Connor had come in from Ohio for the holiday weekend.

  “It bears repeating.”

  “So does that play.” Connor pointed to the TV. “I can’t believe they stopped the ball where they have.”

  “She’s been impossible from the moment I met her. Yanking me out of the wedding at the Venetian.”

  “I’m sorry to have missed that.”

  “And then demanding I help her.”

  “Knowing you’re a sucker for damsels in distress.”

  “She made me take her to a brothel.”

  Connor sat up. “Okay, now the story is getting interesting.”

  “And then we got marooned in this podunk town in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Wait, go back to the brothel part.”

  “Nothing happened there.”

  “Too bad. Are you having erectile dysfunction?”

  “No.”

  “Hey, I’m your brother. You can tell me.”

  “Watch the game,” Logan growled.

  “Believe me, I’m trying to.”

  A minute later, Logan said, “I’m just saying that she’s the one who is being unreasonable. She said I kiss and run.”

  “Of all the nerve. Was she right?”

  “I was called into work.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I’m sure it is. Hold on a minute. I thought you said nothing happened. So what’s with the kiss-and-run shit?”

  “Watch your language. You know if Mom hears you . . .”

  “The shit will hit the fan?” Connor grinned.

  “Easy for you to say. You live in Ohio and fly into town for a day or two and then disappear.”

  “To my podunk town, right?”

  “I don’t know if your town is Podunk. I’ve never been there.”

  “The town is called Hopeful.”

  “It has more than three inhabitants, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then it’s bigger than Last Resort, where I was marooned with Megan.”

  “Wait, start over. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Logan threw a pillow at him.

  Connor grabbed it midair. “Interception!”

  “You boys better not be playing football with my couch pillows!” their mom yelled from the kitchen. “Don’t make me come out there.”

  Logan and Connor sank back onto the couch, laughing.

  “What are Dad and Gramps doing today?” Connor asked. “Going to the Aunts’?”

  Logan nodded. The Aunts was a special label for their dad’s four sisters, all of whom lived in the Chicago area. They usually presented a united front, which is how they got their name as a group rather than as individuals. “Unless Dad and Gramps decide to come over here and stage another intervention,” he grumbled.

  “I heard about that,” Connor said. “I thought it was a good idea.”

  “So did Megan.”

  “I had a feeling we’d get back to her.”

  “I thought she’d see my point of view. Foolish on my part, I know.”

  “Downright stupid, I’d say.”

  “She could have been more understanding.”

  “About you kissing and running? You’re not going to find many women who’d be understanding about that.”

  “Yeah, but shekissed me last night and then kicked me out of her condo.”

  “Good for her.”

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re a big help.”

  “That’s my goal in life.”

  “You’re my brother,” Logan said. “You’re supposed to have my back.”

  “Only if someone is threatening you. Not if you’re just acting stupidly.”

  “I’m not acting stupidly.”

  “So you’re saying this Megan, the smart librarian, is the one who is stupid?”

  “How do you know she’s a librarian?”

  “Gramps told me. If you’re not interested in her, maybe I should give her a call and see if I can hook up with her this weekend. I wouldn’t kiss and run.”

  “Don’t make me shoot you,” Logan growled.

  “I’m just saying if you don’t appreciate her, maybe I would.”

  “Who says I don’t appreciate her?”

  “Your actions say it. You don’t call her. You said she’s certifiable.”

  “And that makes you want to hook up with her?”

  “You’re a sucker for damsels in distress. I’m a sucker for certifiable women who’ll grab me and kiss me.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Are you staking some kind of claim on her?”

  “She’s not a gold mine.”

  “Isn’t she?”

  “Fine. You want me to call her, I’ll call her.” He grabbed his iPhone. “Watch me.”

  “Do I have to?” Connor groaned.

  “Damn. I got her voice mail.”

  “So leave a message.”

  “Uh, Megan, this is uh, Logan. Happy Thanksgiving.” He quickly disconnected.

  Connor shook his head in mocking awe. “You are such a romantic sap. That was sheer poetry. I don’t know how any woman could resist you.”

  Logan reached for another pillow.

  “Dinner,” their mom yelled from the kitchen. “Come in here and help us with this heavy turkey. I can’t carry it by myself. First one in the kitchen gets the wishbone.”

  Logan hopped over the back of the couch and raced his brother into the kitchen, jockeying for position the way they had as kids.

  “I thought you didn’t believe in wishes,” Connor said.

  “I don’t,” Logan said. “I believe in winning.”

  “Was that your phone?” Faith asked Megan in between coughs.

  “I let voice mail pick it up. You sound horrible.”

  Faith coughed some more. “It’s just a little cold.”

  “Then why are we out here? We should be inside.”

  Faith put a hand on Megan’s arm. “I have news.”

  “About my mother?”

  Faith nodded. “I found her.”

  Megan’s breath caught. She was shaking inside. “Where is she?”

  “In Washington, D.C. I e-mailed you her contact info. She works at a think tank there.”

  “Is she doing some sort of top secret government work?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How did you find her?”

  “I told you I was good.”

  “Was the fact that she works at this think tank the reason there wasn’t any information about her?”

  “I don’t know. I do know she doesn’t drive or own a car so there were no DMV listings. And she doesn’t own a home or have a mortgage. So nothing there. And she doesn’t seem to have a bank account or credit cards. These are all signs of someone trying to disappear. Are you going to call her?”

  “No. I need to see her in person.”

  Faith looked worried. “Don’t do anything impulsive. Wait and I’ll go with you. We’ll talk to her together. But I think it would be best to touch base with her ahead of time.”

  Megan shook her head. “She could just tell me not to come. I can’t take that chance.”

  “You need to think this through before you go and do something crazy. Pinkie swear you won’t do anything foolish.”

  “I pinkie swear. Now come on, let’s go back inside before you get pneumonia or something.”

  “It’s almost sixty out today. Remember that
year we had snow on Thanksgiving?”

  Megan nodded as she held the back door open for Faith. They entered the kitchen, where the delicious smells made Megan’s mouth water. Faith’s mom was busy concocting her maple Brussels sprouts specialty. She’d been avoiding direct eye contact with Megan, who’d done the same. Faith’s mom had known the truth but had not revealed the lie, which made things awkward. But not as awkward for Megan as being near her dad, although she was actually more afraid of her uncle rocking the boat. Gram gave her a reassuring smile, silently communicating the fact that she’d warned everyone involved that a truce was in place today.

  Which was fine with Megan. She hugged the knowledge to herself that she now knew where her mother was located. “You did a great job with the Thanksgiving centerpiece again this year, Megan,” Gram said. “I especially liked the way you spread a few maple leaves in with the pair of little gourds and pumpkins.”

  “I pressed the leaves last year in the pages of an old dictionary between sheets of waxed paper.”

  “That was clever of you. And the wooden candlesticks with creamy beige candles go together wonderfully.”

  “Thanks.”

  The oven timer went off, which galvanized Gram into action. “The bird is ready.”

  Ten minutes later, they were all seated around Gram’s large table, with all the side dishes and the turkey. Gram had gotten out the good Swedish china that she usually only had out for Christmas, when she did her traditional julbord, or Christmas smorgasbord. That multicourse extravaganza included ham, meatballs, smoked salmon, pickled herring with boiled potatoes and hard-boiled eggs, pickled cucumbers, cabbage rolls, beetroot salad and Gram’s favorite, dried codfish. Gram was the only one who ate that last one, while Megan’s favorite were the Swedish meatballs. But today’s meal was all-American. Faith brought the sweet potatoes, Megan brought her cranberry Waldorf salad, Aunt Sara did her maple Brussels sprouts. The turkey had two kinds of stuffing—sausage and apple at one end and hamburger and celery at the other end.

  “Hold hands and say what you’re thankful for this year. I’m thankful Aunt Lorraine is taking a spa vacation in Mexico for Thanksgiving,” Faith said. “And I’m thankful I married a wonderful man like Caine.”

  “Notice I get second billing after Aunt Lorraine,” Caine said before adding, “I’m grateful Faith is my wife.”