“You said you were anxious to get the watch and then leave town,” Jimena reminded her. “So, here’s your chance. Say, what made you so eager to leave, anyway?”
“Logan. He ran a background check on me.”
Jimena gasped. A reaction that Reese had had herself. Her past had a nasty way of coming back to haunt her. Usually she could outrun it, but this time it’d caught up with her.
“Did Logan tell your boss?” Jimena asked.
“Not yet. But he will.” If it hadn’t been for taking Mia to the ER and then this trip to Dallas, Logan probably would have already done it.
That meant tonight might be her last chance to find that watch. Bert probably wouldn’t fire her on the spot, but that was only because of his wife’s surgery. He needed her for both the breakfast and lunch shifts, but he would give Reese her walking papers as soon as he could find someone else. Or heck, maybe he would just close the café for a while.
“I don’t even know if the watch is in the McCord building,” Reese admitted.
“Elrond said Logan lives there, like all the time. Where else would he have put it?”
Maybe in the trash, but that tightened her stomach just thinking about it.
“If you find it, you won’t even have to do the breakfast shift,” Jimena said. “You can grab Tootsie Roll and ride back with me to San Antonio.”
It was past being tempting, and it wasn’t as if she had a ton of options. Now that Logan knew who she was, he might never give her back the watch because he might think she’d stolen it.
“You’re sure you can trust Elrond?” Reese asked.
“The man gives multiple orgasms. Of course I can trust him.”
There was no correlation to that, none, but Reese decided she had no choice but to risk it. She put the grocery bags on the counter, pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt and followed Jimena out to the stairs and then out of the Bluebonnet. They didn’t walk on Main Street but rather on the street behind the inn. Probably because Jimena wanted to make sure they weren’t seen.
Reese only hoped she didn’t regret this, but she already had a bad feeling about it.
When they made it to Elrond, he kissed Jimena, and they started in on a make-out session while he handed Reese the key. His aim wobbled, because he had his eyes closed while kissing, and Reese finally just snagged them. Part of her almost hoped the key didn’t work, that Logan had changed the locks.
But it worked just fine.
She slipped into the back door, the AC immediately spilling over her. The floors were marble, all shiny and cool, and even the walls had some kind of slick finish to them. The bottom floor was dark except for the base lighting around a copper and bronze sculpture of a longhorn. It was large enough to have been a real cow, and Reese dodged the lethal-looking horns as she made her way around it.
She also had to fight back a scream when something went zipping past her. Sheez. It was possibly a raccoon.
Or a very small, hyped-up guard dog.
It shot out of the reception area and disappeared. No growling sounds. No clawing sounds, either, so she hoped it wasn’t coming back for her.
Since she wasn’t sure how much time she had, Reese went straight to the hall. There were a series of offices, thank goodness with nameplates on the outside. Logan’s was all the way at the end.
And locked.
She tried the key, but it didn’t work. Sadly, she knew how to pick a lock, but she hadn’t brought the old tools of an old trade with her. Elrond probably had something that would work, but judging from the way Jimena and he had gone after each other, he probably had her on the backseat by now for another round of those multiple orgasms.
Instead, Reese went up the stairs. There were more offices here on the second floor, each door indicating the name of another person who worked for Logan and his brothers. She doubted he’d put a watch in any of these offices so she went up the final flight of stairs to the third floor.
There were double doors, wide-open, so she stepped inside.
Whoa.
Unlike her place at the Bluebonnet Inn, this loft was huge. It sprawled over the entire third floor. There were no overhead lights on, but thankfully there was enough illumination coming from the appliances in the kitchen area that she could see well enough.
And what she could see was a mess.
There were gouges in the walls as if someone had punched it multiple times. No, correction. Someone had thrown stuff at it because some of that stuff was still on the polished hardwood floors. Broken sculptures—including what appeared to be a porcelain breast of a woman. Books. Glass. Feathers. Even the remnants of a coffee table.
Had someone vandalized the place? Robbed it?
That caused her to mumble a couple of “Oh, Gods.” Because that might mean this was some kind of setup. Maybe Elrond had willingly given her the keys so she could take the blame for this.
Reese turned to run out, but she caught the movement from the corner of her eye. In case the burglar was still there, she picked up the first thing she could grab off the floor. The porcelain breast. Hardly a serious weapon, but she could hurl it at the person if he attacked, and the nipple might put out an eye.
But he didn’t attack.
He stepped from the shadows. Slowly. As if he had all the time in the world.
It was Logan.
And he was naked.
No, not naked. He was wearing boxers, but she had focused on the naked parts because they were more noticeable. He was sipping a drink, also slowly.
“Reese,” he said, his voice low and slightly dangerous.
Or maybe that was confusion in his tone because of the porcelain nippled boob she had aimed at him.
“You didn’t take this to the grave very long, did you?” Logan asked, and had another sip of his drink, clearly waiting for her answer.
CHAPTER SIX
LOGAN WASN’T SURPRISED to see Reese. In fact, he’d anticipated it. In hindsight, though, he should have coupled his anticipation with a pair of pants. Greeting a burglar in his boxers just wasn’t very intimidating.
Reese noticed the boxers, all right. Her gaze slid over him, and even though he couldn’t see her eyes that well in the darkness, he thought maybe she was remembering the night in the hotel.
Logan certainly was.
In fact, when he’d dozed off earlier, he’d dreamed about it.
“Should I offer you a drink or call the cops?” he asked. The second one wasn’t really an option, of course. No way did he want to have to explain this to anyone. But Reese didn’t know that.
“You want the cops to find out you slept with me?” Reese tossed right back at him.
So she did know it was a bluff. She probably thought that made this a stalemate. It didn’t. Because Logan had something Reese wanted, and it didn’t have anything to do with the part of his body she was gawking at.
To stop the gawking, Logan took his jeans from the bed and pulled them on. She looked away when he did that. Maybe because she realized she’d been gawking, but her attention landed on the porcelain tit she was holding. She eased it back onto the floor with the rest of the broken clutter.
It wasn’t just any old porcelain tit, though. It’d been a “special” gift from Helene. Molded porcelain bookends of her breasts. An inside joke between the two of them. But one of the bookends had gone missing before she’d been able to give the set to him so Logan had instead used it as a decorative figurine.
Logan also took his dad’s knife from the nightstand and slipped it in his pocket. Not because he thought he might need it to get Reese out of there but because he didn’t want to risk her stealing it.
“By the way,” she said. “There’s a raccoon or weird dog running around downstairs.”
“Cat,” he corrected. “A
couple of months ago my brother brought three cats here to stay temporarily. He moved the other two, but no one’s been able to catch that one.”
He could understand, though, how she’d mistaken it for a raccoon because it did look like one. And Reese suddenly looked a little horrified.
“Months?” she questioned. “Please tell me someone’s feeding it.”
He nodded, not that he wanted to have a conversation about the feline he’d dubbed Crazy Cat. “My assistant, Greg, leaves out food and changes the litter box.”
Though Greg had yet to see the cat. In fact, to the best of Logan’s knowledge, only he and now Reese had actually seen it since it had been brought to the building.
And this wasn’t at all what he wanted to discuss or think about.
“Redecorating?” she asked. She didn’t sound concerned that she’d just been caught breaking and entering. But she did look nervous. Reese was rubbing her hands along the sides of her jeans.
“More or less.”
Definitely less. The items were all things Helene had given him, and for some reason it gave him pleasure to smash them to bits. And then look at the bits. Strange because usually he couldn’t stand clutter or anything out of place, but he had no desire whatsoever to clean up this mess. In fact, he was enjoying watching the fine layers of dust build up with each passing week.
Reese stayed quiet a moment while she studied him. “It really was you with me in San Antonio. After I left your house, I considered the possibility that maybe you were trying to cover for your brother, and that perhaps he’d told you what the note I left in the hotel room said. You could have done that so his girlfriend wouldn’t be hurt. But it really was you. I can see it now.”
It did sting a little that she hadn’t been able to see it right off. He might look like Lucky, but they didn’t act anything alike. Of course, he hadn’t been acting like himself at that hotel, either.
“Julia Child,” he said to remind her that she had been the one to set the rules for that night.
Reese nodded, pushed her hair from her face. “Hot no-name cowboy.”
He waited to see if she was going to explain any of what’d happened that night. Apparently not.
“I came for the watch,” she said.
Yes, he’d figured that out. But what he hadn’t figured out was why. “Was it part of some con?”
Now, most people would have looked shocked and asked, What con? Or seemed outraged at such a suggestion. But because he’d run that background check on her and because she’d just broken into his place, Reese probably knew outrage and surprise would seem as genuine as the name she’d given him in that bar.
“I’d like to have that drink now,” she said.
Reese sank down onto one of the chairs in the sitting area. The stuffing was coming out of it, and it was covered with feathers from the throw pillows he’d gutted. Since it was copper colored, it looked like a huge molting chicken.
The drink offer hadn’t been genuine, but since Logan needed a refill, he flipped on the lamp and poured them each a glass. He handed it to her and then backed away. Even though he had on jeans now, he was still shirtless, and he was remembering the heated look she’d given him earlier.
A look he’d probably given her, too.
He didn’t understand why his body was attracted to this con woman, and he didn’t care. The attraction wasn’t going to play into this.
“How did you get into the building?” he asked. “Did you pick the lock?”
“Key.” She fished through her jeans pocket, came up with a key and dropped it on the small table next to the chair. “And don’t ask how I got it.”
“How’d you get it?”
She tossed back the shot and made a face just as she’d done after the tequila shots in the bar. “Found it. And no, I didn’t steal it. Nor did I steal anything once I was inside.” Reese paused. “You found out about my parents.”
“Yes,” he settled for saying. Logan didn’t add more. He wanted to see what spin she would put on this.
But there was no spin. She waited him out, and Logan decided he’d already spent too much time on Reese.
“Your parents, Marty and Vickie, are con artists. Your father died in prison a few years ago, but both have multiple arrests for pulling various scams. Scams in some cases where they used you.”
The PI had provided Logan with only one such case, but he figured there were more. In the one the that PI had learned about, Reese had distracted a store owner, claiming she fell and was hurt, while her parents stole items.
“That incident with Mia must have brought back some memories for you,” he snapped. “Of course, the difference is she wasn’t faking. So, what else did you fake? Did you pretend to be attracted to me—”
She came off the chair so fast that Logan didn’t have time to react. Reese took hold of him, jerked him to her and kissed him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been forced-kissed. It had happened one other time when he was a stupid teenager and had pretended to be Lucky so he could break up with a girl who was giving him some trouble.
That kiss was nothing like this one.
For one thing, there was some anger involved here. Not on his part. Logan was still trapped between surprise and “what the hell is she doing?” stage. Reese, though, was obviously trying to make a statement, and that statement was that she could make him feel the kiss in every inch of his body.
Every. Inch.
And she succeeded.
By the time she let go of him, Logan had moved on to the next stage. A hard-on. But since his dick had already caused him to make a bad decision by sleeping with her in the first place, Logan ignored the ache in his groin and stepped back.
“That’s why I slept with you,” she growled. “It didn’t have anything to do with who I am, your bank account, your ranch or your dusty stuff.” Reese flung her hand at the damaged items again.
The kiss obviously hadn’t affected her the same way it had affected him. Or so he thought. But then Logan heard her uneven breathing, saw the flush in her cheeks. Saw her glance at his hard-on. A long glance. That caused her breathing to become even more ragged.
It didn’t mean anything, of course.
So what if they were attracted to each other? It didn’t mean he was going to act on it. However, he was going to act on something else—getting her out of his life and away from his dick.
“For the record, I haven’t seen my mother in over two years,” she finally said, sinking back down onto the chair. “I really am a chef. Went to culinary school. And I wasn’t running a con on you.”
“Really?” He couldn’t have possibly sounded more skeptical.
“Really.” And she couldn’t have possibly sounded more pissed off. “What else did your spies dig up on me?”
Nothing. But clearly they’d missed something. Something that Logan would have them dig even deeper to find.
“Aren’t your con-artist parents enough dirt?” he asked her.
She stayed quiet again for several moments, but Logan thought she might be relieved. Yeah, there was definitely something else to learn about Reese Stephenson.
“I’ve done everything I can to distance myself from my parents and the things they did,” she finally said. “I never stay in one place for too long because I don’t want my mother to find me.”
“Then that should fit right into my plans.” He nearly brought up that he didn’t know what her plan had been, but he decided it wasn’t wise to risk another kiss. There were condoms in the loft, and he didn’t want that hard part of his body suggesting sex.
“What plans?” she asked.
“For you to leave.” He heard the words. The tone. It was probably a tone he used daily to someone involved in his business deals. But it did sound a little Old West, as if he were running her out
of town.
Which he sort of was.
“I can’t leave,” she said on a heavy sigh. “Maggie’s got female problems. Her uterus collapsed—”
Logan groaned. “I don’t want to hear that. I know you’re pulling shifts for Bert, but once that’s done, there’ll be no reason for you to stay.”
“No reason other than that watch.”
Logan took the laptop from the floor next to where he’d been sitting and showed her the screen. Footage from the security cameras. “Less than ten minutes ago, I saw you try the door to my office. Were you trying to take something more than the watch?”
She glanced at the screen, then at him. “If you have a security system, why didn’t it go off when I came in the building?”
“Because I didn’t arm it. I figured you’d come eventually, and I wanted to see what you were going to do.”
“The watch,” she repeated.
And maybe it only was, but Logan needed more. “If the watch means so much to you, why did you put it in my pocket?”
“I nearly didn’t. After I saw the engagement ring.”
Yes, that would have been a shock. Well, maybe. If it was a con, then nothing should have shocked her. If he was merely her no-names-allowed one-night stand, then she probably thought he was a sleazebag.
“An asshole,” Reese corrected as if she’d known what he was thinking. “But then I didn’t ask about your relationship status, and you didn’t ask about mine.”
“Glenlivet,” he said.
“Tequila,” she countered.
That was the problem with too much alcohol. It dulled people’s minds so they didn’t ask the right questions. Well, he was asking them now.
“Why give me the watch?” he pressed. “Was it because it was stolen and you didn’t want to get caught with it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me kiss you again.”
Blame It on the Cowboy Page 7