Blue Dahlia gt-1

by Nora Roberts

  of her booby"

  With an admirably straight face, Logan nodded. "I think I heard about that somewhere. It's a little hard

  to believe."

  "It's true. That's why they have them. Girls. Guys don't get boobies because they can't make milk, no matter how much they drink."

  "Huh. That explains that."

  "Fat Mr. Kelso's got boobies," Gavin said and sent his brother into a spasm of hilarity.

  Stella stepped to the door and saw Logan holding the baby with her boys flanking him. All three of them had grins from ear-to-ear. The sun was shimmering down through the scarlet leaves of a red maple, falling in a shifting pattern of light and shadow on the stone. Lilies had burst into bloom in a carnival of color and exotic shapes. She could smell them, and the early roses, freshly cut grass, and verbena.

  She heard birdsong and the giggling whispers of her boys, the delicate music of the wind chime hung

  from one of the maple's branches.

  Her first clear thought as she froze there, as if she'd walked into an invisible frame of a picture was, Uh-oh.

  Maybe she'd said it out loud, as Logan's head turned toward her. When their eyes met, his foolish grin transformed into a smile, easy and warm.

  He looked too big crouched there, she thought. Too big, too rough with that tiny child in his arms, too male centered between her precious boys.

  And so... dazzling somehow. Tanned and fit and strong.

  He belonged in a forest, beating a path over rocky ground. Not here, in this elegant scene with flowers scenting the air and a baby dozing in the crook of his arm.

  He straightened and walked toward her. "Your turn."

  "Oh." She reached for Lily. "There you are, beautiful baby girl. There you are." She laid her lips on

  Lily's brow, and breathed in. "How's she doing today?" she asked Hayley.

  "Good as gold. Look here, Stella. Look what Logan bought her."

  Yeah, a female thing, Logan mused as Stella made nearly the identical sound Hayley had over the doll. "Isn't that the most precious thing?"

  "And watch this." Hayley pulled the hat so the tune played out.

  "Mom. Mom." Luke deserted Logan to tug on his mother.

  "Just a minute, baby."

  They fussed over the doll and Lily while Luke rolled his eyes and danced in place.

  "I think Lily and I should go take a nap." Hayley tucked the baby in her carrier, then lifted it and the doll. "Thanks again, Logan. It was awfully sweet of you."

  "Glad you like it. You take care now."

  "Dolls are lame," Gavin stated, but he was polite enough to wait until Hayley was inside.

  "Really?" Stella reached over to flick the bill of his baseball cap over his eyes. "And what are those little people you've got all over your shelves and your desk?"

  "Those aren't dolls." Gavin looked as horrified as an eight-year-old boy could manage. "Those are

  action figures. Come on, Mom."

  "My mistake."

  "We want to be Saturday slaves and build an arbor." Luke pulled on her hand and to get her attention. "Okay?"

  "Saturday slaves?"

  "I'm building an arbor tomorrow," Logan explained. "Could use some help, and I got these two volunteers. I hear they work for cheese sandwiches and Popsicles."

  "Oh. Actually, I was planning to take them to work with me tomorrow."

  "An arbor, Mom." Luke gazed up pleadingly, as if he'd been given the chance to build the space shuttle and then ride it to Pluto. "I never, ever built one before."

  "Well..."

  "Why don't we split it up?" Logan suggested. "You take them on in with you in the morning, and I'll swing by and get them around noon."

  She felt her stomach knot. It sounded normal. Like parenting. Like family. Dimly, she heard her boys begging and pleading over the buzzing in her ears.

  "That'll be fine," she managed. "If you're sure they won't be in your way."

  He cocked his head at the strained and formal tone. "They get in it, I just kick them out again. Like now. Why don't you boys go find that dog and see what he's up to, so I can talk to your mama a minute?"

  Gavin made a disgusted face. "Let's go, Luke. He's probably going to kiss her."

  "Why, I'm transparent as glass to that boy," Logan said. He tipped her chin up with his fingers, laid his lips on hers, and watched her watch him. "Hello, Stella."

  "Hello, Logan."

  "Are you going to tell me what's going on in that head of yours, or do I have to guess?"

  "A lot of things. And nothing much."

  "You looked poleaxed when you came outside."

  " 'Poleaxed.' Now there's a word you don't hear every day."

  "Why don't you and I take a little walk?"

  "All right."

  "You want to know why I came by this afternoon?"

  "To bring Lily a doll." She walked along one of the paths with him. She could hear her boys and the

  dog, then the quick thwack of Luke's Wiffle bat. They'd be fine for a while.

  "That, and to see if I could sponge a meal off Roz, which was a roundabout way of having a meal with you. I don't figure I'm going to be able to pry you too far away from the baby for a while yet."

  She had to smile. "Apparently I'm transparent, too. It's so much fun having a baby in the house. If I manage to steal her away from Hayley for an hour—and win out over Roz—I can play with her like, well, a doll. All those adorable little clothes. Never having had a girl, I didn't realize how addicting all those little dresses can be."

  "When I asked you if Lily made you want another, you panicked."

  "I didn't panic."

  "Clutched, let's say. Why is that?"

  "It's not unusual for a woman of my age with two half-grown children to clutch, let's say, at the idea of another baby."

  "Uh-huh. You clutched again when I said I wanted to take the kids to my place tomorrow."

  "No, it's just that I'd already planned—"

  "Don't bullshit me, Red."

  "Things are moving so fast and in a direction I hadn't planned to go."

  "If you're going to plan every damn thing, maybe I should draw you a frigging map."

  "I can draw my own map, and there's no point in being annoyed. You asked." She stopped by a tower

  of madly climbing passionflower. "I thought things were supposed to move slow in the south."

  "You irritated me the first time I set eyes on you."

  "Thanks so much."

  "That should've given me a clue," he continued. "You were an itch between my shoulder blades. The

  one in that spot you can't reach and scratch away no matter how you contort yourself. I'd've been happy to move slow. Generally, I don't see the point in rushing through something. But you know, Stella, you can't schedule how you're going to fall in love. And I fell in love with you."

  "Logan."

  "I can see that put the fear of God in you. I figure there's one of two reasons for that. One, you don't have feelings for me, and you're afraid you'll hurt me. Or you've got plenty of feelings for me, and they scare you."

  He snapped off a passionflower with its white petals and long blue filaments, stuck it in the spiraling

  curls of her hair. A carelessly romantic gesture at odds with the frustration in his voice. "I'm going with number two, not only because it suits me better, but because I know what happens to both of us when

  I kiss you."

  "That's attraction. It's chemistry."

  "I know the frigging difference." He took her shoulders, held her still. "So do you. Because we've both been here before. We've both been in love before, so we know the difference."

  "That may be right, that may be true. And it's part of why this is too much, too fast." She curled her hands on his forearms, felt solid strength, solid will. "I knew Kevin a full year before things got serious, and another year before we started talking about the future."

  "I had about the same amount of time with Rae. And here
we are, Stella. You through tragedy, me through circumstance. We both know there aren't any guarantees, no matter how long or how well

  you plan it out beforehand."

  "No, there aren't. But it's not just me now. I have more than myself to consider."

  "You come as a package deal." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, then stepped away. "I'm

  not dim, Stella. And I'm not above making friends with your boys to get you. But the fact is, I like them.

  I enjoy having them around."

  "I know that." She gave his arms a squeeze, then eased back. "I know that," she repeated. "I can tell when someone's faking. It's not you. It's me."

  "That's the goddamnedest thing to say."

  "You're right, but it's also true. I know what it's like to be a child and have my mother swing from man

  to man. That's not what we're doing here," she said, lifting her hands palms out as fresh fury erupted on his face. "I know that, too. But the fact is, my life centers on those boys now. It has to."

  "And you don't think mine can? If you don't think I can be a father to them because they didn't come

  out of me, then it is you."

  "I think it takes time to—"

  "You know how you get a strong, healthy plant like this to increase, to fill out strong?" He jerked a thumb toward the passionflower vine. "You can layer it, and you end up with new fruit and flower. By hybridizing it, it gets stronger, maybe you get yourself a new variety out of it."

  "Yes. But it takes time."

  "You have to start. I don't love those boys the way you do. But I can see how I could, if you gave me

  the chance. So I want the chance. I want to marry you."

  "Oh, God. I can't—we don't—" She had to press the heel of her hand on her heart and gulp in air. But she couldn't seem to suck it all the way into her lungs. "Marriage. Logan. I can't get my breath."

  "Good. That means you'll shut up for five minutes. I love you, and I want you and those boys in my life. If anybody had suggested to me, a few months ago, that I'd want to take on some fussy redhead and a couple of noisy kids, I'd've laughed my ass off. But there you go. I'd say we could live together for a while until you get used to it, but I know you wouldn't. So I don't see why we don't just do it and start living our lives."

  "Just do it," she managed. "Like you just go out and buy a new truck?"

  "A new truck's got a better warranty than marriage."

  "All this romance is making me giddy."

  "I could go buy a ring, get down on one knee. I figured that's how I'd deal with this, but I'm into it now. You love me, Stella."

  "I'm beginning to wonder why."

  "You've always wondered why. It wouldn't bother me if you keep right on wondering. We could make a good life together, you and me. For ourselves." He jerked his head in the direction of the smack of plastic bat on plastic ball. "For the boys. I can't be their daddy, but I could be a good father. I'd never hurt them, or you. Irritate, annoy, but I'd never hurt any of you."

  "I know that. I couldn't love you if you weren't a good man. And you are, a very good man. But marriage. I don't know if it's the answer for any of us."

  "I'm going to talk you into it sooner or later." He stepped back to her now, twined her hair around his finger in a lightning change of mood. "If it's sooner, you'd be able to decide how you want all those bare rooms done up in that big house. I'm thinking of picking one and getting started on it next rainy day."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Low blow."

  "Whatever works. Belong to me, Stella." He rubbed his lips over hers. "Let's be a family."

  "Logan." Her heart was yearning toward him even as her body eased away. "Let's take a step back a minute. A family's part of it. I saw you with Lily."

  "And?"

  "I'm heading toward my middle thirties, Logan. I have an eight- and a six-year-old. I have a demanding job. A career, and I'm going to keep it. I don't know if I want to have more children. You've never had

  a baby of your own, and you deserve to."

  "I've thought about this. Making a baby with you, well, that would be a fine thing if we both decide we want it. But it seems to me that right now I'm getting the bonus round. You, and two entertaining boys that are already house-broken. I don't have to know everything that's going to happen, Stella. I don't

  want to know every damn detail. I just have to know I love you, and I want them."

  "Logan." Time for rational thinking, she decided. "We're going to have to sit down and talk this out.

  We haven't even met each other's family yet."

  "We can take care of that easy enough, at least with yours. We can have them over for dinner. Pick a day."

  "You don't have any furniture." She heard her voice pitch, and deliberately leveled herself again.

  "That's not important."

  "Not to me."

  "The point is we're skipping over a lot of the most basic steps." And at the moment, all of them were jumbled and muzzy in her mind.

  Marriage, changing things for her boys once more, the possibility of another child. How could she keep up?

  "Here you are talking about taking on two children. You don't know what it's like to live in the same house as a couple of young boys."

  "Red, I was a young boy. I tell you what, you go ahead and make me a list of all those basic steps.

  We'll take them, in order, if that's what you need to do. But I want you to tell me, here and now,

  do you love me?"

  "You've already told me I do."

  He set his hands on her waist, drew her in, drew her up in the way that made her heart stutter.

  "Tell me."

  Did he know, could he know, how huge it was for her to say the words? Words she'd said to no man

  but the one she'd lost. Here he was, those eyes on hers, waiting for the simple acknowledgment of what he already knew.

  "I love you. I do, but—"

  "That'll do for now." He closed his mouth over hers and rode out the storm of emotion raging inside him. Then he stepped back. "You make that list, Red. And start thinking what color you want on those living room walls. Tell the boys I'll see them tomorrow."

  "But... weren't you going to stay for dinner?"

  "I've got some things to do," he said as he strode away. "And so do you." He glanced over his shoulder. "You need to worry about me."

  * * *

  One of the things he had to do was work off the frustration. When he'd asked Rae to marry him, it was no surprise for either of them and her acceptance had been instant and enthusiastic.

  Of course, look where that had gotten them.

  But it was hard on a man's ego when the woman he loved and wanted to spend his life with countered every one of his moves with a block of stubborn, hardheaded sense.

  He put in an hour on his cross-trainer, sweating, guzzling water, and cursing the day he'd had the misfortune to fall in love with a stiff-necked redhead.

  Of course, if she wasn't stiff-necked, stubborn, and sensible, he probably wouldn't have fallen in love with her. That still made the whole mess her fault.

  He'd been happy before she'd come along. The house hadn't seemed empty before she'd been in it.

  Her and those noisy kids. Since when had he voluntarily arranged to spend a precious Saturday off,

  a solitary Saturday at his own house with a couple of kids running around getting into trouble?

  Hell. He was going to have to go out and pick up some Popsicles.

  He was a doomed man, he decided as he stepped into the shower. Hadn't he already picked the spot

  in the backyard for a swing set? Hadn't he already started a rough sketch for a tree house?

  He'd started thinking like a father.

  Maybe he'd liked the sensation of holding that baby in his arms, but having one wasn't a deal breaker. How was either one of them supposed to know how they'd feel about that a year from now?

  Things happen, he thought, remembering Hayley's
words, because they're meant to happen.

  Because, he corrected as he yanked on fresh jeans, you damn well made them happen.

  He was going to start making things happen.

  In fifteen minutes, after a quick check of the phone book, he was in his car and heading into Memphis. His hair was still wet.

  * * *

  Will had barely started on his after-dinner decaf and the stingy sliver of lemon meringue pie Jolene allowed him when he heard the knock on the door.

  "Now who the devil could that be?"

  "I don't know, honey. Maybe you should go find out."

  "If they want a damn piece of pie, then I want a bigger one."

  "If it's the Bowers boy about cutting the grass, tell him I've got a couple of cans of Coke cold in here."

  But when Will opened the door, it wasn't the gangly Bowers boy, but a broad-shouldered man wearing

  an irritated scowl. Instinctively, Will edged into the opening of the door to block it. "Something I can

  do for you?"

  "Yeah. I'm Logan Kitridge, and I've just asked your daughter to marry me."

  "Who is it, honey?" Fussing with her hair, Jolene walked up to the door. "Why it's Logan Kitridge,

  isn't it? We met you a time or two over at Roz's. Been some time back, though. I know your mama

  a little. Come on in."

  "He says he asked Stella to marry him."

  "Is that so!" Her face brightened like the sun, with her eyes wide and avid with curiosity. "Why, that's

  just marvelous. You come on back and have some pie."

  "He didn't say if she'd said yes," Will pointed out.

  "Since when does Stella say anything as simple as yes?" Logan demanded, and had Will grinning.

  "That's my girl."

  They sat down, ate pie, drank coffee, and circled around the subject at hand with small talk about his mother, Stella, the new baby.

  Finally, Will leaned back. "So, am I supposed to ask you how you intend to support my daughter and grandsons?"

  "You tell me. Last time I did this, the girl's father'd had a couple of years to grill me. Didn't figure I'd have to go through this part of it again at my age."

  "Of course you don't." Jolene gave her husband a little slap on the arm. "He's just teasing. Stella can support herself and those boys just fine. And you wouldn't be here looking so irritated if you didn't