Queen of Diamonds

by Cox, Sandra

  “I’d consider it a favor if you’d go with me.”

  “I’m afraid…”

  “Oh go on, Kendall. What’s the harm,” her dad urged.

  Let me count the ways.

  She flashed her dad a look. He’d done an about face since Logan had acquiesced about the raise.

  Slouched comfortably back against the couch, Logan waited with arms crossed, polite inquiry on his face and devilment in his eyes.

  He knows he’s got me. She kept herself from making a face or sticking out her tongue.

  “Fine.” She tapped her bare toes on the wood floor. Big mistake. Big. Huge.

  Logan watched her toes, his lips twitching.

  “How about Friday night?” her daughter persisted bringing the talk back to poker.

  Both Kendall and her father looked at the girl in amazement. “That’s movie night,” they said in unison.

  “We can do both or Grandpa and I can watch movies Saturday night.” Caroline stared at Logan, as if willing him to agree, her eyes bright with excitement.

  He smiled at the little girl. “It’s a date.”

  Kendall studied the man and the child. She wasn’t quite sure who had conquered whom. Both seemed bedazzled. She couldn’t remember when Caroline had been so taken with anyone. Not even Betsy at the bakery elicited this kind of a response.

  Logan rose. “I’d better be going. I didn’t mean to barge in on everyone. I’ll let you get back to your poker game.” He turned to Kendall. His gaze traveled from her hair, lying loose on her shoulders, down her turquoise jersey to her snug fitting jeans, and came to rest on her bare feet. His eyes on her toes, he smiled. “I never pictured you with painted toenails. I like it. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Once again her ears tingled with heat. She couldn’t remember ever blushing as much as she’d done since Logan showed up. You’d think the man had never seen painted toenails before. She nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  “See the lad out,” her dad instructed from his easy chair.

  Lad? She did as directed.

  When they reached the door, Logan rested his hand on the doorframe. His lean body filled the entryway. The area—spacious before—was now confining and there was a shortage of air. She rubbed a hand across the top of her chest. He gave her a slow, lazy smile. “Ms. Theron, you’ve been hiding your light under a bushel or should I say baggy shirts and pants, and makeup with a yellowish cast.”

  Before she could respond, he straightened. “Guess I better get going.” He nodded and pushed through the door.

  She shut it behind him, not allowing herself to linger on the image of his tight butt in soft, worn jeans.

  Moments later, the doorbell rang. She jumped and cautiously opened it. He thrust her helmet and jacket at her. “Nearly forgot these.”

  “Thank you.”

  This time she did watch as he turned and trotted down the steps. When he got to his sporty convertible, he didn’t bother to open the door just threw a leg over it and slid in.

  She shut the door as he backed out of the drive.

  “Nice young man.” Her dad took her helmet and jacket, and placed them in the hall closet.

  “Thanks, Dad. What happened to clutch-fisted?”

  “Well, I obviously was wrong about that wasn’t I?” Arm in arm they ambled back to the living room. “He must trust you implicitly to send you all over the country for research material.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “What kind of information do you get for him? I’m surprised he has his publicist do it.”

  “Research-publicist, Dad. And I gather what can’t be found on the internet.”

  Like employee schedules, who is the most easily distracted, when are peak store hours, what kind of security does the store have and where are the cameras located. Oh yeah, lots of research when she traveled, just none of it for Logan Hunter. She usually made a dry run, either as an affluent young man or a delivery person new to the job and asking directions.

  Her daughter’s voice broke into her reverie. “Mommy, Grandpa, let’s play another hand.”

  Chapter Five

  Logan downshifted and turned toward the ocean hoping the tangy smell of salt water would dispel the lingering fragrance of ripe raspberries and vanilla, of Kendall.

  The air whipped about and blew his hair away from his face, but it didn’t chase away the spell his mysterious publicist had woven when she’d wrapped those long legs around him and kissed him with enough heat to make him spontaneously combust.

  A car in the oncoming lane honked as his attention wandered. “Okay this isn’t working.” He did a quick U-turn and headed for his favorite pub.

  Ten minutes later, he sat in a dim booth sipping a lager. The murmur of other customers vied with the blues playing on the juke box and the sports show on the television over the bar. The scent of yeasty beer and burgers lingered in the air and made him realize that outside of two of Caroline’s haystacks he hadn’t eaten.

  Taking a swig of his beer, he relaxed as the golden liquid rolled down his throat and transmitted dopamine to the pleasure center of his brain.

  “Want anything, Logan?” Pete, the bartender, called as he wiped down the dark counter with a damp rag. Oh yeah, I want that silky hair unpinned and fanned around my shoulders and…

  “Logan,” Pete bellowed.

  “Burger and fries.”

  “You got it.”

  Turning his attention to the television and away from sex, he watched the game until the waitress sauntered up with his food.

  “Here’s your burger, Logan.”

  “Thanks, Cheryl.”

  The waitress sat the plate in front of him. A whiff of fried beef steak and French fries drifted toward him and had his stomach growling in response.

  “This looks great.”

  “Yeah, Joe makes a mean burger.” Cheryl pushed her hair away from her face causing her perky breasts to strain against her navy tee. The rest of her was willow slim as he had good reason to know. They’d had some fun in the sack a couple of times but neither had taken it seriously. Now they were just good friends.

  She leaned her arms on the bar. “My apartment is being fumigated. Can I crash at your place tonight?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I won’t be cutting into your action will I?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  She laughed. “You’re slipping.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Serves you right, heartbreaker.” She grinned, clutching the tray at her waist.

  “Your heart stayed intact.”

  “Yeah, I’m the exception to the rule. You going to be around for a few hours?”

  “Do you need me to be?” He hadn’t really planned on staying long, but he had no problem helping a friend.

  “It’s only three blocks I can walk.”

  “No need. I’ll wait. No place like a pub to study human nature.”

  “My shift ends at nine-thirty.”

  “I’ll be here.” He lifted his glass in salute.

  She turned and sashayed away, hips swaying.

  Logan bit into his burger, pickle juice dripping onto his plate. Ah nothing like vein clogging cholesterol to tease his taste buds. And speaking of teasing his taste buds…he chewed, swallowed, leaned back against the booth and took a swig of beer. Just what exactly was he going to do about the delectable Ms. Theron? From the shiny crown of henna hair to the tips of her pink-painted toenails, she intrigued him. There was nothing in this world that he found more enthralling than a mystery. And he’d discovered one right under his nose.

  The woman was an enigma. She’d played down her looks, which was probably a godsend. He wouldn’t have been able to work with her for three years and maintain his distance if he’d known how beautiful she was. And the beauty wasn’t the passing kind. She had great bones.

  Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Even if she wore glasses and some kind of ghastly yellow face powder, he should never have
missed those cheekbones. Not to mention those full, pouty lips of hers that were made for doing all sorts of naughty things. His body tightened in response to his thoughts.

  He forced his mind away from his groin and onto the cause of its discomfort. Why did she claim to have a husband all this time? And why not tell him about the child? Why tell her dad she did research for him, when she was carrying on with another man? A married man. Well, he could understand that at least. That’s not something any male wanted to hear, especially a father.

  He shook catsup on his plate and dabbed his rapidly cooling fries in the splotch of red sauce. Just who was his publicist involved with anyway? How could she be so foolish as to fall for a married man and her with a four-year-old-daughter?

  Vexed, he shook his head. There was just too much that didn’t add up.

  “Hey, Logan, if you don’t like it, I’ll have Joe fix you another.”

  He glanced up to see the bartender watching him. Logan waved at him with his burger. “Are you kidding? This is great.”

  “The way you were frowning, I thought you might have found a persimmon in it.”

  “Hey watch it!” The voice came through the small window-sized opening between the kitchen and the bar.

  He raised his voice and bellowed. “It tastes delicious, Joe. I was thinking about my current story.”

  Actually, it had the makings of a great story. Beautiful young woman hides nefarious activities behind the auspicious of a mystery writer’s publicist. He frowned, deep in thought and rubbed the indent beneath his lower lip with his index finger. Was Kendall involved in something she shouldn’t be? His scalp prickled and he drew back against the booth.

  No. He shook his head and snorted. Writer’s imagination, it was both a gift and a curse.

  He finished eating and moved to a barstool where he spent the next few hours chatting with the patrons that came through the door, most of them regulars: a lawyer, a couple of doctors, several salesgirls, secretaries, and a mechanic.

  “I’m ready.” Cheryl came to stand behind him.

  “All right.” He threw some bills on the counter and slid off the stool.

  They walked through the door. Warm night air, damp with humidity, pressed down on him as they ambled to his car.

  “Are you sure Bambi won’t mind me staying over?”

  He opened the door, waited ’til she slid in and closed it behind her. “I’m no longer seeing, Bambi.” He slipped into the driver’s side and started the engine.

  “Oh, sorry, when did that happen?”

  Right after I got a kiss that had my intellect leaking out of my ears. He’d called Bambi that evening and broken it off. “Oh no need to be sorry, it wasn’t anything serious. We ended it a couple of days ago. It’s not like we were an item. She was okay with it.” Sorta. “She’s probably already with someone else.”

  He pulled out into light traffic and headed home.

  “What about you?” Cheryl reached over and fidgeted with the radio.

  Someone else? Now there was the question. “No.”

  She laughed. “There will be.”

  Once at the house, they watched a couple of movies and drank some beer. From there, he pointed her toward the guest room then went to his own bed, where he tossed and turned and finally dreamed about a woman with henna hair and slender feet, who wrapped her long legs around his waist and wore a mask when she kissed him.

  Chapter Six

  The doorbell boomed like a cannon.

  “I’ll get it,” Cheryl sang out from the hall.

  He’d had one beer too many last night and was about to put the pillow over his head when he realized it was probably Kendall. “Damn, I’m going to have to get that woman a key.” He should have done it a couple of years ago.

  He pulled on his pants, tugged up the zipper and didn’t bother to fasten them. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he headed for the kitchen.

  He heard Cheryl in the foyer. “Come on in, honey. I was just leaving. Bye Logan,” she hollered.

  Grinding coffee beans, it dawned on him Kendall probably wouldn’t see the situation in a favorable light. It was hardly the first time a woman she didn’t know had answered the door.

  He put in the beans and poured the water through. While he waited for the coffee to brew, he grabbed a bottle of aspirin out of the cabinet, swallowed a couple dry and listened to the pot spit the last of the water out. Filling two plain white cups, he headed up the stairs.

  “Hello, Ms. Theron.” He placed a steamy mug on her desk and took a sip of his own. As hot strong caffeine slid down his throat his world righted.

  Her gaze behind the large glasses did a slow perusal from his tousled hair down to his unbuttoned pants, lingered and returned to meet his eyes, her gaze expressionless. “Good morning, Mr. Hunter.”

  There was no censure in her look, but her rigid body radiated disapproval. She’d seen him like this before, so why did it make him uncomfortable now? Yeah, like he couldn’t figure that one out. That kiss had been blown way out of proportion. Perhaps, he should try it again just to prove he’d overreacted to everything. He took note of her notched chin. Well, maybe later.

  “Let me throw on a shirt and I’ll be right back.”

  She shifted her attention to the computer where he supposed she was already busy answering fan mail.

  “Uh, Cheryl didn’t have a place to stay last night so she crashed here.”

  Kendall lifted her chin in acknowledgement but stayed focused on her laptop.

  Stupid. I sound like I’m making excuses. Holding the coffee cup with the tips of his fingers he meandered out feeling his man about town imagine had just been reduced to that of blustering boy. After a quick shower, he threw on a clean T-shirt and jeans, and joined his assistant, who didn’t look up.

  “Joyce has already sent out Die Lover Die. Getting some good offers on it. I’ll be able to afford your salary increase,” he joked as he settled into his comfortable desk chair, his legs sprawled in front of him. He rolled it around to face her and tipped it back.

  She looked up at that. “Good.” Then shifted her attention back to her computer.

  “Got a dress for Saturday night?”

  Again she looked up. “Not yet. Why don’t you take Joyce?”

  “Good idea, but she’s got other plans,” he lied.

  “Are you sure Bambi can’t make it?”

  “We broke up.”

  For a moment, her gaze rose before she refocused on her keyboard. “Perhaps the young woman who just left.”

  “Cheryl? She’d probably do it to help me out of a jam, but I think it would be better taking my publicist. Strictly business, networking that sort of thing.” Before she could argue, he continued, “What other forms of social torture do you have lined up for me?”

  She snorted. “I’ve never known you to mind glad-handing.”

  He shrugged. “It comes with the territory.”

  “It certainly helps and you’re very good at what you do.” She stopped typing and took a sip of her coffee.

  “Why thank you. A compliment from my publicist is a rare honor indeed.” He fingered his chin as if in thought. “In fact, it may be the first.”

  “Most writers are narcissistic or insecure. And since I’ve never known you to be insecure I didn’t realize you needed compliments.”

  “Why, Ms. Theron, I don’t recall keeping my ego in check in your job description.”

  “It wasn’t but it should have been,” she replied tartly and banged on her keys.

  Hmm, interesting, his delightful publicist seemed in a catty mood this morning. She was always businesslike and correct, until a few days ago anyway. Was it possible she was jealous?

  “Next month you’ve got a book signing in New York, The Hamptons and Denver. You’re also on Today’s Trends. You need to sign these,” she pointed to a stack of books on the bookcase. “I’m sending them out as contest wins and to several of the local bookstores.”

  He looked
at the small mountain of hardbacks in dismay. “Could you sign them for me?” From past experience he knew she wouldn’t but it never hurt to ask.

  “Your fans want your signature not mine.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He reached for half a dozen, opened a book jacket and scrawled his name. “I’m thinking about doing a sequel to Jewels of Heaven.”

  The tapping on the keyboard ceased. “Really?”

  He closed the book and reached for another. “Yeah, it’s going to be about a jewel thief who’s a copycat of Bella—my original burglar, who Queenie stole the idea from—only the heist goes bad, the mark gets murdered and she’s the chief suspect. What do you think?”

  Kendall didn’t respond. Curious, he turned around. His publicist had gone pale. “Kendall, are you all right?” He leaped up and was rushing toward her before she stuck out a hand to stop him.

  “I’m fine. Just a dizzy spell.”

  “Did you eat any breakfast?” he demanded.

  “No.” She ran shaky fingertips across her forehead.

  “Come on, let’s grab something. We’ll hit the deli down the street.”

  “But I…”

  He grasped her elbow and propelled her to her feet.

  “This really isn’t necessary.”

  “Maybe not for you but I’m hungry.” He hustled her down the stairs.

  As they walked out, she gave a reluctant laugh. “Even though you do your best to hide it, you’re a thoughtful man.”

  He clasped his chest. “Two compliments in one day. I’m not sure my heart will stand it.”

  “Then I suggest you stay away from red meat and fried foods.”

  A grin pushed against his cheek muscles. “You’re feeling better.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Maybe I just needed some fresh air.”

  A light breeze blew multi-colored leaves across the street, along with the scent of autumn, crisp and cool. A red leaf landed in her hair. He reached over and plucked it off.

  She laughed. For one brief moment her expression changed, relaxed and full of life. Her guard temporarily down.

  Logan’s heart did a hard ka-thump. This will never do. But he was captivated. Couldn’t help it. It was a rarity to see his publicist with a natural smile instead of the guarded expression she normally wore around him.