Sarajane inserted her key in the lock and found that the door was already unlocked. She froze as her heart climbed up in her throat. She was sure she’d locked the door on Friday.
Hadn’t she?
But then why was it opened? And why was the security code not engaged? Granted, Harry and Sheldon both knew the code and had their own keys, but she couldn’t remember either one of them ever coming in before nine. It was only eight.
Maybe one of them had decided to come in early, just this once, because now that Jordan was gone, the office was shorthanded again.
Now that Jordan was gone.
The sentence echoed in her head, mocking her. No, she wasn’t going to go there again. She’d spent her entire weekend thinking about him, wishing things that didn’t have a chance of coming into being. Monday was the beginning of a brand-new week. Time to move on.
The last she’d checked, Jenny was still having no luck landing someone for the short haul. Charity, when it meant giving of yourself rather than from your checkbook, was something that was in very short supply around here, she thought sadly.
Sarajane slowly pushed the back door open, alert to every sound, every movement. There weren’t any. Had she left the door unlocked? There certainly wasn’t anything in here to tempt a burglar.
“Hello?” she called out, still standing in the alcove, within inches of the back door just in case someone had broken in and she had to escape. “Is anyone here?”
“Just us overworked attorneys.”
Her breath joined her heart in her throat. That couldn’t be—
Refusing to get her hopes up, she nonetheless hurried out of the alcove and into the main room.
It was him.
Jordan was sitting at the desk he’d occupied for the last three weeks. Working. Her heart did a cartwheel before she could stop it. She banked down the surge of joy pouring through her.
Something was wrong. There had to be a logical explanation.
Crossing to his desk, she tried to sound distant. It wasn’t easy when she had hardly any breath to spare. “What are you doing here?”
He looked up from the file he’d been examining since his arrival more than half an hour ago. In his pocket were the key and the piece of paper with the security code on it that he’d gotten from Jenny last night after he’d come over to tell her his plans.
“A simple ‘hello’ would have been nice.”
“Hello,” she echoed numbly, then repeated, “What are you doing here?”
He nodded at the file that was spread out over the desk. “Working on Anita Quinn’s case.”
The single mother fighting to keep custody of her little girl. It didn’t make sense. “Why aren’t you at Treherne and Morrison?”
“Morrison and Treherne,” he corrected, earning an impatient noise from Sarajane. “Well, for starters, because the file’s here, not there.”
She wasn’t in the mood for any word games. “Jordan, be serious—”
The slightly lopsided grin vanished. “I am serious. Maybe for the first time in my life.” He turned his chair from the desk to face her. “I took a leave of absence from the firm.”
He’d stayed at Patrice’s party for a little more than an hour on Saturday. Being there, listening to inane conversations about which brand of personal water-craft to buy and what exotic resort to fly to for the next vacation had helped him make up his mind. He’d called Jerome Morrison from his car on the way home. It had taken a bit of convincing, but he had skill and his record on his side. “They told me I could come back any time I wanted.”
That answered nothing. “Why would you take a leave of absence?” Planting a hand on his desk, she leaned over to be closer to his face.
He almost kissed her then. But she deserved an answer to her question. “Because I hate leaving a cluttered desk. And because I hate leaving you in a lurch.” He paused for a moment, then said quietly, “And because I hate leaving you.”
“I don’t understand.” She heard someone knocking on the front door. Instead of going to unlock the door and let them in, she ignored the knock. She needed to have this cleared up, and technically, they weren’t open for business yet, anyway.
“I don’t know how much clearer I can make this.” He spread his hands to encompass the room. “I’m where I’m supposed to be.” And then he smiled at her, melting her bones just enough to make standing straight a challenge. “I’ve discovered I have a heart and it seems to be here, so I’m here as well.”
No, she wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. She was going to lead with her head, not her heart. “You’re talking about the cases.”
“The cases. You.” He peered at her face. “They kind of go hand in hand, don’t they?”
“In a way,” she agreed slowly. “So you’re here to work.”
“Yes. I’m also here because…” She was going to make him say this, wasn’t she?
“Yes?”
Blowing out a breath, he pushed back from the desk and rose to his feet. “Damn it, Sarajane, this isn’t supposed to be difficult.”
He was in her space, but she didn’t back away. “This?”
Frustrated, he tried to find the right words. “You, me, loving—”
Her eyes opened so wide, they were in danger of falling out. She held up her hand like a traffic cop. “Hold it. Back up. Are you telling me—”
“That I love you? Yes.” He felt like a man on a tightrope strung out over Niagara Falls. So far, he was doing this on faith because she hadn’t said anything in kind to him. “And at the risk of being completely shot down, I’m asking you to—”
She threw her arms around him and cried, “Yes!”
He looked at her, a little stunned. “Yes?”
She nodded, fighting hard to keep tears from falling. In the background, the person at the front door was knocking again, with more feeling this time. “Yes!”
Jordan laughed as relief flooded him. He wrapped his arms around her. “You don’t even know what the question is.”
“I don’t care.” It didn’t matter. He wanted her, she knew he wanted her. “The answer’s yes.”
“You have got a lot to learn about negotiations,” he told her fondly.
I love you, Jordan Hall. It’s about time you came to your senses. “That’s for divorces, I’m assuming that’s not where this is headed.”
He raised his voice as the knocking grew louder still. “No, it’s headed down the aisle if you still mean what you just shouted.”
“More than ever.”
He didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything. He would wait if she needed time. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” There was absolutely no doubt in her mind. “You’ve had my number, Jordan Hall, from the first moment you set foot in here.” The knocking at the door had become so insistent, the front window was rattling. “I guess I’d better let him in before he knocks down the door.”
“In a minute,” he told her, still holding her against him and showing no signs of releasing her. “First, I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?” And then she smiled. “That I love you? I thought you knew.”
“Whether I did or not is not the question,” he told her. “Some things you just have to hear for yourself.”
She smiled up into his eyes. “I love you, Jordan Hall. How’s that?”
“Good. Again.”
She nodded obligingly. “I—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. Given a choice between talking and kissing, there was no contest. Kissing always won.
Just like Jordan.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Marie Ferrarella for her contribution to the LOGAN’S LEGACY REVISITED miniseries.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7050-7
MR. HALL TAKES A BRIDE
Copyright © 2007 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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*Logan’s Legacy Revisited
Mr. Hall Takes a Bride Page 17
