Logan rose without a word and left the room. Several moments later, a nurse padded into the room in her customary white sneakers, but Logan didn’t return. The nurse was a sweet, chirpy redhead with a warm smile. “Your husband sent me to help you,” she told Claire in a cheery, sunshine-and-rainbows voice.
Claire didn’t bother telling her that Logan wasn’t her husband and that he probably never would be.
Somehow, Logan had managed to completely screw up his proposal to Claire. He prowled down the maze of corridors in the maternity wing, cursing himself for being a complete idiot. Had he actually used the word compatible? And partnership? Thinking about it even made him cringe.
But then, what else could he say? I’m desperately in love with you and I want to marry you even if you don’t love me because I’m a selfish bastard who can’t bear the thought of sharing you with anyone else? It was the truth, but it sounded far worse than an offer of partnership and compatibility.
It didn’t matter, anyway. Claire had made it obvious that she refused to marry him. She wanted more than he could offer her. She didn’t love him and never would. Hell, she probably wanted to shack up with what’s-his-name from New York. Logan should have known better than to ask her. Didn’t he have any pride?
He reflected on that as he turned and began making his way back down the hallway he’d just come from. The sterile scent of the hospital hung in his nostrils, sweet, medicinal and faintly sickening. God, he hated that smell. The thin sound of a baby crying reached his ears, but the only other noise was that of his loafers squeaking against the shiny tan floor.
On further thought, it would appear that where Claire was concerned, no, he didn’t have even a shred of pride remaining. God knew he’d tried to keep his distance, to give her breathing room, but he just couldn’t anymore. She was the woman he loved and the mother of his child and damn it, he wanted her in his life as more than just a fellow parent. He wanted it all, the normal, happy family life he’d never had.
And he wanted it with Claire and Julie, and a dozen more kids that they had yet to have. Okay, so maybe a dozen kids was overdoing things a bit, but now that he was thinking of it, four sounded like an ideal number.
As he approached Claire’s room, he spotted her mother swooping down the hallway with her quiet husband in tow. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was to endure Anne’s thinly veiled disapproval. Salt in the wounds. She loathed him and she hadn’t made even a polite attempt to mask the fact. Claire’s sister Sophie didn’t like him either, but at least she didn’t glare at him as if he were the turd floating in her swimming pool.
Before he could duck down another hallway, Anne’s vulture gaze homed in on him. Her already prudish mouth dipped into what he’d dubbed her oh-it’s-Logan look.
“Logan,” she said, stopping as she reached him. “How are Claire and the baby?”
“They’re fine,” he answered as courteously as possible, and if she didn’t detect the mutual enmity in his voice then it was a credit to his restraint. He had tried to like the woman, truly he had, particularly since she was the mother of the woman he loved and the grandmother of his daughter. But the damn woman made liking her an exercise in futility.
“Congratulations.” She sounded reluctant, her eyes flitting around the hallway as though searching for an escape route. “Well. I think I’ll go visit Claire and my new granddaughter.” She turned to her husband. “Coming, John?”
John’s gaze swung to Logan. “In a minute. I’d like a word with Logan first.”
As Anne disappeared into Claire’s room with an even tighter frown of disapproval marring her face, Logan inwardly cursed. Hell. What could this be about? Mentally, he braced himself.
John gave him a fatherly tap on the shoulder. “Walk with me for a minute, son.”
Although it was likely only a reference to their age difference, the word “son” struck a chord in Logan. No one had ever called him that. In thirty-odd years of life, not a single person had ever referred to him as son.
Logan obliged Claire’s father, walking with him down the hallway in the direction he’d just come from. The silence that stretched between them felt painfully awkward to him. He felt as if he should say something, but he’d be damned if he knew what.
“I love my daughter very much,” John said at last, saving Logan. “She’s been through a lot this past year. First the divorce, then the baby and her off-and-on relationship with you.”
Logan kept his expression neutral. “I realize that, and I have been trying to make amends for it.”
John stopped, pretending to examine a mother-and-child print hanging on the wall. Some dim recess of Logan’s brain registered that it was a Mary Cassatt. College Art History 101 did tend to reassert itself at the oddest moments.
“I like to see my daughters happy,” Claire’s father murmured at last, looking at Logan over his shoulder. “Right now, Claire doesn’t seem happy to me. Does she seem happy to you, Logan?”
He found himself on the defensive. “She’s as happy as I’ve ever seen her.”
John nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t think I’ve seen my daughter truly happy in years. Her last marriage was a flop, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
“Yes.” Logan had no idea where this conversation was headed.
“I don’t want to see her in another dead-end relationship.” John’s face was impassive as he looked at Logan, belying the image he often presented of a quiet, harmless tagalong to his wife. “I want her to be happy. Do you want her to be happy?”
“Of course I do.”
“Here’s the real question for you then.” John paused, his gaze suddenly frank. “Do you think you can be the one to make her happy?”
John might as well have leveled a fist to Logan’s gut. The question knocked the wind out of him. For several moments, he couldn’t collect himself enough to form a response. “I wish I could be that man,” he said at last. “I don’t think she’ll let me.”
John studied him for so long that Logan had to tamp down the urge to squirm. Finally, he nodded again, as though he’d found the answer he’d been seeking. “You have to earn it, son. And don’t give up. My daughter can be stubborn, you know.”
Was Claire’s father giving him his blessing?
John seemed to sense his thoughts. “I know that my wife hasn’t exactly been welcoming, and that she can be difficult to get along with at times.”
“She seems to despise me,” Logan said.
Claire’s father chuckled. “It’s not quite as bad as that. Give her some time. The most important thing is Claire’s happiness, and I think you may be the only one who can help her find it.”
Logan was torn between the urge to laugh and slam his fist into the nearest wall. If only Claire had the same confidence in him that her father had. If only John knew how desperately Logan wanted to be the man who helped Claire find happiness, the man who made her smile, the man who held her at night, the man who woke up next to her every morning.
“I’ll do my best,” Logan said, his voice hoarse with emotion even to his own ears.
John patted him on the back. “Make sure that you do, son. Make sure that you do.”
Claire’s life settled into a comfortable routine. By the end of January, the world was covered in four inches of white snow and she and Julie were settled back into Sophie’s old house. She was still on maternity leave from LM, but she saw Logan every day. And every day, he seemed to get more wonderful. He was incredibly attentive to both her and Julie. They spent Christmas together and he had spoiled them both terribly. Julie’s nursery was packed with adorable little stuffed animals and dolls she couldn’t play with for another six months.
Life was good. The week after Claire had Julie, Sophie had given birth to a baby boy. Sophie and Trevor had named him Rafe. Marcus had decided that Rafe sounded more like a pirate’s name than a baby’s name, so he referred to him as Rafe of the Seven Seas. Sophie and Trevor didn’t appear to mind,
and they were both absolutely glowing with parental pride at their darling baby boy. Claire thought she and Logan must emit the same glow whenever they were around Julie.
Mother was definitely the best role she had ever claimed.
She smiled to herself as she scraped the sides of her mixing bowl, pushing chocolate chip cookie batter back down into the center. Today was January thirty-first, Logan’s birthday, and she was making him a birthday dinner complete with his favorite dessert, chocolate chip cookies. Of course, Logan didn’t know anything about it. She was planning to surprise him when he came over for what he thought was merely an ordinary visit. He hadn’t even mentioned his birthday to her, not since that long ago day when she had driven him home from work when he’d been hit by the migraine. She was beginning to think he’d forgotten all about it.
Her cordless began ringing so she turned off her mixer to answer it before it woke Julie from her midday nap. After washing her hands, she snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Claire, it’s Derek.”
“My partner in crime. Is he home yet?”
“Just pulling up into the driveway now.”
“I have plenty of time then,” Claire murmured. “Try to stall him for a few minutes so that I can get all the cookies in the oven, will you?”
Derek groaned. “Cookies? Not chocolate chip?”
“Yes.”
Another groan. “Is it too late to convince you to ditch Logan for me tonight?”
She laughed. “I’ll save some for you. Don’t forget to stall him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Oh and Derek? Don’t expect him home tonight.”
They hung up and Claire went back to the task of dropping heaping spoonfuls of cookie dough onto her cookie sheets. In addition to being Logan’s birthday, it also happened to be Friday night, which meant the work week was over and Logan was hers for the weekend. She was definitely planning to keep him for the entire weekend. Her doctor had given her the green light for extracurricular activities. The days of pecks on her cheek were over. Claire wanted Logan back, in every sense of the word.
And she wasn’t about to stop until she won him over completely.
The telephone rang again as she popped the last tray of cookies into the oven. It was Sophie.
“How goes Operation Get Logan Into Bed?”
“Soph,” Claire protested, feeling a blush coming on, even though it was ridiculous at her age. “It’s a birthday celebration.”
“Mmm-hmm. Followed by Operation Get Logan Into Bed,” Sophie replied, a grin in her voice. She had begun to soften as far as Logan was concerned. After all, he had been taking up his fair share of the parental workload.
“Maybe,” Claire conceded, a secret smile curving her lips. “Do you think I’m making a mistake, Soph?”
“I think it’s your decision. I admit that you’ve been very happy lately, but I’m not sure if that’s his doing or Julie’s.”
“Both, I think.”
“Then good luck.”
“Thanks. I hope I don’t need it.”
Half an hour later, Claire was finished with her cookies and her dinner—roasted apple cider chicken and salad—decked out in a new black dress and tiny feet-killer heels, and ready for Logan to arrive. She’d checked on Julie half a dozen times and she was still sleeping contentedly in her bassinette in the living room.
The doorbell rang and her stomach did a tiny somersault. She felt suddenly nervous. A quick trip to the bathroom mirror revealed that her makeup was still fresh, her hair was in place, and no, she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth. The doorbell sounded again and she jumped. God, her nerves were so jittery she felt as if she were on caffeine overload.
Her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way to the door. A deep breath, a final smoothing down of the short dress over her thighs, and she opened the door. Logan waited on the other side, still wearing his work clothes beneath a black leather jacket. He smiled when he saw her, his eyes crinkling at the corners and darkening by degrees as they swept down over her. Despite the frigid January air that blasted her as she stood in the doorway, she was suddenly warm. Very warm. He looked too sexy for his own good, and hers, of course.
“Hey,” he said softly, his deep voice sending a yummy shiver down her spine.
“Hey,” she returned, lost in his eyes like a love-struck tween and yet unable to help herself.
“Can I come inside?” he asked, his breath making a puff of white that hung suspended between them for a brief moment before dissipating.
“Oh.” She stepped back and pulled the door open completely, feeling totally foolish. Get a grip. You don’t want him to think you’re desperate. “I’m sorry.”
Logan remained silent as he stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. When she turned her gaze back to him, she felt as if she were pinned by his hot stare. She swallowed.
“You look incredibly sexy,” he said. “Do you always dress like that for an evening at home?”
“No.” She suddenly broke free of her Logan-induced stupor and recalled her purpose. “I have a confession to make.”
He raised a brow. “Confess away.”
“This isn’t just an ordinary visit.”
His face didn’t register even an ounce of shock. He remained totally impassive, totally Logan. “No?”
“No.” She shook her head, mustering up the courage to approach him. Intoxicated by the sight of him, by the delicious scent he exuded, she didn’t stop until her dress brushed against his trousers. Pressing onto her tiptoes, she leaned up and slid her arms around his neck, drawing his head down to her. She feathered her lips lightly over his. “I lied.”
Logan groaned, slipping his arms around her waist and crushing her against him. His mouth responded instantly, the kiss turning hot and hungry. A moan escaped her as his tongue plunged into her mouth. “I’m glad you did,” he growled against her lips.
She gasped at the scalding hot pleasure washing over her just from a simple kiss. “You’re glad I did what?”
“Lied,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And kissed me.” He dropped a path of kisses on her cheek, her eyelid, her neck, frenzied, hot little kisses that made her knees turn into jelly and threaten to buckle. “It’s been too long.”
“I agree,” she said on a sigh, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him to her for another mouthwatering, toe-curling kiss.
Julie cried then, the low keening cry she used whenever she woke up from a nap and wasn’t being held by her mommy, which happened to be quite rare since Claire had spoiled her hopelessly. Claire and Logan broke apart, sharing rueful smiles.
“She hasn’t really perfected her timing yet,” Claire said, her voice shaky.
Logan tunneled a hand through his hair. “Where is she? I’ll go get her.”
“The living room.” Claire watched him go, thinking it was probably best that she would have a few seconds to compose herself. Their interlude, though brief, had shaken her.
Logan returned, Julie nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm, absolutely silent. A smile pulled at her lips to see the picture the two of them made, Logan so tall and large, Julie so tiny in comparison. He looked at her. “She stopped crying.” He sounded both amazed and pleased with himself.
“She missed her daddy,” Claire said simply. I missed you too, she added silently, even though she had seen him yesterday, as had Julie. But his three-hour evening visits weren’t enough anymore. Claire found herself wanting to spend more and more time with him, something that their separate households rendered increasingly difficult. His home was about half an hour from hers, and during the week, he had to drive into Philadelphia to LM. After having Julie, she had decided to move back into Sophie’s house to avoid being a burden to Logan, but now she was rethinking her decision. She hadn’t anticipated how much she would long to be with him.
“I missed her too.” Logan looked up at Claire. “And I missed her mommy.”
“
Logan.” She was about to unload all the pent-up feelings she’d been carrying around for the past month, but he stopped her.
“So why am I here if not for my usual visit?” he asked suddenly.
She studied him, wondering if he had sensed what she was about to say and had deliberately headed her off. “Follow me.” She turned and strode to the kitchen. The table was laid out with plates and silverware that were all relics from her first marriage, but she hadn’t had the time buy replacements with all the change in her life. There was a vase with fresh flowers in the center of the table and a bowl filled with brightly colored salad greens.
She faced Logan. “I thought I would surprise you with a birthday dinner. Happy birthday.”
He stared. It felt like minutes ticked by with him just staring at her, his expression impossible to read, his eyes dark and unfathomable. Her nervousness asserted itself once more and she began to wonder if maybe she’d made a fool of herself in doing this. Maybe Logan was perfectly happy with their current arrangement and a dinner like this would be an unwanted complication for him.
“Say something,” she said finally, a plea even to her own ears.
“I don’t know what to say.” Logan seemed rooted to the spot, gently swaying and patting Julie’s bottom. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before. That you remembered my birthday at all amazes me. Even I forgot about it.” He paused. “I’m stunned.”
She wasn’t certain she liked the sound of that. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“In a good way, sweetheart. In a very good way.”
His words sent a rush of warmth throughout her body. “Why don’t I get the bassinette so she can be out here with us and we can eat?” she suggested, trying her best to avoid looking like the lovesick idiot that she was.
Without waiting for Logan’s response, she swept past him and clipped into the living room, retrieving the bassinette. Before returning to the kitchen, she took a deep, steadying breath and reminded herself that she didn’t want to seem too eager. If there was a foolproof way to scare off a man, it was certainly to appear too eager.
Perfect Persuasion (Love's Second Chance Book 2) Page 25
