Selena smiled at her mother's murmured confusion. “And, just what is this fault?” She returned to her desk, snatched Logan's new listing from its polished surface, and handed it to Della.
"You make a decision, then stick to it like a super-bond cement, regardless of where it's heading—or the number of years it takes."
Selena mulled over her mother's words. Della was right. Selena had found it nearly impossible to deviate from any firm judgment she'd ever made. “Well, it gets me from point A to point B—even if I don't like point B when I get there."
"It certainly does,” Della agreed, scanning the listing. She straightened her skirt then sat on her chair. Her refined brows arched into a frown. “He's the best man in this town. But, please, Selena, don't get hurt. Except for Patrick, the elite members of the Logan family have never tolerated impoverished people, and especially not the McRaes whether poor or not."
"Life's a risk, Mom,” Selena justified. “I understand exactly what I'm chancing—I've felt the pain before."
Della carefully placed Logan's listing on her desk. “If you're absolutely certain, have at it. Gregg and I are here for you no matter what the outcome."
"I know,” Selena said, opening the door. “That's what makes me feel at the top-of-the-world every single day.” But Della's point was Selena's biggest, scariest problem. Though she couldn't be more certain about loving Logan, they didn't match in birthrights. Brian Logan had once succeeded in making her feel as if her ancestors must have all crawled out from under a poor house. And to Selena, Logan had behaved nearly the same way when he'd decided his education outweighed any love he felt for her. Yet, he'd never spoken the usual heartless and humiliating words she'd grown up with. And unless Logan made it clear he believed she wasn't good enough for him, she wouldn't give up.
* * * *
Obviously, his doubts about her held merit. Selena McRae Flynn was husband hunting.
Logan drove up his long driveway then past his Spanish-designed ranch house to park alongside the forty-foot high lookout tower built behind it. Tanya greeted him, and he stroked her back before she walked with him to the house. A younger, less-seasoned Selena would have slapped his face if he'd kissed her like that. It had taken him a week to talk her into letting him hold her hand, then two weeks to coax her into a kiss. And, oh, God, what a kiss that had been.
However, the one she'd just given him had relentlessly straightened the hair on his chest—along with everything else on his body.
He hurried across the hardwood floor in his wide, yellow-and-white striped kitchen and on into his bedroom, not stopping until sliding open the door to his bathroom.
Selena had learned fast years ago. Logan unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it out of the bathroom onto his bed. Well, she'd learned a lot more through the years. He'd wanted to guide her into the office kitchen and make love to her right there.
He reached in the shower and flipped on the cold water, then stripped off his jeans. If his mind hadn't heard his father's words echoing his own wariness through his brain, he might have made the attempt. Logan doubted if Selena would have tried to stop him; she probably would have helped him.
Logan stepped into the shower and let the cold water splash over his heated, aroused body. Nothing had changed. He wanted Selena McRae Flynn as badly now as he had sixteen years ago. All she had to do was touch him, and his mind and anatomy reacted with a need he couldn't deny.
It stood to reason he was on the right track. Seemingly, Selena didn't think whatever inheritance Daniel left to her was enough, and craved another wealthy husband. Why else would she have kissed him back the way she did? Well, he wouldn't fall for it.
He rested his forehead on the cool, dark-gray and white ceramic tile. It didn't mean he'd have to deny himself of her willing, beautiful body. He would have to explain to her that marriage wouldn't be an issue to discuss, that he wouldn't allow her, or his own mind to manipulate him into anything.
Logan tugged a giant gray and white bath towel from the rack and draped it around his waist. His memory wouldn't let him forget how generous, how warm-hearted she'd consistently behaved when she had been with him. He could still hear the soft words of love she'd murmured when he'd taken her the first time; he wondered if Selena had married Daniel Flynn because she'd buffaloed him and had always been a gold digger.
It didn't matter. If she wanted to play, he'd oblige her. However, he'd oblige her, using his rules.
He smiled mockingly at himself in the mirror as he lifted his electric razor to his cheek, visualizing how fast Selena would sprint in another direction when she discovered how cash-poor Patrick Logan actually was.
When Logan pivoted away from the sink, he nearly stepped on Tanya, who was sitting in the doorway watching him. Logan knelt in front of her, running his hands over her satiny coat. Tanya shifted forward, and Logan rested his cheek against her head as she nudged him affectionately. “She's come home, Tanya. Selena has finally come home.” And though he wished to deny it, life was getting more fascinating by the hour.
* * * *
Two mornings later Selena stepped into Lois Keller Price's kitchen, determined to ask for the last favor she needed to complete her efforts to help finance Valencia Cove's Medical Clinic. Helping Logan wasn't the issue; helping her town to survive was what made her pound-the-pavement. If the town prospered, her friends prospered—her mother prospered.
She pulled out the ornately carved chair Lois pointed to and slid onto it. “I'm glad you had time for me this morning, Lois."
Lois poured coffee into two delicate, gold-rimmed porcelain cups. “Selena, you've been the best friend I've ever had. I just hope I can help.” Her waist-length black hair swayed, and her silky red jumpsuit swished softly as Lois crossed the parquet tiled floor.
Although they'd been born miles apart financially, their friendship had precipitated in the fourth grade when Selena had defended Lois the day the school's worst bully had cornered her on the playground. It had been well-worth the black eye she wore home afterwards. Because, while most of the children backed away from, or, if they were brave, jeered at the poorest girl in town, Lois's loyalty had never faltered. Lois and her husband now owned the car dealership her father had opened thirty years earlier.
"I know Keller Motors has always backed this community,” Selena said. “And that's the reason why I'm here. I need a car to raffle off this weekend to benefit the Cove's clinic."
Lois set cups and saucers on the heavy oak table. “Do you think you can pull it off with such short notice?"
"My ears ache from talking on the telephone, and my legs ache from pounding sidewalks, but I have everything lined up. The printing shop is standing by to put your name on the tickets. Ellie is burning up the Clinic's telephone lines setting up people to pick them up and sell them door-to-door. They'll also be selling them at the football game tonight, and at the Bazaar-cum-rummage sale this weekend in the Realty parking lot.” Selena took a deep breath, controlling her excitement. “All I need is for you to say yes, then lend me your phone."
Lois laughed. “Drink your coffee while I call Dad. He's still the major decision maker in the firm. Especially when it comes to donations and investments."
Selena watched Lois leave the kitchen, then rose to her feet and gazed out the French doors at the spacious patio situated adjacently to a pool, and at a garden filled with a rainbow of blooms. The garden where Daniel had declared his affection.
Sixteen years ago Lois had invited Selena to her parents twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party. Selena had just found out that Logan wasn't mature enough for a durable commitment, and had overheard a conversation describing the way he'd drawn her name and used her as part of his local initiation into a fraternity. Her heart shattered, her soul crushed, she'd found a quiet place in the Keller garden and turned loose her sixteen-year-old anguish in a flow of tears and sobbing.
Because Daniel was a close friend and business associate to Lois's father, and because Selena ha
d been a constant visitor in Lois's house, they'd met several times. That night Daniel sat nearby while Selena cried her heart out. Then he'd listened to her, then he'd rocked her in his gentle arms and told her he loved her, told her she could attain whatever goal in life she reached for. Daniel offered her a way out of poverty, a way to encourage her mother, a way to strengthen herself.
Selena returned to the table, sat down, and raised her cup to her lips. She'd accepted Daniel's offer almost as quickly as he'd made it. Selena placed the cup back on its saucer and swiped at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She had no regrets, none. He'd lived up to every promise he'd ever made to her.
Five minutes later Lois ambled back into the kitchen, returned to her seat, and sipped on her coffee. “Well,” Selena said, wiggling in her chair. “What did he say?"
Lois's blue eyes looked sad, dousing Selena's hopes. “I don't know Selena, do you think a cherry-red, two-door fully-equipped Bel Air hardtop would sell many tickets? Dad can't get the car and flatbed truck to the game until five O'clock, and it won't be until bright and early Saturday morning that he can have the car and a huge banner at the Realty parking lot. Course, he could only get the advertisements on TV for the six and eleven o'clock news tonight and tomorrow—"
Selena gurgled, interrupting, burning her lip and sloshing coffee onto her saucer in her rush to find Lois's telephone.
Lois grinned. “I was kidding, he will see to it we get ads on two stations and enough coverage to get this done."
* * * *
The kid could play football—he had to give him that. Logan shoved open the swinging doors and walked into the high school locker room. Gregg Flynn's transcript files showed he'd had eight years of private schooling, yet he caught a football as if he'd been born with one in his hands. Logan tried to shake off the ridiculous irritations his thoughts made him question. Everything concerning the kid's broad-shouldered, nearly six-foot form annoyed Logan, and he hadn't even spoken to him one-on-one.
He paused in the open area between rows of lockers and blew a short blast on the whistle strung around his neck. “I want everyone to listen up,” Logan yelled, competing with young male voices and the roaring water deluge coming from showers. The water stopped running in the showers, and most of the boys came closer. “You have three hours to eat, rest, and be back here. Coach Evans wants you suited up by five, and by five-fifteen you'll know what position you're going to play."
"You gonna change them after we've practiced, Coach?” a voice asked, and the rest of them began mumbling.
"The final say-so comes from Coach Evans, Rick. I'm satisfied with what we've put together. Nevertheless, whatever he gives you, I expect you to do your best with it. Any more questions?” He waited a moment. “Then get out of here and go rest. I don't want to see so much as one dragging tail at five O'clock.” The boys scattered across the marble-tiled floor and disappeared into the cloud of steam that hung heavily over the locker area.
Logan waited for Gregg Flynn to emerge from the steam cloud and walk toward the exit with his gym bag in one hand and a small bike helmet dangling from his fingers in the other. Logan fell into step beside him. “Well, Flynn, you handled yourself like an expert today."
Gregg glanced at Logan and kept walking. “Thanks."
"You've played a lot of football,” Logan said the obvious, studying the boy's wet seal-brown hair and serious hazel eyes. He was a tall, powerful looking kid for a fifteen year old. Try as he may, Logan could see no resemblance to Daniel Flynn in Gregg's features.
"Yes, sir. I started playing flag ball when I was nine."
Logan nodded his understanding. “I became excited about the game the same way. And, that seems like a million years ago."
"My mother worries about my getting hurt,” Gregg said as they walked into the parking lot. “But she's allowing me to decide on the risks of playing football."
"Sounds fair to me,” Logan said, wondering what motivated the almost accusing tone in Gregg's voice.
"Oh, it's fair. She plans on taking risks herself.” Gregg stopped beside a red and gold three-speed bike when they reached the bicycle rack, and faced Logan. One glance told Logan the kid had somehow gotten ahead of him.
"You plan on dating my mother?"
"Probably,” Logan said, startled by the question, and uncertain how forthright he should be. “We knew each other in high school.” And the dreams have started again, Logan thought, frustrated. And seeing her is what I need to excise her from my life.
"I know,” Gregg said, strapping his gym bag to the bicycle. He turned, and standing with his feet apart, his jaw tilted stubbornly, he very much reminded Logan of a defensive Selena. “I wanted you to understand that I think the world of my mom."
Logan caught the warning in Gregg's stance and cool tones. “Yes. Well, so do I,” Logan lied. He had once thought Selena to be the most honest person he'd ever known; instead of the money grabber she turned out to be. He'd been the one to suffer the dreams; the dishonest one who didn't try to face the inevitable outcome of their relationship; the one who'd cajoled her into what he wanted, needed then walked away.
Gregg snapped the helmet's chin strap. “I really hope you mean that, Doctor Logan."
Undoubtedly Gregg worked out regularly, because his muscles bulged when he yanked the bike to the side of him and hopped on. “See you at five,” he yelled over his shoulder as he peddled into the street.
Gregg passed a row of palm trees, turned a corner, and rode out of Logan's sight. Even though he realized that for no known reason personalities can clash, it seemed ironic that the kid didn't like Logan anymore than Logan did him, and they didn't even know one another.
A sudden thought jolted Logan. Did Gregg somehow comprehend how well Logan had known his mother? That would explain his protective attitude.
Logan shrugged. He was over-reacting. Selena would never tell a kid any details regarding her love life. Once Selena consented, and Logan didn't believe it would take long, he would rinse her out of his blood stream, and out of his damn dreams, for good.
It didn't matter whether the boy liked him or not—hell, they weren't going to be living together. And a kid didn't have to idolize his coach—or the other way around.
Respect, however, was essential.
He might not like the kid, though he didn't yet know exactly why, but Logan had just gained new admiration for the gutsy Gregg Flynn.
Chapter 5
Gregg can't complain about my being late tonight, Selena thought, as she tossed her thick cushion on the hard metal bench. And he wouldn't be able to miss her in her knock-your-eyes-out purple shirt, sitting in the tenth row, directly in front of the fifty-yard line.
Ellie bounced up the steps toward her. “Selena,” she panted. “That beautiful car just arrived. The oohs and ahhs might even drown out the cheerleaders.” She pointed to the refreshment stand. “They're setting it up with the banner beside the ticket booth."
Selena slid over and patted the bench beside her. “Sit with me, and tell me what's been happening with the ticket sales."
Ellie's face seemed animated with joy. “By three this afternoon we had sold ten thousand at two dollars each. Most of the volunteers calling in said they were selling no less than five to a person."
Ellie's excitement was rubbing off and making Selena squirm. “Isn't it great. Maybe we'll be able to at least dent the clinic's bills."
Ellie smiled. “What's great is the way you've gotten people to back this community.” Her smile faltered. “Selena, Doctor Logan was asking if you'd made it to the clinic for therapy. Since he didn't act very happy when I told him you hadn't been in today, I thought I'd warn you. So far, an emergency has kept him away from the game tonight. But if he should show up here, and you see him coming in your direction, you'd best make a quick escape."
Selena smiled at the thought of Logan being irate, let alone chasing her. His running the opposite direction seemed more plausible “Thanks for the warnin
g, Ellie."
"I have to get back to the clinic and answer the phones,” Ellie said, raising from the bench.
"If I drop by about seven-thirty, will the door still be open?” She'd told Logan she would be there on Friday. If it were possible, she would keep her promise.
Ellie nodded. “I'll make sure the hot pool is ready. I have a list of exercises you're to do in the water."
"Then I'll see you after the game."
By the last of the fourth quarter, Selena felt stressed to her limits. She'd witnessed Gregg tackled, kicked, and flipped into the air by some oversized linemen, and, after the layer of shoulder-padded bodies removed themselves, stretched out face down on the field as if he were dead, twice.
She seized her cushion from the bench, then made her way to where the boys were dragging themselves off the field. When number thirty-two skirted the outer fence, he flipped the helmet from his head just as Selena tugged on his jersey.
"Yo, Mom,” Gregg quipped, giving her shoulder a pretend punch with his fist. “We beat them ragged."
"Right,” she countered, studying his tattered condition. “Then why is it your jersey I see hanging in shreds?"
"Just a little snag,” he corrected, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. “Coach Evans says he's got plenty more where this one came from."
Selena wanted to hug him, wanted to kiss him, wanted to shake him. She inspected him, slowly. “I don't see any blood."
"I made it without a scratch."
"That's not the way it looked from the stands. My hands feel worn out from covering my mouth so I wouldn't shriek in anguish."
Gregg chuckled as they walked toward the school and locker rooms. “I thought I heard some familiar, terrible moaning coming from the fifty-yard line."
The ‘moaning’ he referred to, was the sound she'd been unable to stifle since his first flag football game. “I didn't think you'd notice, what with all the noise in this place tonight."
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