At least Doctor Peter was honest. Selena stood up and glanced at Logan. He was watching her, his features, relaxed, revealing nothing. “Right now, I have to say no,” she responded. “If I should get worse and feel like taking such a risk, I won't hesitate to call you."
Doctor Peter nodded his head. “I understand.” He lifted several papers with pictures from Logan's desk. “I have brought along some exercises for you.” He handed them to Selena. “These have proved helpful for injuries such as yours at our therapy center."
Selena scanned through them. A few of them were new. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I'm sorry Patrick put you to all this trouble.” Logan consultations didn't come cheap. Since Logan deemed it his business to hand out her X rays, if there was a whopping bill, Patrick Logan could just pay it.
Peter walked to the door. “It hasn't been any trouble at all, Mrs. Flynn. In fact, it has been a pleasure. If you change your mind, just have Patrick notify me."
He stopped. When he opened the door, a din from children laughing, crying, talking, blared into the room as if he'd turned on a high-powered stereo system. “I'll talk to you later, Patrick.” After a short salute, he disappeared beyond the door.
Selena stared at Logan, who hadn't dislodged himself more than an inch through the whole thing, and said nothing.
He shrugged. “Peter is one of the best orthopedic doctors in the country. After I reviewed your pictures, I thought he should see them.” Logan leaned forward, his arms still crossed. “I hope you'll reconsider taking the risks."
Selena shook her head. “No.” If she never saw the inside of a hospital again it would be wonderful.
He came purposefully within reach, and she held her ground. When he took her face between his hands, she relaxed, though his tone seemed harsher, his muscles tense. “Good girl. No one knows your body as well as you do.” He kissed her eyes then nibbled at her lower lip. “And you know best what you want to do with it."
It was what she wanted him to do with it that made her shudder. She must have been mistaken about his change of mood. “Don't you think you should do something about all those children calling you?” She closed her eyes, allowing the sensations his mouth was invoking to tantalize and warm her. Then his lips were no longer touching her. Selena opened her eyes. Logan was looking in the direction of the door.
She followed his gaze. Twin girls stood in the doorway, holding hands, their blond hair braided, their pinafore dresses crisp and clean. One had a serious frown on her face, while the other's eyes drooped, large tears streaked her cheeks, and she sucked on her thumb.
"My sister's sick,” the serious one said, her tiny voice firm. “She's gotta see you, Doctor Patrick."
Selena backed away from him, grabbed her purse and papers from the chair, and headed for the door.
His next words, filled with—what she wasn't sure, slowed her steps down with each one that he pronounced. “Selena,” Logan said as he lifted the child with the tear streaked face. “I haven't forgotten anything. You know that now I've talked with my father, I'll be calling on you.” He was gently cradling the child's head against his shoulder. His tenderness with the children added fuel to the love she felt for him.
"I know,” she said over her shoulder as she made her escape. She understood all right. She just wished it were a meeting to look forward to. If Doctor Brian denied speaking to her, and he most likely did to protect his son from making what he considered to be a grave mistake, Logan wouldn't believe anything she had to say anyway.
* * * *
To negate his fib to Selena, he would question his father. Then he would hunt Selena down. After the last patient left the clinic, Logan lifted the phone receiver, dialed his father's office, and waited five minutes, because the secretary put him on hold.
Brian's greeting sounded stilted. “I wondered how long it would take for you to phone me,” he said. “Have I finally gotten through to you?"
"I have one question left, Dad. What did you threaten Selena with Friday night?"
"You know better than that, Patrick. I didn't threaten her with anything. How could I? I never saw her."
"You never saw her?” Why would Selena lie to her son? Gregg had been plenty serious in his anxiety concerning his mother. He hadn't put on an act.
"I was on my way to Sacramento."
"Thanks,” Logan said. He hung up the phone before his father could say more. He didn't need to hear any more. Last night, after listening to Devon say what a prize Selena was in bed, though he would never take anyone seriously with a background like hers; and hearing Reggie say Selena wasn't aware of his sexual preferences, but she'd tried to charm him, Logan felt frustrated, and as furious as hell.
By all rights he shouldn't bother to see her again. However, it went against his nature not to allow Selena the chance to tell him what she was doing. She'd said she loved him, and he'd more than half believed her. Logan couldn't imagine her with Devon, only the pictures didn't lie, and Devon had been more than ready to be explicit. Not that Devon was a paragon of honesty—still, he had no reason to lie.
When she'd come to the clinic this morning, he'd already cooled off considerably, and even more the instant he'd seen her lovely face. Now, after listening to his father prove Selena had lied, Logan felt sick inside instead of furious.
He yanked off his white jacket and hung it on the clothes tree in the corner of his office. After he opened his desk drawer and withdrew the envelope containing the pictures his father had thrown at his feet, he headed for his car.
He found Selena in the first place he looked, her office.
Logan could hear her voice coming from the kitchen the moment he opened the door.
"I understand you came to work here because Doctor Logan hired you,” Selena said, sounding as if she held her teeth clenched.
"I never heard of him,” a male proclaimed loudly. “I don't know what you're talking about."
"Mr. Yoman, you are fired."
"You can't do that, Mrs. Flynn. I just brought in an offer, and I intend to have the commission."
"I will see to it you get what's coming to you, Mr. Yoman. But, you are fired."
"I'll take this to the Commission."
"Perhaps that would be a great idea. My information came from someone who won't mind talking to the Commission."
Logan advanced toward the kitchen. He'd barely reached the doorway when a thin, dark-headed man nearly rammed into him.
"Excuse me,” Yoman said, retreating across the room. He stopped at the front door. “Take my advise, Mister, and go to a more respectable agency."
"Out!” Selena said loudly, coming to stand beside Logan.
"I'm going,” Yoman said, shoving the door open. “But you'll be hearing about this."
Logan had never really seen Selena angry. Her cheeks, flushed; her eyes, flashing; her body tensed as if she were ready to spew volcanic ash in every direction.
She stared at Logan. “Come in,” she invited evenly, gesturing toward the kitchen. “This seems to be my day for clearing the air."
Logan handed her the envelope. “Good,” he said, following her. “Because we've got one hell of a fog problem."
"Coffee?” she asked, pulling a chair away from the table. She mentally counted to ten, calming herself, giving her brain time to switch gears from one problem to another as she glanced at her new problem. The wrinkled frown on his forehead wasn't a good sign.
"No, thanks.” He could use something stronger. He sat down at the end of the table and watched her open the envelope. “What was that all about?"
"Business,” she answered, opening the envelope. A terrific challenge created just for me by your father, she added to herself.
"I thought I heard the Logan name mentioned."
She stared at him a moment, and considered telling him which Doctor Logan. She reconsidered; he wouldn't believe her if his mother came and explained it. “You heard it. But don't worry about it. It's mentioned a lot around here.
"
Selena placed each picture on the table. “Very nice photography,” she said, her voice soft. “I should hope your father paid handsomely for them.” She sat down and faced him, determined to remain passive and tell him nothing. “What is it you want to know about them?"
"First off, how did you know who had them taken?” Logan watched her closely. He would know if Selena lied to him. Her cheeks became pale, and her left eye twitched when she wasn't completely honest.
"Your father told me he was having me followed."
"When?"
"Friday night, Logan, when he bottled my car in on a mountain turn-off.” She'd been right; Doctor Brian didn't admit to his harassment Friday. Curiosity almost won out, but she kept still. Logan would never tell her what his father said.
Liar, he thought, even though she didn't turn pale and her eyes watched him steadily, and he wanted to be wrong. “Dad says he never spoke to you."
Selena shrugged, and said nothing.
Logan rose to his feet and paced beside the table. He poked his finger at the bedroom photo. “Devon told me something I've already experienced first hand—you're a great lay, Selena."
He expected her to become angry, to deny his accusations, and to throw things. Instead, she placed her elbows on the table and rested her forehead against her hands.
"What do you want from me, Logan?"
He wanted all of her, body, soul, mind. “The truth,” he said, coming to stand beside her.
She shifted her study to him then; her eyes wet, flashing; the color in her cheeks a red flag of warning he chose not to heed.
"All right,” she said slowly. “But I'm just going through this once, Logan, so pay attention. I love you. For reasons known only to himself, your father wants me to stay away from you. If I don't do it voluntarily, he'll see that I do it involuntarily."
With her right hand she pointed at Devon. “Mr. Marco is thinking about listing his property. He insisted I look it over and do a market analysis on it. It was his idea to put his hands on me.” She raised the photo of Reggie. “This guy bumped into me Saturday at the bazaar and almost knocked me down. I haven't the slightest idea who he is.” She dropped the picture. “Anything else?"
Anger seized him. “Devon can't sell his uncle's house, Selena.” He took a hold of her shoulders and dragged her to her feet. “You'll have to do better than that."
"What would you like to hear?” She shrugged his hands from her shoulders. “How about; he's a more accomplished lover than you are, Logan. Or better yet, he's got more money than you, and I always jump into bed with the highest bidder."
"Then I'll offer you the most money,” he grumbled, yanking her against him. Her lips were full, moist, and he'd made the mistake of touching her. He ground his lips against hers, ruthlessly, until he tasted the saltiness of her blood. His anger yielded to an aching hunger. “Oh, God,” he groaned against her mouth as her arms circled his neck; her breasts, flatten against his chest; her soft belly, brushing against the heat of him, her kiss equaling his.
He brought her hips tightly against him, wanting her to sample what she could do to him. He released her mouth, shifting to her ear. “Did Devon make you feel like this, Selena?” he murmured, jealousy ripping a hole in his stomach.
She stiffened then yanked away from him with her chin held stubbornly. “If I didn't know better, I'd say that was jealousy in your expression. I told you I wouldn't repeat myself.” Her chin trembled. “Get out of here, Logan. I've told you everything, and I've shown you how I feel.” She grabbed the stack of photos and her purse from the table. She dumped the photos in his hands. “Don't forget to take your picture gallery with you."
God, help him—he believed her. “Selena."
"I think my mother asked you to leave, Doctor Logan,” Gregg said from the doorway. The boy appeared relaxed, but Logan knew better. He'd seen how fast the kid could move, seen him knock over players nearly twice his size, witnessed Gregg's protective mood when it came to his mother.
"Why aren't you at football practice?” Selena asked as she approached Gregg. She felt suddenly relieved that she wouldn't have to talk to Logan any longer. The pain of his distrust cut deeply. The passion in his kiss, sweet agony.
"It was canceled,” Gregg said, his gaze, fixed on Logan. “The offensive coach didn't show up."
"Then let's go home.” Selena glanced at Logan. “Doctor Logan was just leaving, and I'm finished for the day."
Logan didn't believe she meant finished with Real Estate business. He saluted them with the pictures as he walked past them. It wouldn't do him any good to say any more to her. It was his father he needed to talk with—and Devon Marco.
After he'd turned over the engine in his truck, he spotted Telly's beat-up sedan parked nearby. He'd known the lawyer-cum-detective for nearly twenty years, and Telly's car almost as long. Logan waited, listening to the truck's powerful engine idle, watching Selena and Gregg climb into her Mercedes. The moment Selena's car propelled away from the office, Telly's sedan began rolling, and so did Logan's truck.
When he slammed on the brakes, effectively blocking Telly's car, Logan could easily hear every word of heavy swearing the pot-bellied man cut loose with. Logan switched off the engine, stepped out of the truck, and leaned nonchalantly against the front door of Telly's multi-dented sedan.
Telly looked as if someone stuffed him into his suit; his face, florid as if his stained, paisley tie were choking him. “Ah, come on, Patrick,” Telly said amiably, chewing on a cigar. “I've got work to do."
A bulky camera, along with a strange, circular-shaped apparatus attached to little radio and a recording machine, lay on the seat beside Telly. Logan opened the door, stretched across Telly, and switched on the recorder. First his words, then Selena's came loud and clear from the silver machine. Logan flipped a switch and yanked the two tape wheels from the recorder. He stuffed them in his pocket.
"Hey, Patrick, you can't do that."
"I just did it,” Logan countered, lifting the camera. He unraveled the film then tossed the camera and black mess on Telly's lap. “You're off this job, Telly."
"Your father isn't going to like this. He's already paid in advance."
"You'll have to give him a refund,” Logan told Telly as he noticed a box of files on the back seat. One of them had Patrick Logan written across the top.
"Like hell,” Telly huffed. “It isn't my fault you're interfering."
"Stay away from Selena Flynn, Telly."
"Today, Patrick,” he agreed. “Until I talk to your old man."
Logan grabbed the front of Telly's suit coat. “Forever, Telly,” Logan said, “or you won't be doing much but following divorce cases.” He released Telly, opened the back door, and grabbed the file with his name on it.
"I won't be working at all if your father gets pissed off."
"If you stay away from Selena, I'll talk to him."
Telly looked skeptical. “Deal,” he said. “Can I go now? Hey, those are my files!"
Slowly, Logan thumbed through the file. He stopped on the page entitled CLINIC. Four years ago when he'd finished his last internship, Logan had spent months locating backers to help finance his clinic. The page listed their names, how much they had invested, plus the monetary influences used to convince them to drop out. The last name on the list was Selena's, only there were no financial entries following it. Logan took a deep, steadying breath. He hadn't realized his father had worked that diligently to get him into the family practice. He should have known.
"You gotta give me that file, Patrick."
Logan tucked the file under his arm, backed away, and slammed the door. “Have a nice day, Telly."
"Give me the file, Patrick."
"This information looks remarkably close to blackmail, Telly.” Logan leaned forward. “You know, I think if I were you, I'd pack-it-up and find a new place to do business."
Telly's hand jerked toward the inside of his suit coat, and Logan grabbed Telly's wrist.
"You having a problem here, Doc?” a deep voice said near Logan's shoulder.
"Why, Sheriff John, you must be telepathic. I think Telly here was about to draw a gun on me."
The sheriff yanked Telly's coat open. “Sure looks like a gun to me,” he said evenly. “Do you want to press charges, Doc?"
"I have a permit for this gun,” Telly yelled. “And I wasn't threatening Patrick."
Logan shook his head. “Then what were you reaching for?"
"Nothing,” Telly snarled. “I wasn't reaching for anything."
"Didn't you say you were leaving town?” Logan asked.
"Yeah,” Telly said reluctantly, “after I talk to your father."
"Well,” the sheriff said. “If you aren't pressing charges, Doc, I'll have to let him go."
"If he doesn't leave town, I'll press charges."
"How about, I escort him to the city limits?"
Logan consented with a grin. “Sounds fair to me.” Dealing with the sheriff would keep Telly busy and away from Selena for a while.
"You go move your truck, Doc. I'll see to this."
Logan walked away. He wasn't certain where to start with the information under his arm—with his father—or, with the names on the list.
Chapter 9
"Things aren't going awfully good in the risk business, huh, Mom,” Gregg stated the obvious as Selena negotiated a hairpin curve.
It was his way of getting her to talk, though she wanted to evade it. “Where did you get the bruise on your cheek?” she said, changing the subject, yet knowing it wouldn't work. Gregg never gave up easily. “I thought your practice was canceled."
"Since we were suited up, the defensive coach let us have a short skirmish. My bruise isn't as serious as your problem."
"Let's hope it stays that way,” she reminded him with meaning. Before the football season ended, they both would most likely support bruises—one externally, one internally. It wasn't like her to think negatively; she had to stop it.
"Are you going to tell me anything?"
Selena thought about it for a moment. As her son, Gregg had a vested interest in her gamble. He also had a curiosity about Logan that needed some satisfying. “Logan doesn't trust me,” she explained. “I don't think he trusts personal relationships, period."
Secrets and Lies Page 14
