One Sizzling Night

by Jo Leigh

  They were done now?

  She looked at his strong profile. At the way his jaw was set, his gaze on the road and nothing else.

  He didn’t mean they were just done with Holstrom. Logan meant the two of them were over.

  19

  “WE’VE HAD THIS argument before,” Logan said, wanting to strangle his sister. Normally they got along great, but sometimes... “You know what? Forget it. I’ll take this case. You can have tomorrow off. You deserve it after doing so much when I was gone.”

  Lisa sat up straight. Only a moment ago, she’d flopped down on the chair across from his desk as if she’d been too exhausted to hold her head up. “I was kidding.”

  His gaze went to the big calendar he kept on his office wall. How could nine days have gone by since he’d returned home? “It doesn’t matter. Take the day—”

  “Logan, stop. Jesus. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Frankly, it’s getting scary. You’re not yourself.”

  “That’s got to be an improvement.”

  “Maybe if you’d just talk to someone...”

  He looked at his inbox. It was so full he wanted to run away from home. “You’re right to hate these stupid divorce cases.” He huffed a laugh. “If I hadn’t screwed up in Boston—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. You really need to stop this right now. You didn’t screw up. You did the right thing.”

  Lisa didn’t understand. He’d screwed up, all right. Not just the deal with Holstrom. He’d messed up everything with Kensey, too. All that anger and disappointment that had consumed him? Turned out it had little to do with her. She was a civilian, doing the best she could to help her father. Logan had blamed her for her perfectly logical weaknesses. She was an art curator, not a trained spy. And the way he’d treated her...inexcusable.

  Despite the years he’d spent back on United States soil as a civilian, the therapy he’d gone through, the appearance of being all right with the world, he’d been holding on to some wicked judgments about his last mission. He should have taken the shot. That was his job, and he’d disobeyed an order. Why they’d wanted to refuse his resignation was still a mystery.

  And he’d done it again in Boston. He’d had a single goal: to get what he needed to expand his company and hire more vets. He’d failed. It didn’t matter that his personal moral code made Holstrom problematic. He should have signed the contract that same day.

  The deal might’ve fallen through anyway, since Holstrom was arrested five days ago, thanks to Patterson rallying some high-ranking judges who happened to be avid art collectors. But that wasn’t the point.

  Logan had put Kensey first. She was one person. That he’d fallen in love with her shouldn’t have entered the picture. The veterans he could have helped had come in a distant second.

  And given the choice to do it all over again, he’d have done the same thing. He’d have protected Kensey if it had meant losing everything he had.

  He knew better. He’d been trained to see the greater good.

  And in some crazy, weird way, the Boston fiasco had somehow given him the closure he hadn’t realized he needed. Because he could honestly say, despite not knowing the repercussion of his decision to stand down in Afghanistan, he’d have made that same choice again, too.

  He’d stayed as long as he could, and he meant no disrespect, but the war had caught up to him. He’d seen too much. Too many innocent people had died, and he simply couldn’t take it anymore.

  Logan wished it hadn’t taken ruining his chances with Kensey for him to see that his choices had been true to his code of ethics. Part of him believed that was all he could hope to do in this life. Stand true to himself, no matter the cost. The other part of him, the loyal soldier, didn’t believe it for a minute.

  It seemed he and Kensey had both ended up collateral damage.

  “Hello?”

  Lisa was leaning over his desk. “First of all, you know you couldn’t have gotten in bed with Holstrom. Can you imagine what your vets would have thought of your judgment?”

  He swallowed at his sister’s unfortunate turn of phrase.

  “Second, have you called Kensey? She might not hate you, you know.”

  He wasn’t going to argue about this again. Luckily, the office phone rang. They both reached for it at the same time, but he won. “McCabe Security.”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Hold on a second, Sam. Lisa’s here. I’ll put you on speaker.” He pressed the button. “What’s up? Something wrong with the order I sent you?”

  “Have you called Kensey?”

  He dove for the button to take Sam off speaker, but his sister got there first. “No,” she said. “He hasn’t. Because he’s being an idiot.”

  “Shut up.” Logan considered yanking out the phone cord. “Both of you. It’s not your business.”

  “It is if you keep moping,” Lisa said.

  “Please, Logan,” Sam pleaded. “If you’d just call her—”

  “Look who’s talking, Sam,” he said. “Really? You want to go there?”

  “Okay. If even I can tell you guys are meant for each other—”

  “This isn’t why you called. Or if it is, I’m hanging up.”

  “Fine. Have you been keeping up with what’s going on with Holstrom? He’s being excoriated by the press.”

  “I know most of the paintings were confiscated as they were being prepared for transport,” Logan said. The arrogant prick had figured he had more time before a warrant would be served, assuming there was a judge with the balls to issue a warrant in the first place. “I was hoping he’d had the three missing pieces on the jet when they picked him up trying to board. I spoke with Neil yesterday, but he didn’t say. You know anything more?”

  “No,” Sam said. “I didn’t know you guys were in contact.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve agreed to testify if need be, but we’re trying to keep Kensey’s name from coming up. Not officially. And it’s really thanks to you, Sam. You saved our collective asses. I can’t ever repay you.”

  “You can.”

  Logan winced, knowing what was coming. Sam gave him a phone number. One he’d already memorized but hadn’t found the courage to use.

  * * *

  KENSEY CLOSED NEIL’S office door behind her and turned without moving toward her usual chair. “He called,” she said.

  “Which one? Your father or McCabe?”

  What Neil just asked should have offended her, but she couldn’t rally her anger. “My father. He called. He’s in New Jersey. He’s been there the whole time.”

  Her boss put down a file and relaxed back into his big leather chair. “And?”

  “He’d read in the papers that Seymour and Detective Brown had been arrested. The warrant for him is gone.”

  Neil smiled. “You must be happy about that. It’s what you wanted all along.”

  She wasn’t about to keep leaning against the door like some waif in a Dickens novel. But she didn’t want to sit down, either. She moved to the window and stared down at Central Park. “I am,” she said. “But he wants to see me.”

  “I’m not surprised. Are you?”

  “Yes. He’s been to New York before without sending so much as a text. Why should this time be different?”

  “Maybe he feels he might have more to lose?”

  Kensey turned around. “Well, that wouldn’t be far off the mark. He’s a thief, after all. One I helped set free.”

  “But he wasn’t guilty. Not of that crime.”

  Kensey sighed. “I’m still not sure why I did it. Or why any of you helped me. I was a menace. The risk wasn’t worth the reward. I don’t suddenly feel like forgiving him. He’s been a bastard.”

  Neil nodded. “He’s aware.”

 
She wasn’t sure she was prepared for this conversation. “Excuse me?”

  “He also called me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he desperately wants to see you. And he wants to find a way to make reparations without going to prison. He thought I might be able to help.”

  “You shouldn’t. This is all on him. You’ve already done too much.”

  “I wouldn’t really be helping him.”

  She turned to the window, not that she could see anything with her eyes filling with tears. Again. Nine days had gone by, and she was still a mess.

  “I want to see him,” she said. “But I don’t know if I want to see the man he is now. Maybe I should just stick to the memories. I have a different family now.” Her voice barely came out a whisper. She’d never said it out loud before. It had been true for a while, at least with Neil, and now she had other people she cared about.

  Kensey felt reasonably sure Sam was someone she could count on. Who Kensey would do anything for. The only glitch was that Sam kept calling, trying to convince her to get in touch with Logan.

  Logan, who hated her, but had put his ass on the line for her, anyway. He’d lost so much because of her, which was made infinitely worse by the fact that she was desperately in love with him. She’d tried to deny it, but that didn’t lessen her pain.

  “I’ve waited too long to say this to you,” she said. “Thank you. So much.”

  “You’ve said it at least a dozen times since you returned.”

  “Not for going against my wishes, I haven’t.” She walked over to his desk. It was beautiful, like the one in Tarrytown, only this one was more elegant. It went with the rest of his huge office. All rich wood, gorgeous bookshelves filled with leather-clad tomes he’d actually read. Needless to say, the artwork was stunning. But none of that mattered more than his friendship.

  “I was furious with you. And disappointed. It took me a while, but I know that everything you did, you did because you care about me. And you recognized that I wasn’t thinking clearly. You’re more than I deserve.”

  “Not true at all. I’m exactly what you deserve.”

  She smiled.

  “Have you said that to Logan?”

  Her spirits spiraled like a windless kite. “No.”

  “You should. He risked a lot.”

  She nodded. “I know. I wish a lot of things were different, but involving him, and you and Sam, that wasn’t fair. I hope I never do anything so foolish again.”

  “I assure you, if the circumstance calls for it, we’ll be there. Now, about your father?” Neil waited calmly. It was one of his best and worst traits. “You deserve the truth,” he said when she remained quiet. “Whatever it turns out to be.”

  Her phone rang. It was Sam. Kensey hesitated.

  “Go ahead,” Neil said. “I have a teleconference anyway.”

  “Hi, Sam.” Kensey headed for her own enclave a few doors down. Her shelves were stocked with books on art, so many that she’d lost count ages ago. She skirted her tidy desk, and settled in her overstuffed chair. “Good timing.”

  “Great.” Sam sounded too cheerful. “What did Logan say when you spoke to him?”

  “Very tricky,” Kensey said. “I haven’t called him. He hasn’t called me.”

  “You’re both idiots. And I’m not talking about your IQs, although they might come into play if you don’t do something. Tell me you don’t miss him like crazy.”

  “That’s the problem. I do. But he hates me. He told me flat-out we were done, and then he never looked at me again.” The tears came, though not the subtle kind like earlier. She started bawling like a baby.

  “Oh, God,” Sam said. “Please don’t cry. This is why I like computers. They never cry. I don’t know what to say to you. So, you can’t do this all the time. I feel completely helpless, but I really want to be your friend. Just tell me what to do.”

  Kensey sniffed. “I don’t know. I’ve never had friends. Or been in love.” There. She’d said it out loud.

  “About time you admitted it.”

  She grabbed a tissue. Just in case. “This is all new to me. I want your friendship, too. You’re amazing, and you’re funny and sweet. I owe you, big time.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then call him. Please. You’re both so close to getting this right. You trusted me for other things, now I’m asking you to trust me as your friend. Call him.”

  Kensey closed her eyes. If Sam was right it would change everything. But if she was wrong, Kensey’s world would shatter. Living in limbo certainly wasn’t doing her any favors. “Fine. I will. I’ll call him.”

  “Now.”

  “No. It’s bad enough I just cried hysterically. I have an appointment in thirty minutes.”

  “Then when?”

  Sam really wasn’t letting up. “Tonight. From home. Okay?”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cool. If you like me now, you’re gonna love me later.”

  Kensey smiled. “We’ll see. I’ve got to go. I have mascara all over my face.”

  * * *

  IT WAS ALMOST SEVEN, and Kensey was still pacing. She’d made a salad for dinner but ended up opening a bottle of wine and just having that. She was on her second glass, and she was still jumpy and fearful. What had happened to her calm, cool exterior? She’d perfected the walls around her for ten years, and in four days they’d crumbled.

  No wonder she’d never fallen in love before. It was horrible. A nightmare. God, how did people survive this?

  Another sip of wine and she got all the way to the counter, where she’d put her phone. She reached for the damn thing, and nearly jumped out of her skin at the knock on the door. Damn. Stella. Her neighbor had threatened to come by but Kensey had forgotten. When she opened the door, it wasn’t Stella.

  “Hey, uh,” Logan said, “is this an okay time? I know I should’ve called...”

  She nearly tripped on her own feet scrambling back to let him in. He looked gorgeous, tall and lean in dark jeans and a gray Henley. She was still in the black sheath dress she’d worn to work. He crossed the threshold and her heart fairly beat out of her chest.

  Eventually, she shut the door, while he was still checking out her place. The co-op was huge for New York. The open-plan kitchen and living room made it look even bigger.

  “This is great,” he said, and she heard his nervousness despite the blood rushing past her ears. It shocked her. Why would he be...

  “Not really surprised about the art on your walls, and I do like your taste. For the most part.”

  “Yeah?” She almost wept with the way he’d steered the conversation to something comfortable, at least for her. “Which part doesn’t do it for you?”

  “This one,” he said, motioning to the Rothko print. “It’s just stripes.”

  “If you don’t feel it, you don’t. It speaks to me.”

  Logan turned. “I’d ask you what it says, but I’d like to speak to you first.” He winced, but she didn’t think she was supposed to have seen that. Again, he’d calmed her down at his expense. Or maybe she was reading too much into things.

  “I wanted to call you.” She felt her face heat, the wish for a happy ending so strong it was difficult to think. “Wine?”

  “Sure.”

  Halfway to her fridge, she stopped and looked back at him. The way he was staring at her stole her breath. “I have beer. It’s not Pliny, but it’s from a local brewery.”

  His grin was like the one in her dreams. “Now you’re talking.”

  She gave him his beer, and topped off her glass, amazed she hadn’t spilled anything. They moved to the living room and she offered him the couch. She took the chair directly opposit
e.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Confused and a little alarmed she asked, “What for?”

  “Being a jerk. You owed me nothing, but when you asked me to trust you, I walked away. I’m sorry for that. It took me some time to realize my anger wasn’t with you at all.”

  “Okay,” she said, remembering the moment where she could have just told him everything and things would have been so much easier. But she never blamed him for being pissed off.

  “Wait, that’s not where I wanted to start. I read in the papers that your father was cleared, so that’s great. And they found the people who’d framed him.”

  “It was. I had nothing to do with it. It was all Neil. Of course he knew the right people.” She inhaled. “And what you... It took me too long to realize what you’d done by having me take that picture of you and Holstrom in front of the Degas. It helped Neil convince the authorities to act. Without implicating me.” She smiled self-consciously. “But of course you knew that, so thank you.”

  “Technically, only my arm made it into the photo.”

  “Neil told me you offered to testify if necessary.”

  Logan shrugged, modest to the end. “Have you seen your dad yet?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t decide whether I want to or not. I mean, I’m glad he isn’t behind bars.”

  “You’ll figure it out. Just go with your instincts.”

  “Yes, because it worked so well for me in Boston.”

  He smiled. “Actually, it did.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Now, you might’ve had a better plan,” he said, his lips twitching. “But you’ve got guts. No denying that. And you can think fast on your feet. How many people do you imagine have gotten that close to Holstrom?”

  Just hearing his name made her shudder. “I only succeeded because of Neil and Sam, and most of all, you.”

  Logan sighed. “I didn’t do you any favors by being a jerk.” He looked tired. “I’ve been figuring some stuff out, too. Some day, I’d like to tell you about why I left the military. But right now, all I want to do is kiss you.”