by Arlene James
“You didn’t seem to find it inappropriate the last time we were in this room together.”
She whirled around, surprised that he’d say it—especially since he was right. “You took me by surprise,” she murmured. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Who was the last man who could do that to you, Emily?” he asked quietly. “Has there been…is there someone else?”
She stared at him, dismayed beyond words. Of course there was no one else. She hadn’t even had a coffee date in…nearly two years now. Oh, God, she thought. Oh, God, please show me that I haven’t been waiting for this, that I haven’t been secretly comparing every other man to him, loving him from afar, cutting myself off from everyone else. We aren’t right for one another. He’ll never love me like I need him to! She wanted to cry. How could she fight him and herself? Especially now. Here. She couldn’t know that pleading and hopelessness spilled from her eyes.
“I’d better start dinner,” she mumbled and, brushing past him, she hurried away, safe for another moment. Safe and alone.
“Two gentlemen to see you, sir. Mr. Matthew Fortune and a Sheriff Grayhawk.”
Logan stared at Hal’s combative stance and wondered two things. One, what on earth were Matt and Grayhawk doing here in his office? And two, was the efficient and muscular Hal about to add physical defense to the job description of temporary executive assistant? He almost smiled at the thought but couldn’t quite muster the energy.
Amanda Sue continued to wake repeatedly throughout the night demanding both Emily and himself. He wondered how much longer he could go on like this, bumping into Emily in those damnable pajamas all night long, worrying about his precious daughter, reining in his unruly desires. It was torture, having Emily living in the house, wondering if he would ever be enough for his confused little girl and why he couldn’t be enough for Emily.
How ironic was that? For years he’d fended off the would-be wives with dollar signs in their eyes and Fortune in their sights, only to fall in love with the one female who wouldn’t have him on a silver platter. They would both be here soon, Emily and his Amanda Sue, to interview a nanny applicant. With his little girl having problems, now was not the best time to be interviewing for the position, but it was getting harder and harder to find applicants, and he hadn’t wanted to cancel the appointment.
Hal cleared his throat, calling Logan back to the matter at hand. “Send them in, Hal, and thanks,” he said mildly. Hal neither questioned nor delayed.
“This way, gentlemen. Mr. Fortune will see you now.”
Logan got up and came around his desk to properly greet his cousin. “Matt,” he said, smiling and extending his hand, “to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Matthew made a sheepish nod toward Grayhawk. “You know Wyatt.”
“Sheriff,” Logan said, offering his hand a second time. Wyatt Grayhawk shifted his cowboy hat to his left hand and gripped Logan’s with his right.
“What happened to Wyatt?” he asked, grinning. “A lawman can get suspicious when his friends start calling him by his title, even if they haven’t seen each other in too long.”
Logan chuckled. “It has been a while. How’s it going, Wyatt?”
“So-so. How about yourself?”
Logan sighed. “You wouldn’t know because you don’t have children,” he said, “but it’s damned exhausting work.”
“What about the marvelous Emily?” Matt asked, eyes twinkling knowingly.
Logan disciplined himself to make a sedate reply. “The marvelous Emily is as exhausted as I am. Amanda Sue’s having a difficult time right now, abandonment issues, according to the doctor.”
“I’d say that’s understandable,” Matthew told him, reverting to his competent physician mode. “Her mother’s death must have confused her terribly, but it’ll work out. She obviously adores you, and vice versa.”
Logan smiled. “True, but you didn’t come here to talk about my amazing daughter.” He leaned back against the desk and crossed his ankles. “Have a seat, boys, and tell me what this is about.”
While lowering himself into one of the chairs in front of the desk, Matt cast a look over his shoulder at Hal, who remained in the open doorway.
Logan smiled at his overly protective assistant and said, “Hal, now might be a good time for you to run down and get those figures we requested from Dan Talbot in accounting.” He knew perfectly well, of course, as did Hal, that Dan would phone with the figures the moment he had them, but true to form, Hal hurried away to do just as he was told. Logan turned back to his cousin. “What’s up, Matt? Does this have to do with the kidnapping?”
Matthew nodded and cleared his throat, seeming uncomfortable with what he had to say. “In a way, yes. As you know, when Devin recovered the baby thought to be our precious Bryan, we discovered he wasn’t ours. But since Taylor had the hereditary crown-shaped birthmark and rare blood type we knew he was a Fortune.”
“Right. The whole family’s talking about it, and you must admit it’s a fascinating mystery,” Logan said. “How did the kidnappers get this other baby instead of Bryan? And whose child is Taylor?”
“That’s the problem exactly,” Wyatt said, shifting forward in his chair, his hat balanced lightly between his hands.
Matt hastened to explain. “Frankly, Logan, we’re baffled, and Wyatt thinks that it would help to know just exactly who Taylor belongs to.”
Logan lifted a hand to pinch his chin, considering. Could Taylor somehow be his? Before Amanda Sue he would have scoffed at the idea, but no longer. It was possible. He couldn’t believe that Taylor was his, but he couldn’t deny the possibility, either.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
Matthew glanced at Grayhawk with apparent relief. “It’s a simple test,” he said. “I’m taking it myself and we’re hoping all the other Fortune men will, too. Since we would’ve known if a Fortune woman had been pregnant, it makes more sense to test the men. All you have to do is get down to the lab and have some blood drawn. Wyatt will give you a card with the address and hours on it.”
Wyatt fished the card out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. Logan glanced at it and placed it in his own pocket. “All right. I’ll try to do it today.”
“Excellent,” Grayhawk said, getting to his feet. “The sooner, the better. These things can take weeks as it is. I hope the others are as cooperative.”
“If it’ll help get baby Bryan home,” Logan said, looking at Matt, “I’m glad to do it.”
Smiling Matt rose and reached out to clap Logan on the arm. “Thanks. I knew you’d understand, being a father and all.”
Logan could only shake his head. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How it changes everything?” He looked at the sheriff. “What about you, Wyatt? Any chance you’ll be setting up a nursery anytime soon?’
Wyatt shook his dark head adamantly. “Not me. Being sheriff keeps me up plenty of nights as it is.”
The others chuckled lightly, but then Matt said, “Being a doctor does that, too, but it’s not the same.” For the first time, Logan really heard the agony in his voice, heard it and identified with it. He put his arm around Matt’s shoulders, a true comrade. He couldn’t imagine losing Amanda Sue now that they’d finally found each other?
“We’ll get him home,” he said. “Somehow he’ll come home.”
Matt nodded, head bowed. “I keep telling his mom that, and I try to believe it myself. Otherwise—” He didn’t say more; he didn’t have to.
“I think you know this, but I’m going to say it, anyway,” Logan told him. “If there’s anything else I can do, you just have to let me know.”
Matthew smiled. “You bet.”
“Thanks, Logan,” Wyatt said, clapping him on the shoulder as he moved toward the door. “We’d better move. Still have lots to do. I really appreciate your cooperation, though.” He stopped in the hallway and looked over one shoulder, adding carefully, “You know, your father wouldn’t have been as unde
rstanding.”
That knocked Logan back momentarily. “You’re absolutely right,” he said thoughtfully, but then he smiled. “One thing I’ve definitely learned, though, is that I’m not my father.”
“Funny how long it takes us to learn some things, isn’t it?” Matthew said, following the sheriff at a slower pace.
“And sad sometimes what it takes to teach us,” Logan added, right behind him. “I’ll get down to the lab as soon as I’m free this afternoon. You’ll let me know what the test turns up, won’t you, who Taylor belongs to?”
“Absolutely,” Matthew said. “I just pray that somehow it leads us to Bryan.”
“Hold that thought,” Logan told him, opening the outer door for them and watching them walk through. “Nice to see you both. So long now.”
He stepped back and let the heavy glass door swing closed. Poor Matt and Claudia. To have a child, an infant, taken from you. Everyone said that having Taylor with them helped them deal with the loss, but Logan knew that no child could be replaced by another. If he lost Amanda Sue, finding out that Taylor was his wouldn’t fill that hole in his heart at all, not that it wouldn’t be nice to have a son, too.
A son. He shook his head, wondering at himself. He really wasn’t like his father. Smiling wanly, he turned toward the office once more, and that’s when he saw Emily and Amanda Sue sitting quietly at Hal’s, no, her desk. She didn’t have to tell him that she’d heard it all. The look on her face was telling enough.
Emily knew that he was taking a test to determine if he had fathered yet another unknown child, and it was just one more obstacle between them. One more reason she couldn’t bring herself to love him.
Emily sat crosswise in the chair, her legs hanging over one arm, and stared with desultory concentration at the television screen, where a late-night talk show played out in goofy gags and goofier discussion. Suddenly, without warning, the picture changed, images flickering past at lightning speed. Irritation got the better of her. She sat up straight.
“Hey, I was watching that!”
Logan, who was stretched out on the couch, simultaneously turned his head and lifted his finger off the button on the remote control. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Aiming the remote at the television, he punched in the appropriate numbers, bringing up the proper channel, only to display the credits rolling past the host’s face. Sighing, he sat up and braced his elbows on his knees. “Sorry,” he said again. “I—I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay,” she said, mimicking his posture. “You probably forgot I was here.”
“Huh!” He tossed the remote onto the cushion next to him. “As if I could.”
It was her turn to apologize. “Sorry. I’ll, um, find something to read and go back up to bed.”
“No, don’t,” he said, screwing up his face. “It’s not your fault you can’t sleep.” He glanced at the top of the stairs. “Looks like Amanda Sue’s the only one who can—for once.”
Emily nodded. It did seem as though the child would sleep through the night. Emily knew that she ought to be following suit, but the short nights seemed to have rewired her internal clock. She’d tossed for what had seemed like hours before tiptoeing down to find Logan fighting insomnia himself. They’d both gone for the only television in the house, for all the good it had done.
“Maybe some music will help,” Logan said, getting up to shut off the television and turn on the CD player. “What do you like?”
He started naming performers, and when he came to a particular pop singer with an uncanny resemblance to Elvis and a haunting, romantic sound, Emily spoke up. “I didn’t know you liked him.”
He sent a look over his shoulder, just a hint of humor in his blue eyes. “Seems we have quite a bit in common.” He popped the CD into the player and quickly began filling the changer. Music wafted into the room. Emily sat back and let it soothe her.
After a moment Logan wandered back to the sofa, sat down and began to speak. “Do you think maybe she’s turned a corner?” he asked.
“Maybe. These things take time, you know.”
“I shouldn’t have gone to New York,” he said, looking away guiltily.
“You didn’t have a choice,” she pointed out. “If anyone’s to blame, I am. I should have done what you asked and gone with you.”
He shook his head. “That was foolishness. It was too much for a child her age.”
“But it might have been better than the alternative.”
He pushed his hands over his face. “I don’t know. What does it matter now? Somehow I just have to get through this and find a way to get on with my life.”
Emily nodded. It seemed as good an opening as she was likely to get for what had been on her mind. Strictly speaking, it was none of her business, of course, but she just couldn’t quell the need to know. She licked her lips. “Speaking of the future, Logan, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with your cousin and the sheriff this afternoon.”
He tilted his head, smirking somewhat. “I noticed.”
“You can tell me to mind my own business, if you want.”
He shook his head and folded his hands. “No, I’ve been waiting for it. Go ahead, get it off your chest.”
She bit the inside of her cheek lightly. “Have you thought about what you’ll do if that little boy is yours?”
He nodded slowly. “For one thing,” he said carefully, “I’ll have to get a bigger place. I’ve been thinking about that, anyway. Kids need play room outside, and even if we spend summers on the ranch—and I really want to do that—we’ll still need room for jungle gyms and swing sets, that sort of thing.” He spread an arm along the back of the couch, obviously mulling it over. “You don’t think it would be best to leave Taylor with Matt and Claudia, do you? They’ve already lost one child, but if he’s my son then he belongs with me.” Logan shook his head. “He probably isn’t, though. I’m not saying it isn’t possible, it’s just…how likely would that be? First I find a daughter and then a son?” He sat forward suddenly. “Would it be terribly selfish of me to hope just a tiny bit that he is mine?”
Emily was flabbergasted. “You mean, you’d welcome another child?”
Logan sat back again. “You have to ask that?”
“After everything you’ve been through with Amanda Sue, I wouldn’t blame you if you were overwhelmed by the idea of another child.”
He chuckled. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? Being a father is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done—and the easiest. The past few weeks have been the best of my life and the very worst, but I wouldn’t change anything. Well, maybe one thing. I’d make you want me as much as I want you.” The smile faded from his face even as he was speaking.
Emily felt her heart turn over. “It isn’t that, Logan.”
He got up abruptly and turned away. “Sorry, Em, I didn’t mean…never mind.” He walked over to the CD player and began going through the CDs again.
She was halfway across the room before she realized what she was doing, but she didn’t stop. She kept going until she could place an understanding hand upon his shoulder. “Logan, please—”
To her shock, he jerked away. “Don’t!” he snapped.
“But, Logan—” she began, stunned.
“Don’t touch me,” he demanded angrily, his hand going to his shoulder as if she’d injured him with her touch. “I can’t bear it! Don’t you understand that you’re driving me crazy? You’re killing me, Em! I can’t sleep. I can’t think. During the day I can’t wait to get home, and then I can’t stand to be here! Most of all, I can’t stop wanting you.”
She knew then that she loved him enough to do what he wanted, to give him as much of herself as necessary to ease his pain, for she didn’t doubt that he was in pain or that she possessed the means to soothe him. That, after all, was Logan. Women were almost a drug to him, a means of coping, perhaps, and when had he ever had more with which to cope? She wouldn’t think beyond her love for him, not now, not in this moment. Besid
es, said a little voice inside her head, you want to be with him. She couldn’t deny it.
“Logan, I—”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he complained. “I promised myself I wouldn’t.”
She stepped closer and laid two fingers across his mouth. “Hush. Listen to me. I do want you.”
He was shaking his head, and she knew she wasn’t making her point and that she wasn’t going to with words, so she kissed him, just placed her hands on either side of his face and lifted her mouth to his. He froze in place for a long moment, but then his mouth moved beneath hers, widened and negotiated for a better fit, and she granted him easy access, meeting her tongue with his, sliding her arms around his neck.
She half expected him to do the chivalrous thing, to pull back, give her time to rethink, to be sure. He did not. Instead, he found ways to kiss her even as he yanked the knot out of the belt of her bathrobe and shoved the garment off her shoulders. He kept on kissing her as he stripped her pajama shirt off over her head and pushed down her pajama bottoms, stepped on them, and lifted her free. Just that quickly she was standing naked before him. The next instant he swept her up into his arms and headed for the bedroom.
Leaving the door open, he dropped her on the bed. The bedcovers had been folded back, but he ripped them from beneath her, tossing them over the footboard. He danced back into the shadows, away from the light fanning through the door. Emily pushed up onto her forearms, listening to the sounds of fabric moving, shoes dropping, drawers opening and closing against the backdrop of dreamy music. He muttered anxious, unintelligible words, and then he was beside her, kissing her again, running his hands over her body.
“Will you hate me if I don’t wait?” he asked, panting.
“No.” She wasn’t even sure what he meant, but it didn’t matter.
He slid atop her, kissing her face, her eyes, her nose, her mouth. The hand that reached down and lifted her knee trembled. He eased between her legs. His fingers probed gently, found her moist and open to him, and suddenly she was panting, as well. He slid into her slowly, lifting himself up onto his arms, his forehead meeting hers. “Oh, Emily,” he said, “my Emily.”
