by Theresa Weir
Patty sat up stiffly. “Are you thinking of suing?”
“Am I?” She was shaking and hot, and tears weren’t too far away. “I have a case. And betrayal is a bitch, isn’t it?”
“Maddie, we’ve known Duane since he was a baby. I babysat for him. It would be a worse betrayal if we didn’t help him. Please understand.”
“I understand. You decided to betray me instead.” She stood and pointed toward the door. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to get my work done. I don’t think we have anything more to say.”
Patty sighed, pushed out of the chair, and got to her feet. When she turned, her eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing here?”
Maddie swung around and saw Caroline standing in the doorway of the adjoining office, holding a handful of envelopes.
“I have mail for Maddie.”
“How long have you been here?”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t much younger than Patty, and she liked to say that she didn’t take crap from anything. “Long enough.”
Maddie’s laugh was harsh to her own ears. “Thank you for stopping off today, Patty. I think I’ve got a witness.”
Patty gave another sigh, and she shook her head. “I hate to see all this discord. I’ll talk to the board, and we’ll see what we can do.”
Maddie pressed her lips together. She was shaking too much to say anything more. Patty’s face scrunched together, as if she was as upset about this as Maddie. One more sigh, and she walked out of the office, past Caroline, and out the door.
Caroline followed her into the hall, and if Maddie wasn’t so upset, she would have laughed at her for making sure the enemy was leaving the building. Finally, Caroline stepped back into the office. “She’s gone.”
Only then did Maddie plop down into the chair, her chest cold.
She’d thought she could trust Patty. Thought she could trust this town.
Once again, how stupid could she be?
Then Caroline’s arms were around her, and it took a moment before Maddie could lift her arms and hug her back. Just one second, then she pulled away. She needed to get out of here.
* * *
Logan was on his phone in the kitchen when the cat meowed loudly and dashed to the side hall. He stood, holding the phone to his ear. It was only late morning, and the cat was getting louder. He remembered his grandmother had mice once when he was young, and he wondered if Ginger had found one.
Instead, the door opened, and Maddie stepped in with her face too pale and her eyes too big.
“I’ve gotta go.” He hung up on a screenwriter friend who was trying to talk him into reading his newest screenplay. “What the hell happened to you?”
She pulled off her hat then shrugged out of her jacket, tossed it on a hook in the hall. “Nothing. I’m taking a sick day.”
“You have the flu or something?”
“Or something.” She knelt to pet the cat, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve decided to use up some of my sick days.”
“Bullshit. Something happened.”
“I’m going to my room.” She straightened then walked out of the kitchen, her head averted, still not looking at him.
He frowned, and his phone rang. He picked it up. His friend again, not ready to give up.
For the ten minutes that he talked to his friend, he listened for sounds from her bedroom. Finally, they hung up, and he headed for her room. The door was closed, and he knocked. “Are you okay?”
No one answered.
He was about to repeat his question then thought, what the hell, and opened the door. She was sitting on his grandmother’s old rocking chair, wrapped in a blanket.
“You’re sick,” he said.
“No.” She looked straight ahead. “I’m angry.”
“This is how you act when you’re angry? You don’t throw things? You don’t yell?”
“Patty, one of the board members, came to my office to talk to me today. I thought she was my friend.”
“The kind of friend who comes with a sharp knife and waits for you to turn your back,” he said. “I know those friends.”
She shifted to look in his eyes with her sad ones. “She’s afraid I’m going to sue them.”
“You have grounds?”
“I printed out the emails from the board members telling me I had the job as soon as George retired in January. Maybe it wasn’t a signed document, but I might have found another job during that time.”
“Of course you saved them. You’re Miss Efficient. They had to know that. They messed with the wrong woman.”
“I don’t think they know that.” Her forehead creased. “But other people know about their promise. It wasn’t a secret. And Patty affirmed it today with Caroline listening.”
“You have a good case.”
“I do.” Her lips curved into an attempt at a smile that immediately curved down. “But I don’t know if I’ll sue.”
“They shafted you.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to be like them. What happened today, me making Patty believe I might sue…that’s what made me feel sick.”
“They deserve it.”
“I know.”
“You feel like you can’t trust anyone,” he said. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s like a rock in your heart.”
She looked at him, her expression flat, not saying anything.
“It’s a common feeling where I come from. Happens all the time.”
“If you’re trying to cheer me, you’re doing a horrible job.”
He stared at her. Without any animation in her face, she looked miserable and almost plain, but he perversely wanted more than ever to hug her, to make her feel better. He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his hand over her hair, from her top to the nape of her neck.
A spark glimmered in her eyes. “I’m not a cat.”
“I know exactly what you are. I’m going to run a warm bath for you. You’ll feel better.” He got to his feet. “And I wouldn’t do that to a cat.”
“You’re not doing it for me, either. If I want a bath, I can run my own water.”
“Watch me.” Before she could say anything more, he strode away.
* * *
She only took the bath because she didn’t want to argue with him. Besides, baths were a luxury for her. Some mornings she was lucky if she had time to shower. And he’d gone to the trouble to find the lavender bath oil that probably had been pushed to the back of the cupboard below the sink. He must have gone on his knees on the hard tile to get it out.
And then he put on his CD with a man and a woman singing opera. Opera. In a language she didn’t speak. That was crazy, and she didn’t know why he’d done it, but she wasn’t stepping out of the warm bath to turn it off. Especially since it sounded passionate and foreign, and she just knew that the singers had much worse problems than hers. So, she wasn’t going to get the job she wanted. The job she deserved. So what?
She had Zach, the greatest kid in the world.
She had Ginger, who was a sweetheart.
She had money in the bank. All that money she’d saved to pay back the house’s owner. Now she could use it to get her, Zach, and Ginger through the next few months until she found a new job.
And she expected to get a glowing reference from the board. So bright and brilliant anyone reading it would be crazy not to hire her.
And to top it off, she could’ve been in jail. Instead, she was telling one of the hottest men she’d ever met a story every night.
Put in this perspective, she was a lucky woman. Probably one of the luckiest in the world.
“You okay in there?” he asked.
Warm moisture welled up in her eyes, her tear ducts not believing in her luck.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. First she’d shut down her emotions. Now they were overwhelming her.
She’d gone through this before, the ups and downs that left her feeling raw, with all her nerves exposed. At least she was in the bathroom alone, and if she stayed in
the cooling tub long enough, no one—meaning Logan—would know she was so emotional.
A knock came on the door, and she made a sound that came out as “Erk!”
“You okay in there?” Concern thickened Logan’s voice.
She couldn’t answer, a big glob of words stuck in her throat now.
“I’m coming in.”
“No,” she said in a squeak, but the door was opening. She put her arm over her breasts and drew her legs up. “Get out.”
Of course, he didn’t listen. Instead he closed the door behind him, stood in the bathroom, his gaze running over her. Then he stepped forward, grabbed the towel from the towel rack, and held it out to her. “Your water must be cold.”
“Your balls must be made of steel.”
One corner of his lips curled up. “You’re wrong. They’re flesh and blood. Anytime you want to feel them to be sure, you just go ahead.”
Despite the cooling water, she was feeling warm. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll pass.”
“Today,” he said. “Tomorrow you might feel differently. The offer will still be open. Now take the towel.”
“It’ll get wet.”
“Then stand.” His eyes crinkled. “I won’t look down.”
She stood then grabbed it from him, and his eyes locked on hers. Not that it mattered if he looked down. He’d probably seen hundreds of nude women’s bodies. Most of them probably more shapely than hers—possibly with some help, but she didn’t judge them.
“I won’t need your help getting out.” She wrapped the towel around her and tucked one edge over the other to hold it together. To make sure it wouldn’t slip, she held it above her left breast. She’d already exposed too much of herself to him.
“Better safe than sorry.” He curled his hand around her upper arm.
“I didn’t know you were so worried about safety.” She stepped out of the bathtub. This was turning into a farce, but she was grateful to him for pulling her out of her funk. “I’m out now.” Out and dripping onto the bath mat. “You can go.”
“When we’re having so much fun?” The skin around his eyes crinkled again. “And this is your sick day. I should stick around to make sure you won’t get deathly ill.”
If anyone asked her, she would swear the devil was in his eyes. And her raw emotions responded to the devil’s call in them. He radiated sex, and she was more vulnerable than usual today, desire creeping under her skin, her blood flowing faster, her breaths faster, too. She wanted to tilt toward him, lean against him, say and do things she’d be sorry for later. But right now, she craved him badly.
“I’m burning up,” she said. “You’d better go. This isn’t a good idea.”
He curved his hand over her shoulder, his brilliant blue eyes scorching her from the inside out. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right.” Her voice was hoarse.
“But you know what the problem is?”
“You’re a horn dog, and I’m an emotional wreck.”
“My problem is…” His voice lowered to a whisper. “I don’t care if it’s good or bad, I only care that I want you.”
“But you’re the kind of man who wants every woman. You—”
His lips stopped hers. She stood still, expecting his kiss to be hard and demanding. Instead, his lips were warm and soft. A contrast to his body that pressed against the length of hers in jeans and a flannel shirt.
The kiss stayed soft. So soft that she was the one who pressed against him, teasing him with her tongue, wanting him with her hands on each side of his face, as if to make sure he didn’t get away.
A plaintive meow came from the other side of the closed door. Ginger’s let-me-in demand.
Maddie jerked back from Logan, her breaths puffing out and in too fast. Logan leaned in to her, and she lowered her hands on his chest to hold him away from her.
“We have to stop this,” she said. She was like the Wicked Witch in “The Wonderful World of Oz.” On the verge of being melted.
He stepped back, and she immediately missed him.
“Come into my bedroom,” he said.
“Logan, it’s—”
“Not what you think.”
She wrapped her arms around her front, partially because her towel was slipping. “Then what is it?”
“A massage. It will relax you. No sex.”
“Promise?” Immediately she held out one hand, the other holding the towel up. “No, don’t promise anything. I’ve already had too many promises broken.”
“I promise it will make you feel good. It will relax you.” He said it without a smile, and his eyes burned into hers. “That’s my promise.”
She had to hold back a moan. She loved massages; they were the present she gave herself and her sister for Christmas. Their feel-good-together gift.
He crooked his finger at her. “Come.” Then he turned and headed out of the bathroom to his bedroom.
She padded after him, as if an invisible string were attached to her, pulling her toward his bed.
Chapter 15
She insisted on putting towels over his sheets and the pillow to keep them from being saturated with the almond oil he’d found in the bathroom. When the bed was covered to her satisfaction, she lay down on her stomach, the tension visibly returned to her back. He could see the tautness of her muscles.
He was taut, too. But it wouldn’t be the first time, and he could ignore it.
All of this rushed through his mind while he dribbled almond oil onto his hands. He was about to start the massage when she pushed up from her waist, holding the towel against her chest and twisting to look at him.
“Did you turn up the heat?” Her tone was accusatory.
“You can’t get a massage in a cold house. Don’t worry about the bills. I’m paying for them.”
“No, you aren’t. I had the bills transferred to my name after I moved in.” Color flushed her cheeks. “Well, as soon as I started to make money.” Her eyebrows contracted. “And stop staring at me like that.”
“How am I staring?”
“As if you’re a werewolf, and you want to take a bite out of me.”
He laughed low in his throat. “I don’t bite, just nibble. And I was just thinking how adorable you are.”
“Of course. That’s what men always think when they see me half naked.”
“You’re afraid. That’s what this is about. Don’t worry. I’ve been told I’m as good at this as a professional.”
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she was still mulling over the heating bill. But she finally lay down, her back to him, her head cradled on her forearm.
He sat on the side of the same cherry wood bed his father had been conceived on. Not a good thought right now, so he banished it, easy to do as he put his hands on her back and felt her small shudder. A shudder of delight, he told himself, because it made him feel good to believe it. And for too long he’d been feeling bad.
He started with her neck, digging his fingers into her tense muscles.
“That hurts,” she said.
“Told you I was giving you a real massage and not a seduction.” He stilled his fingers and bent to whisper in her ear. “Disappointed? I can do the other choice.”
She shivered and shook her head. “This is fine.”
He slanted up and dug in again. He’d thought that’s what she would say so wasn’t disappointed. But if she’d admitted she wanted him, he would have obliged her. Happily. Eagerly.
He wanted her. He’d wanted her from the first day, when he’d walked in with a dead heart and found her occupying his grandmother’s house, like one of the characters in the stories she was telling him.
His heart may have been dead, but his body was still alive. If she’d been a grasping phony, like so many of the women he knew, he wouldn’t feel this way about her. But she was earnest and kind and all the things that he’d ignored in his previous life. And after months when nothing had seemed fu
nny, she made him laugh.
But he wasn’t laughing now, his attention focused on her tight skin and tighter muscles. As he worked his fingers over her neck muscles, they loosened, and he gentled his strokes. She gave a small moan, and he moved on to her shoulder muscles, pressing down hard.
She groaned, a big difference from a moan, which was good, because he wasn’t made of stone. He was a selfish man, a horn dog, just like she’d said, but for this one time, he was being unselfish. For this one time, he wanted to do this for her. He wanted to heal her body, to help her heal her emotions from the blow of betrayal.
“You’re slowing,” she said.
“Some things aren’t meant to be fast.”
“Do you have to make everything sexual?”
“I didn’t know I was.” He grinned. “Maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s you.”
“Ha!” But she lowered her head, and he kept up the slower and gentler massage. The worst of the tension had been rubbed out of her shoulders and neck, and her other muscles were loosened. She was more relaxed, breathing easier.
Finally, he sat up. He wasn’t used to giving deep muscle massages, and his hands felt the stress. “You can turn over,” he said.
She didn’t move, lying with her head to the side on his pillow, completely relaxed. He bent and saw her eyes were closed. Her breaths were shallow and soft. Her mouth parted, as if for a kiss. But even he saw it was in sleep.
He watched her while he tried to figure out what it was about her that made him like her so much. Maybe her desire to do right by her son and by him, and by all the people she’d helped—even if she helped them by letting them into his home without his permission.
Though he wouldn’t tell her, he admired her for not asking permission—which he wouldn’t have given. He admired her proactivity.
Hell, why twist himself into a corner with reasons? He just admired her. He just liked her. He just wanted her.
And right now, he wanted to do something else he’d missed for a long time.
He took off his jeans, slung them at the chair in the corner, not caring that they missed and slumped to the floor. Then he laid on the bed next to her, barely an inch away, close enough to feel her heat. He drew the covers over both of them.
