Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Beneath The Surface

Beneath The Surface
Linda Turner
When it came to men, definitely the former. But Abby Saunders was certainly aware that when it came to her boss–and his mysterious, possibly unsavory dealings–it could well be the latter.So when she was introduced to crack crime reporter Logan St. John, she was relieved. After all, it was unlikely that the still-grieving, if gorgeous, widower would be looking for a relationship–and maybe he could help her figure out how much trouble she was really in….As for Logan, his no-strings-attached connection with Abby was about to hit a snag. Oh, he could see how much danger she was in–spotting danger was his area of expertise, after all. Funny how he completely missed the signs around his heart….



Look what Romantic Times magazine has to say about reader favorite Linda Turner!
“With a cast of characters and a story that draws you in from the first, [this] is a tale that will capture your heart.”
—About Always a McBride
“Linda Turner takes readers into an exciting world most only dream of….”
—About The Enemy’s Daughter
“Ms. Turner develops a luscious romance with great sensitivity….”
—About The Best Man
“Favorite author Linda Turner turns the heat up high….”
—About A Ranching Man
“Ms. Turner comes up with another winner….”
—About The Loner

Beneath the Surface
Linda Turner


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

LINDA TURNER
began reading romances in high school and began writing them one night when she had nothing else to read. She’s been writing ever since. Single, and living in Texas, she travels every chance she gets, scouting locales for her books.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12

Prologue
Across the high-school cafeteria, the band launched into one of the biggest hits of the eighties, and the alumni from the Liberty Hill High School Class of ’88 greeted the familiar song with a cheer of enthusiasm. Seated with her back to the dance floor, Abby Saunders didn’t have to turn around to know that Dennis Coffman, her date for the evening, had decided she’d spent enough time reminiscing with her old high school friends. She, like everyone else within thirty yards of him, could hear every word he said as he strode toward her.
“Where’s the beautiful woman I came with? I spent a fortune for the tickets to this shindig and I haven’t got to dance with her once! Abby? Do you hear me, sugar? Enough gabbing. C’mon, let’s dance. I want to hold that gorgeous body of yours.”
Her cheeks stinging, Abby would have liked nothing more than to crawl in a hole somewhere and just disappear. She shouldn’t have come…especially with Dennis. He was too loud, too obnoxious. He tried too hard to fit in, and in the process, couldn’t have branded himself more of an outsider. She hadn’t wanted to go alone, however, so she’d invited him to come with her. She should have known better. His compliments were too over the top to be sincere, and when he talked about money, which he did frequently, everyone within earshot seemed to cringe with embarrassment for him.
Seated with Lily, Natalie and Rachel at a table near the back of the cafeteria, Abby could imagine what her friends were thinking. What was she doing with him?
She’d asked herself the same question dozens of times over the last few months, and the answer was always the same. She didn’t want to go through life alone. Unfortunately, she’d never had much confidence in herself as a woman. She was too thin, her breasts were too small and she’d never thought she was very interesting to a man…except Dennis. When they’d started dating, she’d tried to convince herself that everyone had faults, and at least Dennis didn’t drink or play around on her or lose his temper and hit her. If he was a braggart and brash and liked to hear himself talk—well, she’d told herself she could live with that. Now she wasn’t so sure.
She was embarrassed to be seen with him, and that made her feel horrible about herself. She’d known what he was like when she’d invited him to come with her. This was her fault. Suddenly needing to get out of there, she rose abruptly to her feet as Dennis reached their table. “I really don’t feel like dancing,” she told him quietly. “In fact, I don’t feel well at all. Would you mind if we left?”
“Sugar, you don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that,” he retorted. “Not that I want you to be sick, but I’ve had about all the fun I can stand in this dump.”
Abby winced. “Dennis—”
“Hey, the truth hurts. Hang on while I get the car. Then I’ll take you somewhere where we can get some real food. That’s probably why you’re sick. I don’t know who did the catering, but my dog wouldn’t eat it.”
With that loud announcement, he strolled out, not noticing the hostile looks that followed him. Abby saw them, however, and couldn’t blame her former classmates for being irritated. He didn’t have to be so rude.
“I’m sorry,” she told her friends. “This was a mistake.”
“Don’t apologize,” Lily told her. “You’re not responsible for what someone else says.”
“But I brought him here. I shouldn’t have.”
“You had a right to bring a date, Abby,” Natalie said with a frown. “I just wish he appreciated you.”
She grimaced. “He’s not as bad as he sounds. Really,” she insisted when her friends looked skeptical. “He’s just got a lot of insecurities. I think that’s why he boasts so much…to make himself feel better.”
“You don’t do that,” Rachel pointed out quietly. “And you probably have just as many insecurities.”
“True,” she said ruefully. “I am one big walking insecurity, but at least I don’t go around bragging about myself. I just make bad choices when it comes to men.”
“I think we can all plead guilty to that,” Lily said with a chuckle. “I’ve spent my entire life dealing with one controlling man after another. I just can’t seem to get away from them.”
“Hey, my story’s better than that,” Rachel retorted. “At least you didn’t spend years trying to get pregnant by a man who’d had a vasectomy and didn’t tell you. Do you know how dumb I felt when I found out?”
“If we’re going for the stupid award,” Natalie said, “then I take the prize. I’m the only one who worked like a dog to put a husband through college and law school because he told me I’d get to go to school as soon as he could support us. Then what did he do? Used that same law degree to divorce me so he could marry his paralegal and run off to a tropical island. He doesn’t even pay child support. Talk about dumb! And I never saw it coming.”
“So we’ve all made mistakes,” Lily said. “We don’t have to keep beating ourselves up over it.”
“We control our own destiny,” Natalie added. “We just have to believe in ourselves and go after what we want.”
Abby sighed in defeat. “I thought that’s what I was doing when I started dating Dennis.”
Rachel lifted a brow. “Whenever you think of meeting a great guy and falling in love, is Dennis the kind of man you dream of?”
Abby didn’t even have to think about the answer to that one. “No, of course not.”
“Then what are you doing with him when he is so obviously Mr. Wrong?” Natalie asked with a frown.
At that moment, Dennis pulled his car to a stop in front of the cafeteria doors and blared the horn. Abby swallowed a silent groan. If she’d needed a sign of how wrong Dennis was for her, he’d just given it to her. He wasn’t the kind of man she could ever fall in love with—she was just wasting her time with him.
But breaking things off with him was the least of her problems. How was she supposed to believe in herself when she never had before? She didn’t even know where to begin.

Chapter 1
“Don’t be such a coward,” Abby mumbled to herself. “People join dating services all the time. There’s nothing to it. Pick up the phone and call!”
Taking her own advice sounded easy enough, but she cringed at the thought of throwing herself back into the dating scene. She hated dating. She just wasn’t good at it. Men wanted a woman with curves and personality and sex appeal, and she lacked all three. Oh, she didn’t think of herself as a complete loser—she was pleasant and easygoing and knew how to act in public. When it came to men, however, her confidence was nonexistent. And it was all her mother’s fault.
“I think someone must have switched babies on me in the hospital. Look at you! You can’t be my kid. You’re skinny as a fence post, your face is covered with freckles and that red hair of yours glows in the dark. I never looked unattractive a day in my life. I was pretty.”
Even now, twenty-three years later, Abby could see her mother fluffing her hair and preening before her like some kind of movie star. Concerned only with herself, she hadn’t given a thought to what she was doing to her ten-year-old daughter’s self-esteem. Not that that was anything new, Abby thought with a grimace. Her mother had never passed up a chance to point out that she didn’t measure up, regardless of how hard she tried.
“Take my advice, sweetheart,” her mother had told Abby countless times. “Learn all you can while you’re in school, then get yourself a good job. You’re going to need it. No man is his right mind is going to want you. You’re just too plain.”
Abby hadn’t wanted to believe her, but time, unfortunately, had proved her mother to be right. Abby was thirty-three years old and could count the men who’d asked her out on the fingers of one hand. Which was why she’d agreed to date Dennis.
From the moment she’d met him, she’d known he wasn’t the Prince Charming she’d been waiting for her entire life. Not even close. But she was so tired of being alone. And he wasn’t a complete loser. At times he could be considerate. Though his constant bragging set her nerves on edge and he had even more insecurities than she did, she’d learned to close her ears to it. Things would work out, she’d told herself. They just needed some time.
Then she’d seen him through the eyes of her friends at her high-school reunion and was forced to face the truth. She could date Dennis for the rest of her life, but he just wasn’t the type of man she was ever going to love. She was only dating him because she didn’t want to be alone, and that wasn’t fair to him or herself. The minute they’d arrived back in Austin after the reunion, she’d broken off with him.
That was two months ago, and she hadn’t had a date since.
So what are you waiting for? that irritating little voice in her head demanded. If you want a man in your life, he’s not going to come knocking at your door. Step out of your comfort zone for once and go after what you want. Pick up the phone and call a dating service. It’s the only way you’re going to find someone!
Reluctantly, she had to agree. She didn’t have that many opportunities to meet people. She’d never liked the bar scene, and when she’d joined the singles club at church, the only man who’d shown her any attention was a fifty-year-old widower who was looking for someone to help him with his rebellious teenage daughter.
At least with a dating service, she would have an opportunity to meet someone who was close to her in age and possibly shared her interests, Abby admitted grudgingly. What would it hurt to try?
Her heart in her throat, she reached for the phone book in the bottom drawer of her desk and had just flipped it open to the yellow pages when Martin James, her boss, who was an Austin city councilman, stepped through the door between his office and hers. He’d been on the phone for the last twenty minutes with an unknown caller, and Abby only had to take one look at his set jaw to know that whatever business he’d discussed with the man had not gone well.
“Problems?” she asked.
“No more than usual,” he growled. “I’ll deal with it. I need you to make a bank deposit for me.”
“Of course,” she replied as he strode over to her desk and handed her a fat bank envelope. “Does it need to be in by two?”
“Just sometime today,” he began, only to frown down at the yellow pages on her desk and the section she had circled. “What’s this? Are you joining a dating service?”
With heat climbing her cheeks, she almost said no, but stopped herself just in time. What was wrong with her? She had no reason to be embarrassed. There was nothing wrong with using a dating service to find a date—people did it all the time.
Lifting her chin, she said, “Yes, I am. I was just about to call several and see how much it costs.”
“I’ve heard it can be pricey. Are you sure you want to do this? I’d be happy to introduce you to some of my friends.”
If anyone but Martin had made such an offer, she would have probably given it serious consideration. But she’d worked for him for three years, and that had given her plenty of time to get to know not only the man, but to meet some of his friends when they dropped by the office to visit him. Like Martin, they were charming, attractive, sophisticated…and far too smooth for Abby’s peace of mind. From what she’d seen, they were nothing but good-looking womanizers who had no intention of settling down with one woman anytime soon. All things considered, she wanted nothing to do with them.
She could hardly tell her boss that, however. Instead, she laughed. “Are you kidding? Martin, your friends are gorgeous and they go out with women who are as pretty as they are. I’m not in the same category.”
“That’s not true—”
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I know what I am. And short, redheaded women with glasses don’t go out with hunks who like tall blond bombshells. So I’ll just stick to the dating service and see if I can find an ordinary guy who’s not looking for Miss America. I just want someone to go to the movies or out to dinner with, someone who’s already sowed his wild oats and wants to settle down and have babies. I don’t think your friends would qualify.”
“You got that right,” he laughed, not the least bit offended. Sobering, he added, “But do you want to go out with any Tom, Dick or Harry who joins a dating service? There are a lot of weirdos out there.”
“I know,” she said. “But I plan to be wonderful.”
“So when were you going to sign up?”
She hesitated, grimacing. “I was going to check into it first…”
“So you can find a reason not to do it?”
He knew her too well. “I just don’t want to make a mistake,” she replied. “I’ve done enough of that already.”
Not the least impressed with her practicality, he said, “Just remember, he who hesitates is lost. Sometimes you’ve just got to go for it. This could be one of those times.”
“So you think I should just jump into this?”
He grinned. “With both feet. In fact, you can start right this minute.” Walking around behind her desk, he rolled her chair back and urged her to her feet. “Go! Do it now! Make the bank deposit, then take the rest of the afternoon and go join your dating service. If Sonya and I ever break up, I may do it myself.”
Abby doubted that, but before she could think of another reason to delay, he grabbed her purse and the bank envelope, shoved them into her arms, and hustled her toward the front door. Her heart pounding crazily, she had no choice but to go.

An hour later, after she’d made the deposit at the bank for Martin, Abby didn’t know whether she wanted to thank her boss or shoot him. The second she walked through the front door of the Right One Dating Service, Judy Lake, an overly zealous staff worker, latched on to her like a duck on a june bug and hustled her into a small office. Before she’d even plopped her down in front of her desk, the woman was singing the praises of the dating service as if it was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and pushing her to join.
It was too much too fast, and almost immediately, Abby’s insecurities kicked in. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do this,” she said, abruptly rising to her feet. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
“Please don’t rush off,” Judy begged. “You’re just nervous. Everyone is at first.”
Torn, she hesitated. “I don’t even know why I talked myself into this. I’m lousy at dating. I get all tongue-tied and sound like I don’t have a brain in my head. And now I want to pay to put myself through that torture? It’s crazy!”
Judy grinned. “Put that way, I have to agree with you. But this isn’t about the money. You know that. It’s about taking a chance, putting yourself out there and possibly being rejected. No one wants to go through that.”
“My point exactly. So give me one good reason why I should do it?”
“I’ll do better than that,” she replied soberly. “I’ll give you three.” Holding up her hand, she counted them off on her fingers. “A husband. Children. Happily ever after. You’ll never have any of those things if you’re not willing to take a chance on love.”
Just that easily, she brought the sting of tears to Abby’s eyes. She did want all those things—she always had. She just didn’t know how to get them.
Sinking back into her chair, she was horrified to feel the tears spill over her lashes. “I’m sorry to be such a baby. This is just so hard.”
An understanding smile curled the corners of Judy’s mouth. Reaching for the box of tissues on the corner of her desk, she held it out to her. “I’ve been where you are. I felt the same way, then I joined the Right One, and my life changed almost overnight.”
Wiping her eyes, Abby arched a brow in surprise. “It was that easy?”
“No,” she admitted honestly. “It took time and effort, but it was worth it. If you sign up with us, you’ll get a printout on all the men we match you up with. I’ll warn you up front that they all look good on paper. Unfortunately, even jerks and chauvinists and bores join dating services. But so do some really great men. It’s your job to figure out which is which and find Mr. Right.”
“Do you do any type of screening or background checks? I’d just as soon avoid the jerks and chauvinists, but it’s the perverts and druggies and con men I’m worried about.”
Judy didn’t, thankfully, discount her concerns. “You have a right to be worried about that. Unlike some other dating services, we do a criminal background check on our prospective clients. Our dating counselors are very astute. If we have any doubts about a prospective client, even if we don’t find anything on them, we don’t sign them up. And everyone has to fill out a psychological profile. That tells us a lot about a person. If we’re not comfortable with their answers, we suggest they go to another dating service.
“It’s not a foolproof method,” she acknowledged, “but we haven’t had any complaints so far, and we’ve been in business ten years. So what do you say?” she challenged. “Are you game? I promise you you’ll meet some wonderful men.”
In the past, Abby would have thanked her for the information, then gone home and thought about it. In the end, though, she wouldn’t have done anything…because she was afraid to take a chance. God, she hated being so timid! She’d been playing it safe all her life, and what had it gotten her? Guys like Dennis! She was tired of hiding in the shadows and settling for obnoxious men because she thought she wasn’t good enough to attract someone better. She was a good person and she was going to do this for herself. If it turned out to be a mistake, then she’d do like the rest of the world and live with the consequences of her actions. At least she’d be taking charge of her life and really living instead of just existing!
Straightening her shoulders, she said, “I’m game. What do we do first?”
“The psychological test,” Judy replied with a pleased smile. “It takes about two hours— the first two hours of the rest of your life. Let’s get started.”
Already wondering if she’d lost her mind, Abby didn’t even consider backing out. Reaching for the questionnaire the other woman held out to her, she quickly began to fill it out.

Logan St. John looked at his brother and sister as if they had lost their minds. “You did what?!”
“Now, don’t get mad,” his sister, Patty, said hurriedly. “We just wanted to help you.”
His blue eyes dark with concern, his younger brother, Carter, agreed. “We’re worried about you. Ever since Faith died, you’ve become a recluse. You go to work, then come home and just stare at her picture. I know you loved her, but dammit, Logan, it’s been a year! You have to go on with your life.”
“I’m not going to a dating service,” he said flatly. “So you can just call whoever talked you into this and tell them you want your money back.”
His sister and brother exchanged a look. “We can’t,” Patty finally admitted. “They don’t give refunds.”
“This didn’t come cheap,” Carter added.
When he named an outrageous sum, Logan swore roundly. “You’ve lost your minds! Did either one of you ever stop to think that if I wanted to date, I would?”
“We were just trying to help,” Patty replied. “Okay, so we should have asked you. But we knew you would say no.”
“Because I don’t want to date!”
“No one does when they’re still mourning the death of a relationship,” Carter retorted. “We know you loved Faith. You two were perfect for each other. But she’s gone, Logan, and you’re miserable.”
“I’m coping.”
“No, you’re not,” he argued. “Look at yourself. You haven’t had a haircut in months, you need a shave, you don’t laugh anymore.”
“My wife died in a car wreck,” he growled. “I fell in love with her when I was in ninth grade and never looked at another woman. She was all I ever wanted. Do you really think I care what I look like?”
“That’s just it,” Patty stated quietly. “You don’t care about anything. You’ve cut yourself off from your friends and family, you bite people’s heads off. I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile, let alone laugh. And that makes me sad. You’re not the brother I grew up with. You’re not the man who loved Faith.”
“Faith wouldn’t be happy with you if she could see you,” Carter added. “In fact, she’d probably tell you off.”
Logan started to argue, only to shut his mouth with a snap. They were right. Faith had loved life, loved to laugh, loved to make him laugh. The last thing she would want was for him to hole up in the house, mourning her.
But he still loved her! He always would. How could he even think about going out with another woman when the only one he wanted to be with was Faith?
“You can’t expect me to act as if she never existed,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t stop loving her just because she died.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Patty said, horrified that he thought they were asking such a thing of him. “You loved her since you were a freshman in high school. She will always own a piece of your heart. But you have to go on with your life, Logan. You have to get out, meet people. We thought this might be the best way.”
He should say no. A dating service? What were they thinking? Did they even realize what they were asking of him? He was thirty-five years old, and he’d only kissed one woman in his life, only made love to one woman. Faith. The love of his life. How could he even consider taking out another woman? He’d feel as if he were committing adultery.
But Carter and Patty had paid a ridiculous amount of money to the dating service to pull him out of his grief. How could he throw that back in their faces?
“I should shoot you both,” he growled. “You should have never spent so much money without discussing it with me first. Now I’m stuck with this.”
“So you’ll go?” Carter asked in surprise.
“What choice do I have?” he retorted. “I’m not going to let you guys waste that kind of money. But it’s not going to do any good, you know,” he added grimly. “I’ll never love anyone but Faith.”
Relieved, Patty stepped close to give him a fierce hug. “All we ask is that you give it a chance. Who knows? You might meet someone who’ll make life worth living again.”
Logan sincerely doubted that, but she was so pleased, he hated to burst her bubble. “What do I have to do?”
“Go to the dating service office and take a psychological test,” Carter said, handing him the prepaid contract. “A counselor’s already been assigned to you—she’s just waiting for your call.”
Rolling his eyes, Logan held the contract out in front of him as if it were going to bite him. “Just what I need—a psychological test. Maybe I’ll flunk it.”
Carter laughed. “Fat chance. You’re saner than anyone I know.”
Logan wasn’t so sure of that. If he’d had an ounce of sanity, he would never agree to go to a dating service!
Still, he kept his word and headed for the place. When he arrived twenty minutes later, however, he couldn’t bring himself to go in. This was crazy! Why hadn’t he thought to offer Patty and Carter their money back? It would cost him a tidy sum, but it would be worth it if it meant he didn’t have to pretend to be looking for a date.
“It’s safe to go inside,” a quiet feminine voice said. “They’re really quite nice.”
Looking up, Logan blinked at the sight of the woman holding the door for him. Slim and petite, with curly, dark auburn hair arranged in a thick braid down her back, she had a shy smile and understanding brown eyes that, for some reason, reminded him of Faith.
Taken aback by the thought, he frowned. What the devil was wrong with him? She looked nothing like his wife! His subconscious was just playing tricks on him and making him feel guilty for even thinking about dating another woman.
“Nothing personal,” he said dryly, “but I can think of a thousand other places I’d rather be.”
“Oh, I agree,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Like the dentist.”
“Actually, I was thinking the opera, but the dentist will do.” Wishing he could stand there and chat just to keep from having to go inside, he forced a smile that held little humor. “I guess there’s no point in putting it off.”
“It’s better to get it over with,” she agreed. “Good luck.”
“My luck ran out a year ago,” he said flatly, “but thanks, anyway.”
With that cryptic comment, he turned and walked into the dating service. He’d hardly given his name to the receptionist when he was shown into the office of Nancy Hartfield, the counselor who’d been assigned to help him find Miss Right.
“So you’re Logan,” she said with a friendly smile, rising from her desk to shake hands with him. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. Your sister was afraid you wouldn’t come anywhere near the place when you found out what she and your brother had done.”
“I almost didn’t,” he retorted. “I’m not looking for a date, let alone a wife.”
“Well, that’s blunt enough,” she said wryly. “Obviously, Patty was right to be worried.”
“There’s a reason she and Carter didn’t tell me what they were up to until it was too late,” he said dryly. “They knew I’d never go for it.”
“But you’re here,” she pointed out. “Obviously you intend to participate.”
“Under protest. As much as I’d like to walk away, I can’t. This cost my brother and sister too much money.”
“I’m sure they appreciate that. And who knows? You may find a way to make the best of the situation. Just because you’re not looking for a date doesn’t mean you won’t make friends with some of the women we set you up with.”
Placing the psychological test in front of him, she explained how his answers would be fed into a computer, then matched with women whose test results were compatible with his. “So it’s very important that you answer the questions as honestly as possible. Even though you’re not looking for a date, we don’t want this to be a complete waste of time for you. Shall we begin?”
Resigned, he had little choice but to agree. Over the course of the next two hours, he answered questions about his likes and dislikes, politics, religious beliefs, ethics, even his plans for retirement. By the time he finished, he felt as if the dating service knew him better than his own family did.
Nancy immediately entered the results into the company database, and the computer spat out names of five candidates who might become the woman of his dreams. As far as Logan was concerned, that position had already been filled and a replacement wasn’t possible, but he obliging took the list, folded it and put it in his pocket.
Watching him, the counselor smiled. “At this point, I normally tell clients they can request another list of possible dates whenever they like, if they feel they’re not compatible with any of the previous matches made by the computer. But you’re different. I have an idea you’re not going to even look at the list, let alone call any of the women on it.”
“No, I’ll make some calls,” Logan assured her. “I gave Carter and Patty my word. I never said anything about being enthusiastic about the process. This wasn’t my idea, remember?”
To her credit, Nancy didn’t try to convince him to give the service more of a chance. Smiling slightly, she said, “Well, I guess that’s it, then. Good Luck.”
Surprised, he lifted a brow at her. “What? No pictures? Don’t most dating services take a picture to show the prospective dates?”
“We’re old-fashioned,” she replied simply. “We prefer to match people according to personality, not looks. That’s why we’re more successful than the others.”
He didn’t care how successful they were, they were going to strike out with him, Logan thought as he walked out of the building with a sigh of relief. Thank God that was over! He hadn’t lied to Nancy Hartfield. He would call some of the women on the list…in his own good time. Maybe he’d get around to it next week, when he had nothing better to do.
But twenty minutes later, when he unlocked the front door to the home he and Faith had shared for fifteen years, silence hit him like a slap in the face, just as it had every day since his wife had died. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t so bad—he was getting used to it.
But the quiet made the house seem empty and cold, and loneliness tugged at his heart. Without thinking, he headed for the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator. He’d just popped the lid on the can and started to lift it to his mouth when his gaze fell on the trash can next to the stove. It was nearly overflowing with empty beer cans.
Startled, he froze, scowling. Had he drunk that much beer over the last few days? He couldn’t have. Sure, he had a couple when he came home at night because he was lonely and he missed Faith so much, but there was nothing wrong with that. It wasn’t as if he was a drunk. He could control himself.
Oh, really? a voice in his head drawled. Then why didn’t you? What would Faith think if she could see you now?
The answer to that was a no-brainer. She’d be thoroughly disgusted with him.
Logan couldn’t say he’d have blamed her. He was pretty disgusted himself. This wasn’t who he was. At least, he never had been in the past. He wasn’t a teetotaler, but he’d never made it a practice to drink regularly, either. Or at least he hadn’t until Faith died.
God, he missed her! He missed the smell of her, the taste of her, the sound of her voice. Given the chance, he would have done just about anything to feel her in his arms again. But he wouldn’t become a drunk just because he didn’t want to go through life without her. Stepping to the kitchen sink, he poured out the beer he’d just opened, then collected the rest of the cans from the refrigerator and tossed them in the trash. Not giving himself time to think about what he was about to do, he pulled out the list of women Nancy Hartfield had given him, then reached for the phone.
“Hello?”
Logan flinched at the eager female voice that shrilled in his ears seconds after he finished punching in the first number on the list. Was the woman sitting by the phone, waiting for it to ring? he wondered. “Hi,” he said gruffly. “This is Logan St. John. Is this Missy Trainer?”
“Yes! Did you get my name from the Right One Dating Service? I didn’t know if I should call or wait for someone to call me first. Have you called anyone else? This is just so exciting!”
In her too high voice, she rushed on to tell him how she’d never had a serious relationship, but this time she just knew she was going to meet Mr. Right. Logan hoped she did, though he knew it wasn’t going to be him. Not that she gave him a chance to tell her that. Wound up like a battery-operated bunny, she just kept talking and talking and didn’t give him a chance to get a word in edgewise.
“I’m sorry,” he cut in abruptly. “But there’s someone at the door. We’ll have to talk another time.”
“What? Oh…well, okay.”
He hung up before she could say another word, then almost threw the dating list in the trash. This was nuts! What was he doing? He loved Faith. He wasn’t going to forget her by talking to someone like Missy Trainer!
So call someone else.
He almost didn’t. But Patty and Carter knew he’d gone to the dating service today, and before the night was over, one of them would call to see if he’d set up any dates yet. Muttering a curse, Logan reached for the phone and punched in the second number on the list. He hoped they appreciated this, he thought. There weren’t many people he would do this for.
Praying that the second woman on the list wouldn’t be as bad as the first, he braced himself for God knows what as an answering machine clicked on and a mechanical voice said, “I can’t come to the phone at the moment. Leave a number at the beep.”
Disgusted, he sighed. Apparently, this wasn’t his night. “Hello,” he said, leaving a message. “This is Logan St. John. I’m looking for Abby Saunders. I got her number from the Right One Dating Service…”

Chapter 2
In the process of changing out of her work clothes into jeans and a T-shirt, Abby froze at the sound of the deep male voice rumbling from her answering machine. She’d left the dating service only two and a half hours ago and she was already getting a call? She wasn’t ready!
Her heart pounding wildly, she stared at the phone as if it were a snake about to strike. She shouldn’t have listened to Lily and Rachel and Natalie. They might think they could go after happiness and find the American dream, but Abby should have known she couldn’t pull this off. There were some women who were just destined to go through life alone, and she was obviously one of them.
Her stomach in knots, her insecurities choking her, she almost let the answering machine finish taking the call. But she couldn’t forget her high-school reunion, couldn’t forget the expressions of her classmates on the dance floor. They’d been so happy, so in love with their partners. Watching them, she’d never felt lonelier…or more envious.
So talk to Logan St. John. This could be your chance…your only chance to have what you want! All you have to do is pick up the phone.
Still she hesitated. Men wanted someone who was pretty and flirtatious, who’d hang on their every word as if they’d just hung the moon. How could she do that? She wasn’t pretty, and she was too insecure to flirt. Why hadn’t she realized that sooner and spared herself this misery?
“If you want to talk, I’ll be in the rest of the evening. Give me a call at…”
When he started to rattle off his home phone number, she panicked. He was going to hang up! Furious with herself for being such a coward, she reached for the phone and snatched it up. “Hello?”
Her tone was almost defiant. Taken aback, Logan wondered if he had the wrong number. “Is this Abby Saunders?”
“Yes, it is.”
So the dating service had picked a defiant one for him, Logan thought with a groan. That was just great. First an air-head and now a woman full of anger. He was batting a thousand. Wait until he told Carter and Patty. Talk about a waste of money!
“I thought we might talk,” he said stiffly. “But I obviously caught you at a bad time.”
“No! Please don’t hang up,” she said quickly. “After the way I answered the phone, you must think I’ve got some kind of chip on my shoulder. I did sound pretty angry.”
“Actually, the word defiant comes to mind.”
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “It’s nothing against you personally. It’s just that when I heard your voice on the answering machine, all I could think of was that I must have been out of my mind when I signed up with the dating service. I’m not good at this kind of thing.”
Logan had to admit that he liked her honesty. “I take it I’m the first date to call you?”
“And I’ve already blown it. I’m just so nervous.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I know how you feel. I wouldn’t even be talking to you if my brother and sister hadn’t signed me up for the dating service without telling me.”
“You’re kidding! They didn’t even warn you?”
“Not until they’d signed on the dotted line and forked over a ridiculous amount of money. They were worried about me. I’ve…been keeping to myself a lot since my wife died last year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was she sick?”
“No, it was a car accident.” Abruptly changing the subject, he said, “What about you? Have you been out of the dating scene for a while? Is that why you decided to join the Right One?”
“Actually, I don’t know that I was ever a part of the dating scene,” she admitted wryly. “Oh, I’ve dated, but none of the men I went out with were exactly winners. I never had much confidence in myself.”
“Maybe that’s about to change,” he said easily. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a secretary. How about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a reporter.”
Surprised, she gasped. “You’re that Logan St. John? The one with the Gazette?”
He grinned. “Obviously, you’ve read my work.”
“I love your unsolved crime stories. You’re very good.”
He wasn’t one to boast about his writing or preen when praised. “Thank you,” he said simply. “So tell me more about yourself. Are you originally from Austin?”
“Actually, I was born in Liberty Hill, Colorado. It’s a small town—”
“Near Aspen,” he finished for her. “I’ve driven through there on my way to Aspen. How’d you end up in Austin?”
“Work,” she said wryly. “I was working for an insurance company in Denver and got transferred down here. I ended up quitting that job, but decided to stay in Texas. What about you? Are you from Austin originally?”
“Born and raised,” he replied with a chuckle. “The entire family lives here—grandparents, parents, my three brothers and my sister.”
“Oh, that’s nice! I only have one sister, and my parents were both only children, so we didn’t have any extended family when we were growing up except for grandparents…and they lived in Florida.”
“Things were pretty chaotic when we were growing up,” he admitted. “Christmas was always wild. It still is, in fact. Everyone has kids except me, and when we all get together, there’s paper and ribbon everywhere and enough food to feed an army.”
“It sounds wonderful.”
“My family’s helped get me through a lot,” he said quietly. “Of course, I wanted to shoot Carter and Patty this afternoon when they told me about the dating service, but they were only trying to help.” Forcing a lighter tone, he said, “Enough about me. What about you? What are you doing Friday night? Would you like to get together for a drink?”
Abby had relaxed as he’d talked about his family, but the second he asked her out, the nerves in her stomach knotted in alarm. “Oh, I don’t know….”
“I don’t bite,” he assured her with a smile in his voice. “Or at least I don’t if I’m fed regularly.”
She smiled slightly, only to find herself suddenly fighting the need to cry. “It’s not you,” she said thickly. “It’s me. I told you I’m not good at this. When I go on blind dates, I get all flustered and sick to my stomach and act like an idiot. It’s awful!”
“Okay, so we won’t go out on a blind date.”
Defeated, she was glad he couldn’t see her at that moment. She just wanted to drop down on her living room couch and cry her eyes out. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. “Thanks for calling…and for being so understanding. Good luck with your other dates.”
With the opening she’d so generously given him, Logan should have thanked her for the conversation and hung up. In spite of the fact that he’d enjoyed talking to her, it was obvious the lady had a lot of insecurities, and he didn’t need that.
But there was a loneliness in her voice that struck a chord deep inside him and reminded him too much of himself. Don’t go there, he ordered himself sternly. This woman’s problems aren’t yours. Remember, you only called her to get Carter and Patty off your back. You’re not looking for a date.
It didn’t matter. Even as he asked himself what the hell he was doing, he heard himself say, “Whoa, not so fast! Let’s talk about this. You paid a lot of money to meet people and go out. How are you going to do that if you’re not comfortable going on a blind date?”
“I don’t know.”
“What would make you comfortable?”
“Not going out with a stranger,” she said promptly.
He laughed, confused. “But you have to meet someone in order for them not to be a stranger. How are you going to do that if you won’t go out with someone you don’t know?”
“There’s other ways to get to know people without meeting them face-to-face,” she replied. “People do it all the time on the Internet. And there’s always the phone. Why can’t we have a phone date before we meet in person? Then if it goes well and we’re both comfortable with the idea, we can meet somewhere for dinner or a drink.”
“Are you serious? That would make you more comfortable?”
“I wouldn’t feel like I was going out with a complete stranger,” she said simply. “So what do you think?”
Logan almost laughed out loud. He couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried. In spite of the fact that he’d temporarily lost his mind and asked her out for a drink, it was only because he’d felt sorry for her. He didn’t want to date anyone. He still loved Faith, dammit! But his siblings weren’t going to quit harassing him until he convinced them that he was jumping back into life. What better way to do that than to call Abby occasionally for a phone date? Carter and Patty would think he was dating, so he’d get them off his back, and all he would be doing was talking to Abby on the phone. Just thinking about it made him grin. This could work.
“Friday night’s good for me,” he replied. “How about you? I could call you around eight, if that’s okay.”
Stunned, Abby couldn’t believe he was agreeing so easily. If every man the dating service set her up with was as accommodating as Logan St. John, she was going to love dating! “You don’t know how much this means to me, Logan. I was afraid you’d think I was weird or something.”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “I don’t blame you for being nervous. Blind dates are the pits. There’s nothing worse than having a drink or a meal with someone you don’t know and sitting there in silence, trying to think of something to say.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s awful! I just can’t put myself through it.”
“There’s no reason you have to. We can talk on the phone as long as you like. If either of us decides that we don’t have anything in common and don’t ever want to meet, that’s okay, too. No hard feelings, okay?”
“No hard feelings,” she agreed. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I guess I’ll talk to you Friday night.”
“It’s a date,” he said with a chuckle, and hung up.

When the phone rang later that evening, Logan wasn’t surprised to hear his younger brother’s voice on the other end of the line. “Well, well,” Logan drawled. “How did I know you would call?”
“I’m just concerned,” Carter said defensively. “Patty and I got you into this. The least I can do is check and see how it went.” When Logan only snorted, he said, “Oh, c’mon, don’t be that way. How’d it go? I know you got a list of dates after you completed the psychological test, so what happened? Have you called anyone yet?”
Torn between amusement and irritation, Logan rolled his eyes. “It would serve you right if I didn’t tell you a damn thing. You know that, don’t you?”
“Hey, this was all Patty’s idea—”
“And you were totally against it, right? That’s why you put up half the money.”
“Okay,” he acknowledged, “so I let her talk me into it. I was just trying to help.”
“You should have told me.”
“We thought about it, but we knew you’d never agree.”
“Exactly!”
“Look on the bright side,” Carter said encouragingly. “There are a lot of nice women out there—you might actually meet a couple you like. And if you don’t, you can always do a story on dating services. So? Talk to me! What happened?”
“I have a date Friday night,” he retorted. “Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“With who? What’s her name? She must be nice if you asked her out already. Where are you going?”
“Geez, you sound worse than Mom!”
“Oh, God, I do!” his brother exclaimed, horrified. “Forget I said anything. Go out with your mystery date, have a good-time. I don’t need the details.”
When he told him good-night and hurriedly hung up, Logan laughed—truly laughed—for what felt like the first time since Faith had died. And it felt good…damn good. He’d have to thank Abby when he talked to her on Friday.

Logan had always been a morning person, but over the course of the last year he’d had little reason to get out of bed. He’d dragged himself to work and gone through the motions of doing the job he’d once loved, but he’d found no joy in investigative reporting, no joy in writing. He hadn’t needed to go to a doctor to know that he was suffering from depression. His days were gray and dull and stretched one into another with no end in sight.
He expected the following morning to be the same, but as he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, he found himself thinking about his conversations with Abby and his brother, and a slow grin of anticipation stretched across his face. Maybe this dating thing wasn’t going to be so bad. He and Abby would talk on the phone, he’d put one over on his brother—who wasn’t easy to fool—and his family would never know the difference. He almost rubbed his hands together in glee at the thought. This was going to be fun.
Imagining his brother’s and sister’s faces when they discovered that he’d pulled a fast one on them, he arrived at work an hour later with a spring in his step. The smile on his face didn’t last long, however. He was just going over his notes for a story on fraud in the building industry when Nick Whitiker, his boss, buzzed him and announced, “We need to talk.”
Logan knew that terse tone well. Nick was ticked off about something. Had Logan missed a deadline? He didn’t think so, but he would be the first to admit that his work had suffered some during the last year. He and Nick had talked about it, and he’d done his best to be more focused. What had he missed? “I’ll be right there,” he promised.
Nick usually exchanged a few pleasantries with anyone he called to his office, but he didn’t this time. Instead, he nodded toward the chair angled in front of his desk. “Sit down,” he growled.
Logan preferred to stand and take whatever bad news Nick had for him, but he only had to glance at his boss’s stern face to know this wasn’t the time to push him. Without a word, he dropped into the chair. “If this is about the story on the poker games in the break room at the police department, I don’t care what Chief Hawkins said, I’ve got proof.”
Nick waved him off with a grimace. “If I thought you couldn’t back up your stories, you wouldn’t be on the crime beat. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
Leaning back in his chair, Nick looked at him over the top of his black-rimmed reading glasses. “I know the last year has been hard for you,” he said gruffly. “And to be perfectly honest, I don’t know if I’d have been able to hold myself together as well as you have if I’d lost Jackie the way you did Faith. Losing someone you love to cancer or some kind of health problem is one thing—you can understand it even though you can’t accept it. But a drunk driver who’s done this before? The jackass should have been shot!”
“I thought about it,” Logan admitted honestly, “but killing him wasn’t going to bring Faith back. Nothing will.”
“So you have to move on,” he said. “And that’s the problem. Oh, you’ve been showing up for work, hitting your deadlines, keeping track of your assignments, but we both know you’ve only been going through the motions. Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I sympathize with you and everything you’ve been through, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got a paper to publish, and my number one reporter hasn’t been writing up to par for nearly a year.”
“You know I’ve been trying, Nick.”
“Yes, I do, but unfortunately, trying isn’t good enough. Sales are down, ad revenue has been dropping steadily for the last few months, and all departments have been ordered to tighten their belts and weed out the chafe.”
“You’re firing me?”
“No, of course not.” He scowled. “Everyone knows you’re the best damn writer I’ve got, but I’m getting pressure from upstairs. Porter isn’t happy with the quality of the stories we’ve been putting out. He left me no choice but to hire his granddaughter’s boyfriend to pick up the slack. He’s right out of school—”
“Oh, c’mon, Nick! A college kid? You can’t be serious!”
“I know,” he said with a grimace. “I felt the same way when Porter told me about the kid. But then I read some of his stuff. He’s good, Logan. Damn good. In fact, his writing reminds me of the way yours used to be. It’s got an edge to it—”
“He’s a kid, Nick! He’s not me.”
“No, he’s not,” he agreed. “But right now, you’re MIA, and he’s the best I’ve got. I hope the two of you get along, but whether you do or don’t doesn’t change anything. Porter says he’s here to stay.”
Picking up the phone on his desk, he pressed a button and growled, “I need to see you in my office.” When he hung up, he told Logan, “You came here right out of college yourself, so remember that. He’s no threat to you. In fact, he may be just what you need to get out of the rut you’re in. A little competition never hurt anyone.”
Logan sincerely doubted that a kid who was still wet behind the ears could compete with an experienced reporter, but he himself didn’t plan to compete with him or anyone else. He was handling his grief, and even though he’d lost interest in his writing after Faith died, he was still a damn good writer. And with time, he knew he would regain the sharpness he’d been famous for in the past.
A knock at the door distracted him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see a tall blond man walk in. He didn’t look old enough to shave, let alone be out of college, and if Logan hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he was a California beach bum who spent all his time surfing. Logan could almost smell the scent of the ocean as the younger man stepped into the office.
This was the crackerjack reporter with a sharp edge? Logan thought cynically. Yeah, right!
“You rang, boss?”
His tone was far from respectful, his stance slouched. Nick scowled. “I don’t answer to boss. You can call me Nick or Mr. Whitiker.”
The younger man only shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.” Turning to Logan, he didn’t bother to hold out his hand. “You must be Logan St. John. I’m Josh Garrison. I heard you were having some problems. Don’t worry. I’ll pick up the slack.”
Logan liked to think he was fairly thick-skinned and didn’t get insulted easily, but there was something about Josh Garrison’s cocky tone and the look in his eye that irritated the hell out of him. “I don’t need you or anyone else to pick up the slack where I’m concerned,” he said coolly. “I’m quite capable of doing my job.”
“Hey, man, don’t get offended,” Josh retorted. “I’m just repeating what Porter told me. The paper’s in a slump and he brought me in to pull it out. If you’ve got a beef, take it up with the old man. I just do what I’m told.”
He turned and strode out without another word. In the silence left behind, Nick swore softly. “Well, that went well. Dammit, Logan, you didn’t have to get your back up!”
“The hell I didn’t,” he muttered. “You heard him. I heard you were having some problems. I’ll pick up the slack. Smart-ass. I don’t care what the ‘old man’ told him, I don’t need him to do my job for me. I was winning awards for this paper when he was still playing tag on the playground in elementary school.”
“Okay, so he wouldn’t know tact if he tripped on it,” Nick conceded. “He sets my teeth on edge, too. But like it or not, we’re both going to have to live with him, Logan. He’s the golden boy…and practically family to Porter. That gives him a get-out-of-jail-free card, so don’t hold out hope that he’ll wear out his welcome anytime soon. He’s too good a writer, and you know how Porter is when he gets a bee in his bonnet that the paper’s not pulling in enough money. He’d hire Attila the Hun if he thought it would bring in dollars.”
“I don’t care. The kid’s arrogant.”
Nick shrugged. “He’s young. You were the same way at his age.”
“I was never disrespectful,” Logan said flatly. Staring at the door through which Josh had walked out, he scowled. “There’s something about him I don’t like.”
“Just do your job and don’t worry about him,” Nick advised. “He’ll show his true colors soon enough.”
Logan had never been one to go out and look for trouble, but he also wasn’t one to sit and wait for trouble to come to him without taking steps to ward it off. He intended to watch Josh Garrison very, very carefully.

Doing some much-needed filing at work, Abby should have rushed through the job, then started printing address labels for the fund-raising-campaign letter Martin wanted mailed by Wednesday. But as she completed the familiar task, she found her thoughts drifting to Logan. She still couldn’t believe how understanding he’d been yesterday when he’d called her—or what a coward she’d been when he’d asked her to have a drink with him!
He probably thought she was scared of her own shadow, she thought with a silent groan. And she really wasn’t. Granted, she had no confidence in herself when it came to men, but she wasn’t afraid of them. The person she was afraid of was herself. And with good reason. She was a lousy judge of men. She’d proved it time and time again. She was thirty-three years old, for heaven’s sake, and she’d never dated a man she wanted to introduce to her family and friends, let alone marry.
Just thinking about it made her cringe. Had she been desperate? she wondered. Was that why she’d gone out with anyone who’d asked her? She’d never felt desperate, just lonely. And horribly insecure. And Dennis and the others like him who’d asked her out had seemed so sure of themselves. She realized now, of course, that nothing could have been further from the truth—they bragged because they were as insecure as she was and didn’t want the world to know it. But at the time, she hadn’t been able to see through their facade.
Never again, she promised herself. She wanted a man who knew what he could do without having to boast about it. A man she could introduce to her friends without having to apologize for his behavior. After only a short phone conversation with Logan St. John, she refused to do as she had in the past and jump to any conclusions about what kind of person he was. He didn’t seem to be insecure, but at this point, there was no way for her to know that for sure…which was why she intended to learn more about him before she decided if she really wanted to go out with him. If he turned out to be the type of person she thought he was, she would meet him for a drink and take it from there. If he wasn’t, she wouldn’t waste her time.
Satisfied that she was doing the right thing, she turned back to her desk to retrieve another stack of files that needed to be filed, only to spy a small piece of paper lying on the floor halfway between her desk and the filing cabinet. Scooping it up, she turned it over, thinking it was a piece of correspondence that must have fallen out of one of the files. She saw immediately, however, that it was a handwritten note to Martin.
“Martin, sorry I missed you. We need to talk about the deal. Meet me at the club at the usual time. J.N.”
Who was J.N.? Abby wondered, surprised. Martin was a popular city councilman who had a lot of friends and contacts. She thought she knew most of them, but she couldn’t think of any of his friends who went by the initials J.N.
Frowning, she stepped into his office after only a perfunctory knock. “Martin, do you know anything about this note? I found it on the floor. Was I supposed to file it?”
In the process of punching a number into his cell phone, he halted abruptly and put it away. “I don’t know. Who’s it from?”
Striding over to his desk, she handed the slip to him. “J.N., whoever that is.”
Sitting back in his chair, he studied the note and abruptly laughed. “It’s from John Nickels! We went to college together—he’s just moved back to town. He got a job with Barnes, Tucker, and Smith. He called me this morning to tell me he was going to stop by. Since he never showed up, I thought he’d changed his mind, but I guess he came by during lunch and slipped it under the door. Damn!”
“You could call him,” she suggested. “The afternoon’s pretty booked, but you could fit him into your schedule around three. You have a meeting with Mr. Hawks at two-thirty, but he won’t stay long—he never does. And you don’t have another appointment until four. That’ll give you plenty of time to visit.”
“It would if I could reach him,” her boss agreed. “But he hasn’t started work yet, and doesn’t have a cell phone.” When she lifted a brow in surprise, he said dryly, “You heard me. He doesn’t have one and doesn’t want one. You’ll have to meet John one of these days. He was born in the wrong century. He wouldn’t have a cell phone if you gave it to him.”
His tone was almost envious, and with good reason. His own cell phone rang all the time and was more of a curse than a convenience. “Maybe you can catch him at home.”
Martin smiled slightly. “He forgot to give me the number, but that’s okay. He’ll call back. He wants to buy my car.”
“The Corvette? You’re selling your ’58 ’Vette? You can’t be serious! You love that car!”
Grinning at her horrified tone, he shrugged. “Sonya says it’s time I grew up. She wants to get married, and she’s not going to be happy with anything less than a blowout.” Wadding up the note, he tossed it in the trash. “Big weddings don’t come cheap.”
“But your ’Vette, Martin. Surely there’s must be another way.”
“It’s just a car, Abby. I can get another one.”
He could, but Abby knew it wouldn’t mean nearly the same thing. The Corvette had literally been in pieces when he’d bought it right after he graduated from college and got his first job. He’d spent the last ten years restoring it, and just about everyone in town knew it was his pride and joy. He drove it in parades and car shows and had pictures of it all over his Web site. How could he sell something he loved so much for a wedding?
She almost asked him that, but she already knew the answer. He was a city councilman and always made an effort to keep up appearances. And his fiancée, Sonya, was just as bad as he was. She seemed to really enjoy being in the spotlight with him. Martin was right—she would want a fairy-tale wedding that would be splashed across the front pages of the paper and talked about for years.
Abby wrinkled her nose at the thought. A very public, impersonal wedding was the last thing she would want herself, but then again, she wasn’t the one who was getting married. Changing the subject, she said, “You wanted me to remind you about the next city council meeting. The preliminary discussions about awarding the tax collection contract are scheduled to begin.”
Straightening in his chair, he swore softly. “Damn. I forgot about that. Have we got anything in yet on the firms submitting bids?”
“I’ve been collecting it for the last three weeks,” she said, and retrieved a thick file from one of the cabinets near the door. “Ben Coffman called again this morning while you were in a conference to see if you needed anything else. That’s the third time this week.”
“I never did like Ben,” he said curtly. “He doesn’t know when to back off and give a man some space. If he calls again, tell him he’s going to lose any chance of getting my vote if he doesn’t quit harassing the hell out of me and my secretary.”
Abby would never be so rude to anyone, and Martin knew it. She would politely take a message, then pass it on to him. What he did about it was his business. “He’s not the only one calling,” she pointed out. “It’s going to be a feeding frenzy until the August twenty-first deadline.”
“I don’t care. No one should get rude.” His gray eyes hard with irritation, he growled, “The next time Ben calls, I’ll take care of him.”
Abby could handle Ben, but Martin was the boss. “No problem,” she said easily, and turned back to her own office.
“Oh, and if John Nickels phones, put him through immediately,” he called after her.
The words were hardly out of his mouth before the phone rang again. Abby stepped to her desk and had to smile when she recognized Ben Coffman’s gruff voice. “Please hold, Mr. Coffman. I’ll put you right through.”
With the door between her office and Martin’s open, she heard him mutter a curse at her words. Grinning, she stepped over and quietly shut it. She’d hardly returned to her filing when the phone rang again. Not surprisingly, the caller was from another firm that intended to make a bid to collect city taxes. She took a message, promised to relay it to Martin, then returned to her filing.
The pattern of her afternoon was set, and later, she couldn’t have said how many times the phone rang. She finished filing, then printed out the address labels for the fund-raising-campaign letter, and began stuffing the envelopes. Considering how busy she was, she shouldn’t have had time to do anything but concentrate on her job. Instead, she found herself once again thinking of Logan.
Troubled, she swore softly. “You have to stop doing this,” she muttered out loud as she added stamps to the letters. What did she know about Logan? He had a nice voice and appeared to be understanding. That was no reason to daydream about the man, for heaven’s sake! He was a reporter. For all she knew, he could be hard-nosed and pushy, and the type who didn’t take no for an answer. Was that the kind of man she wanted to date?
“No!” she said grimly. She’d made mistakes in the past because she was lonely and wanted a man in her life. But she’d learned the hard way that there were worse things than being alone—such as getting mixed up with the wrong type of man. She was going to take it slow and easy this time and give herself a chance. She was a good person and she deserved the best. This time, she was going to get it.
So why are you only talking to Logan St. John? an irritating voice in her head demanded. Why are you limiting yourself to just one man? The dating service gave you a list of five prospective dates. Call them. Then get another list and start the process all over again. That’s why you joined a dating service—to meet men! What are you waiting for?
Her heart pounded at the thought. She had never dated or been involved with more than one man at a time. Not that she’d had the chance, she thought wryly. Few men had shown an interest in her. There had been months, even years, when she hadn’t had a single date. While she’d sat at home, dreaming of Prince Charming and hating her solitude, every other woman she knew was having a full, active social life, getting to know any number of men before settling down with one. Wasn’t it time she did the same thing?
Captivated by the idea, Abby felt sudden, foolish tears sting her eyes and had to laugh at herself. “Silly, there’s no reason to cry. You can do this!” It wasn’t rocket science. All she had to do was gather her courage and make some phone calls after she got home from work. Maybe then she’d be too busy to think about Logan.

Chapter 3
When Abby stepped through her front door three hours later, however, and her dog, Buster, greeted her with a joyous bark from the backyard, she found any number of reasons not to pick up the phone and call some of the other men on her dating list. She had to look at her mail and check her answering machine and spend some time with Buster. And then, of course, she had laundry to do and dinner to cook. She’d call later, after she did the dishes and settled down for the evening….
Then she realized what she was doing and stiffened. No! she told herself, swearing softly. She wouldn’t do this. She would not act like a scared rabbit. Any bimbo could call a man. It didn’t require any brain power. All she had to do was pick up the phone and punch in the number. The sooner she got it over with, the easier it would be.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered as she pulled the list of prospective dates from the top drawer of her desk. “If it’s so easy, why are my palms sweating?”
Because you’re a coward.
She couldn’t argue with that irritating little voice in her head, especially when it was right. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she frowned down at the first name. Frank Gurenski. What kind of man was he? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. Throwing caution to the wind, she quickly punched in his phone number.
“Hello?”
Up until that moment, Abby would have sworn she was working hard at not jumping to conclusions about a person without getting to know them first. But with a single word, Frank Gurenski revealed himself to be stiff and cool and hard to get to know. Disappointed, Abby almost told him she had the wrong number, but then reasoned that he could have had a bad day. Maybe he had call waiting and she’d caught him in the middle of another phone call. A lot of people didn’t like to be interrupted.
So why would he have call waiting if he doesn’t like to be interrupted? How dumb is that?
Sternly ordering the voice in her head to behave, she grabbed on to her courage with both hands and said with forced cheerfulness, “Hi. I’m Abby Saunders. Is this Frank Gurenski?”
“Yes.”
“The Right One Dating Service gave me your name and number. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
“No. This is fine.”
Whatever reaction Abby had been expecting, it wasn’t such a total lack of interest. “Have you met anyone yet or are you still looking?”
“I’m still looking,” he retorted. “It’s not easy to find someone.”
Especially if you don’t talk, she thought, but she wisely kept that thought to herself. Instead, she waited for him to take up the conversational ball and ask something about her, but he didn’t say a word. An awkward silence fell between them, and just that easily, all Abby’s fears about dating came rushing back. Was she the problem? Did he find her uninteresting? Was that why he wasn’t asking her anything?
Oh, please! At least you’re trying. The man’s a dud. Cut it short and put yourself out of your misery.
She didn’t need to be told twice. “Well,” she said brightly, “it was nice talking to you. I really just called to chat for a while to see if we had anything in common, but I really don’t think we do. I wish you luck finding someone, though. Bye.”
Yes! Now you’re getting the hang of it! If you have to work that hard to carry on a conversation with someone, you don’t want to date him. Cut your losses and move on.
Stunned, unable to believe that she’d hung up on the man, Abby stood in the sudden silence of her kitchen and didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. In the past, she would have continued a conversation that was going nowhere simply because she would have felt guilty if she hadn’t. But not anymore, she thought, grinning. She didn’t have to waste time on someone who couldn’t string three or four words together just because she didn’t want to be alone. She had choices!
Pleased, she punched in the second name on the list. Luke Templeton. What kind of man was he? Hopefully, he could at least talk.
Fifteen minutes later, Abby was finally able to hang up, but she had little positive to say about Luke Templeton. The man could talk, all right. And talk and talk! And although he hadn’t boasted like Dennis had, he was definitely a man of strong opinions. He’d given her a laundry list on politics, religion, and money, and had given her little time to get a word in edgewise. He’d been so caught up in what he had to say that she doubted he’d even noticed when she hung up.
Amused, she wondered if Logan had run into the same type of problems with the women he’d called. Giving in to impulse, she quickly punched in his number and almost laughed aloud at her daring. Just days ago, she would never have dreamed of doing such a thing, but she truly felt as if she was getting the hang of using the dating service. She just had to keep her sense of humor and not take the situation too seriously.
“Hi. This is Logan. You missed me. Leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll call you back.”
Pulled from her thoughts at the sound of Logan’s voice on his answering machine, Abby found herself smiling. He really did have a nice voice. It was deep and husky, really sexy. Did he look as good as he sounded? she wondered, her heart thumping at the thought. Maybe one day she’d find out.
“Hi, Logan,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. “This is Abby Saunders. I just called a couple of the men on my list from the dating service and was wondering if you’d phoned anyone else. If you want to talk and share a laugh, give me a call.”
Hanging up, she headed for her room to change into her running clothes. She was the new, improved Abby, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to wait by the phone for any man to call her back. Five minutes later, she locked the door to her apartment and went for a run with Buster.

The bar had been robbed less than fifteen minutes ago. Three police cruisers and an ambulance were parked out front, and customers were standing on the sidewalk in the weak glow of a nearby streetlight as detectives interviewed the witnesses. Finding a parking place across the street, Logan recognized Tim Bradly, one of the detectives, and headed straight for him.
Surprised to see him, Tim growled, “What are you doing here, St. John? You don’t usually cover the penny-ante stuff. Must be a slow night.”
“You would know that better than I, Bradly,” he retorted with a grin. “You’re the cop.”
Tim swore good-naturedly. “Don’t give me that bull. You’ve got the same scanner I do. Half the time, you beat me to a crime scene.”
“Just doing my job,” Logan chuckled, making no apology for the fact that he had a police scanner not only at work, but in his car. Tim understood that they both had a job to do and that they were both going to do it to the best of their abilities. “According to the report on the scanner, someone was shot during an attempted armed robbery. The robber was a woman?”
He nodded grimly. “It’s not the first time we’ve had a woman running around town with a gun, demanding money, but it’s not that common. From what we can tell, she was working alone.”
Logan lifted a brow in surprise. “No kidding? She drove her own getaway car?”
“At this point, we’re not even sure she had a car. She slipped out the back door and just seemed to disappear.”
“And no one saw or heard a vehicle?”
“Most of the customers are half-lit, Logan,” he said dryly. “The bartender was the only sober one in the joint, and when the robber started spraying the place with bullets, he ducked behind the bar. By the time it was safe to come out, there was no sign of the perp.” A police helicopter approached from the west and began scanning the area. “If she had a car stashed down the block, she’s probably long gone. If she’s on foot, though, that’s another matter.”
“Let me know if she’s spotted,” Logan told him. “Mind if I interview the witnesses?”
“No, go ahead. We’re still collecting evidence inside, but we’ve finished questioning everyone.”
Thanking him, Logan began working his way through the customers who still lingered, obviously waiting for the police to finish their work so that they could go back in and resume drinking. As Tim had warned him, the customers had had a little too much to drink to know for sure what had happened, but they were all clear on one thing. The perp was a big woman with a gun.
A thought hit Logan, and he went in search of the bartender. “You must have got a good look at her when she pulled the gun out,” he told him. “What did you think of her?”
“She was big-boned and ugly as homemade soap. And she had big hair.”
Logan smiled. “You mean long hair?”
“Yeah, it was long, but it was also big. You know—like women used to wear back in the seventies.”
“Could it have been a wig?”
Considering that, the bartender shrugged. “Sure, I guess so. Though I can’t imagine why any woman would want to look like that. It wasn’t attractive at all.”
“Are you certain the perp was a woman? Could it have been a man in drag?”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Transvestites come in here occasionally. In fact, there’s a brunette who shows up sometimes who’s absolutely gorgeous. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was the prettiest woman I’d ever seen in my life. I think he’s really the superintendent for one of the school districts here in town. What do you want to bet he doesn’t wear a dress to work?”
Busy jotting down notes, Logan was already formulating his next question when he suddenly realized what the bartender had said. He glanced up sharply. “Wait a minute. Back up. Did you say a school superintendent is a transvestite?”
“Well, I couldn’t swear to it,” he admitted. “After all, the guy looks a lot different without the makeup and wig and everything. But I’ll bet last week’s paycheck it’s him.”
“What makes you think so?”
“He’s been in here a number of times, always dressed as a woman, and he always sits at the bar. I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. He goes by the name Elizabeth.”
Taking notes, Logan could see the headlines already. “Has he ever told you anything about himself?”
“No, but I had to go to a program at my daughter’s school one night, and the superintendent was there. The second I saw him, I knew he was Elizabeth. And he knew I knew! When he saw me, he turned his back on me.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Has he been in for a drink since then?”
The bartender shook his head. “No, but he’s not a regular. He only comes in a couple of times a month.”
Logan pulled out his business card, which contained his office and cell phone numbers. “The next time he comes in, give me a call. Okay?”
“Sure,” the man said, pocketing the card. “I don’t want to cause the guy any trouble, but I don’t want him hanging around my kid, either. I thought about calling the school board, but I didn’t figure anyone would listen to me, being as I work in a bar.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not honest,” Logan pointed out. “Or that you’re not concerned about who’s running your daughter’s school. What’s the superintendent’s name?”
When he told him, Logan said, “I’ll do some checking and see what I can find out. I doubt, though, that I’ll find anything. The school district would have done a background check before they hired him.”
“Then they didn’t do a very good one,” the bartender retorted. “It’s not like this guy was raiding his wife’s closet and parading around the house in her clothes. He’s going out in public! And if he’ll do this, what else is he doing? He works with kids, for heaven’s sake!”
Logan could understand his worries, but just because the man liked wearing female clothes didn’t mean he was a threat to the bartender’s kids or anyone else. “I’ll check it out and get back to you,” he promised. “Thanks for the lead.”
Excusing himself to question other witnesses about the robbery, Logan had to fight back a grin of anticipation. He couldn’t wait to see Nick’s face when he told him he’d gotten not one story tonight, but two. His boss would be shocked, and Logan couldn’t blame him. He’d shown little interest in work over the last year.
That was about to change, he silently acknowledged as he headed back to the office. He didn’t know what had happened to spark the change, but over the last couple of days, he’d found himself more interested in work, more interested in life. When his family heard about the change in him, they would say that he was finally getting over Faith’s death and would thank God for it, but nothing could have been further from the truth. He missed his wife more every day and had never been lonelier. Maybe he was just coming to accept the fact that he would feel that way the rest of his life.
Thankful that he had work to distract him from that thought, he grabbed his notes on the bar robbery, booted up his computer and threw himself into the story. He wasn’t one of those writers who had to sit and think and wait for the muse to strike. As a reporter, he just didn’t have time for that. The second his fingers touched the keyboard, they were flying.
Lost in his story, he didn’t realize he was no longer alone until Josh Garrison drawled, “Well, look who’s busy burning the midnight oil. Not that it’s midnight yet,” he added, “but you don’t strike me as a man who works overtime. I thought you left hours ago.”
Logan barely bit back a curse. What the devil was he doing there? Tomorrow’s deadline had come and gone, and the newspaper offices were practically deserted. Oh, Nick was still there—he always stayed after hours just in case a late story broke—but he was holed up in his office. Everyone else had either gone home or was out working on a piece for tomorrow’s deadline…which was why Logan often came in after the paper had been put to bed. The phones were silent, and he had the place to himself. Or at least he usually did.
Wanting to tell Garrison to take a long walk off a short pier, he growled, “I could say the same thing about you, Garrison. What do you want?”
He made no effort to be nice to the guy. He hadn’t liked him from day one, though he’d tried to be civil. Garrison, however, hadn’t made it easy. He made snide remarks whenever he thought he could get away with it, then smiled like a politician and said all the right things whenever Nick was around. As far as Logan was concerned, the man was nothing but a two-faced brownnoser, and he wanted nothing to do with him.
Garrison, however, seemed to enjoy goading him. Far from being offended by his curtness, he only smiled smugly. “I’m here for the same reason you are—to work. Or didn’t Nick tell you? He called me in to give me the Terry Saenz story. You do know who Saenz is, don’t you?”
Logan didn’t bother to answer. Of course he knew who Saenz was. The story had just broken an hour ago and was all over the airways. Saenz was an award-winning cop who’d taken a bullet for his partner last year when they’d been ambushed by a south-side gang. He’d nearly died from being shot in the chest. Once he recovered from his injury, he’d made it his mission in life to visit every school in town and warn the kids of the dangers of belonging to a gang.
The man was a bona fide hero—or at least he had been until he was arrested earlier in the evening for dealing drugs. According to the radio report, the shooting last year hadn’t been just a random act of violence, as first thought. Saenz had been dealing drugs to the gang member who’d shot him.
“Congratulations,” Logan told Josh sardonically. “It looks like you hit the jackpot.”
“It’s a hell of a story. You should have seen Nick—though I guess you know how gleeful he gets when a good story comes in. He’s already called down to production and told them to save room for the piece on tomorrow’s front page. And the story that broke today is only the tip of the iceberg. Once the police investigate Saenz further, there’s no telling what they’ll come up with. So you can expect to see my byline a hell of a lot over the next few months. Then there’ll be the trial, of course. You can bet that’s going to be heavily covered. I’m sure the news services will pick it up. Before this is over, I may be as well-known as you used to be.”
He was deliberately trying to rile him, but Logan didn’t even flinch. What did old man Porter’s granddaughter see in this jerk? Headlines and bylines weren’t always a testament of how well someone did his job. Granted, before Faith died, he was the one who’d gotten the top assignments and whose stories regularly made the front page, but he’d never once taunted other reporters about it. That wasn’t his way. Writing was personal for him—all he’d cared about was doing the best job he could. He didn’t keep track of what his co-workers were doing. He didn’t care because it had nothing to do with him.
In the world of print journalism, however, he knew he was the exception rather than the rule. Most reporters would do anything to get a front page story, and the competition was fierce. From what Logan had seen of Garrison so far, it was obvious the man would sell his own mother to get ahead. He thought he was hot stuff and it showed.
Idiot. Let him have the headlines and his fifteen minutes in the spotlight, Logan thought in disgust. He wasn’t worried about Garrison or threatened by him. Logan was well-known in the city and had connections at the police department and informants who called him on a regular basis. He had plenty of stories to write, stories that Garrison wouldn’t even know where to go to get.
So if the jackass expected him to be gnashing his teeth in jealousy over his big coup, he could think again.
“It sounds like you’re going to be damn busy,” he said dryly. “You’d better get started on tomorrow’s story or you’re going to have Nick breathing down your neck. If he gets it in his head that you can’t meet your deadlines, he won’t hesitate to assign someone else to the job.”
“I guess you would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you?”
Disliking him more than ever, but refusing to be goaded, Logan growled, “You’re damn straight. I haven’t been as dependable as I should have been over the last year—which is why you’re here. If you don’t want to meet your replacement, I suggest you don’t miss your deadlines.”
His point made, he turned back to his computer. A few long seconds later, Garrison stalked past him to his own desk. Logan never spared him a glance. His eyes trained on his computer screen, he cleared his head of all thoughts except the facts of the bar robbery, and focused on his opening sentence. Once he had that, it was easy. His fingers again flew over the keys, and just that quickly, he was caught up in his writing.
Later, he couldn’t have said when Garrison finished his own story and left. Logan’s eyes were glued on his computer monitor. Reading over what he’d written, he was, for the most part, more than satisfied. The last paragraph needed some work, but he wasn’t worried about that. For the first time in a long time, the old edge that had been the trademark of his writing before Faith died was back. Nick would be pleased. Hell, Logan was pleased! He’d almost forgotten what it was like to write something he was proud of.
“Logan? I didn’t know you were coming back tonight.”
Glancing up from his writing, he found his sister-in-law, Samantha, walking toward him with a smile as big as Texas on her face. Amused, he had to admit that he’d always had a special place in his heart for Sam. It was through her that he’d met Faith at a high-school football game. Sam had arranged their first date without discussing it with either one of them, and when Faith died, the two of them grieved together over the woman they’d both loved. He’d helped Sam get a job in payroll at the paper several years ago, and every two weeks or so, they went out to dinner to catch up on each other’s lives. She was family and always would be.
“Hey, Sam, what are you doing here? You’re not usually around this late.”
“There was a computer glitch,” she said with a grimace. “And payroll had to go out tonight. We just finished.” Glancing at his computer, she said, “What are you working on? I thought you were done for the day.”
“I was…until I followed up on something I heard on the police scanner. I wanted to get it down on paper while the details were still fresh.”
“Are you almost done? We could go to dinner…if you don’t have any plans, of course.”
She made the suggestion casually, but there was nothing casual about the emotions churning inside her. Logan was hers—he just didn’t know it yet. She’d loved him since she was ten years old, but she was the younger sister and she’d never stood a chance once he met Faith. But Faith was dead and gone and in spite of his claims to the contrary, he wouldn’t grieve for her sister forever. There would come a time when he would decide that he didn’t want to go through the rest of his life alone.
And when he did, she intended to be there, waiting for him. Over the course of the last year, she’d played her cards carefully and she and Logan had become closer then ever. He trusted her. Once he finally got over Faith’s death, she’d do whatever she had to to make him fall in love with her. It was just a matter of time.
His gaze drifting back to his computer screen, he said absently, “No, I don’t have any plans. I was just going to go home and have a frozen pizza. Give me a minute here…” Frowning, he typed a few sentences, then quickly reread what he’d written. When he finally looked up, he smiled. “There! All done. So where do you want to go? What are you in the mood for?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug as he shut down his computer and rose to his feet. “I just didn’t want to eat alone.”
Frowning, he lifted a dark brow. “Don’t tell me—you broke up with Wyatt, didn’t you? Dammit, Sam, you two were so good together. What happened?”
She’d only been using Wyatt to try to make Logan see her as a woman. When it hadn’t worked, she’d dumped him. “He was too controlling. The longer we dated, the more he wanted to take over my life. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“No kidding? I would never have thought he was the controlling type. That’s too bad.”
Heading downstairs with her, he escorted her across the street to the Front Page Diner. Not surprisingly, the place was virtually deserted after the newspaper was put to bed. They took a corner booth and gave their orders to the waitress without having to look at the menu.
“It seems like ages since we’ve had dinner together,” Samantha said after the waitress set glasses of iced tea in front of them. “So…what have you been doing? You look great. In fact, you look better than you have in a long time. What’s going on?”
Sitting back, he grinned. “Patty and Carter signed me up for a dating service.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I said. They were worried about me. They felt like I needed to get out in the world more.”
“Out in the world!” she said sharply. “What are they talking about? When you’re working, you go all over the city, talking to all kinds of people. If that’s not getting out, I don’t know what is.”
“They meant dating, Sam. They don’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone.”
“But you’re not going to date anyone from a dating service!” When he didn’t reply, she frowned. “You’re not, are you? You didn’t already go out with someone, did you?”
“No, of course not. Though I did call someone,” he admitted. “Patty and Carter spent a lot of money to sign me up for this and I couldn’t just let them throw that away.”
The waitress arrived with their food then, but Samantha didn’t even look at hers. Logan didn’t notice. “So?” she asked when he dug into his chicken as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. “How did it go?”
“Fine,” he replied. “She was nice. Believe it or not, I even asked her out.”
“I thought you said you didn’t go out with anyone.”
Even to her own ears, she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, and she wasn’t surprised when Logan’s eyes narrowed. But all he said was, “I didn’t. She turned me down.”
Startled, Samantha nearly choked on a sip of tea. “Are you serious? Why?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t anything personal. She doesn’t have a lot of confidence in herself. She just wants to talk on the phone. I’m calling her Friday.”
Samantha almost laughed. Let him talk to her. She didn’t need to fear a woman who was afraid to even go out with a guy. Talk about a loser! Logan would never be interested in a woman like that. And he was going to be hers, she silently vowed. She already knew that he cared for her. Now all she had to do was wait until he was open to loving someone again, and she would have the inside track on winning his heart. As for the loser who paid for a dating service, then was too much of a chicken to actually go out with someone, she could call someone else. Logan St. John was Sam’s. It was just a matter of time.
Smiling confidently, she relaxed and dug into her meal as heartily as he was.
From there, the conversation drifted to politics and news stories and what various family members were doing. Samantha could have sat there and talked to him all night, but not long after they both finished their meal, he called the waitress over for their bill. “I hate to break this up,” he told Samantha as he pulled out his wallet, “but it’s getting late, and I want to work on my screenplay some before I go to bed.”
“Of course,” she said, and reached for her purse.
They’d always gone dutch whenever they went out, and this time was no different. Leaving their payment on the table for the waitress to collect later, they naturally fell in step as they crossed the street to the Gazette’s employee parking lot. Twilight was falling, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. Still, Logan escorted Samantha to her car.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” she told him with twinkling eyes as she unlocked her door. “The parking lot’s well lit and your car’s only three aisles over from mine. I’m perfectly safe.”
“If you don’t like it, take it up with my mother,” he said with a grin. “She raised all of us boys to walk a lady to her car. Anyway, you can’t be too safe, so indulge me. It’s a man’s job to protect his family.”
Her smile never wavered, but deep inside, she winced. She wasn’t family dammit! Rising up on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Ever since Faith had died, she’d started kissing him on the cheek whenever they parted. And his response this time, as always, was the same. He ruffled her hair as if she were a four-year-old and growled, “Call me if you need anything.”
What she needed was for him to hold her and kiss her like she was the love of his life. Unfortunately, her dead sister still held that position.
Fighting the need to throw herself into his arms, Samantha told herself he had to feel the chemistry between them. He just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. He would, though, she promised herself grimly. She just had to give him more time.
“Let’s go to the movies next week instead of going out to dinner,” she said. “I’ll call you.”
Giving him a quick hug, she slipped into her car and drove away. Watching her disappear down the street Logan frowned. He hadn’t missed the anger in her eyes or her sharp comments. Obviously, she was more upset about breaking up with Wyatt than she’d let on. And that was a damm shame. She was a good kid, he thought affectionately. She always had been. But losing Faith had been as hard on her as it had on him. She and Faith had been best friends, and her death had left a huge hole in Sam’s life. Over the last year, she’d lost a lot of weight. And there was a sadness in her eyes that broke Logan’s heart.
He’d thought she was getting better—ever since she’d started dating Wyatt Christian, she’d seemed so happy. Logan had thought they were perfect for each other, but obviously, he’d been wrong. And that was too damn bad. She deserved someone special. Maybe he’d ask some of his friends if they knew someone she might be interested in. She’d be horrified when she found out about it, but she’d just have to live with it. That was what family was for.

Chapter 4
“Hi, Logan. This is Abby Saunders…”
Grabbing a cold soda from his refrigerator as his answering machine rattled off his messages, Logan found himself smiling as Abby’s voice, wry with amusement, filled his kitchen. So she’d called some of the other men on her list of possible dates, had she? he thought with a grin. Considering her shyness, he was surprised she’d worked up the nerve. From the sound of it, her calls hadn’t gone any better than his.
At least she could laugh about it, he thought, as he listened to the rest of her message. He wondered if she realized how special that made her. Probably not. From what he’d been able to tell, she didn’t appear to think that she was the least bit remarkable, which was a crying shame. She was upbeat and positive…and flat-out nice! The only negative thing he’d heard her say had been about herself. She didn’t seem to have a clue how rare that was. Why was she so insecure? Who had made her doubt herself? Her parents? Her first boyfriend? Whoever it was, Logan hoped he got the chance to one day tell them off. It was no less than they deserved.
Her message ended and the next one started. Not even listening to the reminder that he a dental checkup scheduled for the following day, he quickly looked through some papers on the kitchen table and found Abby’s phone number. It wasn’t until he’d placed the call that he realized that it was nearly ten o’clock at night. She was probably getting ready for bed—
“Hello?”
He recognized the lilting softness of her voice immediately and felt something shift inside him that he couldn’t put a name to. Frowning, he didn’t give himself time to analyze it. Instead, he told himself it was just his imagination, then proceeded to ignore it. “Hi, Abby. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Logan! Oh, no, not at all,” she said in a pleased tone. “I was just—Buster, no!”
When she gasped, then giggled, Logan grinned. “Why do I have a feeling I caught you in the middle of something? Buster’s not one of the men on your date list, is he?”
She chuckled. “Not hardly. He’s my dog. I’m giving him a bath and he decided this was a good time to shake.”
Even though he didn’t have a clue what she looked like, Logan could picture her on her knees next to the bathtub as a big shaggy dog shook water all over her and her bathroom. Most of the women he knew wouldn’t dream of bathing their dogs themselves, and they certainly wouldn’t laugh when they got soaked, but Abby couldn’t stop giggling even as she warned Buster to behave.
“It sounds like you’ve got your hands full. I can call back later, if you prefer.”
“Oh, no!” she protested quickly. “Now that this mangy mutt of mine has soaked me and the bathroom, he’s curled up on the bath mat, cleaning his paws. Let me throw a towel over him and we can talk.”
A few seconds later, she sighed in relief. “There! What a workout! I hadn’t planned to bathe him tonight, but he loves water, and I forgot to shut the door when I was filling the tub for a bath.”
Moving into the living room, Logan sank down into his favorite chair, a recliner Faith had bought for him on his thirtieth birthday, and popped his feet up in one smooth motion. “When I was a kid, we had a German shepherd that used to do that. He drove my mother nuts. So what kind of dog is Buster?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/linda-turner/beneath-the-surface/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.