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The young receptionist looked up, smiled and eased closer to the counter.
“Your daughter sure is talkative,” she giggled. “I don’t think she’s drawn a breath in the last hour.”
“She’s not my daughter.” Logan’s throat tightened, a sharp pain ripping through his chest. “She’s my sisterin-law.”
“Oh.” Her smile slipped. “I’m sorry. I just assumed—”
“I don’t mean to be a pest but I was wondering if Amy Slade has come in yet?”
Her forehead scrunched, confusion clouding her features. “Amy Slade? You mean Ms. Johnson, right?”
Logan swallowed hard, the wad of papers in his pocket burning through his jeans.
He nodded, forcing out, “Johnson. Amy Johnson.”
“Well, she had a lot of claims to document today. She was trying to squeeze in as many as she could before she left for vacation.” She grimaced in apology. “I thought she’d be back by now but it looks like she may not make it in. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been waiting a long time.”
“Can you give me her cell number?” His face flamed. “I’d like to give her a call. Let her know I’m here.”
“Sure,” she stated quietly. She held a business card out between pink nails. “I could...”
Johnson. Logan’s hand halted in midair. There it was. Her maiden name. In bold, black ink stamped in the center. Plain print. Thick paper. Such a harmless item. But it cut to the bone.
“Sir?” Concern contorted the receptionist’s features. “I could give her your number, if it’s an emergency? Ask her to give you a call tonight? Or tomorrow?”
“No,” he choked, ripping his hand away from the card.
He’d let four years of tomorrows slip by. He should’ve been here yesterday. His shoulders slumped. Four years of yesterdays.
“No, thank you,” he repeated. “I’d like to wait a little longer.”
A push of cold air swept in from the hallway, fluttering the papers on the desk. The receptionist glanced over her shoulder at the muffled clunk that followed.
“Back entrance,” she said, rising from her seat. “That might be her. I’ll go check.”
Logan strode around the desk to the mouth of the hall.
“Please give me a moment, sir.”
He drew to a halt at her raised hand and pleading expression. She cast anxious glances behind her.
“Just let me tell her you’re here. Please?”
Logan managed a stiff nod. She dropped her hand and moved down the hall, disappearing into a room on the left.
His legs tensed and his torso pitched forward. Wait.
He glanced back at Traci still slouched in the lobby chair then found himself inching down the hall despite his polite promise. His ears strained to capture the receptionist’s hushed tones and low words.
“...been here for hours. Very insistent on seeing you.”
“Who is he? Is he filing a claim?”
Logan faltered, his breath catching. Amy. There was no mistaking her soft, questioning tone. His steps quickened, the tips of his fingers slipping inside his pocket and curling around the papers in a crushing hold.
“I don’t think so. I think he might be...” Hesitancy coated the receptionist’s words. “I think he’s your—”
“Husband.” Logan clamped his lips together and flexed his finger against his wedding ring.
He’d reached the threshold. The view of the room remained obscured by the receptionist. She swiveled to face him, hands twisting at her waist.
His earlier reminder to Traci returned. We’re in public.
He issued a tight smile. “I apologize for not waiting. I didn’t mean to rush you but it’s important that I see her.”
Floorboards creaked. That quiet voice returned. It drifted around the receptionist’s tense frame. “It’s okay, Kimberly.”
The receptionist blinked and glanced back over her shoulder. “Would you like me to stay, Ms. Johnson?”
“No. You go ahead and start your holiday. I’ll lock up.”
The receptionist hovered briefly then nodded and slipped past Logan, the click of her heels fading.
A thousand thoughts had clamored in Logan’s head on the ride up here. A million words had vibrated on the tip of his tongue as he drove. He’d sifted through each one, preserving or discarding them with precision until he’d carefully arranged a select few that were the most important. The ones that needed to be delivered first. Ones that would give him a fighting chance.
One glimpse of Amy and every one of them dissipated. Just as they always had.
Amy had been a pretty girl from the start. Eight years old to his twelve when she’d first arrived at Raintree, she’d been all daring smiles and impish expressions. At nineteen, she’d been beautiful. That shiny length of black hair, and tanned legs that seemed to stretch on forever.
Now, as a woman of twenty-four, she was breathtaking. Curves replaced the coltish angles and a relaxed strength resided in her lithe frame.
“Logan.”
His attention shot to the lush curves of her mouth and the deep jade of her eyes. Both opened wider with surprise.
“I needed to...” His blood roared, his tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth.
Needed to see her. Touch her. Hold her.
Amy’s expression cleared. She regained her composure and took slow steps toward him, stopping when the toes of her shiny heels were an inch from the scuffed toes of his boots.
At well over six feet, Logan found it rare that anyone met him on his level. Amy, however, never failed to do so. Wearing heels, her slender frame reached almost the exact same height, her gentle breaths dancing across his jaw.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispered.
It was the last thing he’d expected her to say.
She rested her palms loosely on his shoulders, her smooth cheek pressing gently against the stubble of his. Her sweet scent enfolded him and soothed his senses. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, sliding his hands over her back to draw her closer.
She felt the same. Soft and strong. Only, now, the mature curves of her body met the hard planes of his, filling each hollow and reminding him of exactly how much he’d missed.
How the hell had he ever managed to accept her decision to leave? Encouraged it, even? And why had he waited so long to come? When all he had to do—
“You look well,” she said, drawing back.
She crossed the room to the other side of the desk and removed her jacket to hang it on the back of the chair. Smoothing a hand over the collar of her sweater, she adopted a welcoming stance. A patient countenance.
It wasn’t the empty expression she’d had years ago after the loss of their daughter. Or the defeated one she’d shown for months after several failed attempts at getting pregnant again. And it was a far cry from the rebellious one she’d worn as a girl, intent on challenging him at every turn.
This was something different. This was worse. It was the professional posture a claims adjuster assumed with a client. The polite demeanor a woman assumed with a stranger.
Logan balled his fists at his sides, his chest tightening with the familiar sting of regret. He’d waited too long.
“What can I do for you, Logan?”
She continued running her fingers over the sweater’s neckline. The movements remained small and graceful. Not erratic or anxious. Certainly not an action that should draw attention.
A flush bloomed on the skin of her neck. A fraction of an inch above the tips of her fingers. Her bare fingers.
Logan’s eyes burned. This trip was a mistake. Like so many others. There was nothing left of their marriage to salvage here. He should walk away, get back in his truck and leave. It was the sane, sensible thing to do.
He jerked his head to the side but couldn’t force his stare to follow. It clung to the small motions of her fingers, causing the pink shade on her neck to spread and deepen to a fiery shade of red.
Logan clenched his jaw. He’d already lost a child. Hell if he’d lose his best friend, too. The girl he remembered was still there. Buried beneath the sophisticated veneer. And he wasn’t leaving without her.
Reaching deep into his pocket, Logan withdrew the thick wad of papers and tossed them onto the desk. They bounced, slid across the mahogany wood and drew to a precarious halt on the far edge.
“I’m here to bring you home.”
* * *
LIES VARIED. Amy knew that. They could be as white as a consoling whisper. Or as dark as a secret never spoken. As a girl, she’d only lied to Logan once but it had been dark enough to follow her for years.
Amy curled her fingers tighter into the collar of her sweater and refused to look at the papers balancing on the edge of the desk. Instead, she focused on Logan, lingering over the dark depths of his eyes, the strong line of his jaw and the sensual curve of his mouth.
He hadn’t changed much in the four years since she’d last seen him. His lean length was still as sculpted as ever. His broad chest and shoulders were just as wide and impressive. And the familiar attire of jeans, collared shirt and boots were still the same.
A deep rush of longing enveloped her, making her ache to reach out and wrap her arms around him. To draw him close and hold on. Just as she had so many times over the years as a friend and, eventually, as a lover.
Dear God, she’d missed him. Missed his smile, his strength. Even his tight-lipped frowns of disappointment. Most of which had been directed at her over the years.
Her stomach churned. Figured the one thing she’d always admired most about him was something she had never been able to possess as a girl. Something she’d always found so elusive and so foreign.
Honor. Logan lived and breathed it. Even when it cut deep.
Amy smiled, hoping the slight quiver of her mouth didn’t show. “I told Mom on the phone that I’d drive home as soon as I got off work today. I promised I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving dinner this year and I won’t. I’m already packed and—” she flicked her sleeve back and glanced at her wristwatch “—it’s time to close up. I’m about to swing by my apartment, grab my bags and head out. There was no need for you to make such a long trip.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. His left hand moved, his thumb twisting the ring on his finger. The same one she’d slid there years ago when she was a selfish girl of nineteen. A girl who had lied and purposefully gotten pregnant with Logan’s child, knowing his honor would demand he marry her.
The memory conjured up shame. It scorched a path from her soul through blood to muscle, then sizzled on the surface of her skin.
There were so many things she couldn’t change. But one thing had changed. She was no longer that selfish girl. No longer reckless or relentless in her pursuit of Logan. Always pushing for more than friendship and stealing his freedom from him.
She’d ruined his life back then. Hurt him more than she’d ever hurt anyone, and she’d never hurt him that way again.
Amy squared her shoulders and wrapped her hands around the chair in front of her. End this fast. Make it clean and painless.
“It may have been a while since I’ve made the drive,” she said, trying for a small laugh. “But I can manage to find my way back on my own.”
The tight grooves marring Logan’s face deepened. She longed to reach up and smooth the lines away with her fingertips. Cup his jaw and press her forehead to his. She’d done it so many times over the years it had become second nature.
But things were different now. She wasn’t that naive girl anymore.
Logan moved, taking long strides across the room to reach the desk. The dark waves of his hair weren’t cut quite as short and the lines beside his mouth were deeper. But, the slight changes only enhanced his rough-hewn appeal. If possible, he was more handsome now, at twenty-eight, than he’d ever been.
“Your mom was worried,” he said. “Betty knows it’s a long drive and she’s concerned you’ll get caught in the weather.” His mouth tightened. “I was worried, too. They’re calling for sleet. Driving in ice is dangerous. Especially when you’re not used to it.”
“Maybe.” Amy tossed her hair over her shoulder and straightened, firming her tone. “But it’ll be a good experience for me. I need to get used to driving in extreme winter conditions.”
Logan frowned. “Why?”
She smiled. A real one that untied the knot in her chest.
“I’ve accepted a job in Michigan. There’s a new insurance branch opening in Detroit and I’ll have a management position. That means higher pay and more opportunities for advancement.” She shrugged. “The winters are a lot harsher up there. Wouldn’t hurt to get a little taste of it now before I move in January.”
“Michigan?” Logan’s frown deepened, his voice strained. “That’s damned far, Amy.”
He cut his eyes to the window, remaining silent for a moment. The wind outside strengthened and tumbled bits of trash across the parking lot. A tree branch scraped across the glass pane, its shrill squeak breaking the silence.
“You’ve stayed here longer than I thought you would.” Logan faced her again. “You used to say you loved Raintree. That you never wanted to live anywhere else.”
Amy forced her features to remain blank. The only thing she’d missed as much as Logan and her family over the past four years was Raintree Ranch. Her mother and her younger sister, Traci, came to Augusta to visit every summer, but it wasn’t the same as being together at Raintree. Their childhood home had always been her safe haven.
Even now, Amy could feel the warmth of Raintree’s spacious kitchen. See her mother flipping pancakes on a wide griddle and humming happy hymns over the stainless steel stove.
Having secured a position at Raintree as head chef, the widowed Betty had brought her two young daughters with her to the beautiful guest ranch. And Logan’s family had welcomed them all from the moment their feet touched the dirt drive.
As a girl, Amy had spent thousands of hours racing across Raintree’s green fields on her favorite stallions, Thunder and Lightning. She’d helped Logan deliver both foals on the same stormy day. Logan had laughed at her choice of names, but at the time it had seemed like fate to her tender heart.
It had always surprised her how far and fast she could ride across Raintree’s acres and still have ground to cover. And the gallop back had always been just as exciting knowing Logan would be watching and waiting for her safe return. The endless acres, beautiful horses and interesting visitors had made Raintree Ranch her favorite place in the world.
Amy had never known a more peaceful place. Until her selfish actions changed everything.
“I said a lot of things back then,” she stated. “When I wanted something.”
She’d wanted Logan. Marriage. A family.
Amy swallowed hard. That dream was gone. Logan had never loved her the way she’d loved him. Pushing him into marriage had destroyed their friendship and complications from pregnancy had almost taken her life. They’d been told she’d probably never be able to get pregnant again. That had been proven in the barren months that followed.
