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With her back turned to the window, she didn’t see the shadow slide past it or the way a pair of eyes watched her every move. As the glow of the lamplight chased the darkness to the corners of the bedroom, the figure stepped back and was swiftly swallowed up by the night.
DAWN DIDN’T SCARE the demons away. Still sluggish with sleep, Logan was halfway down the stairs when he smelled coffee. He froze, one foot suspended, praying it had all been a nightmare and he’d walk into the kitchen to find Becky sipping her first cup of coffee, Jamie talking a mile a minute, his upper lip covered by a milk mustache. Logan would hear that sweet childish laughter as he reached over and wiped his son’s mouth....
But he knew it was all in his head. He set his foot on the next step, then the next, until he could do it without having to tell himself to move, to think and to talk. Mornings were the worst part of his days, he thought. Then there were the nights.
“Good morning,” Logan said as he picked up the newspaper, pulled out the chair and sat down. When he looked at Avery, he was shocked. Yesterday she’d been a tall woman, her body shapeless in a shapeless dress. As she filled his cup, he scowled, then pushed away the cream and sugar. Today she was wearing jeans that still had that new stiffness and creases from being folded. The white cotton shirt, neatly tucked in at the waist, had to be right off the rack. She was all brand-spanking-new. He hadn’t missed the lovely way she was put together, either—the small waist, rounded hips and full breasts that pushed against her shirt. She had a woman’s figure, a refreshing oddity nowadays from the clothes hangers he usually saw. Logan lowered his gaze and took a sip of coffee. He didn’t miss the sparkling clean sneakers.
“Thanks for leaving dinner.” He opened the newspaper and shook it out. “Did you take a look around? You weren’t scared staying out here alone, were you?”
Avery was standing by the kitchen counter. She glanced over her shoulder and figured by the way his face was buried in the newspaper that he was just making polite talk. “I walked around enough to get the lay of the place. Do you want your eggs scrambled or fried?”
“Scrambled with a little grated cheese in them would be good.” He watched her over the top of the paper, the way she moved so easily around his kitchen, finding everything she needed. This morning her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her pale skin had a little more color. But her gray eyes were dark and storm ridden.
“I sat on the fence for a while and watched the horses in the field.”
“Paddock.”
She set a plate of hot biscuits on the table. “They’re beautiful. I hope you don’t mind, but I looked around inside the barn.” She’d been delighted at what she’d discovered when she’d entered that enormous brick building. The smells and sights were all so foreign and new to her. Strange objects hung from doors and hooks.
There had been horses, too, and she’d been lulled into relaxing by the warmth of life, scents and sounds. One horse in particular had drawn her with friendly eyes and soft noises. She’d sat on a bale of hay outside the animal’s stall and talked until she’d nearly fallen asleep.
“They’re all big babies and love the attention,” Logan said. “Feel free to go in there anytime.”
She felt his eyes on her back as she scrambled the eggs and heated the slices of ham in another skillet. “I didn’t know you were a veterinarian. Is your clinic in town?”
“I’ve given up my clients at the clinic. My brother handles everything now.”
It wasn’t what he’d said, but the icy snap in his voice that indicated another closed door. He didn’t enlighten her further, and his expression made Avery change the subject. She placed his breakfast in front of him and took her seat across the table.
After he’d taken a few bites, she spoke. “I hope you don’t expect anything fancy for your meals. I stay fairly close to the basics.”
“Basic will do fine. I’m not picky and I’ll eat just about anything except green peas.”
A small smile touched her mouth. “Green peas. I’ll remember that.” The ice seemed to have been broken and she ventured, “I saw the office yesterday and wondered if you wanted me to start setting it up. It looks very disorganized.”
“That’s an understatement. And yes, please, start there. The manual on the special software I use for keeping records on the horses and cattle is in one of those boxes. You know, I consider myself a fairly intelligent man. I can understand complex chemistry formulas, but this manual...hell, it’s like reading Greek. So far I’ve managed to screw up everything I’ve entered. There’s a three-ring binder in the desk drawer with all the data. Then there’s the accounting program. I’m a little better at that, but I’ve been lax lately and there’s a box of receipts, bills and invoices to be posted. You think you can handle it?”
Her smile was a little wider this time. “Fortunately I read Greek.” She recognized the flash of amusement in his eyes. She liked the way the skin crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Who’s Tanner? Did you get there before he put Molly out of her misery?”
“Tanner’s my brother.”
“The other veterinarian?”
“No, that’s Pierce. Tanner’s our kid brother. He has a place down the road, but he’s always hanging around here. You’ll meet him soon enough. Molly’s fine. Tanner would sooner shoot himself than that horse. She had a bad case of colic, but we got her through the worst of it. I’ll have to keep an eye on her, though, because we haven’t pinpointed what made her sick. Bad feed more than likely.”
Logan amazed himself with his long-winded explanation. He must be more desperate for company than he’d thought, to be talking about his cases with a stranger. Hell, Becky had hated him bringing his work home, especially details of some of the more gruesome cases. He glanced at the clock, surprised by the time, and set about finishing breakfast.
Avery’s powers of observation had worked beautifully for her. She mentally tallied how much she’d learned about Logan without asking an endless stream of questions. He was a widower. His wife and son had been killed in a car accident. He was a veterinarian who’d given up his town practice. Obviously he wasn’t retiring, but setting up business from his home. It didn’t take much to guess that his loss had changed his life and been the deciding factor in his choice, though it wasn’t entirely clear why. He had a father who cared and worried about him. Also a sister-in-law who was madly in love with him.
Logan laid his silverware on his now clean plate and reached for his coffee. He’d permitted her game to go on long enough. “You’re not from around here—Texas, I mean. Where are you from, Avery?”
One thing Denise had drilled into her was if she lied, keep it simple and close to the truth. “Seattle.”
The answer startled a rusty laugh from Logan. “That’s a hell of a distance to go to find me some help. My father outdid himself this time.”
“Actually, a friend of Denise’s has a placement agency in San Antonio, and she told her about the outrageous qualifications some rancher had. After they shared a good laugh, Denise told her she had just the person.”
“So you were living in Houston?”
“That’s right.” She wondered if two weeks’ residency allowed her to claim Houston as home. At any rate it served her purpose.
Logan touched his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes. It was empty. Of course. He’d given up smoking. His mood darkened. “What or who are you running from, Avery Jensen?”
“I beg your pardon?” It was as if her heart had suddenly jumped into her throat. She swallowed painfully.
“You heard me. When a woman with your looks and obvious education decides to hide away on a ranch in a small Texas town, there’s something wrong. Is it an abusive husband you’re running from, or was he unfaithful?”
“No, no. I’m not married.” She made herself meet him stare for stare.
“A boyfriend?”
“No. Honestly, Logan—”
“Are you in trouble with the law?”
“No.” She stopped herself before shifting her gaze away from his. “I’m not in any trouble with the law and no one is looking for me. What I am is broke. What I need is a job, and this one suits me just fine.”
Logan finished his coffee. At one time—two years ago, to be exact—he’d been a good judge of character. Now he didn’t trust his own gut instincts. He didn’t think she’d lied, but there were secrets shifting around in those gray eyes, and that too-bland expression gave him pause.
What the hell did it matter? He certainly was in no position to judge people. His needs were basic and few—nourishment to keep his body functioning, a clean house and clothes. He needed someone to take care of the everyday chores he no longer had the energy for. Most of all he needed to be left alone. Logan had a feeling Avery Jensen was looking for the same things.
“We’d best get some things straight here and now,” he said. “Haven is not considered a small town in terms of its population, but it has a small-town mentality. There’s been a big infusion of wealthy people from San Antonio who, for whatever reason—status maybe—decided they wanted a ranch and picked Haven as the location. The only problem is they’ve brought the city with them, and the pecking order here now has two levels—the rich country-club set and the local social hierarchy.
“Both sides have their busybodies. They’re going to make a lot out of a beautiful, young, single woman living out here with a widower. If you plan to stay or make friends, you’ll have to deal with them on your own. Don’t expect me to help, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me out of your conversations.” He paused. “There are people in town who are going to talk about me. I don’t give a damn what they say, but you might.”
The corners of Avery’s mouth tipped slightly upward and she said, “I don’t take much stock in gossip. But just so I won’t be surprised or shocked, what sort of things am I likely to hear?”
“That I’m responsible for my wife and son’s death. That I benefitted by getting an ungodly amount of insurance money.” He shoved back his chair and stared down at her upturned face. “They’re right on both counts.”
CHAPTER THREE
LOGAN’S WORDS left her speechless. And just as she was picking her chin up off the floor, she caught a tiny glimmer of satisfaction on his face and a lingering impression that he was entirely too pleased with himself over her reaction. As if he was deliberately trying to shake her up. Well, he’d certainly succeeded.
Before she could recover enough to comment, Logan turned and left the kitchen. Had he meant what he’d said? Had he really been responsible for his wife and son’s deaths? The sound of the front door shutting noisily behind him snapped her from her reverie. She’d just seen a side to Logan Monahan she must never lose sight of. The man was nobody’s fool.
With the warning firmly implanted in her mind, Avery set to work cleaning the kitchen. The only sounds were of her own making. Sounds that were normal, everyday noises to anyone else, she treasured. Water running into the sink, the clink of dishes, the slap of the mop on the kitchen floor. Even the sound of her own humming.
When the kitchen was spotless, Avery stood back, admired her work and smiled. Who would have thought that in less than a year she could take so much pride in menial work? It certainly wasn’t something she’d ever excelled at before. Eight months didn’t seem like such a long time for so many changes, but for her it had been a lifetime. She’d learned a lot about herself and her abilities. She was stronger than she’d imagined. She was wiser, yes, but cynical and distrustful of everyone. And she’d come to realize she was a poor judge of people. But she was free and that was all that mattered—that and her job. She knew she’d do whatever it took to keep this job and her freedom.
The light housework gave her a chance to spend much of the morning roaming the big house, duster in hand, peeking behind closed doors, more mystified then ever by the lack of furnishings. All the upstairs bedrooms, except for Logan’s, were empty. The barren rooms made her uneasy. There was a sadness about them, and they made her shiver as if someone had walked over her grave.
Her inspection of Logan’s room told her little about the man other than he was neater than any male she’d ever known. Certainly tidier than her slovenly brother and even her fastidious father. Logan made his bed, picked up his clothes and placed them in the hamper. He even left the bathroom sink sparkling clean.
As she headed downstairs, she realized Logan Monahan didn’t really need anyone to take care of him. Then why was his father so insistent? A more disturbing thought was why had Logan agreed she could stay?
She worried at the edges of the question until something else struck her about what was missing in the house—the usual array of family photographs. The walls and dressertops were bare of pictures, nor were there any belongings or reminders of his wife or child. The house was as impersonal as a hotel. If he was responsible for their deaths, as he said, did that explain it somehow?
Don’t try to figure it out. Mind your own business and don’t get involved. She remembered the warning she’d given herself; she was prepared to follow it as if it was set in stone. With that thought in mind she continued with her morning work.
When she finally stepped into the office, her interest in working for Logan was stirred. Like yesterday, the desk was a chaos of papers, unopened letters and bills. Her eyes actually brightened at the overflowing boxes of files just waiting to be organized. At last her hungry gaze came to rest on the pillar of computer manuals perched rather precariously on the edge of the desk. Yes, she’d enjoy this work, and she’d be good at it.
She inhaled the scent of leather, stale coffee and books—all the essences an office should have. To her the scents were as intoxicating as French perfume. Once, not so long ago, her world had been centered in just such an office, a world of power and position, a world of people who looked up to her and listened to her advice as if she were a goddess. She caressed the top of the monitor as she rounded the desk, and didn’t even mind that her fingers came away dusty. Her heartbeat accelerated as she settled in the big leather chair, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Logan may not need her pitiful domestic talents, but he needed her office help.
The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted her upright. She’d been far away in a daydream of a happier time; she’d thought she could actually smell the leather of her executive chair. She’d have sworn she heard her secretary’s laughter and her father’s deep rumbling voice.
The phone shrilled again and reflexively she picked it up and said, “Yes, Margaret?” She caught herself, then said, “Monahan ranch.” The caller would think she was the village idiot. When there was no answering voice, she repeated her greeting.
Still nothing but silence. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard the distinct sound of fast breathing. She felt a creeping sensation, as if something clammy was crawling over her skin. Inexplicably, she knew this call wasn’t a childish prank, but something more insidious.
Nevertheless, she tried again. “This is the Monahan ranch. Who’s there?” She used an angry tone, hoping to banish her fear that someone already knew about her.
“Hang up.”
The male voice charged with authority didn’t come from the receiver but from the doorway, and three things happened at once. Avery gave an ear-piercing scream. The phone clattered to the floor. And as she jerked to her feet, she knocked the stack of computer books off the corner of the desk.
The stranger filling the doorway clamped his hands over his ears and backed away slightly. “Hey. I’m family.”
She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “So do you usually just waltz in without knocking or letting anyone know you’re coming? You scared the living daylights out of me.” He looked a lot like her boss, but was taller—at least six-seven—and whereas Logan was solid and muscular, this man was lean and stringy. She eyed him warily.
“I’m Tanner, darlin’, Logan’s youngest brother. And I’ve never knocked before and don’t intend to start now. You must be Avery—the burr in Jessie’s craw, new grist for the gossip mill and the reason Dad’s walking around with a grin the Cheshire cat would envy. And yes, I use to play pro basketball.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“But you wanted to.”
“No,” she lied, “it never crossed my mind.” He was charming, handsome and obviously having entirely too much fun at her expense. Avery tried to keep him in her line of vision as she began picking up the fallen manuals. “You called yesterday, didn’t you.”
He nodded and grinned. “Yep. I was surprised when Logan the Bear didn’t answer.”
“Logan the Bear?”
Tanner laughed, a delicious sound of pure amusement. “You got it, sweetheart. He has other pet names—as do we all. But that’s for another day. You can see I’m harmless, though, so why don’t you stand up and let me get a good look at you?”
“Harmless” was not a term that fitted this man. His charm, she sensed, could be most dangerous. And where Logan’s eyes were light brown, Tanner’s were black, lively and full of mischief. Even though she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking a dozen questions, one slipped out. “Why did you order me to hang up?”
“It was an obscene call, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “No one said anything.” As she restacked the manuals on the desk, she continued to watch him, but he didn’t seem inclined to do more than drape himself in the doorway. “What makes you think the call was obscene?”
“You were angry. Your cheeks were on fire, and those big gray eyes were kind of iced over.” He straightened. “We’ve all gotten a few of those calls. It seems to go with the territory of being a main topic of conversation in this town. Don’t let them bother you. It’s just kids and their nonsense.”
Avery had always had a kind of radar for trouble. She didn’t know Tanner well enough to tell him her own feelings about the caller. She finished stacking the books, pretending not to see the way he looked her over, but she was painfully aware of the warmth that stained her cheeks. The absurdity of it almost made her smile. She’d blushed more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the past five years, all brought on by Monahan men.
“Where’s Logan, by the way?” Tanner glanced at his watch. “It’s a bit early, but my stomach tells me it’s lunchtime.”
“Damn,” Avery said as she rounded the desk and almost knocked the books off again. “I forgot about lunch.” Tanner didn’t move and she was forced to stand and wait.
“Let me ring the barn,” Tanner said. “That’s where he spends most of his time—where he hides from the world.”
Tanner stepped around her, picked up the phone and punched in a number. He gave her a wink. “Don’t worry about lunch. I’ll fix it.” He stopped her protest by motioning for her to be silent. “Hey, Logan. How about coming up to the house? I’m starving.”
Tanner knew the kitchen far better than she did. She realized all too quickly she was only in his way. Finally, after they’d bumped into each other twice, he guided her to a chair and gently but firmly pushed her into it. All she could do was watch as he gathered items from the refrigerator and set to work. What Logan would think when he saw his brother taking over her duties, she couldn’t say. She decided the best thing to do, however, was keep her mouth shut and be still.
“Have you ever had a grilled cheese sandwich Texas-style?”
Avery shook her head, amused and a little miffed at just how efficiently Tanner moved around the kitchen.
“You’re in for a treat. Mind you, it’s not often I make these for anyone but Logan. So don’t get any ideas about making them yourself just because it’s my brother’s favorite meal.”
She grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.”
She kept a straight face, though she had to work at it, as he pulled a loaf of bread from the freezer, then held it close to his body as if trying to keep Avery from seeing it. Then she realized why. He was thawing it just enough to separate the extra-thick slices.
Just as Tanner was carving slabs off a block of cheese, Logan walked in. Avery had been so captivated and amused by Tanner’s running dialogue about everything and nothing that she’d forgotten to keep her guard up. Logan’s eyes found hers and held her gaze for a long moment, as if searching for an answer to something. She was the first to look away.
Logan hung his Stetson on the hat rack, and his gaze shifted to Tanner, who was busy at the counter. “I see you’ve met Peewee.”
Avery felt more than saw Tanner bristle at the name, and didn’t know whether to move out of the way or laugh when he carelessly tossed a wrapped stick of butter at Logan.
Logan plucked the butter smoothly from the air, unwrapped it and handed it back to Tanner.
“I hope you’ve washed your hands,” Tanner said, then glanced at Avery, his black eyes dancing with laughter. “You do know that half the time a vet is up to his elbows in—”
“Mind your manners, little brother, at least until she knows you better.” Logan opened a cabinet, pulled out a blender, then looked at Avery. “We tend to make chocolate malts at lunchtime—especially for washing down Tanner’s clunkers—so you’d best get the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. There’s a jar of malt in the pantry.”
And that was how it started—Logan and Tanner treating her as if they’d known her for years, sending her scurrying around the kitchen fetching, carrying and measuring while Tanner explained the highlights of his methods for making the “world’s best” Texas-style grilled cheese sandwiches. Logan, too, was diligent about explaining the art of concocting his “prizewinning” extra-thick malts. Of course, both explanations were going on at the same time, and any questions she might have asked were hopelessly lost in the cacophony.
At last the meal was ready. She picked up half of her monster sandwich and raised it to her mouth, then paused. The brothers waited, their amused gazes on her. She realized they were waiting for her praise. She eyed Tanner, then Logan over the top, deliberately stretching out the moment.
“I can feel my arteries clogging already.” she said.
Finally she took a bite. Logan and Tanner leaned forward as warm soft cheese oozed from the sides of the crispy-brown toast. Avery closed her eyes and slowly chewed. She swallowed and looked at Tanner. “Bigger is better,” she said with a smile. She meant it. The sandwich was wonderful.
“Now try the malt,” Logan urged.
She wiped her greasy fingers on her napkin, reached for the frosty glass and took a huge gulp. It was thick and entirely too cold. Immediately she paid for her gluttony, but even though a knife-sharp pain shot through her head, she grinned and managed a hoarse, “Heavenly.”
