Luck Be a Lady - Cathie Linz [48]
She had a story for each of her dozen or so collectibles. She’d found the Royal Staffordshire “Devonshire” teacup and saucer when she and Faith had stopped at a garage sale on the way back from the Kane County Flea Market. The Royal Doulton “Spring Meadows” teacup beside it was from the flea market. And the 1930s Polka Rose cup and saucer were a find from a Stillwater, Minnesota, antique shop she’d visited while in Minneapolis for the Public Library Association convention a few years back.
Staring at the Wedgwood addition reminded her of Logan’s suggestion that they have sex in the storage room. On the plane, she’d been amazed to discover that he was just as sexy asleep with his head tilted at an awkward angle. He hadn’t appeared to have any nightmares during the flight.
They’d shared a lot during their weekend together. Not the least of which was that embrace in bed. No, embrace didn’t begin to cover what they’d done. “Making out” wasn’t sufficient either. It was so much more than that. His hands on her bare breasts, his mouth consuming hers.
Megan shook her head and firmly closed the cabinet door. She could still see the Wedgwood through the glass. Just as she could still feel his hands on her body.
The last words he’d said to her were, “Beat it.” Sure he’d kissed her forehead after that, but . . . what did it all mean? She didn’t have a clue.
Megan focused on finishing her unpacking. But the memories continued unabated as she unpacked the new clothes she’d bought from Pepper in Last Resort. She laundered some and set aside those that needed dry cleaning, all the while remembering her time in the semi-ghost town. Especially her time in bed with Logan.
She rushed around, determined to get everything back in order. The clean clothes went in her closet and drawers, the suitcases in the back of her coat closet.
She shouldn’t be thinking about Logan. She needed to focus on her mother. She had so many questions that they were all starting to jumble together, so she got her BlackBerry and started making a list of questions to ask her dad. She’d never really been a huge list-maker in the past, but helping Faith with wedding planning had convinced her otherwise.
QUESTIONS TO ASK DAD.
Why did he say my mother was dead?
Why did they get divorced?
Why didn’t they share custody of me?
Had he been in touch with my mother since she’d left?
Had she ever tried to get in touch with me?
Did he know she’d gone to Woodstock?
No, she couldn’t let him know that she knew that or he’d want to know how she’d found out. She quickly deleted that last question off her list. Surely she had more questions than, what . . . she counted them . . . just five. But these were a good start. And maybe his answers would instigate more questions.
At this point her thoughts were just so confused that she needed some kind of guideline to keep her focused. Because the feeling of having the rug yanked out from under her hadn’t gone away.
Logan headed straight from the airport to start his shift at the police station. The building was old and smelled of industrial cleaner and old coffee. He was greeted at his desk by Ria, aka Detective Maria Delgado, his partner.
“Must be nice to take off for Vegas on a minute’s notice,” Ria said.
“I have a cousin who works for the airlines.” It was the only reason he’d been able to get a seat on the next flight out, even if it meant sitting across from Megan. If her family had had its way, he and Buddy would still be sitting in the Las Vegas airport a week from now. “Besides, I told you it was a family emergency.”
“Yeah, right. As in you had to play some serious poker or you’d go crazy. Was that your emergency?”
“There was a situation with my grandfather.”
“Who is an even more serious poker