Luck Be a Lady - Cathie Linz [90]
A phone call to Gram, who was in Buddy’s hospital room visiting him, disproved that theory. “Is Logan with you?” Gram asked.
“No,” Megan said, her stomach dropping to the soles of her feet. “I was calling you to ask the same question.”
“Buddy says he’s sure Logan is okay because Logan is wearing his St. Michael medallion again.”
“The patron saint of police officers,” Megan said.
“That’s right. I know what’s on the TV now is scary, but hang in there, okay? And let us know when Logan calls you.”
“Same with you, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“Buddy and Gram haven’t heard from him,” Megan told her father.
She shoved her fear down deep so it wouldn’t overwhelm her, but it refused to be managed. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Megan said with tears in her eyes.
“You don’t want to spend the rest of your life thinking about a chance you didn’t take. I don’t regret taking a chance on Astrid even though it didn’t work out.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Do you want to know why?”
Megan nodded.
“Because loving her gave me you.” He reached out to cup her cheek. “And you are definitely the best and brightest thing in my life.”
“Oh, Daddy.” She held back a sob.
“You haven’t called me that since you were twelve,” he said gruffly.
“I know.”
“Can I get you anything?” he asked with concern. “Some tea? Wine?”
“I’ll get it.” She brought the bottle of Argentinean Merlot that she’d offered Logan the first time he’d come to her condo and they’d shared a pizza. She brought two wineglasses and filled them both.
Meanwhile the local station had resumed normal broadcasting. Megan channel-surfed but she couldn’t find any more coverage on the situation. A tense two hours later, Logan finally called in.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “Something came up.”
“Yes, I heard. It was on the TV.”
“I’m on my way now.” He paused. “Or is it too late?”
Was it too late? Would she be able to hide her fear from him? Could she bounce back from the nervous wreck she’d been for the past few hours? She’d have to. “No,” she said unsteadily. “It’s not too late.”
“Good. I’ll be there in about five minutes.”
Megan’s dad and Logan crossed paths in the hallway. Megan kept her door open as she pulled Logan inside. He was wearing his customary work attire of black pants and blue shirt with a dark tie. She removed his black leather jacket and tossed it aside.
“Are you okay?” She ran her hands over his arms and chest as if searching for possible injuries.
“I’m okay.” He took her hands in his. “The media exaggerated the situation. The suspect was the one shot. The police officer down actually tripped and broke his ankle. No weapon was involved except maybe for his own shoelaces, which he tripped over while trying to apprehend the suspect.”
“Were you in danger?”
“I was in danger of missing a date with you and some whipped cream,” he murmured huskily.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Let me show you how serious.”
Logan didn’t want to talk about it. Okay, Megan got that. She also got that he was using sex as a distraction, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be distracted by him. She wanted to be taken to new heights of ecstasy by him . . . and she was.
But after they’d made love and Logan fell asleep, Megan sat and stared at him for hours. She saw the medallion around his neck and touched it as if to reassure herself that it was still there. He’d taken it off when they’d had sex but she’d insisted he put it on again afterward. She wanted him protected. She neededto have him protected.
The bottom line was that Megan was spooked. She told herself she just needed some time to recover. For the next two weeks, she threw herself into holiday preparations and spending time with Logan. He helped her decorate her tree and didn’t mock the teacup motif of the ornaments she was using this year. She rewarded him with whipped cream, which she now kept stocked in her fridge at all times.
She made love with him whenever she could but didn’t tell him she loved him. Not yet. She was still trying to work up her nerve.
Meanwhile she carried out her