Fiancé at Her Fingertips (12 page)

“Oh, that feels so good,” she whispered. “So good.”

Debra tugged Logan’s head up and brought his lips to hers
again. Their kissing became frenzied, their caresses heated. Logan’s hands were everywhere. Debra heard the sound of a zipper. His or hers? Labored breathing. His or hers? The ringing of a phone. His or hers? Phone? His.

“Ignore it,” Logan commanded, his voice breathless and strained.

The phone rang again.

“The machine will get it,” he said, and took her lips in another hot, wet kiss.

The phone rang once more and the answering machine clicked on. Debra fought her way out of the passion pool she’d waded into, never suspecting she’d find herself in way over her head this quickly.

“Logan, this is Catrina. Please pick up. Please, Logan, pick up. It’s important! Please pick up.”

Debra could feel the struggle Logan was having. He lifted himself off her, expelling a long breath. She admired his ease in handling the wretched mattress. He gave her a quick, hard kiss and trailed a finger between her breasts.

“Hold that pose,” he instructed. “I’ll be right back.”

Debra watched him leave the bedroom and blinked.
My
God
. What had she been about to do? What kind of thrall did this…this…voodoo man have over her? All he had to do was touch her and she went all squishy, like that disgusting goop her nephews liked to play with.

She sat up and buttoned her shirt and grabbed her purse. She hurried into the bathroom and turned on the water faucet, hoping Logan would think she was freshening up. She tossed his key ring in the middle of his bed.
There
. That ought to send a clear message.

Tiptoeing into the hall, she made her way past Logan’s study. The door was open a crack.

“Catrina, look, you have to calm down,” Lawyer Logan was saying. “Have you contacted Milton? He’s a top-notch attorney. He’ll take care of this.”

Debra slipped down the hall and let herself out of the apartment. Remembering her earlier elevator ride, she opted
for the stairs and took them three at a time, somehow managing to reach the ground floor without breaking an ankle. Or her neck.

At the front door she was hailed by yet another ancient uniformed doorman. This was the young whippersnapper, Vinnie? He wasn’t a day under seventy.

“Ms. Daniels, it’s so nice to see you again. Eddie told me you were visiting today. We’ve missed you around here.”

Debra gave him a quick nod, and to her surprise he grabbed her arm.

“Uh, Miss Daniels, I, uh, don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh…” He pointed down at the area of his own crotch. “Your barn door is open,” he whispered.

Debra looked down at her open slacks, and warmth flooded her face. She wondered if her cheeks might blister from the heat. She yanked her zipper up, thanked Vinnie, and then wanted to slug him, septuagenarian or not, when she saw the big, stupid grin plastered across his face.

She turned away from his knowing smile, sprinted to her car, and jumped in, laying rubber as she left the area.

It was so true what they said: Crime did not pay.

Debra chugged down another brewski and wiped her mouth, then scowled at the gentleman charming the socks off her seventy-eight-year-old grandmother. From the moment they’d arrived at this wedding, Lawyer Logan had undertaken to be so diverting, so entertaining, and so damned…perfect, it was driving Debra to the brink of madness. Who was she kidding? She’d performed a two-and-a-half-gainer-with-a-twist into the deep, dark waters of the Black Lagoon some time back. Now she’d presented her dear old grandmother with a cartoon character as a prospective grandson-in-law. Would this nightmare never end?

“Oh, Deb, I’ve been looking all over for you!” Debra’s scowl deepened when her cousin Belinda, a glorious lavender swatch, made a frontal assault worthy of Patton in the direction of the cash bar. Belinda liked being first to the finish line in the marriage mart and baby derby almost as much as she enjoyed handicapping Debra’s dates.

Debra shook her head. She was sure on a roll. First she’d almost starred in an X-rated appearance in a trampy B movie at Lawyer Logan’s apartment, and now she was tapped as a guest on Belinda Baker’s own version of
Meet the Relatives
.

“I’ll have another.” Debra shoved her empty beer bottle at the bartender.

Belinda gave her an enthusiastic hug. “Deb, I had to tell you, your Logan is just so…so…so…”

“He sure is,” Debra muttered.

“I’ve never met a man as…as…as…”

“Me neither.”

“He’s so full of…of…”

“Isn’t he, though?”

“Where on earth did you find him?”

Debra took a long swig from the bottle the bartender set in front of her, and swiveled to face her cousin. “I happened to look up and there he was.”

“And he was available?”

“As a matter of fact, he’d been on the shelf so long I had to blow the dust off him.” Debra smiled. Now this? This was kind of fun. It was the reason she’d undertaken this faux-fella farce in the first place. She grinned into her drink. Try saying that three times fast.

Belinda’s mouth flew open. “No. You’re not serious. A man like that?”

Debra shrugged.

“But he’s so to-die-for!” Belinda exclaimed. “And an attorney. How on earth did
you
snag him?”

An image of hauling out a rusty old bear trap or a king-size rod like the ones used in deep-sea fishing flashed through Debra’s mind. Despite Debra’s thick skin where her love life was concerned, Belinda’s implication that it required some Wile E. Coyote contraption on Debra’s part to snare someone like Lawyer Logan irritated her more than she cared to admit.

She took another sip of her beer. “I was successful in getting past all the alpha male armor with Logan,” Debra remarked. “I unwrapped him, got him to open up to me.” She giggled, tickled by her jokes to herself.

“I see,” Belinda said, her gaze on Debra’s fraudulent fiancé.

She sure could see, Debra noted. Belinda hadn’t taken her eyes off Logan all evening.

“According to Aunt Alva, Uncle Stu thinks the world of him. She says they spend a lot of time together.”

“Dad does seem to enjoy his company,” Debra agreed, sobering at that admission.

“Grandma Gertie is over the moon for him, and Mom says Aunt Alva’s already poring over bridal magazines, invitations, and flower arrangements.”

Debra felt the noose tighten. Logan’s performance as her significant other over the course of the last several weeks had been Oscar worthy. Her grandmother needed a drool bib whenever Logan was around, and her mother was already picking out posies in the misguided belief that her daughter was about to traipse down the aisle with the son-in-law of Alva’s dreams.

Since her father’s heart attack, Debra had kept her mouth shut about her gag-gift guy’s retail experience and gone along with the crazed bit of fiction her life had become. As a result, Lawyer Logan had wriggled his way into her family’s good graces with the ease of an attorney compiling billable hours. If Debra had been paying his hourly fee for faux fiancé services rendered, she’d be bankrupt from all the time he spent with her family.

Her father, it was clear, had benefited from Logan Alexander’s attention. Stuart Daniels beamed whenever Logan’s name came up in conversation, an occurrence that happened with alarming frequency. It was Debra’s father who had issued the invitation to Logan to accompany the Daniels family to the wedding of a Shaw nephew. Logan had accepted with enthusiasm. Now Debra was left to deal with his overwhelming success and a score of inquisitive, if incredulous, relatives and acquaintances wanting all the gory details surrounding her romance with the supermodel litigator. It was enough to make a person consider taking the veil. If they were Catholic, that is. And if they didn’t mind doing without sex for the rest of their lives. She snorted. As if that would be a dramatic departure from her norm.

“Has he popped the question yet?”

Belinda’s query reinforced the urgency of Debra’s plight. If she didn’t dump Lawyer Logan soon, her mother would have the date set, the church booked, invitations in the mail
and, if it were in her power to do so, a grandbaby on the way. To make matters worse, for all she knew, at any given moment,
poof!
Lawyer Logan could just vanish into her fevered imagination from whence he came.

“No, Belinda, there’s been no popping. None at all.”

Belinda shook her head. “Oh, that’s too bad. I know your mother was hoping that this time things would be different, that you had found Mr. Right.”

“So was I,” Debra mused, thinking of that fateful day she’d purchased Lawyer Logan. “So was I.” She drained her bottle and pushed it toward the bartender with a nod. His eyebrows lifted, but he unscrewed another beer and set it in front of her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink before, Debra,” Belinda said, an eye on the bottle Debra raised to her lips. “I guess I always thought of you as a teetotaler.”

Teetotaler? Right. More like party pooper
, Debra thought. And she wasn’t much of a drinker. She’d never cared that much for the taste of beer, or for any other alcoholic beverage, for that matter. And the miser in her thought it was rather dumb to waste money on something you didn’t like that, if consumed in sufficient quantity, impaired your judgment and reaction time, and had the propensity to make you sad or silly, combative or ill, depending on how it affected you.

“I don’t normally drink,” Debra acknowledged. “But there isn’t a bloody thing normal about my life at present, so I’m making an exception.”

Belinda put a hand on Debra’s shoulder. “I know it can’t be easy watching yet another younger cousin make it down the aisle ahead of you.” She sighed. “I don’t blame you for wanting to numb the pain.”

Debra saluted her cousin with the bottle. “Pain? Hardly. I’m celebrating. I’m toasting the fact that I’m not the one being fitted with a choke chain,” she asserted, her voice high and shrill due to her unaccustomed and generous imbibing.

Belinda patted her shoulder. “Of course you are,” she said.

Debra flung Belinda’s arm away. “Don’t patronize me, cuz. I’m not sure, but I think I may be one of those unfortunate people who like to fight when they drink.”

Belinda’s eyes grew wide. Despite the amount of alcohol she had consumed, Debra wasn’t yet tipsy enough not to feel the teeniest twinge of guilt for her remark. To remedy that, she promptly turned back to the bartender.

“I’d like a fuzzy navel, please,” she said, draining her beer bottle.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’d like a fuzzy navel, please.”

“A fuzzy navel?” Debra jumped when warm breath fanned her ear. “That’s not a sought-after look on a woman, my dear,” Lawyer Logan teased.

“Very funny,” Debra said. “Have you met my cousin Belinda?” She gestured toward Belinda, who was busy ogling Lawyer Logan up close and personal. “Belinda Baker, meet Lawyer Logan Alexander, a man too good to be true.”

Belinda grabbed Logan’s hand. “We’re all so happy to meet you, Logan. You can’t imagine how happy we are. You can’t imagine. We’d about given up on dear old Debra here. You wouldn’t believe some of the losers she’s brought to family functions over the years. Real lame-os. Remember that pharmacist with the annoying twitch you brought to Gram’s seventy-fifth birthday party?”

The sour look Debra gave her cousin wasn’t the result of her first taste of her fuzzy navel. “Your mother set me up with him, Belinda,” Debra reminded her. “And it wasn’t a twitch; it was more like a grand mal seizure.”

Logan laughed. With his chest pressed up against Debra’s back, she could feel every breath he took, every beat of his heart against her skin. She moved closer to the bar.

“Is that your idea of bellying up to the bar, Debra?” he whispered in her ear.

“It’s my idea of maintaining a safe distance,” she replied.

“You worried about me following too close?” he teased.

“I’m worried about being rear-ended,” Debra quipped.

Logan raised his head and laughed again, drawing the attention of many in the room.

Debra’s mother smiled and nodded. Debra’s father slapped her brother, Tom, on the back. And Debra’s grandmother, Gee Gee? Debra’s eyes narrowed. That had better be straight orange juice she raised in Debra’s direction.

“Debra and I were just discussing weddings, Logan,” Belinda remarked. Debra took another sip of her drink and pulled a face. So, they were back to that subject. “I love weddings. How about you?”

“To be quite honest, I’ve never given it much thought one way or another,” Logan said. “Until lately, that is.”

Debra stiffened, praying Belinda would change the subject.
Fat chance
.

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen a lot of friends get married over the years, then get divorced. I’ve practiced family law and seen couple after couple untie the knot with acrimony, anger, and, even worse, apathy. To tell you the truth, I was cynical about the institution until I met Debra,” Logan said.

“You’re saying that meeting Debra changed your opinion of marriage?” Belinda asked, almost salivating at the thought that she might be getting an exclusive on the upcoming nuptials. “How romantic.”

“How ridiculous,” Debra muttered into her glass.

“Debra taught me that good things come to those who wait,” Logan continued, ignoring her comment. “And I’ve been waiting a long time for Debra to come along and grab little old me off the shelf and take me home.”

Debra’s drink stuck in her throat, and she spit fuzzy navel across the bar. She turned to stare at Logan.

“You look pale, Debra. Are you ill?” He took the glass from her.

She shook her head, finding herself searching his face for clues to the complex riddle he represented. “Are you for real?” she whispered. “Or a figment of my imagination? How did you get here? Who sent you?”

Logan took hold of her arm. “Excuse us, Belinda,” he said, guiding Debra to the dance floor, “but that’s our song they’re playing.”

Debra allowed herself to be drawn out on the dance floor and into Logan’s arms, straining to catch the tune that was playing. Her feet faltered when she recognized the lyrics requesting that Mr. Sandman bring someone a dream.

Debra rolled her eyes heavenward. “Oh, please!”

Lawyer Logan grinned down at her and drew her resisting body to his. He cocked his head toward her family’s table. “Your father is watching, Debra. He’s been grinning from ear to ear all evening and looking better than he has in some time. You wouldn’t want to upset him by having a lovers’ spat out here on the dance floor in front of God and everybody, would you? Doctor’s orders, remember.”

“My father can’t see my face,” Debra said, and stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her eyes.

“No, but your dear old grandmother can. If I’m not mistaken, that’s her tripping the light fantastic with the groom over my left shoulder, so you’d better pin on your most dazzling smile.”

“Bite me,” Debra said through the brittle grin she pasted on.

“With pleasure,” Lawyer Logan responded, and before she could react he brought her wrist to his lips and took a gentle nip of the soft flesh of her arm.

Debra couldn’t suppress the shiver that swept through her. “Stop that!” she hissed.

“Don’t they make such a darling couple, Barry?” Debra’s grandmother had maneuvered Debra’s cousin alongside them. “I was telling Barry here how much we all adore your Logan, Debra, dear,” Gertrude Shaw exclaimed. “Why, Tom’s boys think he’s the greatest thing since the WWF!”

Logan smiled. “That’s high praise, Gertrude. I know how much the boys like wrestling.”

Debra gave Logan a surprised look. “And how would you know that?” she asked.

“The boys were watching it when I picked Tom up for tennis the other day.”

“You played tennis with Tom?”

Logan nodded. “I attempted to. He whooped me. He’s a fine player.”

“You played tennis with my brother?”

“Debra, dear, you sound like that dreadful repeating parrot toy I bought the boys several years ago,” her grandmother pointed out. “And shouldn’t he be playing tennis with Thomas?” she asked.

“No!” Debra said. “Absolutely not!”

Her grandmother stopped dancing. “Why ever not?”

“Because…because…because he’s dangerous!” Debra sputtered. “That’s why!”

Her grandmother gasped. She looked at Debra, then at Logan.

“Dangerous? Thomas, dangerous? That’s absurd!”

“Not Tom, Gee Gee!” She pointed to Logan. “Him!”

Logan shrugged. “I throw my racket,” he said, getting a sheepish look.

“He’s unrelenting!” Debra asserted.

“I attack the net,” Logan translated.

“He’s obsessively per sis tent!”

“I never give up.”

“First he’s one place, Gee Gee, then boom! He shows up somewhere else!”

“Fancy footwork,” Logan said.

“He keeps coming at you over and over and over again, and just when you think you’ve got him out of the picture— he’s back!”

“I’m all over the court.”

Debra’s grandmother looked as if she were watching a tennis match in progress herself. Her head moved back and forth between Debra and Logan.