Confidential: Expecting! (10 page)

She was impressed with the fare and utterly awed by the affection she’d witnessed. With her deadbeat dad and bitter mom, she’d forgotten families could be like this: warm and close. Would her baby be so lucky?

“Your folks are really great,” she told Logan as they walked hand in hand to his car. “And the rest of your family.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me. I even like my kid sister most of the time.”

“Come on, you love her.”

He shrugged. “That goes without saying. We’re family.”

“No, it doesn’t go without saying,” Mallory objected, thinking of her father. “Love isn’t automatic just because you’re related to someone.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Half a dozen times tonight, I found myself thinking how lucky you are. I hope you know it.”

“I do. I’m sorry about your dad, Mallory. Sorry not only for what he missed when you were young, but what he’s missing out on now.” They had arrived at his car and now stood at the passenger door. Instead of reaching for the handle, Logan reached for her. “You’re an amazing woman,” he whispered into her hair.

If she hadn’t already known she was in love with him, she would have figured it out then and there. She still wasn’t sure what to do about her emotions or where their relationship was heading, but she knew one thing for certain. She and Logan needed to talk.

L
OGAN
sat pitched forward on Mallory’s couch, his right foot tapping on the polished hardwood floor as he waited for her to return from the kitchen, where she was getting them both a beverage.

Something was up.

He’d gotten that feeling on and off all evening. He might have attributed it to meeting his family or the awkwardness of his sister’s questioning, but Mallory had been acting odd even before they arrived at the restaurant. And then on the way home she’d uttered the words that no man wanted to hear: “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He’d narrowed her bombshell—and he didn’t doubt what she was gearing up to tell him was going to rock him back on his heels—to one of two things. She was either preparing to tell him she didn’t want to see him anymore or she was going to tell him she was falling in love with him.

Logically, neither was a stretch. She’d met his entire family tonight. Things were getting serious between the
two of them, which might just scare Mallory enough to make her cut and run. Or it might just give her the courage to declare the depth of her feelings for him.

Either possibility had his mouth going dry.

Logan didn’t want to lose Mallory. He might not be ready for what was happening between them, but he wasn’t a fool. These past couple of months with her had been nothing short of incredible. She had reawakened in him feelings he’d denied for a long time. But love? It was a big word that tended to lead to an even bigger commitment, one he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to make again.

“Here’s your wine,” she said, smiling nervously when she returned. He noticed that she’d stuck with water. Keeping a clear head?

She handed him his glass and set hers on the end table. Before sitting next to him on the couch, she slipped off her shoes and tucked her bare feet up under herself. Even so she looked anything but relaxed.

He sipped his wine and waited. It was a moment before she broke the silence. When she did, it was with the benign comment: “I really enjoyed myself tonight.”

“Good. I’m glad. I did, too.”

“Do you get guys together often? As a family, I mean?”

Even as he wondered where the conversation was heading, he nodded. “Not as often as my mom would like since we’re pretty busy these days. But we aim for Sunday dinner at my folks’ house at least once a month.”

“Who does the cooking?” She cocked her head to one
side and her expression verged on wistful. It was a sight to behold considering mere weeks ago
jaded
was an adjective his agent had used to describe Mallory.

“My mom, although she puts us all to work in the kitchen when she needs help.”

“Even your dad?”

“Especially my dad.” He laughed.

“That’s nice.” She smiled and reached for her water. “I have a confession to make.” Uh-oh. Here we go. “I thought that since your folks are well-to-do they would have live-in help.”

Okay, that wasn’t exactly the confession Logan was expecting Mallory to make. He relaxed a little. Thinking about his family tended to have that effect. “When I was a kid we had a housekeeper who came in once a week, but generally speaking my mom prefers to do the cooking and what she calls ‘homemaking.’” This time his smile was wistful. “My mom is proof there’s a real art to keeping a nice and well-ordered home, raising children and arranging schedules to maximize together time.”

“Did she ever work outside the home?”

He nodded. “She still does, after she retired from an accounting job she started volunteering at the Clearwater Project.”

“I’ve heard of that. It promotes environmental responsibility, right?”

“Yes. My mom’s new favorite color is green.” Because their conversation was taking on the characteristics of an interview, he decided to ask some ques
tions of his own. “What about your mom? What does she do?”

Mallory’s expression was no longer wistful. “Well, she was the quintessential stay-at-home mother before the divorce. She used to bake cakes from scratch. She was a regular Martha Stewart but without the entrepreneurial flair. She was pretty meticulous about the house being clean, things being orderly.

“I used to think that was why my dad worked late so often. He didn’t want to be nagged about where he’d taken off his shoes or how he’d forgotten to hang up his clothes.” She shook her head and he wondered if she knew how sad she looked when she added, “It turned out he was spending his evenings with someone who didn’t care in the least that he left his clothes on the bedroom floor.”

“Sorry.” He’d said that already once tonight in reference to her father.

She shook her head now. “I understand why my dad stepped out. It was wrong and I’m not making any excuses for his behavior, but I understand. What I don’t understand is that my mom knew and she put up with it. Ultimately, he was the one who had to file for divorce.”

“It sounds like financially it made sense for her to stay in the relationship, even though it wasn’t a good one.”

“I know, but—” Mallory shrugged “—my last boyfriend cheated on me. It was over as soon as I found out. I didn’t wait for explanations. I didn’t want any.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” he agreed.

“I know about your fiancée.”

Logan hadn’t seen that coming. Was this what she wanted to talk about? His tone cautious, he asked, “What do you know?”

“That the two of you were engaged to be married a decade ago, and a fall wedding was planned. Felicia married someone else, though.”

“Did my mom tell you that the one time I excused myself to go to the men’s room?”

Mallory’s expression turned sheepish. “No. I did some digging on my own. It was just after you’d invited me onboard your sailboat the first time.”

Mere weeks ago and yet it seemed an eternity.

“I see,” he said evenly, though his blood pressure began to rise and his heart to sink.

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“You wanted a story.” This time his tone wasn’t even. It was crisp with anger—directed at her, but mostly at himself. How many times had his agent warned him that’s what Mallory was after? Yet he’d trod boldly ahead. At first he’d claimed he knew what he was doing: keeping enemies closer than friends and all that baloney. Then, as things between Mallory and him had shifted, deepened, he’d insisted to himself that she wouldn’t use him, she wouldn’t betray him.

Well, he was paying for his hubris now. He sighed inwardly, felt the knife of disappointment pierce him. Had he really thought he could separate the woman
from her profession? Especially knowing how important her job was to her.

He didn’t really care that his broken engagement could become public knowledge. Let all of Chicago read about it and snicker over how he’d been played for a fool. What bothered him now was the fact that Mallory had dated him, slept with him, claimed the things he told her were off the record when apparently she’d considered him a story all along.

“Logan—”

He swore richly, cutting off her words. “Is that the best you could do?” he demanded. “You mentioned tonight that you’re trying to get out of the doghouse at the newspaper. I doubt this is the type of story that is going to help you much. My ex-fiancée tossed me over for another guy.” He shrugged, even though at one point that fact had all but lanced his soul. “I’m hardly the first man to suffer a broken heart.”

“I’m sorry.”

Logan finished off his wine and set the glass aside before rising to his feet. “What did you do to find that out? Run my name through a data base or something?”

“Nothing that high-tech. I just had to weed through some old newspaper clippings.”

He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, concealing clenched fists. His tone was mild when he said, “That sounds time consuming.”

“It took a few days.”

“What made you look in the first place?”

Mallory shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seemed, well, too perfect to be single.”

“That’s an interesting comment.”

“Interesting or not, it’s true.”

“So you couldn’t resist,” he replied.

“I—”

“Don’t get me wrong. What man doesn’t want to be irresistible? It’s just I’d prefer to be considered such for different reasons. But then you are a
reporter.”
He spat out the word. “So…what? You put two and two together when you didn’t find a wedding announcement?”

“Yes.” Mallory cleared her throat and clarified, “Well, not for you.”

“Ah.” Turning away, he pulled his hands from his pockets and shoved the hair back from his forehead. He’d never felt this angry or this exposed. His voice was deceptively calm when he said, “You found the announcement for Felicia and what’s his name?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured again.

Logan wasn’t sure if Mallory was apologizing for snooping into his past or for the heartache he’d experienced at the hands of his ex—a heartache that felt minor in comparison to what he was feeling right now. He couldn’t believe that once again he’d fallen for a beautiful woman’s lies.

He was older now, wiser. Or so he’d thought. In addition to feeling betrayed, he felt like an absolute idiot. Usually he was insightful, astute. He was a trained professional with a degree that had taken him years to
earn. It didn’t sit well to learn that he had a blind spot a mile wide where Mallory was concerned.

When she’d told him they needed to talk, Logan hadn’t seen this particular revelation coming. He’d worried over endings or possible new beginnings when apparently all she’d wanted was a damned interview.

Well, he’d give her one.

“So, what now?” It took an effort to keep all of the bitterness from leaching into his tone. “What else do you need to know to turn this rather mundane piece you’re working on into something juicy?”

“It’s not a story.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” he agreed calmly. “You’ve got to throw in the stuff about me questioning my current career path, and the information about my television show contract will spice things up, too.”

“Both of those things were said off the record,” she replied, looking bewildered.

“We didn’t agree to that till the revelations had been made. I’m sure that’s some sort of loophole in your favor.”

“Logan—”

He glanced away, determined not to be swayed. “Do you need a quote from me?”

“No. No!” she shouted and rose to her feet. He gave her points for looking both sincere and outraged. “I’m not asking for a damned quote, Logan.”

Far from feeling relieved when she shared this news, he braced for the worst. “Is that because you already have one? Have you been in touch with my agent?”

Nina was going to read him the riot act if Mallory had called her.

“No.”

“Felicia or her family then?” That possibility had his gut clenching.

“I haven’t spoken to Felicia.”

“Well, sorry, but I can’t help you there. She left town not long after she married and she never gave me a forwarding address. I have no idea where she lives these days, and I haven’t been in touch with her family to ask.” He raised his brows and waited a beat before adding, “For obvious reasons.”

“Actually, I know where Felicia is.”

Mallory’s bold pronouncement cut through his sarcasm with the force and effectiveness of a machete blade. Afterward, he felt laid bare.

“You…you know where…where Felicia…. Of course you do.” He laughed humorlessly as he collected himself and then shook a finger in her direction. “Pit bull. Right. How could I forget?”

Mallory winced. Once upon a time she had relished that description. Hell, she’d gone out of her way to foster it. But she was ashamed of it now. Just as she was haunted by the way Logan was looking at her, even though a hundred other people whom she’d interviewed for stories for the newspaper during her career had looked at her in the exact same way: with utter contempt.

In the past she hadn’t cared in the least. What did their opinions of her matter? Some of them—for that
matter, most of them—were only getting exactly what they deserved. Their dirty little secrets deserved to be exposed and the public was better off for it. Right now, though, nothing—and certainly not a story—was as important as making Logan understand. He had to believe her. He had to trust her.

He had to
forgive
her. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t, how was she going to tell him about the baby?

“I know where Felicia is, but I haven’t contacted her.”

“Yet.”

“Don’t, Logan. I’ve finally decided to stop selling myself short. Don’t you start now.” When so much was at stake. “I have no intention of calling Felicia for a quote or anything else.”

He said nothing, but the rigid set of his shoulders told Mallory that he didn’t quite believe her. She reached out a hand to him, but he was too far away to touch…physically as well as emotionally. The heart she’d worked so hard to gird from breaking suffered its first fissures and began to ache.

She pressed ahead. “Weren’t you listening tonight at the restaurant when I told you that I wouldn’t be writing any stories where you’re concerned? I meant it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I think you know.”

“Spell it out, Mallory.” His tone was barely above a whisper as he made the command. “Be clear.”

“There are a few reasons. One is that doing so would be a conflict of interest.”

His brow wrinkled as he studied her, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “A conflict of interest? How so?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I said to be clear,” he reminded her, though neither his tone nor his stance was quite as rigid as it had been just a moment earlier.

“I…I…” It was a big word for an even bigger emotion. She took a tentative step in his direction, gathering her courage when he didn’t back away. “I love you, Logan.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but he blinked a couple of times and swallowed. She was pretty sure she’d thrown him with that revelation, and even though she wanted to hear him say it in return—God, how she wanted that—it wasn’t fair to put him on the spot.

“I’m not expecting you to say anything right now. I just…” She clasped and unclasped her hands. “I just wanted you to know.”