Wish Upon a Christmas Star

“Ordered you? That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not good,” she confessed. “Her exact words were something like, ‘No way in hell am I talking to him.’”

Logan winced. He should have anticipated that. The days were long gone when Maria would jump into his arms and kiss him whenever more than twenty-four hours went by without them seeing each other.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Annalise said. “Maria doesn’t want to talk to me about this, either. She hasn’t changed, you know. She’s still hardheaded when she makes up her mind about something.”

Logan cleared his throat, preparing to ask the question that had been uppermost in his mind since Annalise had phoned him. “Does she really believe Mike’s alive?”

His voice broke on Mike’s name. Logan hadn’t spoken the youngest DiMarco’s name aloud in years. He’d thought about him, though, especially when the anniversary of 9/11 rolled around. On those dates, Logan was consumed by memories of Mike DiMarco.

A teenage couple entered the restaurant hand in hand, their eyes locked on each other, the corners of their mouths lifted in smiles. It wasn’t only the girl’s long, straight black hair that reminded Logan of Maria. It was the way she looked at her boyfriend.

“She’s a private investigator,” Annalise said. “She has to know there could be another explanation. And the way she was talking, it sounds like she’s leaning that way.”

He nodded once, fully understanding why Annalise had phoned him. Mike DiMarco was dead. Period. Nothing but pain lay ahead for Maria if she let herself believe otherwise.

“Okay. I’ll do my best to convince her she’s on the wrong track.” He swept a hand to indicate Annalise should precede him into the dining room, where the young couple was following a hostess to a table. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Oh, I’m not going back in there.” Annalise walked past him to the coat rack and rummaged through a number of winter garments before pulling out a black leather one. “I left my jacket over here so I could sneak out.”

Everything inside Logan went still. “Maria won’t like that.”

“Maria hasn’t liked anything I’ve said to her for the past hour,” her sister said. “She wouldn’t have come to dinner if she hadn’t promised to treat me. If I stay, it’ll seem like we’re ganging up on her.”

“If you go,” Logan said slowly, “I won’t like it, either.”

“Thanks for coming to help out,” Annalise said, shrugging into her jacket, which looked too thin to keep her warm. She headed for the exit but turned before she reached it. “Almost forgot to tell you, I drove. Maria’s car is at her office. You can take her back, right? Thanks!”

She whirled and fled, leaving Logan to gather his courage for a conversation he should have had in the aftermath of the terrorist attack.

There was something about that day he’d never told anybody, something that had been eating at him ever since.

If the information would help Maria, it was time he got it off his chest, even if it made her dislike him more than she already did.

* * *

ANNALISE WAS TAKING AN awfully long time in the restroom. If Maria had insisted on them both driving, she could have jotted down an apology on a napkin and sneaked out.

She regretted coming to dinner at all. She itched to be at the computer, squaring away her flight, or on the phone working the case instead of listening to Annalise tell her not to go to Key West.

At least she’d gotten it through her sister’s thick skull that she had no intention of meeting with Logan Collier.

The text tone on her cell phone buzzed. She rummaged through her voluminous leather purse on her lap, annoyed at herself for not putting the phone in the zippered compartment. The text was from Annalise and consisted of one word: Sorry.

“Hello, Maria.”

Logan. She jerked her gaze from her sister’s apologetic text to the man she’d once loved with her whole heart. The breath left her, exactly as if she’d been punched in the stomach.

He wasn’t quite six feet tall yet seemed taller because of his excellent posture. He was nearly as lean as he’d been as a teenager but more muscular. His thick brown hair was shorter, although it still sprang back from his forehead and the strands at his nape still curled. Age lent his regular features character and added fine lines that bracketed the hazel eyes she’d always thought were so pretty.

Maria had to consciously tell herself to stop staring and start breathing again. “Hello, Logan.”

“Mind if I join you?” He nodded to the chair Annalise had vacated after their waitress had cleared away the dinner dishes. Despite the apologetic text, Maria didn’t want to believe her sister had cut out on her.

“Annalise is sitting there,” she said.

“Was sitting there,” he corrected. “She’s gone.”

“I can’t believe it.” Maria shook her head as it sank in that her sister had abandoned her. “I told her I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“For the record, I thought you knew I was coming.” He indicated the chair again. “So can I sit down? You might want to say yes, because I’m your ride.”

Maria’s pulse skittered. It was all her sister’s fault. Annalise was going to pay.

“By all means.” She worked on composing herself while he took off his black wool car coat. Underneath he wore a burgundy long-sleeved shirt that made him appear vibrant and engaging. He settled across from her.

Before either of them could say a word, their young blonde waitress arrived with two cups of coffee and two slices of chocolate cheesecake. Annalise had remarked earlier in the evening that the girl looked as if she was having a bad day. Not anymore. A smile stretched across her pretty face.

“Well, hello there,” she said to Logan. “You must have just arrived. I couldn’t have missed you.”

“You’re right. I just got here.” One corner of Logan’s mouth lifted in a way that used to make Maria melt when they were teenagers.

The half smile appeared to have the same effect on the waitress. It had been that way in the old days, too. Females found Logan attractive. Maria had always thought it was because he didn’t seem to realize exactly how good-looking he was.

“My sister left,” Maria announced to get the waitress’s attention. “We won’t be having dessert and coffee, after all.”

“Are you sure?” She tilted her head and chewed her bottom lip. “I’m not certain I can take them back. You did order them.”

“Then just leave everything on the table,” Logan said. “We’ll be here for a little while longer.”

“Great!” Her enthusiasm was out of proportion to the situation. “Hope you enjoy!”

“Didn’t mean to step on your toes there, but she doesn’t seem real experienced,” he said when the waitress was gone. “Besides, I can always go for a piece of cheesecake.”

He’d always had a sweet tooth. In high school, when they were dating, Maria used to make it a point to have home-baked chocolate chip cookies on hand when they studied together at her house.

“By all means, dig in,” she said.

He took a bite of cheesecake, and her eyes arrowed straight to his mouth. With lips that were slightly full for a man’s, he had a gorgeous one. She shifted in her seat, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. They hadn’t been alone since they’d broken up, senior year of high school. In all that time, she’d seen him only once, at her brother’s memorial service. If, that is, she didn’t count the time she’d spotted him at the mall and ducked into a children’s clothing store to avoid him.

“How long are you home for?” she asked.

“Just a few days.” He’d never had much of an accent—most people who lived in the Lexington area didn’t—but any trace of Kentucky in his speech was entirely gone. “My parents are leaving for a cruise on Wednesday and I’ve got to get back to work.”

Ah, work. It defined him. If not for his insistence on going out of state to the University of Michigan to get a master’s degree in business so he could make the almighty buck, they’d still be together.

She’d wanted him to stick closer to home—and to her—by pursuing his dream of becoming a painter at an art school in Louisville. They could have moved into an apartment together, with Maria getting a job that would have paid the rent.