Safe Haven

The light housework gave her a chance to spend much of the morning roaming the big house, duster in hand, peeking behind closed doors, more mystified then ever by the lack of furnishings. All the upstairs bedrooms, except for Logan’s, were empty. The barren rooms made her uneasy. There was a sadness about them, and they made her shiver as if someone had walked over her grave.

Her inspection of Logan’s room told her little about the man other than he was neater than any male she’d ever known. Certainly tidier than her slovenly brother and even her fastidious father. Logan made his bed, picked up his clothes and placed them in the hamper. He even left the bathroom sink sparkling clean.

As she headed downstairs, she realized Logan Monahan didn’t really need anyone to take care of him. Then why was his father so insistent? A more disturbing thought was why had Logan agreed she could stay?

She worried at the edges of the question until something else struck her about what was missing in the house—the usual array of family photographs. The walls and dressertops were bare of pictures, nor were there any belongings or reminders of his wife or child. The house was as impersonal as a hotel. If he was responsible for their deaths, as he said, did that explain it somehow?

Don’t try to figure it out. Mind your own business and don’t get involved. She remembered the warning she’d given herself; she was prepared to follow it as if it was set in stone. With that thought in mind she continued with her morning work.

When she finally stepped into the office, her interest in working for Logan was stirred. Like yesterday, the desk was a chaos of papers, unopened letters and bills. Her eyes actually brightened at the overflowing boxes of files just waiting to be organized. At last her hungry gaze came to rest on the pillar of computer manuals perched rather precariously on the edge of the desk. Yes, she’d enjoy this work, and she’d be good at it.

She inhaled the scent of leather, stale coffee and books—all the essences an office should have. To her the scents were as intoxicating as French perfume. Once, not so long ago, her world had been centered in just such an office, a world of power and position, a world of people who looked up to her and listened to her advice as if she were a goddess. She caressed the top of the monitor as she rounded the desk, and didn’t even mind that her fingers came away dusty. Her heartbeat accelerated as she settled in the big leather chair, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Logan may not need her pitiful domestic talents, but he needed her office help.

The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted her upright. She’d been far away in a daydream of a happier time; she’d thought she could actually smell the leather of her executive chair. She’d have sworn she heard her secretary’s laughter and her father’s deep rumbling voice.

The phone shrilled again and reflexively she picked it up and said, “Yes, Margaret?” She caught herself, then said, “Monahan ranch.” The caller would think she was the village idiot. When there was no answering voice, she repeated her greeting.

Still nothing but silence. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard the distinct sound of fast breathing. She felt a creeping sensation, as if something clammy was crawling over her skin. Inexplicably, she knew this call wasn’t a childish prank, but something more insidious.

Nevertheless, she tried again. “This is the Monahan ranch. Who’s there?” She used an angry tone, hoping to banish her fear that someone already knew about her.

“Hang up.”

The male voice charged with authority didn’t come from the receiver but from the doorway, and three things happened at once. Avery gave an ear-piercing scream. The phone clattered to the floor. And as she jerked to her feet, she knocked the stack of computer books off the corner of the desk.

The stranger filling the doorway clamped his hands over his ears and backed away slightly. “Hey. I’m family.”

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “So do you usually just waltz in without knocking or letting anyone know you’re coming? You scared the living daylights out of me.” He looked a lot like her boss, but was taller—at least six-seven—and whereas Logan was solid and muscular, this man was lean and stringy. She eyed him warily.

“I’m Tanner, darlin’, Logan’s youngest brother. And I’ve never knocked before and don’t intend to start now. You must be Avery—the burr in Jessie’s craw, new grist for the gossip mill and the reason Dad’s walking around with a grin the Cheshire cat would envy. And yes, I use to play pro basketball.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“But you wanted to.”

“No,” she lied, “it never crossed my mind.” He was charming, handsome and obviously having entirely too much fun at her expense. Avery tried to keep him in her line of vision as she began picking up the fallen manuals. “You called yesterday, didn’t you.”

He nodded and grinned. “Yep. I was surprised when Logan the Bear didn’t answer.”

“Logan the Bear?”

Tanner laughed, a delicious sound of pure amusement. “You got it, sweetheart. He has other pet names—as do we all. But that’s for another day. You can see I’m harmless, though, so why don’t you stand up and let me get a good look at you?”

“Harmless” was not a term that fitted this man. His charm, she sensed, could be most dangerous. And where Logan’s eyes were light brown, Tanner’s were black, lively and full of mischief. Even though she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking a dozen questions, one slipped out. “Why did you order me to hang up?”

“It was an obscene call, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “No one said anything.” As she restacked the manuals on the desk, she continued to watch him, but he didn’t seem inclined to do more than drape himself in the doorway. “What makes you think the call was obscene?”

“You were angry. Your cheeks were on fire, and those big gray eyes were kind of iced over.” He straightened. “We’ve all gotten a few of those calls. It seems to go with the territory of being a main topic of conversation in this town. Don’t let them bother you. It’s just kids and their nonsense.”

Avery had always had a kind of radar for trouble. She didn’t know Tanner well enough to tell him her own feelings about the caller. She finished stacking the books, pretending not to see the way he looked her over, but she was painfully aware of the warmth that stained her cheeks. The absurdity of it almost made her smile. She’d blushed more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the past five years, all brought on by Monahan men.

“Where’s Logan, by the way?” Tanner glanced at his watch. “It’s a bit early, but my stomach tells me it’s lunchtime.”

“Damn,” Avery said as she rounded the desk and almost knocked the books off again. “I forgot about lunch.” Tanner didn’t move and she was forced to stand and wait.

“Let me ring the barn,” Tanner said. “That’s where he spends most of his time—where he hides from the world.”

Tanner stepped around her, picked up the phone and punched in a number. He gave her a wink. “Don’t worry about lunch. I’ll fix it.” He stopped her protest by motioning for her to be silent. “Hey, Logan. How about coming up to the house? I’m starving.”

Tanner knew the kitchen far better than she did. She realized all too quickly she was only in his way. Finally, after they’d bumped into each other twice, he guided her to a chair and gently but firmly pushed her into it. All she could do was watch as he gathered items from the refrigerator and set to work. What Logan would think when he saw his brother taking over her duties, she couldn’t say. She decided the best thing to do, however, was keep her mouth shut and be still.

“Have you ever had a grilled cheese sandwich Texas-style?”

Avery shook her head, amused and a little miffed at just how efficiently Tanner moved around the kitchen.

“You’re in for a treat. Mind you, it’s not often I make these for anyone but Logan. So don’t get any ideas about making them yourself just because it’s my brother’s favorite meal.”

She grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.”

She kept a straight face, though she had to work at it, as he pulled a loaf of bread from the freezer, then held it close to his body as if trying to keep Avery from seeing it. Then she realized why. He was thawing it just enough to separate the extra-thick slices.

Just as Tanner was carving slabs off a block of cheese, Logan walked in. Avery had been so captivated and amused by Tanner’s running dialogue about everything and nothing that she’d forgotten to keep her guard up. Logan’s eyes found hers and held her gaze for a long moment, as if searching for an answer to something. She was the first to look away.

Logan hung his Stetson on the hat rack, and his gaze shifted to Tanner, who was busy at the counter. “I see you’ve met Peewee.”

Avery felt more than saw Tanner bristle at the name, and didn’t know whether to move out of the way or laugh when he carelessly tossed a wrapped stick of butter at Logan.

Logan plucked the butter smoothly from the air, unwrapped it and handed it back to Tanner.

“I hope you’ve washed your hands,” Tanner said, then glanced at Avery, his black eyes dancing with laughter. “You do know that half the time a vet is up to his elbows in—”

“Mind your manners, little brother, at least until she knows you better.” Logan opened a cabinet, pulled out a blender, then looked at Avery. “We tend to make chocolate malts at lunchtime—especially for washing down Tanner’s clunkers—so you’d best get the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. There’s a jar of malt in the pantry.”

And that was how it started—Logan and Tanner treating her as if they’d known her for years, sending her scurrying around the kitchen fetching, carrying and measuring while Tanner explained the highlights of his methods for making the “world’s best” Texas-style grilled cheese sandwiches. Logan, too, was diligent about explaining the art of concocting his “prizewinning” extra-thick malts. Of course, both explanations were going on at the same time, and any questions she might have asked were hopelessly lost in the cacophony.

At last the meal was ready. She picked up half of her monster sandwich and raised it to her mouth, then paused. The brothers waited, their amused gazes on her. She realized they were waiting for her praise. She eyed Tanner, then Logan over the top, deliberately stretching out the moment.

“I can feel my arteries clogging already.” she said.

Finally she took a bite. Logan and Tanner leaned forward as warm soft cheese oozed from the sides of the crispy-brown toast. Avery closed her eyes and slowly chewed. She swallowed and looked at Tanner. “Bigger is better,” she said with a smile. She meant it. The sandwich was wonderful.

“Now try the malt,” Logan urged.

She wiped her greasy fingers on her napkin, reached for the frosty glass and took a huge gulp. It was thick and entirely too cold. Immediately she paid for her gluttony, but even though a knife-sharp pain shot through her head, she grinned and managed a hoarse, “Heavenly.”