Celebration (31 page)

Fear was a terrible thing.

Fear was something he'd never really experienced before.

He felt it now.

 

 

The spandex dress was so tight, Logan wondered how she moved. He risked a glance at his watch: 9:57. Right on schedule. He wondered why the thought didn't please him. “I wasn't sure you'd come. You didn't seem interested.”

“You're very brazen. I like that. I love taking risks. It makes it so much more exciting. I love excitement.”

“You remind me of a sleek alley cat,” Logan said.

“You remind me of a tomcat on the prowl. I hope you're worth sit,” Maureen said as she started to remove her jewelry.

“What if your husband wakes up? Will anyone come looking for you?”

“Hardly. That's why we have a nurse. Stedman won't wake until eight tomorrow morning. I will make sure I am in my bed at that time. I don't get up until he's been made ready for the day. It's a depressing business.”

“I bet it is,” Logan said as he yanked off his Rolex. “Do you do this often?” he asked.

“Every chance I get, which isn't often enough. You do have protection, don't you? One can't be too careful these days. ”

“Of course.” Like he really wanted to pick up some horrible venereal disease or, worse yet, AIDS.

“Then let's get to it. I have until seven tomorrow morning.”

Logan wasn't sure why he felt put off by her words. His face must have given something away. Maureen was half–crouched over, undoing the buckle on one of her spike-heeled shoes. “Having second thoughts?”

“No. Most women aren't so ... blunt.”

“I'm not most women as you will find out. I came here to have sex with you. You gave me your card key because you wanted to have sex with me. You're here, I'm here, so let's get to it.”

The erection Logan had moments earlier was a spongy mess in his shorts. “Let's have some champagne first.”

“Is that your way of saying you can't get it up, and I'm going to have to work for it? If that's the case, it might be better if I leave right now.”

“That is not the case. I will admit to one thing. I haven't been with a woman in a while. I had a seduction planned. It's that simple. There's more to sex than in and out. That's what rabbits do. Obviously, you aren't too choosy about your bed partners, while I—on the other hand—am choosy. Show me what you have going for you while I pour the wine.”

“If we're going to do show-and-tell, I'd like to see your merchandise. We can take it from there. That whipped cream really isn't for the strawberries, is it?”

“No, it isn't.”

“That's an awful lot of whipped cream,” Maureen said.

“Yes, it is.”

She looked every bit as good as he thought she would. Her breasts were high and firm, her waist tiny, her thighs hard and muscular. His dick shot straight in the air.

“Bravo!” Maureen said, clapping her hands. “Lick me all over,” she said, grabbing a handful of the whipped cream to rub on her breasts and belly.

“Save some for me,” Logan managed to croak.

“What's your feeling on blueberry syrup?” She giggled.

“Pretty sticky mess if you want my opinion,” Logan gasped.

“The best is lick-off chocolate cream. I order it by the case.”

“Jesus.”

“Next time we'll use it,” Maureen said.

Logan, his face mashed between Maureen's breasts, managed to say, “Is there going to be a next time?”

“You said you were going to be in town for a month. So are we.” She moaned as Logan's tongue worked its way downward. Logan managed to reach for one of the luscious strawberries and jammed it in her mouth. She spit it out. “I'd rather suck other things.”

“Then do it!”

She did.

 

 

Maureen pulled the spandex dress over her head and smoothed it down over her hips. “You were real good, lover. So, shall we do it again?”

“I'll call you. It's not like I'm going to be here in this hotel twenty-four hours a day. I told you, I'm here on business. That means I have to entertain and be entertained. I've got the whole state of Virginia to cover. At last count there were over a thousand travel agencies to meet with,” he lied smoothly. “There's voice mail here, so leave me a message and I'll get back to you.”

“You're making this sound like an ...
arrangement
,” Maureen said.

“That's exactly what it is. You're married,” Logan said, virtue ringing in his voice. “Just how sick is your husband?”

“He was supposed to be dead three years ago,” Maureen snapped. “Not long, to answer your question.”

“Then what will you do?” Logan asked. “Are you sure you're going to be provided for when the end comes.”

“That's all been taken care of. We settled things before we got married. I get everything. Why do you ask?” Maureen snapped again.

“I'd hate to think you were screwing me for my money.”

“Fat chance. I'll probably inherit more money than you could earn in your safari business in ten lifetimes. Maybe fifty lifetimes.”

“Inherit, Maureen. That's the keyword. Your husband could hang on for another five years.”

“So?”

“So nothing. I just protect my interests. Just don't be so sure you have more money than I do. That's all I'm trying to say. I like things out in the open from the git-go.”

“Consider it out in the open. If you call me and leave a message, say you're Harry Winston the jeweler. Stedman never answers the phone, but the nurse does, and she tells him everything. It was a great night. Have a Merry Christmas.”

“You too.”

Logan waited until the door closed before he got up to engage the security lock. He needed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before he was ready to return to his wife and children.

Right on schedule, Logan rolled off the bed onto the floor. He snapped to wakefulness as he eyed the messy room.

Lust was a terrible thing.

Ninety minutes later, the room was tidy, the cart with the remainder of the flat champagne, the wilted strawberries, and the empty container of whipped cream was in the hallway. He was showered, shaved, dressed, reading the day's edition of
USA Today
and sipping strong black coffee. Later he would go downstairs for a full breakfast. For the moment he was content to relax with his coffee and paper and plan his trip to the farm.

Logan's mind drifted over the financial section of the paper until he remembered he was going to call the library to see what he could find out about Stedman Clovis. When he hung up the phone his eyes glittered. One woman with all that money. It was almost impossible to comprehend.

Because the phone was still in his hand. Logan pressed the numbers to Maureen's suite. He held his breath as her voice came over the wire. “I just wanted to thank you for a memorable night. I thought about sending you flowers but decided that might be suspect. I've been working on my schedule for the week after Christmas. If you're amenable, I'd like to take you to dinner and perhaps a little dancing. I'm a romantic, what can I say.”

“I'd love to see the bracelet. Perhaps we can arrange something between Christmas and New Year's. I'll speak to Stedman. You know I never buy anything without his approval. I'm sure we can work out a convenient time. If you're willing to come to the hotel, that's even better. This way Stedman can be with us. Perhaps luncheon. Thank you so much for calling. I look forward to meeting with you.”

“I do too, baby.”

The smirk stayed on Logan's face until he finished reading the paper from front to back. He even read his horoscope:
You are in the catbird seat today.

He really was.

Logan opened the drapes to a world that was so white it was blinding. What was this going to do to his trip to Leesburg? Damn, he should have thought about the snow. He did his best to peer out the sides of the window to try and gauge the amount of snow on the ground. A lot. No limo driver would chance this.
Where in the hell am I going to get a four-wheel drive on Christmas Eve? Goddamn it, why didn't I turn on the television?

A minute later he had the phone book in his hand and open to the yellow pages. His voice was frantic even to his own ears when he dialed one car dealer after another. He blurted out his needs for the fifth time before he sighed with relief. Yes, a Ford Bronco could be delivered within three hours. Tuned, gassed, and ready to go.

Logan hung up the phone.
I guess this is part of being in the catbird seat,
he thought smugly.
Oh, yeah.

Locking in some, if not all of Maureen's money for his next venture did bear thinking about. A billion-dollar luxury resort on an island, maybe Peter Island, a fantasy resort for wealthy people like Stedman Clovis, who wanted the finest life had to offer. He knew if he hired the right people he could be the finest hotelier in the world. Ocean frontage, golf course, pools, waterfalls, Frett Sheets, linen draperies, a five-star chef. He could do it. All he needed was bushels of money. Kristine had money. He had money but not the kind of money needed for such a grand plan. Maureen Clovis would have the kind of money he needed.

Logan wrinkled his brow. The lovely lady wasn't as young as he'd first thought. He'd seen the fine lines, the even finer scars that makeup camouflaged. Traveling all over the world, as she'd done, would allow for some of the best plastic surgeons in their field. Now that he thought about it, he put her age at roughly somewhere near his own. Hands and feet were a dead giveaway when it came to telling one's age. The next go-round of surgery would take its toll. He'd seen it before on some of the generals' wives. Maureen would be one of those women who would go down fighting. She was the type who would have no qualms about going under the knife right up to the time they wheeled her into the mortuary. Vanity would always win out.

Last night he'd given her a run for her money, and she wanted more. Just the way Kristine and Danela wanted more. Too bad he couldn't remember the names of all the other women who had wanted more. Not that it mattered. He needed to map out a strategy where she was concerned. That was okay, too. He knew how to be devious and insidious. He might even hold a degree in both departments. He would have to be careful, though. Maureen Clovis was shrewd. She might even be as insidious and devious as he was. He felt sorry for the old fool who had married her.

He was definitely one lucky son of a bitch. He'd just stepped into this one by pure chance.

She ordered lick-off chocolate cream by the case.

He
loved
chocolate cream.

Kristine woke slowly to savor the warmth of the down comforter. Christmas Eve. The only things missing in her little world right now were Woodie and Tyler. She cracked one eyelid to squint at the clock: 5:30. Time to get up and get her day under way. Breakfast was only an hour away. Pancakes, sausages, bacon, eggs, mountains of toast, warm butter, and syrup, everything her children and Woodie liked. After the cleanup she would start cooking the big Christmas Eve dinner with Woodie's help. It was all so wonderful, this new life of hers.

“What have we here?” Kristine laughed as Gracie and Slick poked their little heads out from under the covers. She cuddled with them as they licked her face with their tiny pink tongues. “It's too cold to get up, but we have to. Listen to me, Gracie, do not, I repeat, do not, go off the porch. The snow is too deep. Stay on the porch and do your business on the paper. Slick, mind Gracie. Okay, go.”

Gracie stared with adoring eyes at her mistress and the stern words she was hearing. “I mean it, Gracie.” The little dog yipped as she leaped off the bed to follow Slick down the steps. Kristine headed for the shower.

She sang under the shower, something she only did when she was happy. She was in the middle of “Jingle Bells” when she remembered her son sleeping down the hall. He probably wouldn't appreciate her good mood at five-thirty in the morning. She hoped she hadn't wakened the baby.

Dressed in a warm fleece-lined sweat suit, Kristine headed downstairs to start her new day. The house started to fill almost immediately. Her granddaughters ran to her, each of them clutching one of her legs as she flipped bacon. Everyone liked extra crisp bacon. She needed to give some thought to getting a microwave oven. She could cook
pounds
in minutes.

Kristine froze when she heard Pete's footsteps on the back porch. “Kristine, Cala, hurry, we have to get the pups up here. The heat went out.”

“What about the kennel?”

“It's out, too. We have to bring the dogs here and to the apartment. Call Woodie. Wake up Mike. Everyone get dressed. This is damn scary, Kristine. We could lose all those pups. I have no idea how long the heat's been off.”

“It was on at two-thirty when I came up to the house. Cala, get Mike down here. I'll call Woodie.”

“What the hell is going on? I'm awake, I'm here. What's wrong?” Mike demanded.

“The heat went off in the barn. We have to bring the pups to the house. We have thirty-six dogs in the kennel. Get dressed. Ask Carol if she'll stay with the girls,” Cala said, shrugging into her heavy jacket.

“Woodie's on his way. If worse comes to worst, we can use his house. He said he'd crank up the heat before he leaves. We just had that heater serviced a month ago. Did you call Reynolds, Pete?” Kristine asked anxiously.

“I didn't have time. Get all the blankets and towels you can carry and fetch them to the barn.”

Kristine raced upstairs, her finger punching out the telephone number of the Reynolds Propane company as she pulled towels and blankets from the linen closet. She dragged the piles to the top of the kitchen stairway and tossed them down. “What do you mean you're closed? This is an emergency. I have over sixty dogs here with no heat. You listen to me, Mr. Reynolds, I don't give a good rat's ass if this is Christmas Eve or not. You get someone out here right now. Obviously you didn't fix the heater when you were here last month. You damn well took my money, though. I'll call the police, the governor, the mayor. I won't stop there either, I'll call the . . . White House. How's that going to look in the papers? I'll give the newspeople that shitty picture of you on your yearly calendar. It will show up real good on the six o'clock news. You just bring every spare part you have in your shop. I don't want to hear any bullshit that you don't have parts or you have to go back for more. Furthermore, I will sue your fucking ass off if even one of my dogs gets sick. Did you hear me?”

Mike, bug-eyed, stared at his mother from the bottom of the steps. “I probably couldn't have done that one bit better. Way to go, Mom!” A second later he was out the door with the towels and blankets.

“What can I do, Kristine?” Carol asked

“Stay with the girls. Give them breakfast. Say a prayer and cross your fingers. Turn the heat up as high as it will go. Light all the fireplaces. Drag all the blankets and comforters off the beds. We need to keep the dogs warm. The temperature dropped during the night. It's nine degrees.”

“I'll take care of things. The girls will help me. Go, Kristine, they need you.”

Razor-sharp wind and bone-chilling cold ripped through Kristine as she trudged down to the barn. She was on her third trip to the house with two poodles wrapped in a blanket when she heard the blast of Woodie's horn. She wanted to cry her relief when he hopped out of his Rover, two portable heaters in his hands. “Hurry, Woodie, some of the dogs are almost frozen. Two and a half hours, Woodie. The heat was on when we left the barn. I think they're going to be okay. Hurry. Please.”

“Get those dogs in the house, Kristine. We can talk about this later.” She did as instructed. Carol reached for the poodles the moment the door opened. “Everything is okay here.”

Kristine raced back to the barn. She stopped for brief seconds as she listened to her son Mike issue orders that were followed immediately. She knew in that one instant that things would proceed like a well-orchestrated drill. She took another second to recognize, and wondered if her son did, too, that Logan was responsible for the detail and thoroughness Mike was using to get the evacuation under way.

At ten-thirty, all the animals were in the house and apartment over the garage. Frightened out of their wits, the dogs were docile, grateful for the warmth of the old house and the tidbits of bacon Ellie and Emily were feeding them. Tears streamed down Kristine's face as she watched three-year-old Emily walk among the frightened animals singing in her sweet, childish voice, “Hush little baby, don't you cry, Emily is here to pat your belly.” She turned to see Mike wiping at his eyes.

“Now what, Mom?”

“We have to watch them all very carefully. Thank God the pups are okay. They were all snuggled up to their mothers. We need to thank God for that. They still have to be watched. How many dogs does Cala have in the apartment?”

“She took the big dogs, the two shepherds, the beagle, three collies and the springer. It's a hell of a Christmas, Mom. You really know how to throw a party and make a guy feel welcome. This might not be the time to mention it, but Cala asked me if I would be interested in coming back here. Carol and I talked about it last night, and she's all for it. Me too. This will be a great place for Dillon to grow up.”

“Oh, Mike, that's wonderful. You're right, this is a hell of a party.”

Mike's voice was anxious when he said, “They're going to be okay, aren't they, Mom?”

“I think so. One more hour and . . . I'm just glad Pete got up in time. He'll be so happy to hear you're coming. The business has been growing, and it's too much for him. Cala can only do so much, with the girls and all. We did it, we pulled together, and it worked.”

“Mom?”

“Yes.”

“Everything I did, everything I said, that was Dad talking. Not me. What's that mean?”

“It means it worked. That's all it means, Mike. We all knew we had to pull together. This was an emergency of the first order. It was basic common sense. All you did was put it into words. Don't torment yourself. Now, if you really want to be helpful to your old mother, get the pooper scooper and start scooping. That's something we have to stay on top of. Remember, boy dogs lift their legs and girl dogs squat. We need lots of newspapers. The girls will help you.”

Mike nudged his mother. “Look at that.”

Kristine smiled from ear to ear. “Children are very trusting. So are animals. From the first day they all took to Emily. Look, she's using two hands knowing she has to cover all the dogs. She whispers to them, sings songs, rubs their bellies, and gives out treats like an adult. Pete says it's because she's low to the ground and the animals don't have to look up so high. Personally, I don't care what it is. It works. I thought it would be sheer bedlam. Even allowing for the fright. I need some coffee. Mike, welcome home, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom. It's good to be here.”

“You know what they say,” Kristine twinkled. “There's no place like home. Start scooping, there's no free ride at the Summers farm.”

“You got it!”

In the kitchen, Kristine reached for the coffee cup Carol handed her. She finished it in three gulps and held it out for a refill. “I didn't think we'd make it there for a while. Mike told me you're okay with moving here.”

“I can't wait. I love this family, I really do. Mike has just been itching for a reason to come. He felt . . . what I mean is ...”

“I know. This is wonderful, isn't it? I mean, Christmas Eve and all. I don't exactly think this is a miracle, but it's pretty darn close. What do you think we should do about Christmas Eve dinner? I was planning on cooking all day.”

“Mom, why don't we do what we did that first Christmas?” Mike said, coming into the kitchen.

“Hot dogs and Jell-O?”

“Yeah. Do you have any in the freezer?”

“I keep a hearty supply for the girls. Cala doesn't care about the nitrates. We could toast them in the fireplace on long sticks. Emily loves doing that. We even have marshmallows. I say we do it. Woodie loves hot dogs with sauerkraut and relish. I like onions and chili. I have some canned chili and sauerkraut. I love it when a plan comes together. You're sure now?”

“I'm sure. I don't think the others will care. We're all together with sixty some dogs, and it's Christmas Eve. What sound-thinking person would want or expect more.”

“That's why I love this guy.” Carol grinned. “He's really good in bed, too.” She continued to grin.

“Carol!” Mike said in outrage. “This is my mother.”

This is my mother.
How wonderful it sounded. She laughed. “I think I knew that. He takes after his . . . mother.” She watched as her son flushed and stammered. “I'm going down to the barn to see how Mr. Reynolds is progressing.”

Even though she was on the back porch, she could hear her son say, “Man, you should have heard my mother on the phone. She told that guy off up one side and down the other. She's one person you don't want to mess with. This is a hell of a Christmas, isn't it, Carol?”

“The best, Mike. I wouldn't have missed this for the world.”

“Me either.”

Kristine felt warm all over despite the arctic air as she trudged down the steps and out to the barn. “Thank You, God, thank You for everything. Thank You especially for my family and for helping us keep these animals safe and warm.

“What's the story?” she asked as she slammed the barn door.

“It's not good, Kristine. You need a whole new unit. The bottom line is it just fritzed out. It's no one's fault. The unit is seven years old. It's been doing double duty with those extra lines we ran to the other barn. I told you to get a second one, but you said money was tight. If you don't want to go through this again, you need to order two units. It will take at least a week to get a new one,” Reynolds said

“A week!” Kristine gasped. “Can't you jury-rig something?”

“I don't think so, honey. We're in for a solid week of freezing temperatures. Don't take a chance on it. Remember the fire your parents had years ago,” Woodie said.

“God! Yes, I do remember. Okay, Mr. Reynolds, order new heaters and put a rush on them. In the meantime, the dogs stay at the house.”

“I can take some to my house,” Woodie volunteered.

“We have it covered. If we stay on top of it, it will work out. The kids are really working at this like a project. It is so under control it's amazing. I imagine dinnertime will be a little hectic. By the way, our dinner menu has changed. We're toasting weenies and marshmallows. Jell-O for dessert. Carol is making the Jell-O. I love her, Woodie. They're going to move here. I think we're making enough money to pay Mike a decent salary. We're going to need another barn, though. I have this feeling you are going to have to support me. Once I settle all that other business after New Year's, I'll probably be broke. A pauper. Are you sure you want to marry a pauper?”

“I'm damn sure. Weenies and marshmallows. Sauerkraut?”

“You bet. With real caraway seeds.”

“You are too good to me.”

“That's because I love you.”

“Ahem!”

“Yes, Mr. Reynolds.”

“I'll go back to the office and try to place your order today. If I'm not successful today, then I'll do it the day after Christmas. I'm sorry this happened. Tell me, would you really have called the news station?”

“Yes, sir, I would have. My animals are just as precious to me as my children are. From now on, I want you to service the units once a month. I don't ever want this to happen again.”

“I'll be on my way then. Merry Christmas.”

“The same to you, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Is this a blizzard, Woodie?”

“I'd say so.”

“That means we're going to be snowed in together with sixty dogs and my kids,” Kristine chortled.

Woodie laughed. “Listen, I have to go back home to get my gifts. I'll be back late this afternoon. I have some phone calls I need to make and a few things to take care of. Are you sure things are under control?”