Matter of Time (5 page)

She lagged back several yards as she followed him down the long, barely-lit hallway. When he stopped at the last door on the right, she ducked into the shadowed doorway of another room and waited as he opened the door, smiled, and spoke to someone inside, then entered the room and shut the door behind him.

With her heart rat-a-tat-tatting in her chest and her palms practically dripping with sweat, she tiptoed to the window of his room and glanced inside. Based on what she’d glimpsed through the other windows—a schoolroom, a pirate’s ship, and a throne room—she’d had no idea what to expect, but a modern kitchen with a dining room table and single chair never would’ve come to mind. A petite brunette wearing a French maid’s uniform took his suit jacket, then stepped to the side so he could sit in the chair. After hanging his coat on a hook by the door, she returned to the table and sank to the floor at his feet.

Mathew leaned over, gripped the woman’s chin between his finger and thumb, and gave her a soul-deep kiss that probably would’ve melted her knees had she not already been sitting. The intensity of their kiss and the beauty of the moment had Lizbeth blinking back tears as her mind rewound to the first night she tried to fix dinner for Logan.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Lizbeth giggled at Logan’s greeting as he came through the front door of her apartment. Technically, this was her home. Logan’s was in the condo he shared with Lucas. But since Lizbeth had the apartment to herself for the summer, she and Logan decided to live together for three months to see if they could make it work. They were only four days into the new routine, but so far, things couldn’t be better.

Well, except for dinner… Dinner could definitely be better.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

Aside from reheating leftovers or fixing boxed dinners like Hamburger Helper, she’d never cooked a meal in her life. She sighed as she dumped the mushy mess from the colander back into the pan. After giving it her best shot tonight, that statistic still held.

“It smells good,” Logan said, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He leaned over, peeked into the pot, and wrinkled his nose. “Uh, what is it?”

“It was supposed to be spaghetti.”

He took the fork from her hand, jabbed it into the pot where she’d dumped it after straining off the water, then burst into laughter. “Jesus, did you cook it all day?”

Normally, she would’ve burst into tears at having failed such a simple task as fixing him a home-cooked meal, but Logan’s laughter was infectious and she found herself laughing with him rather than crying like she wanted. “No, but it was obviously too long.”

He nuzzled her neck, kissed her cheek, then stepped to the side and lifted the lid on the sauce. It was Ragu, not homemade, but considering she hadn’t been able to pull off the spaghetti, it was good she’d started with baby steps.

“The sauce looks fantastic. We’ll just start over with the pasta.” As he spun in a slow circle, he checked the countertop, opened a few cabinets, then turned back to her. “Where’s the box of spaghetti?” When her only reply was to twist her mouth around and bite her lip, he said, “You used the whole box?”

His incredulous expression and tone made her feel stupid, and this time, his laughter couldn’t pull her back from the brink of a meltdown. She diverted her gaze and started to run from the room, but before she could withdraw from him, he closed the space between them, picked her up by the waist, and sat her on the counter. “Hey, don’t you dare cry on me. It’s not that big a deal. It’s just spaghetti.”

“I know, but spaghetti is supposed to be the easiest thing in the world, right? If I can’t even manage that, how am I ever going to learn to do the hard stuff? I’ll never be able to take care of you and our—” She almost said children, but since they’d never discussed kids, she cut off the words and held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t catch the near slip.

That was, of course, asking too much, because he rarely missed anything. He swiped away a tear with his thumb and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Our what?”

From the love shining through his eyes and the hope-filled expression on his face, he already knew what she’d been about to say, and he was more than okay with continuing the conversation.

She sniffed. “Everything our kids eat will have to come from the freezer and be heated in the microwave.”

A wide grin spread across his face. “I’m sure, with practice, you’ll get better. And I’m not opposed to helping.” He caressed her cheek and studied her eyes. “How many kids do you want?”

“Two… maybe three. And I want them close together. The big age gap between Miranda and me is too much. I don’t even really know my baby sister. Shoot… I’m about to graduate college, and she’s not even started high school yet, so we have nothing in common.”

“Yeah, that’s gotta be tough. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to grow up without Lucas. Okay, so three kids, ten months apart—”

“Whoa!” She slapped his shoulder and laughed. “I didn’t mean that close together.”

“I guess we can figure all that out later.”

Lizbeth cleared her throat and wiped away a rogue tear as the memory died a slow, painful death. At the time, neither of them knew Logan was already on his way to having those three kids with someone else.

She refocused on the scene playing out before her as Mathew stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork, then leaned over and tapped it against the woman’s lips. She opened her mouth like a baby bird waiting for food from its mother, but rather than feeding the woman, he grinned and said something that made her blush and drop her head bashfully. Lizbeth had no way of knowing what he’d said, but the lopsided tilt of his mouth and the glimmer in his eyes told her he enjoyed this woman’s company, and he also liked teasing her. Much the way Logan had been with her.

She ran her hand over her forehead and drew in a deep breath. Being here, in this crazy club, was torture. It brought up too many memories, and while she appreciate Lucas’s efforts to get her out of her hotel room, her heart couldn’t take any more. She took a step back from the window and turned toward the bar as a harsh exhale, like someone had been punched in the stomach, caught her attention and an all-too-familiar raspy voice said, “My God, Lizbeth… you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world.”

L
izbeth threw her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream as she jumped back and crashed into the door of Mathew’s room. She cringed as the loud thud echoed through the hallway, but her concern over breaking the only rule that really mattered was eviscerated by the wave of shock crashing over her. When Lucas opened Kevin’s door at Christmas, she’d had to take a couple of seconds to discern which twin stood before her. But now, with both men standing side by side, there was no denying she stood less than five feet from Logan.

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head while muttering something about slow and easy assholes, but Logan stood statue still, blazing eyes locked on her.

Everything about the men’s physical appearance was identical except for the length of their hair and the scars on Logan’s face. But their inner fire and spirits were very different, and Logan’s intense passion was the thing that always drew her to him like the proverbial moth to a flame. As he stared at her now, with a possessiveness similar to that of years ago, an invisible fist wrapped around her throat, constricting her air.

She batted her eyes to blink away the flashing black spots, pressed her hand to her forehead, and gripped the casing of the door she was still plastered against. When Logan’s expression filled with concern—no doubt afraid she was about to go down like a wilting flower—she removed her hand from her forehead and threw it out like a crossing guard holding a bright-red stop sign.

“No. I… I just need a minute to breathe.”

She also needed a little space, so doing the only thing that seemed logical in the moment, she turned and practically ran to her new safe place. Catching Jason’s eye as she approached, she said, “I need a drink. I don’t care what it is as long as it’s strong.”

He cut his eyes to the hallway, probably searching for whatever monster sent her running, then returned his attention to her, nodded, and set a prefilled shot glass on the bar. She stared at the red liquid, then looked at him questioningly.

She couldn’t see a blush on his cheeks in the dim light, but he smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Master Lucas told me to have it ready for you.”

Weakened with disbelief and exasperation, she flopped onto a barstool and muttered, “Bastard,” before tossing back the shot. She licked her lips as the warm cinnamon concoction slid down her throat, and her nerves scaled down from a twelve-point-two on the Richter scale to an eight. “At least he had the decency to plan ahead. She lifted the glass and rolled it around in the light of a nearby sign, then sniffed it. “I don’t know what that’s called, but I like the cinnamon schnapps a lot. I’ll take another.”

He bit down on his lip to squelch his laughter as he placed another glass in front of her. “It’s called a tomahawk.”

“That son of a bitch thinks he’s so smart, doesn’t he?” She’d meant for the remark to come out with angry bitterness and enough vehemence to knock Jason back a step, but it seriously lacked bite, and the twitch tugging at her lip didn’t help. Lucas always did have a wicked sense of humor… Too bad she couldn’t appreciate it more right now.

Jason grinned. “Yes, ma’am, he does. But…” He glanced away, seemingly trying to decide if he should finish the thought. When he turned back, his face and tone were serious. “He is smart. And it’s been my experience he’s usually right about these things.”

She absently swirled the liquid around in the glass before tossing it back, then narrowed her gaze on Jason as her mind replayed some of Lucas’s earlier comments.
All I want is for you to trust me.

She’d obviously been set up, brought here for the purpose of reconnecting with Logan. But why? Lucas wasn’t cruel—at least he hadn’t been in college—and she didn’t believe that could’ve changed. So why had he set her up to see Logan again after all these years?

Jason obviously knew more about her situation than he let on earlier, so she decided to press him for more information. “Lucas is normally right about what things?”

She thought Jason seemed uncomfortable before, but the way his body stiffened and he sucked in a harsh breath, you’d think his ass was connected to jumper cables and she just juiced the motor.

“C’mon, Jason. Don’t clam up on me now.” She slid the empty glass across to him. “Do you have another one stashed back there?”

He rolled in his lips and scratched the back of his ear as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “No. Two is all you’re allowed to have.” When her eyebrows exceeded never-before-seen heights, he cleared his throat and said, “At least not until
after
you talk to Logan.”

She wanted to be incensed, to throw the biggest fit Myrtle Beach had ever seen and demand he hand her over a third drink. But a niggling sensation deep in her chest, somewhere near the vicinity of her heart, kept her mouth shut.

At the first sight of Logan, her heart, recognizing the immediate and present danger, curled into a tight ball to protect itself from another vicious attack. After the shots and several moments of processing the situation, she felt it beginning to crack open, like a turtle peeking out of its shell. She also felt it tugging at the edges of her brain, suggesting she’d be foolish to pass on this opportunity just because she was scared or angry about being set up like a chump.

The men were standing off to the side, watching over her while respectfully giving her the space she needed. With one last death-ray glare to Jason, letting him know she still didn’t approve of the tactics, she fisted her hands in her lap and turned to face Logan.

His effects on her system were ten times stronger than the shots, and her breath started and stopped as she drank him in. Wary green eyes filled with concern studied her as he cocked his head and dipped his chin, seemingly asking if she was okay.

If not for the stranglehold on her emotions, she would’ve laughed at the absurdity of being anything close to all right. But if she let the laughter go, who knew what kind of messy emotional discharge would rush in behind it? The hardened veneer she’d spent fifteen years building over herself had been stripped away in a matter of moments, and she was back to the same broken, barely breathing twenty-year-old she’d been the last time she saw him.

He hadn’t changed much over the years. He was more muscular than before, filled out in all the right ways and places a man should be, and his face was more rugged with a few additional scars. But all that only made him more appealing—something she wouldn’t have believed possible—and a fresh wave of agonizing longing enveloped her.