The Lottery Winner (18 page)

“I didn't just stop by, Jessie. I'll be running the Widow until Miri's back on her feet.”

Logan would be her boss. How could she see him every day and keep her secrets and her distance?

“I want to start by looking at Thursday, Friday and Saturday's receipts and deposits.”

He didn't trust her. And maybe he shouldn't. It had been years since she'd handled the money for her godmother's barbecue restaurant. What if she'd made a mistake? Would he label her a thief and call the police?

She could see the headlines now: South Carolina's Biggest Lottery Winner Caught Embezzling from Restaurant. And the media frenzy would start anew. Even if she wasn't guilty, her family would be humiliated.

She gulped her nervousness. “Let me put my stuff away and I'll join you in the office.”

* * *

T
HE
NUMBERS
LOOKED
RIGHT
, Logan concluded an hour later, but something was off. Jessie was jumpy and wouldn't look at him. Why, if she had nothing to hide?

Maybe he was too distracted by her proximity, her scent, the long braid draping over her shoulder, to focus and he'd missed something. He wanted her—a fact that, even with him now being her temporary boss, hadn't diminished. Not even the open door to the noisy kitchen could dispel the sexual awareness.

Focus.

“Where did you learn to handle restaurant accounting?”

He noted her hesitation. “My godmother has a restaurant. I worked there throughout high school and summers during college. When my godfather had bypass surgery, she taught me the financial side so she could be with him during his recovery.”

A plausible story. But was it true? She'd never lifted her gaze higher than his chin. Staring at her downcast head meant being sidetracked by the hint of cleavage her uniform tank top displayed. His body reacted predictably.

He forced his attention back to the column listing her tips. She'd claimed she would turn the number in to her accountant. He hadn't believed her then. But there it was on the screen. And it looked accurate.

He realized he wanted to trust her. He wanted to believe that this woman who'd taken on extra duties for someone she'd known only three weeks—and for no pay—was genuine and not an opportunist. But such generosity seemed too good to be true. And he'd been suckered by a pretty face before.

Elizabeth had been the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she'd used her looks and wiles to wrap him around her finger and shut down his brain.

A tap on the door pulled his attention from the past. “Yes?”

Pam stood outside. “The dining room's filling up. We need Jessie out front.”

Jessie straightened, her relief palpable. “May I go?”

“In a minute.” He searched her face, noting her averted eyes. Something was definitely different. But what?
Not
her makeup. She barely wore any. “Look at me.”

Her reluctance obvious in the slow lifting of her dense lashes, she complied. And then he got it. Her eyes weren't sparkling from excitement. The gold flecks in her irises were different, and her eyes weren't red like they'd been the other day when she'd complained about her contacts irritating them. “You got new contacts.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You wear colored contacts?”

She inhaled, exhaled then shifted on her feet. “Yes.”

“And these are different from your old ones.”

“Yes,” she replied through a clenched jaw.

“What color are your eyes when you don't wear them?”

Her gaze flicked to the calendar on the wall behind him. He thought she'd refuse to answer, then resignation settled over her features. “Blue.”

He tried to picture her with blue eyes and couldn't. “Why choose brown? That's an atypical choice.”

She shrugged, but the movement was stiff. “I just wanted a change.”

“Tables are full,” Sue shouted as she passed the office door.

“You can go. But Jessie, I want to see you—the real you.”

Her deer-in-the-headlights expression before she hustled out filled him with questions.

What else wasn't real about Jessie? He was determined to find out. Because a woman with secrets was never good news. He could thank his ex for that painful lesson.

* * *

“T
WO
DAYS
AND
I
haven't killed him. I deserve a medal.” Miri fumed to Sue on Monday over vegetable lo mein. Her friend had brought lunch from Miri's favorite Chinese restaurant.

Sue looked through the window at the man in question currently mowing Miri's small backyard. “Is Ignatius being a pain in the tail?”

“No, he's being
nice
. Too nice. He waits on me hand and foot. I can't even pee without him standing outside the door listening. He claims it's because he's afraid I'll fall transferring from the wheelchair to the toilet. I think he's just kinky.” She was being a grumpy bitch and she knew it. But Sue didn't seem to take offense.

She blotted her mouth with a napkin, but the smile crinkles beside her eyes gave her away. “No wonder you were happy to see me—and for me to take you to the restroom.”

“It's not funny. He cooks and cleans, and he sings. All the time. He's singing now.”

“How can you tell?”

“His lips are moving.” Then her cheeks burned at the revealing comment. She watched him. Too much. “I'm sorry. The pain pills are making me crazy. Try as I might, I can't even forget he's here when he makes all that racket.”

“Is he any good?”

“He could sing in a church choir for all I care. You're missing the point. How's work?”

“Surprisingly good. Logan is going to come in every night to close out the books. I think he has the hots for Jessie. He can't keep his eyes off her. She watches him, too.”

Miri scowled. “He'd better not run off my waitress.”

“I don't think that'll be a problem.”

“I'm just saying, until he lets go of the past he's no good for any woman—especially one as sweet as Jessie.”

“He's not the only one holding on to the past.”

“I am
not
.” An electronic sound chirped nearby. Miri searched for the source and spotted a cell phone. Ignatius's phone.

Sue picked it up. “Should we answer it? The screen says Bethany's calling.”

“That's his daughter. Might be something wrong. Pass it to me.” Sue handed her the phone. “Hello? Bethany?”

“Um...yes, who is this?”

“Miri Evans. We met when your father brought you to the Fisherman's Widow. Ignatius is outside. Should I call him in?”

“Oh...no. He... I...didn't realize you were dating.”

“We're not. I had surgery. He's helping me for a few days. What did you need?”

“I was going to ask him if he'd watch the girls tomorrow. They're out of school on Christmas break, and my boss just called an urgent meeting. But I can try to make other arrangements.”

Kids in the house would keep her from being alone with Ignatius. “If you don't mind dropping them off at my place, your father and I could watch them. They'd be welcome.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'd love the company. I have some ornaments I bought to paint and haven't done so yet. They could help.”

“If you're sure...and Dad won't mind?”

“I am positive.” She relayed her address. “We'll see you in the morning.” Then she disconnected.

Sue leveled a look on her. “What have you done?”

“Found a buffer.”

The back door opened. Ignatius did a double take when he spotted his phone in her hand. “Snooping, Miriam Louise?”

“Your daughter called. I thought it might be an emergency, so I answered. She needs you to watch the girls tomorrow.”

He paled. “No can do.”

“Oh, yes, you can. She's dropping them off at eight.”

His jaw went slack then tightened up. He looked as if he might be sick to his stomach. “I'll call her back and tell her to make other arrangements for Sydney and Chloe.”

“You'll do no such thing. They'll be good company. I even have crafts to keep them occupied. And if you can take directions, we'll bake cookies with them.”

She shouldn't take such delight in the horror on his face. “Have you ever kept the girls before, Ignatius?”

“No.”

“Then it's time you did. You said you wanted to get to know them, and this is the perfect way to do so.”

Tomorrow would be fun—if only because he looked like he thought it would be torture.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

J
ESSIE
HEADED
INTO
the Widow Monday afternoon with a sense of accomplishment. They'd survived their first weekend without Miri, and this morning she'd checked everything on her to-do list.

Her good mood bubble burst when Logan's was the first face she saw. The kitchen was empty save him. Tension invaded her limbs and tummy. “How's Miri?”

“Adjusting.”

“I promised her I'd stop by after work tonight and help her get ready for bed.”

“She'll enjoy the company.”

As always, his unwavering gaze made her antsy and a little breathless. Why did she have to be attracted to someone
now
? “Where is everybody?”

“We're the first ones here. Where were you this morning? I stopped by your place.”

Her pulse skipped. “I had errands to run and Christmas and birthday gifts to buy and ship. And I also had the photographs printed. I want to put them in an album for my—for future reference.” Why was she babbling like a fool? She'd almost said “students.” She was getting too comfortable around him.

“You're not going home for the holiday?”

She tried to conceal her sadness. “No.”

“Is your family coming here?”

Why had she said anything? She didn't want his pity. “No.”

“Does Miri know?”

“She has enough on her plate. I'd rather she didn't worry about me. I'll be fine. Why did you stop by my place?”

He hesitated, searching her face. “I wanted to make sure your car was running okay.”

Why didn't she believe him? He could have called. “It is.”

“The cormorant picture's missing.”

She'd experienced a pang of loss when the creepy birds she'd christened after the man in front of her had been carried from the restaurant. But she'd vanquished that emotion by celebrating her third sale and having the images she'd taken with Logan's camera downloaded onto an SD card that fit a digital picture frame. Her mother would love it. “It sold last night.”

“Congratulations.”

Hal walked in, dispelling the strained atmosphere. Jessie heaved a sigh of relief. What was it about this man that held her spellbound when she knew nothing could come from their relationship?

Logan's expression turned all business. “The waitresses from the employment agency start today. They'll be shadowing you and Sue.”

“Got it.”

Then he returned to Miri's office. But he left the door open. She could feel his eyes watching every move she made until she escaped the kitchen. But because of that kiss, the way he watched her had changed. His eyes were no longer filled with distrust. They were filled with something she had to ignore. Something that hummed through her like the music teacher's tuning fork.

Desire. But she could resist that...as long as she didn't start to really like him.

* * *

M
IRI
'
S
HOUSE
WAS
a delightful surprise. Jessie stopped at the base of a ramp that still smelled of fresh wood to admire the tiny Victorian storybook cottage.

Its steep, gabled metal roof glimmered like sheets of silver under a bright half moon. The bric-a-brac trim resembled icing on a gingerbread house, and the front porch wrapped around the side like a lacy white garland. At the far end, a porch swing drifted gently in the evening breeze. The windows glowed with welcome.

She immediately wanted to see the place in the daytime, to take in the garden filled with sunlight and colors instead of shadows and shades of gray. Her fingers itched to paint a likeness of it for Miri. She followed a crushed stone path toward a birdbath to gauge the best angle.

The front door opened, and the PI stood in the gap. He studied Jessie a moment and her heart skipped with alarm, then he moved aside and Miri wheeled into sight. “Jessie, I'm glad you're here. Come in.”

Jessie returned to the ramp and ascended. “I love your house.”

Miri's smile turned wistful. “The historic architecture of the Keys has always fascinated me. Jack built this place for me. I knew nothing about it until he brought me here and handed me the key—it was the day after Logan went away to college. He was trying to ease my empty-nest syndrome.”

That was the thoughtful kind of love Jessie dreamed of finding. It was the kind her parents shared. Would she ever find it? Would she ever be brave enough to look again? She'd been so wrong about Aaron. Did she dare trust her judgment?

“The monstrosity of a garage came later out of necessity,” Miri added dismissively. “The best I can say about it is that it gives us privacy by blocking the house from the road. Our lot was too narrow to build it beside the house, and it would have blocked the view from the bedrooms.”

Keeping a wary eye on the man who knew her secrets, Jessie pointed at the Christmas wreath made from native seashells hanging on the door. “This is beautiful.”

“Jack found that on one of his trips. That man never said he loved me. Words were not his thing. But he showed it in a thousand ways. He was always bringing me some little trinket.”

“He should have told you,” Ignatius grumbled.

“Words are empty. Actions tell the truth,” Miri insisted.

The two glared at each other, locked in silent combat. Fearing an argument, Jessie jumped in. “Actually, I think you need both. Actions prove your words are sincere. My parents do that. And none of us have ever doubted their love for each other or for us.”

A sound from behind her drew her gaze. Logan stood at the top of the ramp. She hadn't heard his approach. Her stomach dive-bombed like a pelican hitting the water. She'd left him doing some bookkeeping and hadn't expected to see him here.

She moved farther into the room and away from Logan. Her gaze scanned the festive decor and her heart ached with emptiness. While others flocked to the mall for Black Friday sales, she, her mother and sister had always banded together the day after Thanksgiving, traveling from house to house to help decorate one another's homes. She'd missed that ritual this year. Her little house would be empty and dark with no twinkling tree in her front window. Worse, she'd been so focused on missing home that she hadn't bothered decorating here.

She shook off the gloom. “Your Christmas decorations are lovely.”

Miri frowned at the PI. “Kris Kringle's responsible for that.”

These two definitely had negativity between them. “What can I help you with, Miri? You mentioned painting something?”

“Ignatius's granddaughters are coming over tomorrow. I have miniature birdhouse ornaments for them to decorate. I could use your help getting all the craft supplies together. I have an assortment of brushes and paints and embellishments, but I need to choose the ones that are age appropriate. You'll be better at that than I.”

“I'm sure they'll enjoy it. I didn't realize you like to do crafts.”

Miri went silent, staring at her hands. “I used to in the evenings to wind down. I hope my paints and brushes are still good.”

“We'll check. If not, I can pick some up in the morning. Do you want me to come by and help tomorrow?”

“Oh, no. Ignatius will be here. He needs to spend time with his granddaughters.”

The man looked less than thrilled about the prospect. No, Jessie realized as she studied him closer, that wasn't dread in his eyes—it was fear of failure. She'd seen it in students' faces many times.

“You'll do fine,” she told him, but he didn't appear reassured. “It's just paint, and any mistake can always be painted over.”

“Has Jessie told you she's going to be alone for Christmas?” Logan asked, and Jessie's stomach sank lower. So much for pretending he wasn't here.

Miri's gaze swung her way. “Why didn't you say something?”

She didn't want the pity she saw on the woman's face. “It's okay. I'm planning to cook all my favorite recipes and listen to Christmas music, and—”

“Come here and cook those recipes,” Miri insisted. “Sue and I always put on a big feast and—”

“This year, you'll delegate,” Ignatius interrupted.

Miri's spine went rigid, and her cheeks reddened. “Jessie can be my hands and feet. She'll do what I tell her and not improvise the way you do.”

“I haven't heard you complaining about my cooking. In fact, you clean your plate. Every time.” The air crackled between them.

Miri's gaze swung to Logan. “Couldn't you have found a better jailer?”

Logan laughed. “I is the first person I've ever seen who can make you listen. You heard the doc. Follow orders or you'll never heal.”

Miri's scowl could curdle milk. “Jessie, let's go through my art supplies. They're in my bedroom closet.”

“Let Jessie get them down,” Ignatius ordered.

Miri swung the wheelchair around and rolled it away. Jessie glanced from one man to the other, trying to figure out what was going on. She felt as if she'd been dropped in the middle of a war zone, but she didn't dare complain for fear that the PI would reveal what he knew to Logan.

Anxious to escape, she followed Miri. The woman was so on edge she barely resembled the kindhearted person Jessie had come to know and care for. Tension lined her face and pulled a purse string of wrinkles around her mouth.

Jessie closed the bedroom door. “Are you in pain?”

Miri sighed. “Yes, but I can handle that. It's that man in there that's getting under my skin. He's smothering me. Tries to do everything. I'm used to my independence. Even before Jack passed, he was gone most of the time. I did for myself. Ignatius won't let me. Between his and Logan's hovering, I'm ready to run away from home.”

The familiar refrain made Jessie smile. “You sound like my dad. He has Parkinson's. We all try to keep him from overdoing it by jumping in to help. He feels like we're robbing him of the things he
can
still do for himself. He has to keep reminding us that one day he will need our help, but now he doesn't. Your situation's the opposite. Try to keep in mind that you'll only need help for a few more weeks.”

Miri's face softened. “You miss your family.”

“Of course.”

“Jessie, I'm going to be blunt. Sue told me you and Logan are dancing around each other. Don't let loneliness drive you into a relationship with Logan.”

Jessie's face burned. She'd had no idea others had noticed the chemical storm between them.

“I think you're wonderful, and because I don't want you to get hurt, I'll tell you that Logan's heart was broken. Badly. He's not over it yet. Ignatius's continued presence in his life proves that.”

A warning she needed to hear. “You don't have to worry. Until my life is...settled, I can't afford any entanglements. Now let's look at your supplies and see if you have everything you need.”

If she was lucky, Logan would be gone when she finished helping his aunt.

* * *

J
ESSIE
'
S
STALLING
HAD
been in vain. Logan was still there when she came out of Miri's bedroom. “Miri's gone to bed, so I'll head home.”

He rose. “I'll walk you to your car.”

“That's not necessary.”

“I'm leaving, too.”

She glanced at Ignatius. “Good night. Call if you need help tomorrow. I know Miri said you could handle it, but I don't mind. Your granddaughters seem very sweet.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Then with no other way to delay being alone with Logan, she preceded him out the door.

He paused on the porch. “What you said in there about actions and words...did your ex do that?”

Her breath caught as his question hit home. “No. He said all the pretty words. But his actions showed the opposite. I just wasn't smart enough to see it.”

Everyone around her had been, though.

“Jack taught me a lot of life lessons on that swing. When I'd come home from college, we'd sit and talk about what I'd learned. He acted like he had all the time in the world for me. It was enough. I knew how he felt about me,” he said defensively. “I didn't need the words.”

With Miri's warning fresh in her mind, she resumed her trek down the ramp instead of asking questions about his past. “From what you and Miri have said, Jack sounds like a great guy.”

“He was.”

She heard loss in his voice and had to fight the urge to reach out and comfort him. “I thought you would've come to see Miri earlier today.”

“I can't visit during the day now. I have a client going through an audit.”

She grimaced. “I'm sorry.”

“So am I.”

Logan cared about his client. She saw it in the lines etched on his face. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“He was a friend of Jack's and is a genuinely nice guy who's had some bad breaks. This should have been an open-and-shut case, but the IRS agent is going over every single receipt. We'll prevail in the end, but this guy's losing prime fishing charter days, which he can't afford.”

“It sounds like you enjoy your work.”

“I do. If you'd asked me ten years ago if I'd enjoy doing taxes for small businesses, I'd have adamantly said no. But what I do matters. These guys aren't high rollers who won't miss a few thousand bucks here and there. They're good people, like Miri, who need every dime they make. It's my job to help them hold on to it.”

Logan's impassioned speech made her realize he was a good guy, too. She hadn't seen that early on when he'd been antagonistic toward her, but little by little she'd been catching glimpses of the man behind the protective armor. She didn't need to think about that right now when she was trying to resist the physical pull between them.