Safe Haven

CHAPTER TWO

AVERY FOLLOWED the well-worn path leading to the back door of the main house. The shade from the trees and the lazy breeze cut the noonday heat, cooling her skin and filling the air with the scent of honeysuckle.

She was a city girl, had never been on a ranch, but even so, she’d seen enough Westerns—movies and television shows—to realize something was wrong with the picture. The sun was shining. Birds were singing happily. She could even hear the rustle of trees in the wind. Somewhere far away she thought she heard the mournful bellow of a cow. The big brick building she thought was a barn appeared to be in perfect condition, but why the neglect everywhere else? The mystery was intriguing enough to ease her jumpy nerves and queasy stomach.

Avery mounted the steps of the porch, and as she drew closer to the door, she could hear raised voices. She hesitated before knocking. It was then that she recalled another nagging question. Except for the people in the house, the place seemed deserted. She would have thought a ranch would be a hive of activity.

Walking into the middle of a family argument wasn’t an appealing prospect. She’d done that too many times in her previous life and knew the pitfalls and the likelihood of getting sucked into taking sides. Curiosity got the better of her, however, and she tried to eavesdrop, but the rumble of voices on the other side of the solid door proved impossible to understand. She’d raised her hand to knock when the door was yanked open. Jessie pushed past her, followed by Mac at a more sedate pace.

“Don’t mind my son’s bark,” Mac said to Avery, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “It’s way worse than his bite, and he don’t mean nothing by it.” He patted Avery on the shoulder, winked, then lowered his voice. “And don’t let him bully you. He’s dang good at that.”

She smiled in gratitude, closed the door, then gathered her courage to face the lion in his den. The kitchen was spacious and wonderfully modern, obviously planned by someone who loved to spend a great deal of time there. Logan was seated at an antique oak table, his chair tilted backward, his hands locked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t help noticing that he still hadn’t buttoned his shirt.

Her line of thought shook her. She stomped on the mental brakes. For a long time she’d managed to bottle up that part of her, and this wasn’t the time to uncork it. There was too much at stake.

“Pull up a chair, Avery, and let’s have a chat.” Logan sighed wearily and closed his eyes. Avery took a chair opposite him. “It seems easier to go along with the program than fight my father,” he said, “so I guess you stay.” He dropped his hands from behind his head, settled the chair in an upright position and met her gaze across the table. “Let’s start off on the right foot and get something straight between us. I can’t abide mothering.

“Dad tells me you can handle a computer. That’s great, ’cause I’m terrible at it.” He rubbed his face and tried to concentrate. “He says you can keep books, do invoices, pay bills and generally make everything in the office run smoothly, so I can work. As for the cooking and housekeeping—” he shrugged “—I have a woman who comes in two days a week to clean. Sometimes she’ll cook a ham or a roast for me. But mostly I’ve been fixing my own meals when I can, or eating in town. So if you’ll just handle my meals, I think that’ll do. We’ll see how it works as we go along.”

“What about your father and Jessie?”

Logan frowned. “What do you—?” Then he realized what she meant and grinned. “They don’t live here, thank God. Jess stays on her father’s ranch with her brother. As for Dad, he divides his time between his house in town and the farm.”

She didn’t intend to involve herself in any personal conversations, and figured that keeping their association on a business footing was best. She needed to be efficient. Most of all she had to make herself irreplaceable. “That all sounds fine to me. You look exhausted, though. Have you eaten?” She pushed her chair back.

“You’re mothering me.”

“No, I work for you, Mr. Monahan. You just told me part of my job is to cook your meals. You also said your morning was long and hard. Mine was, too. It’s almost lunchtime and I’m hungry. I just assumed...” She let the unfinished statement dangle between them, and waited.

Avery was too logical for his sluggish brain to come up with a fitting retort. “I thought we’d agreed—none of this mister business. Just Logan.” He managed a strained smile. “A sandwich and a Coke will be fine, thank you. After that I’m going to rest for a couple of hours, so you might as well finish settling in.”

It didn’t take long to find everything she needed. His cleaning woman had baked a ham, and Avery quickly had his sandwich on the table. He was almost finished when she sat down. He didn’t try to hide the fact that he was watching her. It made her nervous, but she’d learned the hard way to hide her feelings.

“How old are you?” Logan asked, genuinely puzzled. She handled herself like a mature woman.

“Twenty-eight,” she said, then dabbed at the corner of her mouth and took a sip of her own Coke. “Is my age a problem?”

“None I can think of just now.” There was something that still didn’t seem right, but Logan gave up. He didn’t feel like playing games with her. He folded his napkin and rose from the table. “Your first official duty is to answer the phone and take messages.”

As HE CLIMBED the stairs to his bedroom, Logan wondered where he’d gotten the notion that she was playing games. Was that what she was about? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was more to Avery Jensen than she allowed him or the world to see. He’d have to give it some thought when he wasn’t one of the walking dead.

By the time he reached the landing, he felt like a man twice his age. As he passed one of the closed bedroom doors, he paused and stepped back. He put his hand on the cut-crystal doorknob and noticed how cold it felt. A familiar sense of foreboding settled between his shoulder blades. As much as he wanted to walk away, he couldn’t. He twisted the knob and opened the door.

He couldn’t force himself to take that step over the threshold, though, so he simply stood there. His son’s room was as silent as a tomb. It was also empty. Every piece of furniture, all the toys and posters had been taken away, but Jamie’s presence hadn’t been erased. Even the faint musty smell hadn’t obliterated that special child scent that was Jamie’s own.

For a moment Logan thought the pain in his chest would destroy him. He wished it would, and thus end the dreams and the awful longing. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still feel small arms wrapped tightly around his neck and hear the bubbly giggling in his ear. At last he pulled the door shut and continued down the hall, his heart filled with tears he could no longer shed.

AVERY LISTENED to the muffled footsteps overhead, the opening and shutting of doors, the rush of water in the old pipes, and knew he was taking a shower. Folding her arms on the table, she lowered her head and breathed deeply. More than anything she longed to relax, let go and cry from sheer relief. She’d done it. Her life was about to begin anew. This time, she vowed, she wasn’t going to screw up.

With that thought firmly in mind, she got to her feet. First she cleaned the kitchen and then studied the contents of the refrigerator, freezer and pantry so she could plan dinner. Then she decided to acquaint herself with the first floor of the house.

It didn’t take more than a few rooms to see that someone had expensive taste and a flare for decorating. There were antiques mixed with chintz, lace and leather. Still lifes and nineteenth-century portraits were artfully mixed with Oriental paintings, and all were cunningly arranged with a few fine pieces of Western art. Eclectic taste, to be sure and it worked, but Avery’s first thought was that the display was the work of someone who liked change but was loath to let go of the past.

Avery was very observant, and she realized there was something out of place here, too. Expensive area rugs covered the beautiful hardwood floors, and she noticed impressions in the nap of the wool where furniture once had stood. The room was obviously missing some major pieces.

Wandering back toward the rear of the house, across the hall from the kitchen, she found the office. It was full of the usual things—file cabinets, a computer, printer, a phone and fax machine. The desk appeared to be an antique. An effort had been made to bring some sort of order to the desktop—it had a clean, white pad of paper, an in-and-out tray and a brass pencil-and-pen holder. It was obvious this room was Logan’s territory and he’d furnished it. Here and there were items that showed a feminine influence—a cut-crystal vase full of dried flowers, a delicate china dish of potpourri.

But like the rest of the house, something was lacking here, too. As Avery was about to leave the room, she spotted boxes stacked haphazardly in a corner. A couple of them were open, and she saw the edges of picture frames. Her boss was either moving in or moving out. Puzzles—the house seemed full of them.

When the telephone rang, Avery flinched, still startled by the almost forgotten sound. She hesitated, then picked up the receiver, a little unsure how to answer. “Monahan’s,” she said, and recognized the surprise in the long silence that followed.

“Who is this?” a male voice demanded rudely.

“Avery Jensen. Mr. Monahan’s unavailable at the moment—may I take a message?” There was another lengthy pause. As she waited, she frantically searched the stacked papers on the desk for something to write with, found a stubby pencil, then tore off a scrap of paper from the unblemished notepad. “Hello?”

“Yeah, this is Tanner. Tell Logan Molly’s gone down on me again and if he doesn’t get here quick, I’m going to have to put her out of her misery.”

The phone clicked in her ear so abruptly she wondered if she’d just received an obscene telephone call. With the blank bit of paper in one hand and the pencil in the other, she walked to the bottom of the staircase and called Logan’s name. The second floor seemed to be his personal domain, his space when he was home, and she was reluctant to invade it. Then she realized how ridiculous she was being and sprinted to the top landing.

As she made her way down the hall, she noticed all the closed doors. She was tempted to stop and inspect each one. “Don’t do it, Avery,” she warned herself under her breath. “Keep your mouth shut and your nose out of his business.” She kept walking toward the door directly in front of her. It had to be the room situated directly over the kitchen and office, where she’d heard most of the sounds.

She knocked and called his name, then waited a moment before doing so again. The doors in the old house were solid, and even pressing her ear against this one, she couldn’t tell whether or not he’d heard. She’d raised her fist to give it another good pounding when the door was suddenly yanked open.

“What?”

Her gaze flicked over him, taking in every detail of the towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his damp skin and long muscular legs. She also noted the expression of frustration and anger on his face. It flustered her, made her stumble over her explanation. “Some—someone named Tanner called.”

She looked down at the blank piece of paper in her hand as if it would help, but saw entirely too much of her employer around the edges. Her eyes bounced back up to his face. She struggled to keep her gaze steadily fixed on an imaginary spot in the center of his forehead. “He said Molly went down on him and...” Her voice trailed away.

Ordinarily Avery didn’t blush, but now she felt the heat rising in her cheeks and couldn’t stop it. All her concentration was fixed on relaying the message and keeping her eyes from darting where they shouldn’t.

Logan watched fire stain her pale skin and gave a rough bark of laughter. “That got your attention, didn’t it?” He hooked the towel in his hand around his neck. “Did Tanner say anything else?”

“Only that he was going to put her out of her misery if you didn’t come quick.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder at the big bed. He sighed. “I’d better get over there.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “By the way, Molly’s a horse and down with colic.”

Avery was as nervous as a cat. But she managed a nonchalant shrug and forced herself to calmly turn and walk away.

Logan watched her, his eyes narrow and his jaw tight. She was a cool one. Too calm, too cool and much too collected. She hadn’t even cracked a smile.

Avery vanished down the stairs and out the front door, her heart pounding like a racehorse’s at the starting gate. Once back in her quarters, she leaned against the door to catch her breath, amazed by the way her hands shook.

After a desperate search of the kitchen for tea bags and a juggling act with a teapot, she almost dropped everything when there was a window-rattling pounding at her door.

Logan was standing on the porch holding some keys. “I locked up the big house, so you’ll need these to get in.”

She didn’t think she was crazy, but he seemed incredibly agitated. “What time will you be back?”

He barely stopped from snapping at her. “I don’t know—maybe in a couple hours. Maybe not, but make yourself at home. Unpack, look around, and if you need me, there’s a list of numbers by the phone in the kitchen.” He turned to go. “If I’m late, just leave me something to eat in the oven.”

She stood on the porch, watching him, and realized the truck he was driving was different from the pickup she’d seen earlier. This was white and one of those paneled things, with double doors that opened at the rear. And on the side of the truck was stenciled in black letters Monahan’s Veterinary Clinic.

As the sound of the truck dwindled away and she was suddenly left in silence, she smiled. “A vet,” she said under her breath, and wondered if Denise knew. Avery had only been told her new employer lived on a ranch and raised horses.

Logan had suggested she look around, make herself at home, and she intended to do just that. But first she had to call Denise and tell her the news.

“So how bad can a man be if he administers to sick and injured animals, Dee?” Avery asked when she’d dialed her friend’s number. “Not very.” She laughed.

“It’s good to hear you laugh, Avery. I take it you’ll keep me up to date on the mystery?”

“Yes, but, Dee, I don’t know how often I can call. I mean, I don’t know his work schedule yet. I’ll call when I can.”

“Sure. First see how the wind blows.”

“Thank you, Dee.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Especially your trust in me.” The lump in Avery’s throat kept her from saying more than a strangled goodbye. She blamed her weepiness on exhaustion. She’d get an early night tonight.

AVERY SAT BOLT UPRIGHT in bed, her heart banging furiously against her chest, her nightshirt damp with perspiration. Confused and disoriented, she fought for breath as she tried to figure out where she was and what had awakened her. She listened to the night and in the utter silence remembered where she was. She squeezed her eyes closed as relief washed through her.

It was funny, really. For eight months, twenty-four hours a day, she’d heard nothing but noise. Every minute of every day had been filled with sounds. She would lie awake at night and pray for just a moment of this sort of silence.

Her wish had been more than answered, but crazy as it was, the quiet had kept her from falling asleep until well after midnight. Maybe it was a nightmare, already forgotten, that had startled her awake. As she tried to shake off the residue of fear, she glanced at the travel clock on the bedside table and groaned.

Five o’clock and she was wide awake. She knew she’d never go back to sleep. The craving for freshly made hot coffee was far more appealing than wrestling with the covers for a few more hours.

Just as she was about to climb out of bed, something thudded against the side of the house, next to her bedroom window. Avery froze, straining to identify the sound, waiting to see if it would come again. When nothing happened, she exhaled, then laughed as she realized she’d actually been holding her breath. It must have been a wild animal of some sort, or maybe the wind blowing something against the house. She threw back the covers, swung her legs to the floor and reached for the lamp.

With her back turned to the window, she didn’t see the shadow slide past it or the way a pair of eyes watched her every move. As the glow of the lamplight chased the darkness to the corners of the bedroom, the figure stepped back and was swiftly swallowed up by the night.

DAWN DIDN’T SCARE the demons away. Still sluggish with sleep, Logan was halfway down the stairs when he smelled coffee. He froze, one foot suspended, praying it had all been a nightmare and he’d walk into the kitchen to find Becky sipping her first cup of coffee, Jamie talking a mile a minute, his upper lip covered by a milk mustache. Logan would hear that sweet childish laughter as he reached over and wiped his son’s mouth....

But he knew it was all in his head. He set his foot on the next step, then the next, until he could do it without having to tell himself to move, to think and to talk. Mornings were the worst part of his days, he thought. Then there were the nights.

“Good morning,” Logan said as he picked up the newspaper, pulled out the chair and sat down. When he looked at Avery, he was shocked. Yesterday she’d been a tall woman, her body shapeless in a shapeless dress. As she filled his cup, he scowled, then pushed away the cream and sugar. Today she was wearing jeans that still had that new stiffness and creases from being folded. The white cotton shirt, neatly tucked in at the waist, had to be right off the rack. She was all brand-spanking-new. He hadn’t missed the lovely way she was put together, either—the small waist, rounded hips and full breasts that pushed against her shirt. She had a woman’s figure, a refreshing oddity nowadays from the clothes hangers he usually saw. Logan lowered his gaze and took a sip of coffee. He didn’t miss the sparkling clean sneakers.

“Thanks for leaving dinner.” He opened the newspaper and shook it out. “Did you take a look around? You weren’t scared staying out here alone, were you?”

Avery was standing by the kitchen counter. She glanced over her shoulder and figured by the way his face was buried in the newspaper that he was just making polite talk. “I walked around enough to get the lay of the place. Do you want your eggs scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled with a little grated cheese in them would be good.” He watched her over the top of the paper, the way she moved so easily around his kitchen, finding everything she needed. This morning her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her pale skin had a little more color. But her gray eyes were dark and storm ridden.

“I sat on the fence for a while and watched the horses in the field.”

“Paddock.”

She set a plate of hot biscuits on the table. “They’re beautiful. I hope you don’t mind, but I looked around inside the barn.” She’d been delighted at what she’d discovered when she’d entered that enormous brick building. The smells and sights were all so foreign and new to her. Strange objects hung from doors and hooks.