Critical Care (37 page)

Logan smiled, shaking his head. "She said, `God is good.' That
she'd been praying for me since we broke up and that my coming
there today was her answer."

Claire's heart thudded. "Her answer?"

Logan nodded. "No surprise Beckah was light-years ahead of
me on figuring things out. Figuring me out. She knew I wasn't
going to get a clue until I finally got things right with God."

"You told her?" she asked, genuinely surprised. Then realizing,
of course, that Beckah would have seen that Logan had changed.
It was so beautifully apparent. So awesomely perfect. Beckah
would know Logan was becoming the man of faith she'd wanted
all along. Claire's throat constricted. What woman wouldn't want
him? But had Logan felt the same way about his ex-wife? Had he
told her-?

"I told her about you, too," Logan said, beginning to grin.

"About me?"

"Yes, all about you." Logan brushed his thumb gently across
the top of her hand, his eyes warm. "She got an earful."

Claire's voice emerged in a pathetic squeak. "How did she react
to that?"

Logan laughed. "Well, first, she said I'd given her the best wedding present she could have hoped for by coming there to talk with
her. And that I should stop feeling guilty, because she's completely
happy now. Then she said there was nothing to forgive." He smirked.
"Unless I'd managed to scare her precious doves to death."

She felt suddenly dizzy with a warm rush of hope. "What did
she say about me?"

Logan took both of Claire's hands in his. "Beckah said she was
glad ... I found someone to love."

Love? Claire's eyes opened wide and then immediately filled
with tears. Her heart swelled until there was barely room to breathe.
Was this possible? Love?

"It's true, Claire. Even if it's been only a few weeks, I know
how I feel. I'm falling in love with you. You're everything I've ever
hoped to find in a woman. You make me believe anything is possible." He frowned. "I know I'm not easy, and I've got a lot to learn
about relationships. About God too. But I want all of that now. I'm
hoping you'll be willing to help me...." Logan hesitated, his eyes
searching hers. He reached up to brush a tear from her cheek and
let his fingers linger along her jaw. "Please say I'm not scaring you
with this. Say you're not going to tell me to get lost. Tell me it's
possible you could feel the same way."

Claire smiled through her tears. "Yes. Oh ... yes. Of course I'll
help you-we'll help each other." She trembled with the sudden
rise of a million goose bumps. "I'm sure that was God's plan all
along." She exhaled, her heart full beyond measure as she gazed
into Logan's eyes. "I feel the same way about you, Logan." Thank
you, Lord.

Logan took her face in his hands and touched his lips gently to
the side of her face, then to each of her closed eyelids, her brow ...
and finally her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing
her with warmth and tenderness. And then continued with a second deeper and more lingering kiss that threatened to take Claire's
breath away-until Smokey leaped from his perch on the back of
the couch to land on Logan's shoulder. They both jumped and
burst out laughing.

"Hey, careful there." Logan lifted the one-eared cat cautiously
into his lap. He stroked the top of Smokey's head. "What's the matter, champ? Feeling left out?"

Claire chuckled at the sight of the infamous McSnarly making
nice with her finicky cat. God was indeed good. Wait. She leaned
closer, listening in disbelief. "Do you hear that?"

Logan grinned, the crinkles appearing beside his eyes. "Miracle
day. He's purring."

"Aha," Logan said a few minutes later, watching from the doorway
as Claire filled a large earthenware mug with coffee. "Real cups. I
almost got impaled with that toy tea set."

She looked up and laughed, completely at ease, and he remembered the first time he'd seen Claire in this kitchen, the night he'd
driven her home from the Denim and Diamonds fund-raiser. She'd
been so nervous, pacing around the room in those same pink
flip-flops.

Logan exhaled softly. Claire looked so beautiful in that long
sweater and jeans, her silky hair spilling loose around her shoulders. She was an incredible mix of intelligence, strength, and
rare innocence, a woman who'd endured so much heartache yet somehow remained warm, sweet, loving.... She might love me.
Me. Logan's breath caught, still trying to get his sleepless brain
around the staggering thought. He'd do anything he could to make
it work, to protect this woman and make her happy. Help me do
things right this time. Help me be the man she needs.

He crossed the kitchen to stand behind her and slipped his
arms around Claire's waist as she searched the silverware drawer.
"Need some help?" he asked, brushing his lips against her ear.

She sighed and turned in his arms, looking up at him, her
eyes ... troubled. Troubled?

"No, but ..."

"What?" Logan's brows drew together with concern.

"You must be starving and I don't have anything to offer you."
She shook her head. "Smokey got the tuna, the coconut cookies
are gone, and I had the last of the soup. All I can find is jalapeno
pickles, chai tea, some birdseed, and-"

Logan laughed, pressing a fingertip against her lips. "Don't say
another word. I was hoping you'd let me take you out somewhere
nice tonight. Someplace that doesn't require a fishing pole." He narrowed his eyes. "As a matter of fact, I was planning this great date
when you stormed into my office to tell me I was a heartless loser."

"I didn't," Claire said, her face turning pink.

"You did. And I'll admit it knocked me sideways." He raised his
brows. "No one's had the guts to take me on face-to-face before."

Her lips curved into a half smile. "I noticed you didn't fight
back."

"No," Logan said, thinking how long ago that seemed and how
it felt like he'd traveled so much farther than the miles to Carmel
and back. "Probably because I knew on some level what you were
saying was true. People had every right to complain about me. But the fact is-" he paused, glancing down to where Smokey had
curled himself around his pant leg-"I was making myself even
more miserable than I was making everyone around me. And I
probably would have kept right on doing that." He bent down,
kissed Claire's lips gently, and smiled at her. "If it weren't for
you. You started the whole ball rolling, and now look, we've got
miracles. Kind of like your cat."

"Hold it, McSnarly. You're not going to start purring, are you?"

Logan slipped his arms around Claire's waist again. "Maybe."
He kissed her, enjoying her sweet response, and leaned back. "But
I'm trying to control myself. Because I want to take all the time in
the world to get to know you-to get everything right. You're too
important to do it any other way." He stepped back and rubbed his
hand across his eyes. "Plus, I'm so blasted sleepy I can't see straight.
I crashed for a couple of hours last night in the ICU, then swung
that ax until dawn."

Claire grinned, her eyes lighting. "And talked with God."

"Yes. That'll wear you out for sure." He smiled. "I rode my bike
forever and then hauled on back here. I haven't even shaved. I
must look-"

"Wonderful," she said emphatically. "I've never seen anyone
look so wonderful. But you really should go home and get some
sleep."

While Logan hated the thought of leaving her, Claire was as
right about this as she'd been about Sarah's condition yesterday in
the ER. "Okay, I'll finish my coffee and do that. Get some sleep,
clean up, and then I'll be back. I was thinking we'd have a late dinner at Rio City Cafe on the Sacramento River. Get dressed up and
have candles, soft music ... all those romantic things," he added,
certain he was sounding corny but knowing he'd do anything that made Claire happy. Balance a tiny coffee cup, make a fool of himself doing country line dances, buy a hundred bouquets of flowers,
hang the moon if she asked him to. "Anyway, we'll make a real
night of it. I don't have to be up early for work. Do you?"

"Work? Well..." Claire sighed. "No. Work definitely won't get
in the way. And your romantic dinner sounds perfect." She handed
him his coffee mug, then beckoned for him to follow her to the
living room. "But if the rain lets up, I might want you to take me
somewhere else first."

"Where?"

She stopped and smiled mysteriously. "You'll see. Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed, trying to suppress a yawn. "Nap. Mystery
detour. Dinner. Sounds like a plan."

They drank their coffee sitting close to each other on the couch.
Watching the fire, listening to a new country music CD, and saying
very little. It felt warm and peaceful and ... good.

Logan propped his chin on his palm, watching as Claire lazily
petted Smokey, then let his gaze drop to her Bible on the table. For
some reason, it made him remember Jamie's hand on his chest.
Logan smiled. It all feels good. A lot like ... coming home. He set his
empty mug down, content to sit here forever but fighting a losing
battle to keep his eyes open. If he didn't get moving, he'd wind up
sprawled out and snoring-nothing romantic about that.

"I'm going to leave now," he said, standing and pulling Claire
up beside him. He folded her close in a hug. "I'll power sleep," he
whispered in her ear, "and get back here as soon as I can. I miss
you already."

He walked to the door, thinking aloud the things he needed
to finish up. "I'll call Erin on the way home. Tell her I've crossed
Keeley Roberts off my apology list and make sure she has enough staff scheduled for tomorrow." He shook his head. "Erin's working overtime to help pay her grandmother's mortgage. She's one
incredible woman. And scary-do you know she works out with a
punching bag?"

"I do," Claire said, glancing at her watch. "Which reminds me.
You should sleep first and call Erin afterward. Right now, she's having a late lunch with Brad." She grimaced. "I got the feeling your
incredible charge nurse was spoiling for a fight."

Erin yanked her elbow from Brad's grasp and spun around to face
him. "You're denying this?" She pointed at the credit card statement and carefully taped-together checks atop the picnic table,
seething at his nerve. "I found those checks in your car!" She
crossed her arms over her chest to still her trembling. And stall her
fists. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Brad glanced toward the small group of people at the next picnic table and then smiled at Erin. The sun, finally peeking through
thinning clouds, glinted on his blond hair as he reached for her
again. His voice was deep, soft, and smugly confident. "Whoa
there. Easy, girl."

"Don't. Don't tell me to whoa, and don't touch me." She pulled
her cell phone from her jacket pocket. "Just give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the police."

Brad's smile disappeared. "Because you don't have proof."

"What do you call that?" Erin asked, slapping the checks and
knocking a package of potato chips off the table.

"Your word against mine." A smirk tugged at his lips. "Do you
have any idea how many of the boys in blue get great car deals from me? Besides, you haven't lost anything. You said it yourself;
the checks were stopped by the banks."

"But there was also over four hundred dollars in cash. Cash.
Including nickels and pennies donated by Merlene's granddaughter.
Money for charity, to help a precious boy who was burned. I don't
understand how you could take his money and gamble with it. Is
that what you did?" Erin blinked against a rush of tears. How could
I have been so blind?

"You're forgetting I gave you a donation. A check for two hundred and fifty bucks. Not to mention flowers that set me back more
than a few."

The roses. Erin grimaced against a wave of nausea. How could
this be happening?

"So, even if I borrowed the cash-which I'm not admitting towhat's the big deal?" He gestured at her grandmother's credit card
statement. "As for your wild accusation about online betting, I'm
guessing the police would smell the obvious there."