Читать книгу Beneath The Surface - Linda Turner, Linda Turner, Marilyn Pappano - Страница 8

In the process of changing out of her work clothes into jeans and a T-shirt, Abby froze at the sound of the deep male voice rumbling from her answering machine. She’d left the dating service only two and a half hours ago and she was already getting a call? She wasn’t ready!

Her heart pounding wildly, she stared at the phone as if it were a snake about to strike. She shouldn’t have listened to Lily and Rachel and Natalie. They might think they could go after happiness and find the American dream, but Abby should have known she couldn’t pull this off. There were some women who were just destined to go through life alone, and she was obviously one of them.

Her stomach in knots, her insecurities choking her, she almost let the answering machine finish taking the call. But she couldn’t forget her high-school reunion, couldn’t forget the expressions of her classmates on the dance floor. They’d been so happy, so in love with their partners. Watching them, she’d never felt lonelier…or more envious.

So talk to Logan St. John. This could be your chance…your only chance to have what you want! All you have to do is pick up the phone.

Still she hesitated. Men wanted someone who was pretty and flirtatious, who’d hang on their every word as if they’d just hung the moon. How could she do that? She wasn’t pretty, and she was too insecure to flirt. Why hadn’t she realized that sooner and spared herself this misery?

“If you want to talk, I’ll be in the rest of the evening. Give me a call at…”

When he started to rattle off his home phone number, she panicked. He was going to hang up! Furious with herself for being such a coward, she reached for the phone and snatched it up. “Hello?”

Her tone was almost defiant. Taken aback, Logan wondered if he had the wrong number. “Is this Abby Saunders?”

“Yes, it is.”

So the dating service had picked a defiant one for him, Logan thought with a groan. That was just great. First an air-head and now a woman full of anger. He was batting a thousand. Wait until he told Carter and Patty. Talk about a waste of money!

“I thought we might talk,” he said stiffly. “But I obviously caught you at a bad time.”

“No! Please don’t hang up,” she said quickly. “After the way I answered the phone, you must think I’ve got some kind of chip on my shoulder. I did sound pretty angry.”

“Actually, the word defiant comes to mind.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “It’s nothing against you personally. It’s just that when I heard your voice on the answering machine, all I could think of was that I must have been out of my mind when I signed up with the dating service. I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

Logan had to admit that he liked her honesty. “I take it I’m the first date to call you?”

“And I’ve already blown it. I’m just so nervous.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I know how you feel. I wouldn’t even be talking to you if my brother and sister hadn’t signed me up for the dating service without telling me.”

“You’re kidding! They didn’t even warn you?”

“Not until they’d signed on the dotted line and forked over a ridiculous amount of money. They were worried about me. I’ve…been keeping to myself a lot since my wife died last year.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was she sick?”

“No, it was a car accident.” Abruptly changing the subject, he said, “What about you? Have you been out of the dating scene for a while? Is that why you decided to join the Right One?”

“Actually, I don’t know that I was ever a part of the dating scene,” she admitted wryly. “Oh, I’ve dated, but none of the men I went out with were exactly winners. I never had much confidence in myself.”

“Maybe that’s about to change,” he said easily. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a secretary. How about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a reporter.”

Surprised, she gasped. “You’re that Logan St. John? The one with the Gazette?”

He grinned. “Obviously, you’ve read my work.”

“I love your unsolved crime stories. You’re very good.”

He wasn’t one to boast about his writing or preen when praised. “Thank you,” he said simply. “So tell me more about yourself. Are you originally from Austin?”

“Actually, I was born in Liberty Hill, Colorado. It’s a small town—”

“Near Aspen,” he finished for her. “I’ve driven through there on my way to Aspen. How’d you end up in Austin?”

“Work,” she said wryly. “I was working for an insurance company in Denver and got transferred down here. I ended up quitting that job, but decided to stay in Texas. What about you? Are you from Austin originally?”

“Born and raised,” he replied with a chuckle. “The entire family lives here—grandparents, parents, my three brothers and my sister.”

“Oh, that’s nice! I only have one sister, and my parents were both only children, so we didn’t have any extended family when we were growing up except for grandparents…and they lived in Florida.”

“Things were pretty chaotic when we were growing up,” he admitted. “Christmas was always wild. It still is, in fact. Everyone has kids except me, and when we all get together, there’s paper and ribbon everywhere and enough food to feed an army.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“My family’s helped get me through a lot,” he said quietly. “Of course, I wanted to shoot Carter and Patty this afternoon when they told me about the dating service, but they were only trying to help.” Forcing a lighter tone, he said, “Enough about me. What about you? What are you doing Friday night? Would you like to get together for a drink?”

Abby had relaxed as he’d talked about his family, but the second he asked her out, the nerves in her stomach knotted in alarm. “Oh, I don’t know….”

“I don’t bite,” he assured her with a smile in his voice. “Or at least I don’t if I’m fed regularly.”

She smiled slightly, only to find herself suddenly fighting the need to cry. “It’s not you,” she said thickly. “It’s me. I told you I’m not good at this. When I go on blind dates, I get all flustered and sick to my stomach and act like an idiot. It’s awful!”

“Okay, so we won’t go out on a blind date.”

Defeated, she was glad he couldn’t see her at that moment. She just wanted to drop down on her living room couch and cry her eyes out. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. “Thanks for calling…and for being so understanding. Good luck with your other dates.”

With the opening she’d so generously given him, Logan should have thanked her for the conversation and hung up. In spite of the fact that he’d enjoyed talking to her, it was obvious the lady had a lot of insecurities, and he didn’t need that.

But there was a loneliness in her voice that struck a chord deep inside him and reminded him too much of himself. Don’t go there, he ordered himself sternly. This woman’s problems aren’t yours. Remember, you only called her to get Carter and Patty off your back. You’re not looking for a date.

It didn’t matter. Even as he asked himself what the hell he was doing, he heard himself say, “Whoa, not so fast! Let’s talk about this. You paid a lot of money to meet people and go out. How are you going to do that if you’re not comfortable going on a blind date?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would make you comfortable?”

“Not going out with a stranger,” she said promptly.

He laughed, confused. “But you have to meet someone in order for them not to be a stranger. How are you going to do that if you won’t go out with someone you don’t know?”

“There’s other ways to get to know people without meeting them face-to-face,” she replied. “People do it all the time on the Internet. And there’s always the phone. Why can’t we have a phone date before we meet in person? Then if it goes well and we’re both comfortable with the idea, we can meet somewhere for dinner or a drink.”

“Are you serious? That would make you more comfortable?”

“I wouldn’t feel like I was going out with a complete stranger,” she said simply. “So what do you think?”

Logan almost laughed out loud. He couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried. In spite of the fact that he’d temporarily lost his mind and asked her out for a drink, it was only because he’d felt sorry for her. He didn’t want to date anyone. He still loved Faith, dammit! But his siblings weren’t going to quit harassing him until he convinced them that he was jumping back into life. What better way to do that than to call Abby occasionally for a phone date? Carter and Patty would think he was dating, so he’d get them off his back, and all he would be doing was talking to Abby on the phone. Just thinking about it made him grin. This could work.

“Friday night’s good for me,” he replied. “How about you? I could call you around eight, if that’s okay.”

Stunned, Abby couldn’t believe he was agreeing so easily. If every man the dating service set her up with was as accommodating as Logan St. John, she was going to love dating! “You don’t know how much this means to me, Logan. I was afraid you’d think I was weird or something.”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I don’t blame you for being nervous. Blind dates are the pits. There’s nothing worse than having a drink or a meal with someone you don’t know and sitting there in silence, trying to think of something to say.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s awful! I just can’t put myself through it.”

“There’s no reason you have to. We can talk on the phone as long as you like. If either of us decides that we don’t have anything in common and don’t ever want to meet, that’s okay, too. No hard feelings, okay?”

“No hard feelings,” she agreed. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I guess I’ll talk to you Friday night.”

“It’s a date,” he said with a chuckle, and hung up.

When the phone rang later that evening, Logan wasn’t surprised to hear his younger brother’s voice on the other end of the line. “Well, well,” Logan drawled. “How did I know you would call?”

“I’m just concerned,” Carter said defensively. “Patty and I got you into this. The least I can do is check and see how it went.” When Logan only snorted, he said, “Oh, c’mon, don’t be that way. How’d it go? I know you got a list of dates after you completed the psychological test, so what happened? Have you called anyone yet?”

Torn between amusement and irritation, Logan rolled his eyes. “It would serve you right if I didn’t tell you a damn thing. You know that, don’t you?”

“Hey, this was all Patty’s idea—”

“And you were totally against it, right? That’s why you put up half the money.”

“Okay,” he acknowledged, “so I let her talk me into it. I was just trying to help.”

“You should have told me.”

“We thought about it, but we knew you’d never agree.”

“Exactly!”

“Look on the bright side,” Carter said encouragingly. “There are a lot of nice women out there—you might actually meet a couple you like. And if you don’t, you can always do a story on dating services. So? Talk to me! What happened?”

“I have a date Friday night,” he retorted. “Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“With who? What’s her name? She must be nice if you asked her out already. Where are you going?”

“Geez, you sound worse than Mom!”

“Oh, God, I do!” his brother exclaimed, horrified. “Forget I said anything. Go out with your mystery date, have a good-time. I don’t need the details.”

When he told him good-night and hurriedly hung up, Logan laughed—truly laughed—for what felt like the first time since Faith had died. And it felt good…damn good. He’d have to thank Abby when he talked to her on Friday.

Logan had always been a morning person, but over the course of the last year he’d had little reason to get out of bed. He’d dragged himself to work and gone through the motions of doing the job he’d once loved, but he’d found no joy in investigative reporting, no joy in writing. He hadn’t needed to go to a doctor to know that he was suffering from depression. His days were gray and dull and stretched one into another with no end in sight.

He expected the following morning to be the same, but as he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, he found himself thinking about his conversations with Abby and his brother, and a slow grin of anticipation stretched across his face. Maybe this dating thing wasn’t going to be so bad. He and Abby would talk on the phone, he’d put one over on his brother—who wasn’t easy to fool—and his family would never know the difference. He almost rubbed his hands together in glee at the thought. This was going to be fun.

Imagining his brother’s and sister’s faces when they discovered that he’d pulled a fast one on them, he arrived at work an hour later with a spring in his step. The smile on his face didn’t last long, however. He was just going over his notes for a story on fraud in the building industry when Nick Whitiker, his boss, buzzed him and announced, “We need to talk.”

Logan knew that terse tone well. Nick was ticked off about something. Had Logan missed a deadline? He didn’t think so, but he would be the first to admit that his work had suffered some during the last year. He and Nick had talked about it, and he’d done his best to be more focused. What had he missed? “I’ll be right there,” he promised.

Nick usually exchanged a few pleasantries with anyone he called to his office, but he didn’t this time. Instead, he nodded toward the chair angled in front of his desk. “Sit down,” he growled.

Logan preferred to stand and take whatever bad news Nick had for him, but he only had to glance at his boss’s stern face to know this wasn’t the time to push him. Without a word, he dropped into the chair. “If this is about the story on the poker games in the break room at the police department, I don’t care what Chief Hawkins said, I’ve got proof.”

Nick waved him off with a grimace. “If I thought you couldn’t back up your stories, you wouldn’t be on the crime beat. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Leaning back in his chair, Nick looked at him over the top of his black-rimmed reading glasses. “I know the last year has been hard for you,” he said gruffly. “And to be perfectly honest, I don’t know if I’d have been able to hold myself together as well as you have if I’d lost Jackie the way you did Faith. Losing someone you love to cancer or some kind of health problem is one thing—you can understand it even though you can’t accept it. But a drunk driver who’s done this before? The jackass should have been shot!”

“I thought about it,” Logan admitted honestly, “but killing him wasn’t going to bring Faith back. Nothing will.”

“So you have to move on,” he said. “And that’s the problem. Oh, you’ve been showing up for work, hitting your deadlines, keeping track of your assignments, but we both know you’ve only been going through the motions. Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I sympathize with you and everything you’ve been through, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got a paper to publish, and my number one reporter hasn’t been writing up to par for nearly a year.”

“You know I’ve been trying, Nick.”

“Yes, I do, but unfortunately, trying isn’t good enough. Sales are down, ad revenue has been dropping steadily for the last few months, and all departments have been ordered to tighten their belts and weed out the chafe.”

“You’re firing me?”

“No, of course not.” He scowled. “Everyone knows you’re the best damn writer I’ve got, but I’m getting pressure from upstairs. Porter isn’t happy with the quality of the stories we’ve been putting out. He left me no choice but to hire his granddaughter’s boyfriend to pick up the slack. He’s right out of school—”

“Oh, c’mon, Nick! A college kid? You can’t be serious!”

“I know,” he said with a grimace. “I felt the same way when Porter told me about the kid. But then I read some of his stuff. He’s good, Logan. Damn good. In fact, his writing reminds me of the way yours used to be. It’s got an edge to it—”

“He’s a kid, Nick! He’s not me.”

“No, he’s not,” he agreed. “But right now, you’re MIA, and he’s the best I’ve got. I hope the two of you get along, but whether you do or don’t doesn’t change anything. Porter says he’s here to stay.”

Picking up the phone on his desk, he pressed a button and growled, “I need to see you in my office.” When he hung up, he told Logan, “You came here right out of college yourself, so remember that. He’s no threat to you. In fact, he may be just what you need to get out of the rut you’re in. A little competition never hurt anyone.”

Logan sincerely doubted that a kid who was still wet behind the ears could compete with an experienced reporter, but he himself didn’t plan to compete with him or anyone else. He was handling his grief, and even though he’d lost interest in his writing after Faith died, he was still a damn good writer. And with time, he knew he would regain the sharpness he’d been famous for in the past.

A knock at the door distracted him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see a tall blond man walk in. He didn’t look old enough to shave, let alone be out of college, and if Logan hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he was a California beach bum who spent all his time surfing. Logan could almost smell the scent of the ocean as the younger man stepped into the office.

This was the crackerjack reporter with a sharp edge? Logan thought cynically. Yeah, right!

“You rang, boss?”

His tone was far from respectful, his stance slouched. Nick scowled. “I don’t answer to boss. You can call me Nick or Mr. Whitiker.”

The younger man only shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.” Turning to Logan, he didn’t bother to hold out his hand. “You must be Logan St. John. I’m Josh Garrison. I heard you were having some problems. Don’t worry. I’ll pick up the slack.”

Logan liked to think he was fairly thick-skinned and didn’t get insulted easily, but there was something about Josh Garrison’s cocky tone and the look in his eye that irritated the hell out of him. “I don’t need you or anyone else to pick up the slack where I’m concerned,” he said coolly. “I’m quite capable of doing my job.”

“Hey, man, don’t get offended,” Josh retorted. “I’m just repeating what Porter told me. The paper’s in a slump and he brought me in to pull it out. If you’ve got a beef, take it up with the old man. I just do what I’m told.”

He turned and strode out without another word. In the silence left behind, Nick swore softly. “Well, that went well. Dammit, Logan, you didn’t have to get your back up!”

“The hell I didn’t,” he muttered. “You heard him. I heard you were having some problems. I’ll pick up the slack. Smart-ass. I don’t care what the ‘old man’ told him, I don’t need him to do my job for me. I was winning awards for this paper when he was still playing tag on the playground in elementary school.”

“Okay, so he wouldn’t know tact if he tripped on it,” Nick conceded. “He sets my teeth on edge, too. But like it or not, we’re both going to have to live with him, Logan. He’s the golden boy…and practically family to Porter. That gives him a get-out-of-jail-free card, so don’t hold out hope that he’ll wear out his welcome anytime soon. He’s too good a writer, and you know how Porter is when he gets a bee in his bonnet that the paper’s not pulling in enough money. He’d hire Attila the Hun if he thought it would bring in dollars.”

“I don’t care. The kid’s arrogant.”

Nick shrugged. “He’s young. You were the same way at his age.”

“I was never disrespectful,” Logan said flatly. Staring at the door through which Josh had walked out, he scowled. “There’s something about him I don’t like.”

“Just do your job and don’t worry about him,” Nick advised. “He’ll show his true colors soon enough.”

Logan had never been one to go out and look for trouble, but he also wasn’t one to sit and wait for trouble to come to him without taking steps to ward it off. He intended to watch Josh Garrison very, very carefully.

Doing some much-needed filing at work, Abby should have rushed through the job, then started printing address labels for the fund-raising-campaign letter Martin wanted mailed by Wednesday. But as she completed the familiar task, she found her thoughts drifting to Logan. She still couldn’t believe how understanding he’d been yesterday when he’d called her—or what a coward she’d been when he’d asked her to have a drink with him!

He probably thought she was scared of her own shadow, she thought with a silent groan. And she really wasn’t. Granted, she had no confidence in herself when it came to men, but she wasn’t afraid of them. The person she was afraid of was herself. And with good reason. She was a lousy judge of men. She’d proved it time and time again. She was thirty-three years old, for heaven’s sake, and she’d never dated a man she wanted to introduce to her family and friends, let alone marry.

Just thinking about it made her cringe. Had she been desperate? she wondered. Was that why she’d gone out with anyone who’d asked her? She’d never felt desperate, just lonely. And horribly insecure. And Dennis and the others like him who’d asked her out had seemed so sure of themselves. She realized now, of course, that nothing could have been further from the truth—they bragged because they were as insecure as she was and didn’t want the world to know it. But at the time, she hadn’t been able to see through their facade.

Never again, she promised herself. She wanted a man who knew what he could do without having to boast about it. A man she could introduce to her friends without having to apologize for his behavior. After only a short phone conversation with Logan St. John, she refused to do as she had in the past and jump to any conclusions about what kind of person he was. He didn’t seem to be insecure, but at this point, there was no way for her to know that for sure…which was why she intended to learn more about him before she decided if she really wanted to go out with him. If he turned out to be the type of person she thought he was, she would meet him for a drink and take it from there. If he wasn’t, she wouldn’t waste her time.

Satisfied that she was doing the right thing, she turned back to her desk to retrieve another stack of files that needed to be filed, only to spy a small piece of paper lying on the floor halfway between her desk and the filing cabinet. Scooping it up, she turned it over, thinking it was a piece of correspondence that must have fallen out of one of the files. She saw immediately, however, that it was a handwritten note to Martin.

“Martin, sorry I missed you. We need to talk about the deal. Meet me at the club at the usual time. J.N.”

Who was J.N.? Abby wondered, surprised. Martin was a popular city councilman who had a lot of friends and contacts. She thought she knew most of them, but she couldn’t think of any of his friends who went by the initials J.N.

Frowning, she stepped into his office after only a perfunctory knock. “Martin, do you know anything about this note? I found it on the floor. Was I supposed to file it?”

In the process of punching a number into his cell phone, he halted abruptly and put it away. “I don’t know. Who’s it from?”

Striding over to his desk, she handed the slip to him. “J.N., whoever that is.”

Sitting back in his chair, he studied the note and abruptly laughed. “It’s from John Nickels! We went to college together—he’s just moved back to town. He got a job with Barnes, Tucker, and Smith. He called me this morning to tell me he was going to stop by. Since he never showed up, I thought he’d changed his mind, but I guess he came by during lunch and slipped it under the door. Damn!”

“You could call him,” she suggested. “The afternoon’s pretty booked, but you could fit him into your schedule around three. You have a meeting with Mr. Hawks at two-thirty, but he won’t stay long—he never does. And you don’t have another appointment until four. That’ll give you plenty of time to visit.”

“It would if I could reach him,” her boss agreed. “But he hasn’t started work yet, and doesn’t have a cell phone.” When she lifted a brow in surprise, he said dryly, “You heard me. He doesn’t have one and doesn’t want one. You’ll have to meet John one of these days. He was born in the wrong century. He wouldn’t have a cell phone if you gave it to him.”

His tone was almost envious, and with good reason. His own cell phone rang all the time and was more of a curse than a convenience. “Maybe you can catch him at home.”

Martin smiled slightly. “He forgot to give me the number, but that’s okay. He’ll call back. He wants to buy my car.”

“The Corvette? You’re selling your ’58 ’Vette? You can’t be serious! You love that car!”

Grinning at her horrified tone, he shrugged. “Sonya says it’s time I grew up. She wants to get married, and she’s not going to be happy with anything less than a blowout.” Wadding up the note, he tossed it in the trash. “Big weddings don’t come cheap.”

“But your ’Vette, Martin. Surely there’s must be another way.”

“It’s just a car, Abby. I can get another one.”

He could, but Abby knew it wouldn’t mean nearly the same thing. The Corvette had literally been in pieces when he’d bought it right after he graduated from college and got his first job. He’d spent the last ten years restoring it, and just about everyone in town knew it was his pride and joy. He drove it in parades and car shows and had pictures of it all over his Web site. How could he sell something he loved so much for a wedding?

She almost asked him that, but she already knew the answer. He was a city councilman and always made an effort to keep up appearances. And his fiancée, Sonya, was just as bad as he was. She seemed to really enjoy being in the spotlight with him. Martin was right—she would want a fairy-tale wedding that would be splashed across the front pages of the paper and talked about for years.

Abby wrinkled her nose at the thought. A very public, impersonal wedding was the last thing she would want herself, but then again, she wasn’t the one who was getting married. Changing the subject, she said, “You wanted me to remind you about the next city council meeting. The preliminary discussions about awarding the tax collection contract are scheduled to begin.”

Straightening in his chair, he swore softly. “Damn. I forgot about that. Have we got anything in yet on the firms submitting bids?”

“I’ve been collecting it for the last three weeks,” she said, and retrieved a thick file from one of the cabinets near the door. “Ben Coffman called again this morning while you were in a conference to see if you needed anything else. That’s the third time this week.”

“I never did like Ben,” he said curtly. “He doesn’t know when to back off and give a man some space. If he calls again, tell him he’s going to lose any chance of getting my vote if he doesn’t quit harassing the hell out of me and my secretary.”

Abby would never be so rude to anyone, and Martin knew it. She would politely take a message, then pass it on to him. What he did about it was his business. “He’s not the only one calling,” she pointed out. “It’s going to be a feeding frenzy until the August twenty-first deadline.”

“I don’t care. No one should get rude.” His gray eyes hard with irritation, he growled, “The next time Ben calls, I’ll take care of him.”

Abby could handle Ben, but Martin was the boss. “No problem,” she said easily, and turned back to her own office.

“Oh, and if John Nickels phones, put him through immediately,” he called after her.

The words were hardly out of his mouth before the phone rang again. Abby stepped to her desk and had to smile when she recognized Ben Coffman’s gruff voice. “Please hold, Mr. Coffman. I’ll put you right through.”

With the door between her office and Martin’s open, she heard him mutter a curse at her words. Grinning, she stepped over and quietly shut it. She’d hardly returned to her filing when the phone rang again. Not surprisingly, the caller was from another firm that intended to make a bid to collect city taxes. She took a message, promised to relay it to Martin, then returned to her filing.

The pattern of her afternoon was set, and later, she couldn’t have said how many times the phone rang. She finished filing, then printed out the address labels for the fund-raising-campaign letter, and began stuffing the envelopes. Considering how busy she was, she shouldn’t have had time to do anything but concentrate on her job. Instead, she found herself once again thinking of Logan.

Troubled, she swore softly. “You have to stop doing this,” she muttered out loud as she added stamps to the letters. What did she know about Logan? He had a nice voice and appeared to be understanding. That was no reason to daydream about the man, for heaven’s sake! He was a reporter. For all she knew, he could be hard-nosed and pushy, and the type who didn’t take no for an answer. Was that the kind of man she wanted to date?

“No!” she said grimly. She’d made mistakes in the past because she was lonely and wanted a man in her life. But she’d learned the hard way that there were worse things than being alone—such as getting mixed up with the wrong type of man. She was going to take it slow and easy this time and give herself a chance. She was a good person and she deserved the best. This time, she was going to get it.

So why are you only talking to Logan St. John? an irritating voice in her head demanded. Why are you limiting yourself to just one man? The dating service gave you a list of five prospective dates. Call them. Then get another list and start the process all over again. That’s why you joined a dating service—to meet men! What are you waiting for?

Her heart pounded at the thought. She had never dated or been involved with more than one man at a time. Not that she’d had the chance, she thought wryly. Few men had shown an interest in her. There had been months, even years, when she hadn’t had a single date. While she’d sat at home, dreaming of Prince Charming and hating her solitude, every other woman she knew was having a full, active social life, getting to know any number of men before settling down with one. Wasn’t it time she did the same thing?

Captivated by the idea, Abby felt sudden, foolish tears sting her eyes and had to laugh at herself. “Silly, there’s no reason to cry. You can do this!” It wasn’t rocket science. All she had to do was gather her courage and make some phone calls after she got home from work. Maybe then she’d be too busy to think about Logan.