station had been explaining how he could reach the county road that would take him there when Nick had spotted the purse-snatching in action.
A cold wind blew out of the north, hinting at the snow to come. Nick zipped his black leather jacket. Minnesota was a hell of a lot colder than southern California.
When he left home this morning, the weatherman had predicted a sunny day in the high eighties. And had his old friend and mentor not needed his services, Nick would have spent the afternoon on the sands of Pacific Beach.
But late last night, Harry Logan had called from his hospital bed to ask a favor, and Nick hadn’t given the request a second thought. He owed the retired detective—big-time. If not for Harry’s involvement in Nick’s sorry life, he might be rotting in prison right now. Or dead.
Harry had given more than one angry delinquent reason to look beyond a crappy childhood. And Nick had found himself wanting to be a man of honor, a man like Harry. It was a goal Nick would never reach, though, because the old man had raised the bar too damn high.
His loyalty ran deep for the aging detective, and like each one of the other twelve or thirteen guys known as Logan’s Heroes, Nick would do anything for Harry. Nick owed the man far more than a trip to Minnesota on the cusp of winter. A hell of a lot more.
Harry had taken Nick to ball games and invited him to backyard barbecues. He’d even paid Nick’s first semester registration at the local junior college, making him feel as much a part of the Logan family as Harry’s own sons.
“Hailey’s my daughter,” Harry had said. “And she’s living in a small Minnesota farm town. I want you to bring her to San Diego. To the hospital, where I can see her. Where I can talk to her. I let her down a long time ago, and I want to apologize, ask her forgiveness.”
Nick found it hard to believe Harry could have let anyone down. Ever. He was too much of a straight-arrow. Too dedicated to his family and the youth in the community. Youth at risk, as Nick had been.
Nick had plenty of questions, but he wasn’t about to force his old friend to say more than he wanted to.
“Find Hailey Conway,” Harry had asked Nick from his hospital bed.
It was as simple as that.
Nick looked at his watch. The sooner he found the woman, the better. He’d promised Harry not to return to San Diego without her.
It was a promise Nick intended to keep.
Hailey pulled aside the lace curtain and looked out the living room window. The sky had darkened to a threatening gray, giving credibility to the weatherman who’d announced a winter storm warning and predicted the next snow would be fierce and unusually cold.
The first flakes began to sprinkle the ground, laying claim to the dormant grass that hid below the frozen surface. The temperature had dropped considerably since she’d left Granville well over an hour ago.
Had Steven made it out of Mankato before the worst of the blustery storm hit? Hailey hoped he didn’t get stranded along the way, because she had big plans for tonight. And condoms in the nightstand to prove it.
She thought about the episode in town, about the good-looking detective who’d known what she had planned for the evening, but quickly shoved the awkward memory aside. She’d had her first and last bittersweet run-in with a cop when she was six years old. A man she’d looked up to, until he abandoned her mother.
Nope. Harry Logan hadn’t deserved the hero worship a starry-eyed child had offered him. That’s why she’d refused to talk to him when he’d called her after twenty years. A personal relationship with the man who’d fathered her was the last thing in the world she wanted.
Since moving to Minnesota, Hailey had set her sights on home, hearth and a man she could trust. And she’d fought too long and hard for her goals to become distracted now.
The little house she’d purchased with her own earnings had grown warm and cozy, and the aroma of roast beef filled the air. She glanced over her shoulder at the table she’d set for two and smiled at the result of her careful preparation. China, crystal wineglasses, tapered candlesticks.
She’d invited Steven to dinner again. The hardworking accountant lived alone and made no bones about how much he enjoyed a home-cooked meal.
The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, the old adage said. And just in case a hearty meal of meat and potatoes wasn’t enough to make Steven pop the question, or at least make a commitment, Hailey had an alternate route to his heart—a well-plotted but subtle seduction.
It had been a long time since she’d been intimate with a man, too long, probably. In college she’d found herself attracted to the wrong kind of guy, the kind who promised sexual fulfillment but couldn’t offer anything long-term. When she realized her penchant for falling for the devil-may-care type, she’d made it a point to look for the right kind of mate, even if he didn’t sweep her off her feet.
She’d worked hard to make her world predictable and stable. And she intended to choose a husband in the same way she’d selected the little house and the dependable car she drove—with a great deal of care and foresight.
Steven was her soon-to-be fiancé, although he didn’t know it yet. There weren’t too many men like the brilliant accountant. Handsome. Gentle. Honest. Loyal. He was a good neighbor, as well as a friend. His smile might not make her heart soar or do flip-flops, but it did warm her soul. And she had no qualms about pursuing a physical relationship with him.
A glass or two of wine would take the edge off her nervousness. Any more than that, and she just might lose her head. Visions of Lois Lane removing Clark Kent’s glasses and kissing him senseless crossed her mind, and she quickly pushed it aside. This evening was more than a romantic game.
A knock sounded at the door, drawing her from her daydreams. It was probably little Tommy Kuehn looking for his cat again or Mrs. Billings, the elderly woman who lived next door, wanting to share a cup of coffee. Those were the kinds of visitors Hailey had grown to expect in the small community in which she’d chosen to settle down and make a home.
She opened the door and bit back a gasp when she spotted the rugged detective on her stoop, the man who had apprehended the mugger and returned her purse. Her heart began to race.
He seemed nearly as surprised to see her as she was to see him, but he smiled, masking his thoughts, so it seemed.
What was he doing here? Had he taken her name from the police report? Was this official business? Would she need to go to court?
“Yes?” She leaned against the door, blocking him from entering the house, from getting too close, and scanned his broad length. Her gaze focused on a snow-speckled head of unruly dark hair that curled at the collar, a strong, aquiline nose that had probably been broken a time or two, a small but jagged scar that marred the left brow.
“Hailey Conway?”
She merely nodded, not trusting her own voice.
“I had a tough time finding your place.”
She didn’t doubt it. Some of the graveled streets didn’t have signs. “I guess you’re not from around here.”
“I’m not.”
That
