to grips with what went wrong.”
“He’s chosen a hell of a way to go about it.”
“As I said, it’s the only way he knows.”
Logan made a low noise in his throat. “Listen to you. Defending him.”
She put her hand against the side of his face, longing to make him understand. “Logan. I have to do this.”
Scowling, he ducked away from her touch. “I think it’s time I had a nice long talk with that—”
“Please. Don’t.”
“Jenna. He’s forced you into this.”
“No. No, he hasn’t. I don’t have to go with him. I could divorce him all over again. It might take time, but it wouldn’t take forever. If I go away with him, it will be because I choose to do it. For myself.”
Logan looked at her piercingly. “You’re sure?”
“I am.” She slid the ring off her finger and held it out.
“Keep it,” Logan said.
“No. That wouldn’t be right.”
Reluctantly he took it. A few minutes later, she walked him to the door.
And ten minutes after that, she was walking out herself. She got into her car and headed straight for the Northern Empire Inn. She knew the way. The inn was a Meadow Valley landmark, built over a century before.
She was lucky. She found a parking space near the front entrance. The fine old wood floors creaked a little under her feet as she strode through the foyer and up to the front desk.
“Mack McGarrity’s room, please.”
The desk clerk, who looked about twenty and had big brown eyes, smiled at her sweetly. “I’ll ring his room and tell him he has a visitor. Your name, please?”
“Just tell me where his room is. I’ll find it myself.”
“Oh, I can’t do that.” The clerk’s brown eyes had gone wider than before.
“And why not?”
“Well, I mean, it’s…” Her smooth brow furrowed as she tried to think why. And then she remembered. She announced, with great pride, probably quoting from a training manual, “Because all of our guests have a reasonable expectation of privacy.”
Mack McGarrity has no expectation of privacy at all, Jenna thought, not right now, not when it comes to me….
But of course, she didn’t say that. The clerk was only following orders. “My name is Jenna Bravo. Tell him I’d like to come to his room.”
“One moment, please.”
The clerk turned to the antique switchboard behind her and rang Mack’s room. When she turned back, she was all smiles again. “Mr. McGarrity is expecting you.”
“I’ll bet he is,” Jenna muttered to herself.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, I’ll be so glad to see him. Which room is he in?”
“He’s taken the East Bungalow. Go out that door there, across the back patio and take the trail that winds to your right.”
The East Bungalow, nestled among the oaks well away from the main building, was a wood frame structure, blue with white trim. It had a cute little white porch, complete with a rocker, a swing and planters under the front windows. The lights were on inside, spilling a golden glow out into the mild September night.
The door was wide open and Mack was standing in the doorway—lounging, really, looking lazy and insolent and quite pleased with himself. As Jenna marched up the porch steps to confront him, he gave her a slow once-over with hooded eyes.
Her body responded to his glance as if he had touched her. A hot little shiver slid over her skin, a shiver of awareness, of sensual recognition.
He straightened from his slouch and folded his arms over his chest. “It’s about time you showed up.”
She paused on the threshold. He was blocking the doorway. “May I come in?”
“By all means.” He stepped aside.
She entered warily, into a front sitting room decorated in Victorian style, with lace curtains at the windows, glass-shaded lamps and a sofa and love seat with carved claw-footed legs. Most of the furniture had been pushed against the wall to make room for two desks, set at right angles to each other. One desk had a laptop, a fax machine and telephone on it, the other a full-size computer, complete with mammoth monitor. At the moment, the monitor was running a screensaver of planets, stars and moons hurtling endlessly through deep space.
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