The Marriage Stampede. Julianna Morris
looked at him doubtfully and Logan winced. He had a reputation as the Ogre of Nisqually Drive. It was his own fault; he wasn’t good with kids. He should never have bought a house in such a family oriented neighborhood, but it represented everything he’d never had. There weren’t too many dirt poor kids who could grow up and buy million-dollar acreage overlooking the Puget Sound.
With great reluctance they trudged away, leaving only a sandy-haired boy. The lad had a mutinous look on his face, a wordless determination to face the ogre.
“Hey, Merrie,” the boy called. “Thanks for getting our kite. Are you sure you don’t want us to call 911? It’s great when the fire truck comes. They turn on the lights and everything.”
“No, I’m fine. Go have fun.” She waved her hand.
The child cast another dubious glance at Logan. “I’ll come back later and see if you’re okay,” he assured before following his friends. He obviously didn’t trust an adult’s ability to handle the situation. At least not this adult.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked the woman. “Why can’t you get down?”
“Uh...” She looked down and he got an impression of jade-green eyes between strands of cinnamon hair. “You must be Mr. Kincaid.”
He nodded.
“Hi. I’m Merrie Foster, Lianne’s sister.”
Another smile twitched the corner of his mouth. Lianne Foster was a quiet young woman who catered his dinner parties and cleaned his house three times a week. She seemed completely opposite to the disheveled firebrand fifteen feet above him. “Pleased to meet you. Why are you here, instead of Lianne?”
Merrie shifted, using her feet to shimmy upward a few inches. The rickety roof of the tree house creaked ominously. “Well...Lianne was supposed to get married next month, then she discovered her slimeball fiancé was sleeping with someone else. He’s a real scuzz. Of course, the whole family knew what he was like except Lianne—she’s a little naive when it comes to things like that. She always believes the best in people.”
Logan blinked, fascinated by the roundabout explanation. “I see.”
“I had him pegged immediately,” she said confidentially. “They weren’t engaged yet, but a decent man doesn’t try to grope another woman when his girlfriend isn’t looking.”
“The scuzz groped you?”
“He tried, but I stabbed his hand with a fork.” Merrie appeared quite pleased with the memory. “I think I hit a vein.”
“Oh.” Logan didn’t know whether he should offer his congratulations or review the coverage on his health insurance. “How did Lianne take the news?”
Merrie pushed her hair away from her face and wrinkled her nose. “He told her it was all a misunderstanding and how terribly sorry he felt about everything and that it was all his fault—which of course it was, but he sounded so sincere and innocent. It was disgusting.”
Logan shook his head. “She believed him?”
“Yeah,” Merrie said, annoyed. “Then she took him to get a tetanus shot.”
“Uh, a wise precaution.”
“It was a clean fork,” Merrie protested. “Right out of the dishwasher. We hadn’t started to eat yet.”
Pain twinged in his temples and Logan rubbed his forehead. It had been a frustrating week and all he wanted was some peace and quiet. But peace seemed out of the question under the circumstances. “Do you always tell total strangers about your personal business?”
“We’re not total strangers. Or least we wouldn’t be if you weren’t so stuck up.”
He glared. “I’m not stuck up.”
“Huh.” Her eyes narrowed. “I know all about it. Lianne invited you to Christmas dinner last year, but you refused even though you didn’t have any plans with your family. Then she kept worrying about you sitting alone in that great big house for the holiday. Jeez, it’s not like she was trying to seduce you or anything. She was just being friendly.”
“I never...that’s absurd,” Logan growled. “I didn’t think any such thing.”
“Better not,” Merrie warned. “Lianne isn’t your type. She wants a lot of kids and a husband who’ll spend time with her instead of trying to become the highest paid investment guru in the state of Washington. You wouldn’t do at all.”
Logan ground his teeth. This was a ridiculous conversation, and it was getting more ridiculous by the minute. “Lots of people don’t want kids. That doesn’t make me the scum of the earth, just honest. How about you? Do you really want a bunch of rug-rats interrupting you every five seconds?”
“I love kids,” Merrie said, then wrinkled her nose again. “Well...except at the end of the school year. You see, I teach junior high school.” She uttered the last part in a dire tone of voice that suggested contact with adolescents was an extremely effective form of birth control.
“Oh.”
Merrie absently combed her hair with her fingers and braided the heavy length. “I have the sixth-grade class. They’re still a little innocent at that age, but seventh and eighth are the worst. You know, I think teenagers are a different species entirely.” She looked at the end of her braid and released the unbound plait. “What do you think?”
“I think you should get down from that tree.”
“I’ve been trying to...what do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “If you had any sense you would have given those kids ten bucks for a new kite, or just told them to forget it. The children in this neighborhood aren’t exactly deprived.”
If possible, her expression turned frostier. “Money isn’t everything—they made that kite themselves. They’re terribly proud of it.”
“Whatever. But what’s wrong now?”
She shimmied upward again, wedging her bare foot on a tree branch extending over the roof. “I’m stuck.”
“Stuck?”
“Stuck. As in pinned. Caught. Unable to get loose.”
He waited—one eyebrow raised—until she sighed.
“I slipped and the back of my shirt got caught between some rotten boards. But it isn’t all bad, it kept me from falling off.”
“Tear it. I’ll buy you a new one.”
She gave him an are-you-kidding-or-just-stupid? look. “I tried, but this knit stuff just stretches.”
“Then take it off.”
“No.”
With a stubborn expression on her face, Merrie wiggled again, reaching both hands around her back and tugging with all her might. The ancient tree house shuddered as she squirmed and Logan hovered between alarm and appreciation. The shirt kept edging up her stomach, exposing more and more skin—no wonder she didn’t want to take it off...she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“You’d better stop,” he said. “This is supposed to be a family neighborhood.”
Merrie paused, composing a withering remark in her head. “Family? Huh. As if you cared. I don’t—” The words strangled in her throat as she realized what Logan Kincaid meant...her top had remained stationary, but her body hadn’t. With a gasp she wiggled upward again and yanked the hem over her stomach.
This was awful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so embarrassed. Modern, intrepid women did not get into silly predicaments. And they didn’t blush, especially in front of stodgy businessmen who saw everything in terms of profit and loss. Just the same, the unmistakable