Hard to Hold (17 page)

There was a little café near his townhouse known for remarkable takeout. Logan stopped on the way home, planning on bringing back something first class for dinner. He had already stopped and picked up a bottle of Silver Oak Cabernet and a good bottle of Pinot Gris in case he decided on seafood.

The special was rack of lamb. Perfect, he thought, as he placed his order and then sat on a bench to wait for the meal to be prepared. Since they made everything from scratch, he had a good twenty-five minutes ahead of him, so he took out his cellphone and belatedly realized he had powered it off for the game.

He turned it back on, put in his password, and immediately saw several missed calls, texts, and emails. One of the text messages was from Isabella, and he frowned as he saw the missed calls were from the nanny agency.

Weird
. Normally Patty checked in about once a month to see how things were going. He had just spoken to her a week ago and assured her everything was perfect.

He tapped on the message from Isabella first. Something inside him grew warm as he thought about her reaction to the dinner, and he debated for a moment about picking up some flowers for the table. He'd forgotten to tell her that he would take care of the food, so this would be a good opportunity to let her know he had it covered so she wouldn't go to any trouble…

Logan, I'm sorry. Please understand. This is better for everyone. I love you. Bella
.

He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Logan reread the message, struggling to make sense of it as he gazed at the cellphone in disbelief. This couldn't mean…

He pressed the phone icon beside her name and waited as the phone rang, but it rolled immediately into voicemail. Isabella had turned off her cell. How could she leave him a fucking message like that, and then refuse to even speak to him?

He fought the urge to fling his phone across the room, but then he remembered Patty had attempted to reach him. He'd tried her number, and when she didn't answer, left her an urgent message. While he didn't want to put her in the middle of anything, as a business owner she would at least have the decency to return his call.

Acid burned in his belly, and he was suddenly nauseous. He didn't hear his name called for the dinner, and the food runner had to come get him, physically tapping his shoulder to snap him out of the churning emotions that engulfed him.

“Mr. Hart? Your order is ready.”

“Thanks.” He handed over his credit card in a daze, scribbled his name, took the bag, and walked outside.

There was a homeless woman sitting in an alcove of the building between the restaurant and a fitness center. Logan handed her the gourmet meal and walked off before she could thank him. His last vision was her fingers, visible through her torn gloves, opening the paper sack eagerly.

The meal had cost him seventy-five bucks, but that was the least of his concerns, for he knew in his heart what had happened:

Bella was gone.

When he arrived at the garage of his condominium, Logan tried Isabella once more and got the same immediate voicemail. As soon as he hung up, the cell rang and synced with his car. Relief flooded through him as he recognized Patty's number.

“Logan! I've been trying to reach you.”

“What the hell is going on?” He knew his voice was demanding, but he couldn't help it. His frustration had reached a boiling point.

“She didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what? I just got home. I'm in the garage.”

She sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God. Logan, I'm sorry.”

“Patty, if you don't tell me what the fuck is happening, I swear to God I'm going to explode.” His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and turned white with his effort to maintain control.

“I don't entirely know, other than that Isabella confided in me that she wasn't happy and needed to move on. I tried to get her to explain, but she wouldn't say much more than that. I'm sorry.”

“Fuck! So who has Cinnamon? What the hell kind of business are you running?”

He almost got out of the car, intending to sprint up to his condo, when Patty spoke firmly. “Logan, we have it covered. I have a new nanny scheduled, and a substitute caring for the baby until she can start.”

“I can't believe this! Bella ran off without a word to me?”

There was a long pause. “She said she needed a change. I tried to get her to stay on until the new nanny started, but she was determined. Maybe she just wanted some time to herself. Logan, did something happen between you two? Like a fight or anything?”

“Not that I know of. But apparently, I am the last fucking guy to know anything.”

Patty started to say something, but he hung up.

The connection was lost. Patty stared at her cellphone, knowing that Logan needed some time to cool off and assimilate what he'd just heard.

But she didn't like the sound of this. Patty tried to call Isabella and got the same message Logan must have received.

Tapping her cell with her fingertip in agitation, she remembered that Isabella had provided an emergency contact when she started with the agency. Making her way to the office, she couldn't stop the agitation fluttering through her, the sense that something was wrong.

She waited in frustration for Windows to download a few million updates. When the icons finally appeared, she opened Isabella's employment folder. It took her a few minutes to locate her résumé and application. But when she finally searched through the documents, she saw a name and phone number:

Rene Bennett.

Isabella's mother.

“Hi, Mrs. Bennett,” she said when a woman's voice answered. “This is Patty Smith from the agency, P.S. Nanny? I'm sorry, I know it's late.”

“No, that's okay. My husband is just watching Discovery, and I am flipping through HGTV. Is everything all right?”

“It's Bella. I'm just wondering if you've heard from her today?”

“No, why?”

Patty could hear the high alert in the other woman's voice, and she forced herself to soften her tone. “She asked me to find her another position, and that she wanted her replacement to start right away. I thought it was odd. I had the feeling that something had happened between her and her employer, Logan Hart.”

“Ah,” Rene said softly. “I sensed an attraction between them right from the beginning.”

“Apparently she didn't tell Logan why she was leaving; in fact, she didn't tell him anything. This is odd for Isabella; she is normally very professional.”

“Yes,” her mother agreed, and Patty could hear the concern in her voice. “It is unusual.”

“I was hoping you had another number, or a way of getting in touch with her? I respect her privacy, but I want to make sure she's all right.”

“No, I'm sorry, I don't.” Patty heard the hesitation in the other woman's voice. “I know you and Isabella have become friends. I don't know how much she's told you about her past…”

“I know she can't have children, and that she has struggled with depression.”

“Oh. Good. Then you know.” Rene took a breath. “I'm afraid that her feelings for Logan have become much more than just a romantic fling.”

“She's in love with him,” Patty stated.

“Yes. She was rejected badly by her last boyfriend because of her lack of ability to have her own children. Being…intimate with Logan may have aroused all those feelings again. It may have been too much for her. She has a few friends that I am aware of. I will try to reach out and see if anyone has heard from her.”

“If you do, can you please let me know? And I will do the same.”

“I will. I have to go.”

For the second time that night, someone hung up on her.

“Hello, Mr. Hart. I am Elizabeth Larkins, the substitute nanny.”

Logan saw a plump, middle-aged woman rise up from the sofa and extend her hand. He took it, aware that it was thick and warm.

“I am very happy to meet you,” she continued. “Cinnamon is doing fine; she had her dinner and is sleeping quite soundly. You've done a wonderful job with her.”

“It wasn't me.” Logan felt as if the world had turned upside down. How could this fucking have happened? How could he be just standing here, shaking this woman's hand, knowing that Bella was gone?

Gone!

“Excuse me?”

“It wasn't because of me that Cinnamon is doing so well. It was Bella.”

“Oh. I see. Yes, Patty explained to me that this was a sudden change in circumstance. I understand.”

Do you?
Logan thought bitterly.
Then fucking explain it to me
. But he realized he was being unfair. This woman had nothing to do with what had happened with him and Isabella, and it wasn't right to take it out on her.

He was staring and realized he was being rude. “I'm sorry. This all just happened so fast. I haven't had time to get used to it yet.”

“There is a packet with my credentials and references on the counter if you'd like to review them. I've had over twenty years of experience with children of all ages, and especially infants. If you have any concerns about my ability to take care of the baby…”

“None at all.” Logan strode to the fridge, opened the door, and grabbed a beer. “I'm sure you'll do fine. Now if you don't mind, I'm not in the mood to talk. I assume you found your room?”

“It's lovely. Your previous nanny showed me around and acquainted me with Cinnamon's schedule, health records…Just about everything I needed to know. I don't think the baby will notice much difference.”

But I sure as hell will,
Logan thought fiercely. “Great. I'll see you in the morning.”

Venturing to his little girl's room, he closed the door behind him, allowing all of the emotion he'd been suppressing to wash over him. Anger. Frustration. Helplessness.

Fear.

It was gut wrenching to think he may have lost Isabella without even knowing why. And it was his own fucking fault. He knew he couldn't hold on to a girl like Bella, expect her to take care of the baby, and fuck him when convenient with no assurance of his feelings, or of a tomorrow.

He'd been a royal fucking douchebag, and now all of his dreams and plans were shot to hell.

Cinnamon sighed in her sleep, and she made little sucking noises as if remembering her last bottle affectionately. The sound calmed him and he went to stand beside her, inhaling her baby scent. Logan gently touched her head, feeling the silk of her copper-colored hair.

Here at least was one female who wouldn't disappear on him. Or would she? An appearance from Desiree, a court order, and she could be gone as well. Nothing in life, he thought ruefully, was guaranteed.

Nothing and no one.

An uneasiness crept over him as the baby slept. He could understand Bella being disappointed in him, but what about the baby? Didn't she fucking matter? She loved Cinnamon; Logan had no doubt about that. She showed it clearly in the way she had cared for the child, even the way she held her and spoke to her.

Why, then, would she abandon them without a word?

It didn't make sense. None of it did. Logan's eyes fell on the well-furnished nursery, the Disney prints on the wall, the neatly placed wipes and baby powder on the dressing table.

Bella had done all this. She had stepped up before he did, making sure his daughter was comfortable and well taken care of until he'd learned the ropes. Was that the reason she was gone? Had she planned this all along, to stay just until he had bonded with the baby?

He knew Bella better than that. At least he thought he did.

Then what? What?

He didn't know. Their relationship hadn't run the normal course because of the baby. Cinnamon, while he cared about her, was a distraction. Not that it was bad; the baby was the reason he and Bella had come together.

Was she also the reason they came apart?

Logan shook his head. He couldn't allow his fears and uncertainties to take over. Maybe Isabella just needed some time on her own and some space. He had to believe that she would come back to him, at least to fucking explain herself if nothing else, and to see the baby. She wasn't just walking away from him, she was walking away from the little girl.

If she just needed some time, he could give her that. But one thing he was sure of: he wouldn't wait too long.

Isabella meant too much to him. And whatever he had done wrong, he would make it right and win her back.

The water lapped gently against the dock as a mallard made a crash landing into the lake. He was followed a moment later by his mate, who glided gracefully behind him, her plumage much less spectacular than her handsome companion.

They mated for life; she'd heard that once. And watching the pair waddle onto the bank, the male keeping guard, denying himself food as the female nibbled among the grass, she could believe it.

Her father's cabin had always represented peace to her. They had come here as a family when she was a little girl, long before she knew the disappointments and complexities of life. She had always loved it, the rustic living room smelling like pine, her bedroom with her red plaid quilt looking over the placid water. She remembered running across the grass where the ducks were now, swimming just off the dock, and then lying in bed at night and watching the stars.

She thought if she came back here, spent a few weeks before starting her next job, she could recapture that feeling, but it eluded her. Instead, her old friend depression had shown up, and she fought the blackness, trying to prevent it from completely taking over.

But how? Normally she would remind herself of good things ahead: the next job, a nice vacation, a new outfit. But without Logan and Cinnamon, she couldn't see anything in her future but loss.

The ducks returned to the lake, forming a V in the silvery water as they drifted to the other side, and then comically dipped upside down, foraging in that secret world beneath the surface.

She thought of her dream last night. She had been walking barefoot through the cool grass, the stars twinkling overhead and reflected in the shimmering black surface just beyond.

It felt chilly as she entered the lake, but she didn't mind, even though she normally hated the cold. Instead, she kept going, letting the icy water grow higher until it was over her head, and she was astonished to find she could breathe as she stepped through the lacy seaweed. Sand turned to mud beneath her toes, soft and squishy, pulling at her feet. An inquisitive perch flashed silver before her, and she followed him into the murky depths as the stars gradually disappeared. Ahead lay a yawning cavern, enticing her into the black velvet darkness. She had a feeling if she entered that cave, she wouldn't come out.

Shaking off the memory, Isabella walked back to the cabin. She was tired, desperately tired. Her eyes fell on a pill bottle that stood beside her purse.

Paxil. She had weaned herself off the medication several years ago but had kept a few of the pills just in case. Fingering the bottle, she thought of how easy it would be to find relief this way. Millions of people did. It would boost her serotonin and allow her to see the blue sky again.

But she also wouldn't feel. And as painful as these emotions were, they represented something real.

Logan
.
And Cinnamon
.

Putting the bottle inside her purse, she got temptation out of sight. There were better ways to deal with pain; she had spent years practicing. Read a book. Take a walk. Call a friend.

Picking up her cell, she found Anna's number and placed a call. Even though her best friend wouldn't be able to do anything, she would give her a gift that was priceless:

She would listen.

“Oh, my God, Bella. Don't tell me you've been living here.” Anna glanced around the rustic log cabin, still holding her bag as if afraid to put it down.

Like something would crawl into it.

“Just for a couple of days. I'll have you know this was our summer vacation house. I came here every year when I was a little girl. My dad used to fish for trout in the lake outside.”

“Nice.” She still held onto her weekender.

Isabella smiled in spite of herself. “It's okay. Whenever I feel down, I clean. The cabin is immaculate.”

“If you say so,” Anna said dubiously, her gaze falling on the log walls, the stone fireplace, and the comfortable plaid sofa. She reached inside her duffel and produced a bottle of red. “I came prepared.”

“It's not exactly the boondocks. You act as if I kidnapped you and took you off to Appalachia.”

“We're from New Jersey,” Anna said, spreading her arms open helplessly, as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did.

“Here,” Isabella said, setting out two glasses and indicating she should pour. “I can see we will need some vino to scare away the bogeyman.”

“Yes. But for who?”

Isabella's eyes narrowed. “Just pour.”

Her friend grinned and lifted the bottle, dispensing a generous amount in each glass. “To the boondocks! May we both survive the night!”

Isabella did an eye roll, and then tapped her glass to Anna's.

“Logan Hart.”

He answered his cell, unable to recognize the out-of-state area code, and then recognized the detective's voice.

“Hi Logan, it's James. We found her. Desiree.”

His head snapped up as he held Cinnamon in his arms with a bottle. The baby girl woke up a little early for her feeding, and with Bella gone, he'd decided to break the rules a little.

“You found her?” It seemed fucking impossible after all this time.

“Yes,” the detective continued. “She's living in Florida, in Gainesville, working as a bartender. The boyfriend left her; no surprise. That's how we located her. She had to take a job on the books to support herself.”

For a quick moment, Logan felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Desiree had obviously made a lot of mistakes where men were concerned.

But he wasn't that sorry. He remembered the way she'd deposited Cinnamon on the table at PJ's as if she was nothing more than a book he had lent her, or a few CDs.

Now that he had some experience in taking care of the baby, he had no intention of handing her back over to an unstable mother. But could he handle this without Bella? He didn't know.

But he had to get a fucking grip, at least for the baby's sake.

“That's good news. Have you made contact with her?”

“Yes. If you can fly down here in the next day or so, I can set up a meeting before she has time to disappear again. I just think you should jump on this, strike while the iron is hot.”

“Right. Agreed. I'll be there.” He stared at the baby in his arms.

How the fuck was he going to do this? He didn't have Bella, and the new nanny was off for a couple of days. Quickly he made a decision. He would bring Cinnamon with him. After all, he knew how to take care of her now. How hard could it be?

“Good. I'll text you the location to meet me.” He heard the determination in the detective's voice, and Logan understood why the man had been so successful in this job. He was a fucking bulldog. “I'll see you shortly. Send me your flight information, and I'll arrange everything else.”

He hung up the phone before Logan could say thank you.

She felt better. Isabella realized her instincts had been right, and apparently all that therapy had done some good.

Anna's presence was energizing. It wasn't as if she'd said anything profound, or, as Doctor Phil sometimes seemed to do, waved a magic wand and all was okay once more.

But what she did do was simply be there. Isabella didn't know how much she needed that until the second glass of wine, and she found herself relaxing, pouring out her thoughts and emotions like an unstopped jug lying on its side.

It felt good, damned good, and even as she talked, the grayness began to lift. Anna nodded, encouraged the conversation, and refilled the glasses without offering any advice, judgment, or suggestions. She didn't compare the situation to one of her own or offer any silver linings.

“That sounds painful, to be carrying a secret like that all this time on your own. I can see why you were hesitant to tell Logan, even though you've fallen in love with him.”

When she choked on her wine, Anna laughed, even as she pounded her back. “It's too bad he didn't know what your feelings are,” she continued, “and your reasons for moving on. I guess he's not trustworthy enough, being a gorgeous soccer player and all that. Fans in every country. Women throwing themselves at him. Hell, I wouldn't confide in him, either.”

“But he's not like that!” Isabella protested. “Logan is really a great guy. He took good care of Cinnamon, and me. He just…”

“What?” Anna's brows arched.

“Deserves a family of his own.” She exhaled. “And a woman who can give him that.”

“I guess he's told you that he wants kids?”

“Well, not exactly,” Isabella said thoughtfully. “But he's so good with them. You should have seen him at the party, and the way he is with the baby.”

Anna's eyes met hers and they were filled with doubt. “Bella, I deal with parents all day long, and raising children is hard work. A lot of them seem shocked by the hours, the loneliness, and lack of support. From what you've told me, Logan comes from a big family. He knows all this, or at least has an idea. It wouldn't surprise me at all to discover that you and Cinnamon are more than enough for him.”

“But I don't think it's fair to put him in that position, where he has to choose.” Her logic had seemed flawless before, but for some reason it now seemed to be falling apart.

“For what it's worth, I also don't think it's right to make decisions for him,” Anna stated. “He's a grown man.”

Isabella looked stunned as she took another sip of the wine. This hadn't occurred to her. “Do you really think I'm doing that?”

“Yes. I understand your reasons, and I'm not here to tell you what to do. You love him and said you trust him. But not enough to let him make up his own mind about the rest of his life?” She shrugged. “If I was Logan, I'd be pissed.”

Maybe it was the wine, the depression lifting, or missing Logan, but suddenly Anna seemed to make a whole lot of sense. “God, you're right.” It was as if she was looking through a kaleidoscope, and the pieces all fell into place. “I should call him. I just hope it's not too late.” Isabella looked around for her cell.

“Yes. Tomorrow.” Picking up the bottle, Anna grinned and displayed the green cylinder in the firelight. It was empty. “Let's get some sleep, and you can call when you've had a chance to make sure this is what you want to do. After all, you know the old saying.”

“What's that?”

Anna grinned. “Friends don't let friends drink and dial.”

Logan felt his phone vibrate on the nightstand. He came instantly awake and glanced at the clock.

Eleven p.m. Who the hell would be texting this time of night, except maybe one of his comrades on the West Coast or overseas…

Yet his heart came to a thudding halt when he saw the name illuminated in the cellphone light: Isabella.

Rolling to sit up, he switched on the light and immediately tapped on the text.

Hi, Logan, this is Anna, Bella's friend. Just want you to know she's okay. She's staying at her parents' lake house for a few days. Just needs a little time. Didn't want you to worry.

Logan stared at the message, trying to read between the lines. Why was Anna texting him instead of Isabella? What the hell did that mean, she was at her family's vacation house? If she needed some time off, he could have understood that; all she had to do was ask. She didn't need to fucking disappear.

There was a lot more going on here: Logan was certain of it. Even the fact that Anna had apparently taken Isabella's phone and sent him a message was telling. While he was thoroughly relieved to know that she was all right, a thousand questions hammered inside him, none of which he could answer.

Why? Why? What the fuck is going on?

But at least she was okay, and he sensed Anna was on his side. He texted back.

Thanks.

He knew she would immediately erase his response, along with her message, so that Bella wouldn't know she'd contacted him. As frustrated as he was, he wondered if maybe this wasn't the best plan. He had to go to Florida and clean up his own mess, and that would give Isabella the opportunity to sort out her thoughts and emotions.

What she didn't know was he had no intention of letting her go. Just like in soccer, sometimes he had to back off, had to let the other team control the ball until the right moment came for him to make his move. As frustrating as it was to wait, he had learned it was often the better strategy.

Even though it totally sucked.