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Cat let go of the post and started forward, blindly digging in her pocket for the ignition keys. He stepped into her path. “Where are you going?”
“It so happens I’m leaving—if it’s any of your business.” She struggled to hold onto her anger. It was the only defense she had. She was suddenly tired—tired of fighting, tired of thinking, and most of all, tired of the loneliness. Catching hold of the key ring, she pulled the keys from her pocket.
“You are in no condition to drive.” He took the keys from her before Cat had a chance to protest. “Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know. A hotel somewhere. I haven’t gotten around to checking into one.” Cat wasn’t looking forward to searching one out, but she wasn’t about to admit that.
“In that case, you might as well get a room here at the Stockyard Hotel.” He motioned to a set of double doors a few feet away.
Cat hesitated, then nodded. “Good idea.”
This easy acquiescence seemed totally out of character for a woman who had
exhibited no signs of being either meek or submissive. Logan’s gaze sharpened on her. The fiery sparkle of temper was gone from her eyes. Shadows lurked in them now, darkening and dulling the green of them.
It touched something inside him and made him gentle when he cupped a hand under her elbow and escorted her into the hotel lobby. “The registration desk is over here.” He pointed to it.
“Wait.” She stopped beside a chair upholstered in unshaved cowhide, her expression a study of concentration when she pushed her hand into a side pocket of her jeans. “I’ve got my money and credit cards.”
“I’ll make sure they have a room available.” He left her by the chair and crossed to the registration counter.
The mustached clerk nodded a hello. “What can I do for you?”
“The lady would like a room, if you have one.” He glanced back as she swayed on unsteady legs and sank down to perch on the chair arm.
“Celebrated a little too much, did she?” the clerk observed.
“A little.”
“At least she’s got sense enough not to be driving.” He pulled out a registration slip. “What’s her name?”
“Maggie…”
“Smith?” the clerk suggested with a faint smile.
Logan glanced back, but she was still frowning over her money.
“That’s good enough.”
“And the method of payment?”
“If she doesn’t take care of it in the morning, you can bill it to my room.”
“Very good, sir.”
Scant moments later, Logan walked back to her, room key in hand. “You’re all set.”
She looked up, with that same furrow of concentration still creasing her forehead. “Don’t they need my credit card imprint?”
“Not tonight,” he told her. “You can pay for the room in the morning.”
“Oh.” She seemed momentarily puzzled, the furrow deepening. Then her expression cleared with a dawning thought. “I guess you told them who I am.”
It was his turn to frown. “I beg your pardon?”
But she didn’t appear to hear his question as she pushed off the chair arm to stand erect. Swaying suddenly, she reached to grab hold of something and fastened a hand on his arm. Immediately he placed a steadying hand on her waist.
A small, self-conscious laugh bubbled from her. “I stood up too quickly that time, didn’t I?”
