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“How do you think I feel?” Logan said impatiently. He stared out the window of his condo, praying for patience. “She’s back to emails and phone calls. Not exactly what I had in mind.”
“Yeah, well you haven’t exactly pressed the issue, have you? How can you not see someone you’re crazy about for that amount of time?”
“I don’t want to push her, Adrian. It was hard enough for her to open up to me like that. The last thing I want to do is pressure her to do anything—plus she’s been working hard on Belle Cove. I’m the one who needs to practice patience right now, not go barging into her office beating my chest and demanding that we move things along. You know Dakota. If I tried that, she’d tell me where I could stick that testosterone, and that would be it. Game over. Done.”
“I so don’t miss the dating scene,” Adrian said drily. “It’s way too much work.”
Logan snorted. “And marriage isn’t?”
“In some ways it is, but the fringe benefits far outweigh the negatives.” He grinned.
Logan leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Don’t remind me.”
“So what are you going to do next?”
“Hell if I know.”
They were silent for a while before Adrian snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. It’s a perfect idea. It’s sentimental, thoughtful and will definitely appeal to her feminine froufrou side.”
Sitting up, Logan arched an eyebrow. “Froufrou?”
“Hey, do you want my help or don’t you?” Adrian asked.
Logan chuckled. “Yes, I’d like your help. Now what did you have in mind?”
Chapter 11
Running in four-inch heels was always a dicey proposition, but Dakota had been willing to take the risk in order to catch the Metra commuter train about to leave union Station. Her afternoon meeting with Nancy had run over. Normally, it was not a big deal because she had her car, but this time Nancy was extra chatty, and Dakota was not able to interject a word in until the very end. After that, she hightailed it to the station.
She was on the track and had to run to catch the Milwaukee District North train before it left. Unable to take the strain, her heel broke right before she reached the door. She bent down, picked up her shoe and hobbled up the steps. Winded, sweaty and off balance, Dakota made her way to the first available seat.
There were eight stops before the Glenview Metra station. That gave her some time to close her eyes and get herself together. Or at least to make it seem like she had not just run a race.
When the train arrived in Glenview, Dakota carefully descended onto the landing. It was mid-November, and the ground was far too cold to walk in her bare feet. It took a while, but she slowly made it to her parked car. Never happier to see anything, she gratefully got in and ceremoniously dumped both shoes on the passenger-side floor, then started the car.
Once it warmed up, she turned the floor vents on to heat up her feet, and then drove home. When she got there, she dropped her purse on the table and went straight to her bedroom to undress and shower.
Thirty minutes later, she hovered in front of her fridge surveying its contents. She was hungry, but did not have the energy to fix a meal. She was pondering a bowl of cereal when her doorbell rang. She eyed the clock on the stove before going to the door. Turning on the porch light, she peered through her glass door.
She opened it and greeted the delivery man standing there with his arms laden with a large box.
“Miss Carson?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Delivery for you.”
Taking the box, she set it on the floor in front of her to sign his ledger.
After giving him a tip, Dakota shut the door and took her large parcel to the table. It was open at the top, so she began taking several bags out. There was a note, so she read that first.
Dakota,
I hope you’re hungry. I’ve ordered dinner for you with a few other goodies. I hope you’re doing well. Good luck at Belle Cove. I’ve got a business trip early next week, but should be in Jamaica by Thursday. I miss you, Koty.
Logan.
Setting the note on the table, she peered into the first bag and then eased a covered container out. Instantly, her sour mood had been lifted. Logan had sent her a Creole feast. She had jambalaya, Maque Choux, Cajun onion rings and baked bread.
For dessert, there was a box of six designer cupcakes.
“Wow,” she said excitedly. “This is a feast.”
Dakota strode over to her cell phone and dialed Logan’s number. When he picked up, she said without preamble, “You’re going to get over here and help me eat all this.”
His warm chuckle caressed her ear. When he spoke, there was still a hint of his amusement.
