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“Not if we handle it right.”
She gave him a long, measuring look, then settled back in the seat, a sudden calm taking over her. “It will be handled right, I can promise you that.” Something glinted in her eyes while complacency curved the line of her lips.
She sounded much too confident. It put Logan instantly on guard. It was obvious she objected to granting him visitation rights. But exactly what form the opposition would take, Logan couldn’t guess. Her ensuing silence made it clear she had no intention of telling him—yet.
Minutes later, he pulled into the ranch yard and parked in front of The Homestead. Chase swung the ranch pickup alongside him. The instant his grandfather switched the engine off, Quint scrambled out the passenger side of the truck and ran up to Cat.
“We followed you all the way home, Mom.”
“I know.” She smiled. It faded a little when she saw the curious glance he darted at Logan, but he didn’t ask what he was doing here. Cat was suddenly very thankful that Quint was not a naturally inquisitive child, always wanting to know the how and why of things.
Watching them, Logan studied the picture they made together. Her love for the boy was evident in the warm look in her eyes, the easy smile they shared and the loving and familiar way she touched him. Nothing in her manner or tone of voice conveyed to Quint any of the tension or the turmoil of the moment, leaving Logan in no doubt that she would go to any lengths to protect Quint.
But the picture of mother and son stayed in his mind, even after they went inside and Cat sent Quint off with Jessy to get ready for bed, promising him she would be up later to tuck him in.
He followed Chase into the spacious den. Cat paused inside the wide doorway and swung back to close both doors, all grace and motion, her skirt swirling softly about her legs. When she turned back, Logan saw the battle light in her eyes and t
he sparkle of confidence. His glance drifted to her lips, laying softly together with just a hint of smugness in their line. But it was their taste he was remembering.
“Brandy?” Chase asked as he splashed some amber-colored liquor in a snifter for himself.
“No thanks,” Logan walked over to one of the high-backed chairs facing the desk and folded his long frame into it.
“You don’t drink much, do you?” Chase put the stopper back in the crystal decanter.
“Only a beer now and then.” Logan didn’t bother to add that his mother had been an alcoholic. He couldn’t remember a day when she hadn’t been drunk or nursing a hangover. As a result, he had fought shy of hard liquor, even as a youth.
Brandy snifter in hand, Chase crossed to the desk with a stiffness of gait that spoke of arthritic and aching joints. He lowered himself into the armchair behind it, then glanced at both Cat and Logan, idly swirling the liquor in his glass. “Were the two of you able to come to any decision on your way here?”
“There was no decision to make,” Cat declared airily, coming to stand near a corner of the desk, her body angling slightly toward Logan.
“Cat has indicated an unwillingness to grant visitation rights,” Logan replied evenly.
“Why should I?” Again her voice held that note of breezy unconcern.
“Because I am his father.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re not.”
Logan came out of his chair with a rush, at last realizing her game. He stopped a foot away, towering over her in his anger. She tossed her head back, meeting the hardness of his gaze with cool defiance.
“Wait a minute,” Chase broke in sharply. “You said very clearly at Sally’s that Logan was Quint’s father.”
“I should have said he claims to be Quint’s father,” she corrected smoothly. “If he wants to prove otherwise, he’ll have to take me to court.”
“Are you prepared to perjure yourself?” Chase demanded, disbelief and anger warring in his voice.
“It wouldn’t be perjury, merely a lapse of memory.” Her lips curved in a taunting smile. “Regrettably, I had too much to drink that night. I don’t remember anything about it too clearly, certainly not the man who ultimately took advantage of my weakened condition.”
“As I recall, you were the aggressor that night.” Logan’s voice vibrated with the control he placed on his anger.
It was not the sort of information she wanted her father to hear. She came back quickly to cover it. “And I have no memory of that at all.”
“Cat, you’re not using your head,” her father put in. “Don’t you realize how costly a court fight will be?”
“I know. But fortunately money won’t be a problem for me, although it could put a strain on your wallet, couldn’t it, Logan?” she challenged. “It’s quite possible you’ll have to finance it. In fact, you may even have to find a better-paying job somewhere else,” she murmured with honeyed sarcasm. “Because I promise you, my attorneys will come up with so many cross-petitions and postponements that it will be years before you see the inside of a courtroom.”
“You’re determined to get me out of here, aren’t you?” Logan’s eyes were cold with anger.
