Chapter Six


	Simon sat across he table from his host in the posh country club, enjoying a slow
drink and listening to the other man talk.  In the two years since he had met the
Shellington’s at his cousin Jules’ lodge in the Yukon, Hector and Dolores had become
his close friends.  At least, as close as Simon ever let anyone get.  Jules, and his wife
Hayley, were the only ones he really allowed to get close, other than perhaps Jules’ old
cook, Annie.  She talked with her eyes and seldom spoke, but she was the wisest
person he had ever known aside from  for his own grandmother. 
	He always enjoyed the time he spent with Hector and Dolores, and he knew well
not to show up anywhere within a hundred miles of the Shellington’s without formal wear. 
The couple loved to entertain, and loved to take their guests out to dinner, and what
warmed him to them even more, was that they treated him like a son. It was an amazing
feeling that Simon had never expected to experience, and sometimes, when he finished
a contract, he came down to Arizona to visit them, just to feel that way again.
	Now, as he sat there in an elegant black suit, white shirt, and string tie, he
exuded confidence.  With his striking good looks, he presented an image that caught the
eye of many a woman passing by.  He paid little attention to them, other than smiling
politely, and concentrated instead on the one-sided conversation going on at the table
he shared with Hector.  His back was to the door, and when Hector smiled and
announced that the women had arrived, Simon was prepared to stand and politely greet
them, do his duty of pulling out Logan’s chair while Hector did the same for his wife.  But
as he turned his head slowly towards the door, any other expectations he had had flew
right out the window!
	He spotted Dolores immediately, and then his eyes moved to the woman at her
side. McCoy?  Could it  possibly be?  The girl he’d rescued from Zimmerman’s clutches
back at camp? The one he’d woken up with in his arms that morning, he reminded
himself.  She’d shed her browns and beiges, and he momentarily rebuked himself for
thinking she would arrive dressed in those colours. The truth was, he hadn’t even given
any thought to what colour she would arrive in, or what she would look like when she got
there.  It hadn’t really mattered.  She was, after all, just McCoy.  The girl who wore only
shades of brown and hid studiously behind dark framed glasses. The girl who had
disturbed his shot of the buck before he’d found out about the cancellation of the project.  
	But this! This wasn’t even the same woman!  He would have even thought it was
someone else completely, had she not seen him looking and smiled her unmistakable
nervous smile.  The first thing he noticed was that her glasses were gone.  Then he
looked at her — really looked at her — from the tousled curls on her head that framed
her face, to the toes of her feet that were wrapped in feminine shoes instead of wool
socks and hiking boots.  And then he let his gaze travel all the way back to the top
again.  She was beautiful, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  He watched as
Dolores leaned in close and whispered something to her with a satisfied grin, and saw
her look down nervously before returning her eyes to his.  
	They approached the table, and he heard Hector welcoming them, and saw, out
of the corner of his eye, that the older man was pulling out a chair for his wife.  Annoyed
with himself that he hadn’t already done the same, considering he had already figured
on doing it, he made a belated dash for the other empty chair and pulled it out just as
Logan reached it. 	
	“Thank you,” she said, almost a whisper, as she sat down and tipped her head
up to look at him, allowing him to drown in her eyes. 
	Get a grip on yourself, old man! Simon scolded himself and cleared his throat as
he sank back into his chair.  He looked at Dolores, just long enough to greet her, then
back at Logan.  He wanted to ask what the hell they’d done with his McCoy, but he held
his tongue for two reasons.  First, this was McCoy, whether he could believe it or not,
and second — why was he suddenly thinking of her as his McCoy?
	Dolores was speaking to him, and he forced himself to drag his eyes away from
Logan and politely answered her.  Then he made a quick sweep of the room with his
eyes.  Several beautiful women had walked past their table in the time that he and
Hector had been waiting there.  Where were they now?  There were none in this room
who compared to the woman sitting beside him.  

	Logan sat quietly, but she felt very uncomfortable every time Simon looked at
her, which seemed to be all the time! What was wrong with her, she wondered.  Every
time he turned her way his face bore a deep frown that furrowed right into his brow.  She
gave Dolores a worried glance, but the woman seemed unphased by Simon’s behaviour
and merely smiled at her and nodded her reassurance. 
	“Doesn’t Logan look stunning, Hector?”  Dolores asked, leaning towards her
husband as she shifted in her chair. 
	“Indeed!” Hector beamed at her. “Like a vision from heaven,” he stated, and
Logan blushed, smiling shyly.  Much to her disdain, her eyes immediately turned to
Simon, and she chided herself for instinctivelyseeking his approval.  He was looking right
at her, still frowning, and her smile froze.  How could Hector and Dolores think she
looked fine, but he kept giving her that disaproving look?
	“Simon?” Dolores was saying, and it seemed to take a few seconds for her voice
to register with him.  At last he jerked his head towards his hostess and looked at her as
if he thought he might have missed something she had said. 
	“Dolores? You were saying?”  he asked, and Logan was surprised to hear a
slight lack of control in his voice, which was very uncharacteristic for him.
	Dolores chuckled.  “Simon, Darling, I was asking you what you thought of
Logan’s new dress.  I think we made a perfect choice, myself.  Doesn’t she look
beautiful?”
	Simon was forced to look at her again, and this time he appeared to try to keep
the frown from his face.  Slowly he nodded, his eyes making a complete sweep of her,
from the top of her head to where she disappeared beneath the table, while Logan sat
extremely nervous under his scruitiny.
	“Beautiful.”  The word was spoken so quietly she hardly heard it, and she wasn’t
certain if it was a statement or a question.  After a long pause, during which Logan was
sure she turned a thousand shades of red, he finally spoke up.  “Definitely beautiful,” he
agreed.
	Dolores straightened in her chair and smiled triumphantly across the table at
Logan.  “There, there, my dear.  Didn’t I tell you  you had nothing to worry about?” She
winked at Logan, just as the waiter arrived at their table. 
	The waiter handed them their menus and spoke directly to Hector, since the
Shellingtons were obviously familiar customers.  His eyes, however, were on Logan the
whole time, and she wasn’t used to so much attention. Glancing towards Simon, she
noticed the frown was back, and didn’t leave his face until the waiter had gone. Only
then did he seem to relax, and fall into a congenial conversation with Hector, seemingly
ignoring Logan completely.
	Logan had never eaten in an establishment as  fancy as this, but Hector and
Dolores made her feel comfortable, despite the nervousness Simon caused her. The
meal was delicious, and she soon relaxed, listening quietly to the conversation, and
contributing only when asked.  She enjoyed watching Simon with these people.  He
smiled, and laughed, and seemed so  different from the man she had first met at the
camp.
	But when he looked at her, including her in his casual sweeping gaze around  the
table once, she nearly gasped at the warmth in his eyes and bright grin.  He paused, his
eyes holding hers, and this time there was no hint of the frown.  The effect on her was so
overpowering that Logan eventually had to drag her eyes away and concentrate on her
food.  When she glanced back, he was looking at Hector again, listening intently to what
the other man was saying, and she swallowed hard trying to regain her composure. 
        It was just as well, she told herself, that Simon seemed to be so engrossed in
what Hector had to say.  Although the frown that had been on his face when she had
first arrived had unnerved her, the blatant look of appreciation she’d just received from
him had thrown her completely off-kilter.  She vowed to ignore him and concentrate on
her food, which was exquisite and well worth the attention she decided to pay it. 
Dessert had just arrived when soft music began to filter through the club.  Logan didn’t
pay much attention to it at first, until Dolores spoke up.  “Oh, listen!  The band is playing!”   
        Logan looked up at her hostess, who was flashing a bright smile between the two
young people sitting across from her.  Dolores’ intent was clear on her face, and Logan
felt herself flush.  Luckily Simon was still listening to Hector and hadn’t noticed yet.  It
was bad enough enduring his scruitiny, without having to dance with the man!  Suddenly
this whole evening seemed like a terrible idea. She should never have let Dolores buy
her this dress, or take her to the salon.  Logan gave the older woman a pleading shake
of her head, which was immediately brushed aside. 
	Just as Dolores opened her mouth to speak again, however, another voice broke
into their conversation, and all eyes turned toward the man standing next to Hector.
“Well hello, hello! Hector, you really should have invited me to dinner!  You’re enjoying
the company of the two most beautiful women in the club!”  As he spoke, the man bent
over to kiss Dolores on the cheek, but his eyes never left Logan.
	“Oh Brandon,”  Dolores, said, smiling up at the young man with feigned coyness,
and recognition dawned on Logan.  Hector had mentioned the name Brandon at the
house.  This must be his lawyer.  Somehow she had imagined Hector’s lawyer would be
an older man, not the hot-shot thirty-something that this man looked to be.  But as she
watched, Hector greeted the younger man and any slight doubts she’d had were erased
from her mind. 
	“Brandon, my Boy!” Hector said, as he patted the man on the shoulder.  “Pull up
a chair and join us.  This is Simon Crestwater, the photographer, and his associate,
Logan McCoy.”  Hector smiled towards them.  “Brandon Carmichael, best young lawyer
in Tucson.”
	Brandon smiled appropriately and offered his hand to Simon.  “Don’t let Sheldon
hear you say that, Hector,” he said, and the two men laughed, then Brandon nodded at
Simon. “Pleased to meet you, Simon.  Hopefully this investigation won’t take too long.” 
Then his gaze traveled around the table to Logan and he nodded once again, this time
with a completely different look in his eyes. 
	“Miss McCoy,”  He held out his hand to her. “An associate of the great Simon
Crestwater, hmm?  I would have thought you were a model or an actress.”
Logan blushed, and despite herself she shot a quick and uncertain glance towards
Simon.  He was brooding again, and staring at his plate.  “You flatter me, Mr.
Carmichael,” she said, noticing he had still not released her hand.
	He shook his head.  “I only offer flattery where it is due,” he said, smiling down at
her. “And please, call me Brandon.”
	“Brandon,” Logan acknowledged, and attempted to withdraw her hand from his
gentle but insistant grasp. 
	Instead of letting her go, however, he kept her hand in his and moved around the
table to her side.  “I’d be delighted if you’d join me for a dance, Logan.  I can talk
business with Hector any time. It’s not every day I can float around the dance floor with
the most beautiful woman in the room.  Every man will envy me, I’m sure.”
	Brandon looked appropriately smug, and Logan blushed.  Dolores looked slightly
disappointed, however, although she was hiding it well behind her social graces, but a
quick glance in Simon’s direction made Logan’s heart jump.  The frown on his face was
chiseled even deeper and something inside her ignited a defence mechanism.  Who
cares what Mr. Simon Crestwater thinks!  She scolded herself.  Why shouldn’t she
dance with Brandon?  Why shouldn’t she revel in the attentions of a young and
successful lawyer who was clearly interested in her?  Simon had no claim on her!
Hector’s obvious aproval of the suggestion boosted her even more, and she turned a
dreamy smile towards the man at her side.  “Thank you, Brandon, that would be
wonderful.”
	Brandon beamed as he led her towards the dance floor, glancing back over his
shoulder to nod at the Shellingtons like a man who had just made a major catch.  It was
too much for Logan, and she found herself giggling.
	“You can stop that you know,” she said, as her dance partner drew her into his
arms. “You’re just being silly.”
	“On the contrary,” Brandon said, but this time his smile was more genuine and
less playful.  “You’re a very beautiful woman.  I’m finding myself quite jealous of Ol’
Simon Crestwater at this moment.”
	Logan’s eyes widened. “Simon?  Why on earth should you be jealous of Simon?”
	Brandon gave her a questioning look. “I assumed the two of you were together.”
	“Whatever gave you that idea?  We worked together — briefly. That’s all.”
	Brandon looked at her with a crooked grin. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”
	“Why wouldn’t I be?”
	Her partner shrugged as he led her gracefully around the dance floor.  “No
reason, except that the minute I took hold of your hand he looked like I was trodding
quite heavily on his toes.”
	“Nonsense,” Logan scoffed with a laugh, but her eyes were drawn instantly
towards Simon.  Just to prove it’s not true, she told herself, but in the back of her mind 
she couldn't help but wonder if it might be true.  “Complete nonsense!” She reiterated,
and Brandon smiled wordlessly.
	They danced, after that, with no further reference to Simon Crestwater, and
Logan found herself enjoying herself more than she ever thougth she would.  Brandon
waltzed her around the dance floor at arms length, as the particular song required, and
she felt exhilerated as her feet lightly skimmed the floor.  Brandon was full of anecdotes,
and by the time the dance was over Logan was laughing right along with him.  As she
prepared to head back to the table, however, the band began to play a slower song, and
Brandon pulled her into his arms. 
	“No rush,” he said, smiling down into her eyes, and Logan smiled politely back
before lowering her eyes to stare at the lapel of his jacket.  She liked the man.  He was
funny, and seemed to be kind and polite enough.  Hector obviously trusted him.  She
was enjoying his company, but as his arms wrapped around her and his hands pressed
against her back, there were no fires ignited.  She dared not look up at him, for fear he
saw in her eyes that her thoughts had turned to Simon, wondering what her reaction
would be if it were his arms around her.
	She didn’t have long to wait, for no sooner had the thougth crossed her mind
than Brandon stopped moving and began to release her.  She looked up questioningly,
only to see Simon standing at the other man’s side.  He’s cutting in! she thought, in
amazement. How dare he interrupt them in the middle of their dance!  But Brandon
didn’t seem to mind, and backed away without objection, and just as Logan opened her
mouth to protest, Simon’s arms slipped into place where Brandon’s had just been, and
she had the answer to her question. 
	Not only were there fires burning, but her legs felt like they might not hold her up!
“Simon!” she said, but her voice failed her and came out in a mere whisper, for her skin
was burning beneath his hands on her back.  He said nothing at first, and as they floated
around the dance floor Logan was hardly aware that her feet even touched the floor. 
Despite herself, she rested her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes, letting him
take her wherever he led.  When his voice finally did break the silence, she was
surprised at what he said. 
	“You are so beautiful,  McCoy,” he said, softly against her ear, and she could
have said nothing even if she had wanted to, for her breath caught in her throat.
	“Sould we be getting back to the table?” she asked, at long last, when the song
had changed once again, but Simon shrugged.  “Hector and Brandon are talking
business.  They can go a little longer without us.”  And when Logan lifted her eyes to his
she almost stopped breathing.  There was a look in his eyes she dared not even try to
understand, so she lowered her head to rest once again on his shoulder and stifled any
objection she might have voiced.

	Get a grip, Old Man!  Simon had reprimanded himself as he sat watching that
man Brandon on the dance floor with his McCoy.  There it was again — his McCoy.  She
wasn’t his, so why did he keep thinking that way?  But he couldn’t stop the brooding, and
when Brandon pulled Logan closer into his arms for a slower, more intimate waltz,
Simon had pushed back his chair and strode purposefully across the floor without giving
any real thought to his actions.  Seeing her in Brandon's arms had stirred a primitive
reaction within him, and he didn't like it one bit, but he'd been powerless to resist it.  The
next thing Simon knew, he had usurped Brandon as Logan's dance partner.   To his
great surprise, he wasn't in any rush at all to relinquish the role. 
	He decided almost as soon as he took her in his arms that he had made a big
mistake.  As his hands slid over the soft fabric of her dress to take their place on her
back, they found themselves suddenly resting on bare skin, and it was all he could do to
stifle the gutteral moan that threatened to escape. Instantly the image of her lieing in bed
beside him that morning flashed through his mind.
	Get out while you can! He told himself, but instead of releasing her, he pulled her
further into his arms.  He liked the way she felt under his hands, her skin so soft and
inviting. He liked the way she felt pressed up against him, swaying gently to the music as
she let him lead her around the dance floor.  He liked how her head fit just so against his
chest.  He liked holding her, and that scared the life out of him!
	But he had no intention of letting her go!  Not just yet.
	Watch it, Old Man he reminded himself.  Don't start any misunderstandings here. 
It's just that she doesn't look anything like herself tonight, that's all. This is a purely
physical reaction.  Simon was no stranger to having women in his arms.  Some of them
felt more comfortable there than others, but none of them ever felt permanent.  He just
wasn't the type of guy a woman needed hanging around her for the rest of her life, and
he knew that.  He didn't ever let them start thinking they fit too nicely in the crook of his
arm. 
	And this one would be no exception!  In fact, it was even more important to make
sure neither of them got the wrong idea.  Logan McCoy wasn't like the women he usually
found his arms wrapped around.  She was a good, decent girl.  She deserved better
than him.  If he knew what was good for them both — and he did! — he would waltz  her
right back to the table the instant the music stopped.  He would thank her for a nice
dance, and concentrate on Hector and Brandon and the investigation.  He would...
	“You are so beautiful,  McCoy,” 
	Damn!  Why had he gone and said that! Why was it that the most important thing
right now was to keep her in his arms, and away from the likes of Brandon Carmichael? 
Of course, there was nothing wrong with Brandon — except that he'd had his arms
around Logan.  Simon was certain that were she nowhere in sight, he would quite like
the man.  He was, by all of Hector's accounts, a very good lawyer.
	He's a good dancer too, Simon thought, and immediately manoeuvred Logan
towards the far side of the dance floor.  Nothing wrong with that, he countered to himself.
As long as he's dancing with some other woman!