Page 44 of Perfect Persuasion (Love’s Second Chance #2)

He shrugged. “It’s fine. You’d think I’d be having a killer migraine, but unless I touch the bump on the back of my head, not a thing.”

The telephone on the bedside table began ringing shrilly and Logan picked it up. Julie began to cry, so Claire cradled her closer and murmured in her ear. Logan’s telephone conversation came floating over to her and she found herself listening.

“Yes, they’re both fine. Yes, she’s awake. Just a second.”

He handed her the telephone, making a face. “It’s your mother.”

Claire passed Julie to Logan before saying hello. Her mother’s voice wasn’t exactly the most welcome of sounds echoing in her ear.

“Claire. How are you doing, honey? How’s the baby? Did you name her yet?” A pause for a breath, then another onslaught of uninterrupted questions. “When can we come in to visit you? How was the labor?”

By the time her mother was finished, Claire couldn’t recall all the questions, so she settled for answering the obvious. “The baby’s name is Julie Elizabeth Monroe, and we’re both doing fine. We were just getting to know each other when you called.”

“Monroe?” Her mother’s voice sounded a bit deflated. “Why can’t she have your last name?”

“Mom,” Claire chastised, not really wanting to get into it with Logan standing right next to her. He was already sensitive enough about his background without her mother butting into the matter. Besides, she wanted their daughter to be a Monroe.

“I was just wondering,” Anne said, sounding defensive. “Anyway, when do you think we can come to see her? And you, of course. I can’t wait.”

Claire, on the other hand, could, but saying so wasn’t really an option. She thought for a moment. “Whenever you want, Mom. I think visiting hours start at eight.”

She and her mother talked for a few more minutes before hanging up, Anne promising to arrive in about an hour. Claire waited until Logan had hung up the telephone before informing him of the impending doom. He didn’t complain. He merely nodded, peering down into Julie’s face.

“I guess you want her back now,” he said, offering her to Claire.

Claire accepted the baby with a smile. “Just tell me if I’m being greedy.” She paused. “But I have to get in some time before my mother shows up. I don’t really want to share her with anyone yet. Is that terrible of me?” She had a feeling it was.

A smile curved Logan’s mouth. “It’s natural, I think.”

His fingers brushed lightly across the rounded curve of Julie’s head. The silky strands of blonde hair stood on end in little spiky tufts.

“I think we should get married,” he said abruptly. His tone was as matter-of-fact as it would be if he were saying something like “it’s cloudy outside” for all the lack of inflection and emotion in his voice.

Claire stared. That was it? Just like that, not even a proper proposal? No hint of romance, no illusions of love?

“Why?” she asked at last when her stunned tongue finally resumed commission.

He returned her gaze, his direct, frank. “I think that should be self-explanatory.”

“It’s not,” she said, a hard edge to her voice. “Why don’t you humor me and explain?”

“To give Julie a stable life.” He raised a brow. “You and I are compatible, I think, and we would make a good partnership. We could give Julie a far better life together than apart.”

Had he really just used words like compatible and partnership in his makeshift proposal? Of course he had. As always and yet again, he had reduced something meaningful into a bloodless business deal.

“I’m hoping for something better than compatibility in a marriage.” Her voice was cool.

As if sensing her mother’s sudden agitation, Julie began to cry. Claire rocked her as best she could and patted her little bottom.

“I see,” he said, his tone clipped, his face a shuttered mask, expressionless. “Should I take that as a ‘no’ then?”

Marriage to Logan was actually very appealing to Claire and would be a given if he loved her.

But he didn’t love her, and here he was offering marriage as if he were launching an ad campaign.

Besides all that, she’d already been involved in a marriage that hadn’t been based on the right motivations and look where that had gotten her.

She couldn’t bear the thought of Logan turning to another woman while he was married to her. It would destroy her.

“I don’t see how I could possibly accept,” she said finally.

“When two people get married, it should be because they’re in love, not because they feel obligated to do it.

Even though you and I get along reasonably well and now have a daughter together, those things wouldn’t be enough to make our marriage a happy one.

I won’t put any child in the middle of a relationship that’s doomed to fail. ”

Logan’s lips thinned and his jaw was on edge. “I think you’re wrong. It would be selfish to bounce her between your house and mine when we could all live together, under one roof. I know what it feels like to go from home to home and I don’t want that for my daughter.”

“She won’t be in foster care,” Claire pointed out. “That’s much different than dividing time between two parents. How do you think divorced couples with children manage to raise kids?”

“I’m sure they do a fine job of it.” His tone was infused with a familiar stubbornness. “But my point is why should we resort to that when we could easily give her two parents in one home? You and I aren’t a divorced couple.”

“No, but we will be if we get married,” she insisted. Even two people who loved each other ended up divorcing sometimes. How did he think that the two of them could possibly survive when he couldn’t offer her anything more than a tepid proposal that they would make a good partnership?

“Claire.”

“It’s just not a good idea.” She remained firm.

Julie began crying in earnest and Claire felt like joining her. “I think she’s hungry. Can you go get a nurse to help me?” She was still nervous about feeding a baby.

Logan rose without a word and left the room.

Several moments later, a nurse padded into the room in her customary white sneakers, but Logan didn’t return.

The nurse was a sweet, chirpy redhead with a warm smile.

“Your husband sent me to help you,” she told Claire in a cheery, sunshine-and-rainbows voice.

Claire didn’t bother telling her that Logan wasn’t her husband and that he probably never would be.

Somehow, Logan had managed to completely screw up his proposal to Claire. He prowled down the maze of corridors in the maternity wing, cursing himself for being a complete idiot. Had he actually used the word compatible? And partnership? Thinking about it even made him cringe.

But then, what else could he say? I’m desperately in love with you and I want to marry you even if you don’t love me because I’m a selfish bastard who can’t bear the thought of sharing you with anyone else? It was the truth, but it sounded far worse than an offer of partnership and compatibility.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Claire had made it obvious that she refused to marry him.

She wanted more than he could offer her.

She didn’t love him and never would. Hell, she probably wanted to shack up with what’s-his-name from New York.

Logan should have known better than to ask her. Didn’t he have any pride?

He reflected on that as he turned and began making his way back down the hallway he’d just come from.

The sterile scent of the hospital hung in his nostrils, sweet, medicinal and faintly sickening.

God, he hated that smell. The thin sound of a baby crying reached his ears, but the only other noise was that of his loafers squeaking against the shiny tan floor.

On further thought, it would appear that where Claire was concerned, no, he didn’t have even a shred of pride remaining.

God knew he’d tried to keep his distance, to give her breathing room, but he just couldn’t anymore.

She was the woman he loved and the mother of his child and damn it, he wanted her in his life as more than just a fellow parent.

He wanted it all, the normal, happy family life he’d never had.

And he wanted it with Claire and Julie, and a dozen more kids that they had yet to have. Okay, so maybe a dozen kids was overdoing things a bit, but now that he was thinking of it, four sounded like an ideal number.

As he approached Claire’s room, he spotted her mother swooping down the hallway with her quiet husband in tow.

The last thing he wanted or needed right now was to endure Anne’s thinly veiled disapproval.

Salt in the wounds. She loathed him and she hadn’t made even a polite attempt to mask the fact.

Claire’s sister Sophie didn’t like him either, but at least she didn’t glare at him as if he were the turd floating in her swimming pool.

Before he could duck down another hallway, Anne’s vulture gaze homed in on him. Her already prudish mouth dipped into what he’d dubbed her oh-it’s-Logan look.

“Logan,” she said, stopping as she reached him. “How are Claire and the baby?”

“They’re fine,” he answered as courteously as possible, and if she didn’t detect the mutual enmity in his voice then it was a credit to his restraint.

He had tried to like the woman, truly he had, particularly since she was the mother of the woman he loved and the grandmother of his daughter.

But the damn woman made liking her an exercise in futility.

“Congratulations.” She sounded reluctant, her eyes flitting around the hallway as though searching for an escape route. “Well. I think I’ll go visit Claire and my new granddaughter.” She turned to her husband. “Coming, John?”

John’s gaze swung to Logan. “In a minute. I’d like a word with Logan first.”

As Anne disappeared into Claire’s room with an even tighter frown of disapproval marring her face, Logan inwardly cursed. Hell. What could this be about? Mentally, he braced himself.

John gave him a fatherly tap on the shoulder. “Walk with me for a minute, son.”

Although it was likely only a reference to their age difference, the word “son” struck a chord in Logan. No one had ever called him that. In thirty-odd years of life, not a single person had ever referred to him as son.

Logan obliged Claire’s father, walking with him down the hallway in the direction he’d just come from. The silence that stretched between them felt painfully awkward to him. He felt as if he should say something, but he’d be damned if he knew what.

“I love my daughter very much,” John said at last, saving Logan. “She’s been through a lot this past year. First the divorce, then the baby and her off-and-on relationship with you.”

Logan kept his expression neutral. “I realize that, and I have been trying to make amends for it.”

John stopped, pretending to examine a mother-and-child print hanging on the wall. Some dim recess of Logan’s brain registered that it was a Mary Cassatt. College Art History 101 did tend to reassert itself at the oddest moments.

“I like to see my daughters happy,” Claire’s father murmured at last, looking at Logan over his shoulder. “Right now, Claire doesn’t seem happy to me. Does she seem happy to you, Logan?”

He found himself on the defensive. “She’s as happy as I’ve ever seen her.”

John nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t think I’ve seen my daughter truly happy in years. Her last marriage was a flop, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“Yes.” Logan had no idea where this conversation was headed.

“I don’t want to see her in another dead-end relationship.” John’s face was impassive as he looked at Logan, belying the image he often presented of a quiet, harmless tagalong to his wife. “I want her to be happy. Do you want her to be happy?”

“Of course I do.”

“Here’s the real question for you then.” John paused, his gaze suddenly frank. “Do you think you can be the one to make her happy?”

John might as well have leveled a fist to Logan’s gut. The question knocked the wind out of him. For several moments, he couldn’t collect himself enough to form a response. “I wish I could be that man,” he said at last. “I don’t think she’ll let me.”

John studied him for so long that Logan had to tamp down the urge to squirm. Finally, he nodded again, as though he’d found the answer he’d been seeking. “You have to earn it, son. And don’t give up. My daughter can be stubborn, you know.”

Was Claire’s father giving him his blessing?

John seemed to sense his thoughts. “I know that my wife hasn’t exactly been welcoming, and that she can be difficult to get along with at times.”

“She seems to despise me,” Logan said.

Claire’s father chuckled. “It’s not quite as bad as that. Give her some time. The most important thing is Claire’s happiness, and I think you may be the only one who can help her find it.”

Logan was torn between the urge to laugh and slam his fist into the nearest wall.

If only Claire had the same confidence in him that her father had.

If only John knew how desperately Logan wanted to be the man who helped Claire find happiness, the man who made her smile, the man who held her at night, the man who woke up next to her every morning.

“I’ll do my best,” Logan said, his voice hoarse with emotion even to his own ears.

John patted him on the back. “Make sure that you do, son. Make sure that you do.”