Confidential: Expecting! by Jackie Braun Page A

their pride won’t matter.”
    Soft laughter filtered through the line. “And you said you’re not good at this. Maybe you could take a turn guest hosting my show.”
    “Nah. Not my thing.” She kicked the sheet to the bottom of the mattress. She was alone in bed, and yet she couldn’t think of a more intimate conversation she’d shared with a man while being horizontal. Heaven knew, last night the pair of them hadn’t spent much time talking. “Logan?”
    “Yeah?”
    She felt so privileged that he’d told her what he had, and she was determined to show him his trust wasn’t misplaced. “Let’s make things even between us.”
    “What do you mean?” he inquired on a sleepy yawn.
    “Ask me anything you want to know.”
    “Anything?”
    He didn’t sound sleepy now. Indeed, his probing tone raised gooseflesh on Mallory’s skin despite the Chicago night’s sweltering heat.
    “Yes. Anything.”
    “Okay.” He made a humming noise, apparently considering his options. But he didn’t keep her in suspense for long. “Tell me something about you that no one knows.”
    “No one?”
    “A deep, dark secret. That will make us even.”
    “Something no one else knows,” she repeated, thinking. The memory came, rising up from the recessesof her mind with all the unpleasantness of bile. As such, it nearly gagged her. For a moment she considered telling Logan something else. But honesty demanded honesty. She swallowed and began.
    “I told you that I hadn’t seen my dad since my parents divorced. But that’s not true. I ran into him a few years ago.”
    “In Chicago?”
    “Yes. Well, sort of. We were at O’Hare. I’d been out of town covering a story for the newspaper and I’d just returned home when I spotted him in the baggage claim area at the airport.”
    She squeezed her eyes closed, girded her heart. Not that any measure she took did any good. The pain trickled through her system as painful as acid. Three years had passed, but the memory remained fresh. The wound was still festering.
    “And?” Logan prompted when she said nothing more.
    “He looked the same as I remembered.” She cleared her throat, hoping to make her voice sound more nonchalant. “He had a little more gray at his temples and a few more inches around his waist, but overall he was exactly the same. Tall and imposing and looking like he’d rather be anywhere but the place he was.”
    She remembered that look well. He’d worn it during holiday gatherings, during her dance recitals, on those few evenings when he’d been home and she’d asked him to read stories.
    Mallory had to swallow again before she couldcontinue. “I saw him, and even with thirty feet and half a dozen people between us, I knew him at a glance. I guess I must have changed a lot, though.”
    “He didn’t recognize you,” Logan guessed.
    “No.” It was worse than that, though. “Actually, he thought I was a porter.”
    “Aw, Mallory.”
    “After I tapped on his shoulder, he turned and smiled. But before I could even say, ‘Hi, Dad,’ he handed me a couple of bucks and pointed to his bags.” What started as a laugh ended in a sob. “He expected me to load them on the cart I’d just rented for my own luggage.”
    “What did you do?”
    Even after three years, shame washed through her. Thankfully, anger followed swiftly on its heels. “I should have told him to go to hell, but I was a little too stunned.”
    “He deserved no less, you know.” Logan said it with such conviction that it lessened some of her remaining heartache.
    “He had three bags, two of them well over the weight limit. Mom always said he didn’t know how to pack light. You know, in addition to being a lousy father, that day he proved he’s also a lousy tipper. Three stinking bucks.” She snorted. “He should have paid me triple that for the near hernia I suffered.”
    “Did you ever tell him who you were?” Logan asked.
    “Nah.” Though Logan wasn’t there to see her,