10
SADIE PEERED OVER the brick wall on the top of Mount Pleasant’s town hall. The sun had dipped behind the Green Mountains in the distance, but street lamps illuminated the people milling about Main Street, checking out the vendors’ booths. The stage stood at the opposite end of the street from city hall. She could feel the bass, but not much else. Judging from what little sound drifted their way, she wasn’t missing much.
“Nice view,” she said. She’d come to the festival ready and willing to finish what they’d started last night before her sister had gone into labor. But now, she wasn’t so sure. It felt as if he’d back-stepped to before he’d told her about his late wife. He seemed untouchable again.
“Look,” Sadie said, pointing to the cotton candy booth. “There’s your ice cream date.”
Standing so close their arms touched, Sadie could feel the tension ripple through Logan’s body. He held his plastic beer cup to his lips, but didn’t drink. Something about the little girl bothered him. Sadie hadn’t pressed him earlier, not in the crowd. But up here, where no one could interrupt them, it seemed like as good a time as any to ask. “Why does she frighten you?”
Logan lowered his beer. “Charlotte doesn’t scare me.”
“You can pretend to be the big, bad soldier all you want, but I think you’re lying,” she said. “I saw your deer-in-the-headlights look when she walked up to you.”
She waited for a laugh, the beginning of a smile—nothing.
“At first I thought she might want to interview me for the school paper,” he finally admitted, lifting the plastic cup to his lips again.
“Are you serious? You were afraid that little girl was a reporter?” she said.
“At first. But she’s not.”
Sadie set down her empty beer cup and crossed her arms over her chest. “Reporters and school children. These sound like irrational fears for a soldier who rode a horse against the Taliban, don’t you think?”
Logan stared into his beer. “That mission. The one we completed on horseback. I screwed that one up. Big-time.”
Pain and anger lined his face. Whatever had happened over there, he was holding tight to the blame. Maybe he deserved it and maybe he didn’t. Either way, Sadie knew from experience that walking through life saddled with self-doubt wasn’t easy.
“What happened?” she asked.
Time slipped by. She heard the crowd watching the band cheer as the musicians finished a song. A child screamed, begging for another cookie. And a cow mooed.
“You can’t repeat this to anyone,” Logan said.
Sadie rested her hand on his arm. There was something wild and hot burning between them, but this touch? It was pure comfort.
“Logan, you can trust me.”
He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Sadie feared he wasn’t going to say another word.
“We were on a rescue mission.” Logan opened his eyes and stared down at the festival. “During the extraction, we came under fire. I was covering Hunter, one of my teammates, but then...”
His hand tightened around his empty beer cup, breaking the plastic. Was he back there? Sadie wondered. Reliving the mission? What if his grief for his late wife wasn’t his only baggage? What if Logan suffered from PTSD?
“I got distracted,” he continued, forcing her to listen to his words, instead of letting her imagination run wild with what-if scenarios. “And Hunter got shot in the shoulder.”
“Oh, no. Logan. I’m so sorry. Did he make it?”
He nodded. “He’s fine. On a mission right now in New York to keep my mistake out of the press. Some professor wants to write a book about what we did. He took a bullet because I didn’t have my head on straight, and now he is having to clean up the mess, too, while I sit up here and wait.”
“You want to go back.” It wasn’t a question. She hadn’t known him long, but she knew he was a soldier through and through.
“Yeah. But I can’t. Not yet. I’ve been ordered to stay here and keep a low profile. That means no reporters. Not even kids writing for school papers. No questions and nothing in print. If I can do that, I can go back to serving my country.”
A familiar sensation washed over Sadie. Guilt. It was as if she smuggled that sinking feeling into every single one of her relationships. If she launched the who-is-MJ-Lane media circus that she needed to secure her movie deal, reporters would start digging. There was always the chance they would find her here. If they found her with Logan, they might identify him and ask questions about why he was on leave. They could find out about his mistake. Based on what he was telling her, if that happened, she could damage his chances of returning to the job he loved.
If someone did that to her...
Sadie pushed the thought away. Right now no one knew. And a half-dozen ifs stood between her connection to Logan and the possibility that the media would delve into Logan’s missions. By the time she went on national television, their fling would be over. She would be back in New York and he would be God knows where doing the job he loved.
And she would make certain no one ever linked him to her. Ever.
“That explains your dread of reporters,” she said, forcing a light, playful tone. “But not your fear of little kids. Are you worried her mother will report you for feeding her daughter ice cream for lunch?”
“Charlotte thinks I’m a hero,” he said quietly. “Like her dad who died last year in Afghanistan. I think she wants to know what it is like over there. She wants to feel closer to her father. She saw that sign for ‘lunch with a hero’ and her ten-year-old mind thought I could give her answers. But I can’t. Looking at her face, I felt like a goddamn fake.”
The combination of his harsh words and the way his hands had balled into fists sent a clear message—stay back. But Sadie couldn’t. This man was hurting on so many levels it made her head spin. Yes, this was only a fling. They were two people who wanted a few nights, maybe more, of sex—although life kept interfering with the getting-naked part—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help him when he needed it most.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
Logan turned to her.
“Every person who wears that uniform is a hero. But you’re not gods. You’re still human and you make mistakes. At some point you need to forgive yourself.”
“Sadie, you don’t understand.”
“What you went through? No, I don’t. But I understand Charlotte. That little girl’s father was her hero from the day she was born. Serving his country, rescuing his fellow soldiers and giving his life—that just made the rest of the world see what that little girl already knew.
“But that doesn’t mean she understood him or the choices he made,” she continued. “She might spend years trying to figure that out.”
Sadie watched the people below. Once again, she’d revealed more than she’d intended, more than she’d shared with any of her boyfriends.
“Sadie.” He reached out and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, his touch light as a feather. “Come here.”
He drew her in, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She nestled against his chest, allowing him to hold her while her mind drifted.
Her relationship with her father was complicated. Deep down, she worshipped her dad. He’d done so much, given so much love. But now that the tables were turned and she wanted to help him, he pushed her away. She wondered if she spent more time with him, would that ease the tension? But finding the time while working proved a challenge. It was as if she was searching for a balance she could never quite attain.
Involving Logan in their troubled relationship was not an option. Not right now. He had enough weighing on him.
She lifted her head, raising her hands to his chest, slowly putting some distance between them. “Feel ready for your ice cream
date after that little pep talk?”
“Yeah.” She watched his lips curve up into a smile. “I think I am.”
“Do me a favor? Don’t eat too much ice cream. I don’t want you to slip into a sugar coma and forget our date.”
She felt the tension in his body change, shifting from friendly to intent. His arms tightened around her as his hands slid to her lower back. The untouchable barrier had melted away completely. He was hers again. At least for now.
“I won’t.” Logan lowered his head, brushing his lips against her forehead. Just once. “We have some unfinished business from last night.”
His lips on her skin sent a rush spiraling through her body, alerting all her senses. She wanted this man. No interruptions, no hesitations.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “I’m planning to get you naked first.”
“We don’t have to wait until tomorrow.” He looked her in the eyes as he spoke, as if judging her reaction. “I’ll honor our date plans. You have my word.”
“I believe you.” She rose on her tiptoes, touching her mouth to his.
She kept her kiss soft and light. His hands moved down until he palmed her bottom, holding her close—silently asking for more.
He pulled back and looked down into her eyes. “Don’t be afraid to kiss me, Sadie. You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves. I’m not going to break.”
No, he wasn’t. She wound her hands through his hair and gave a sharp tug before drawing his mouth down to meet hers. This kiss was hard and demanding. Relentless.
Her body pulsed with excitement. She traced a path with her fingertips over his chest down to the waistband on his jeans.
“Who’s out here?” A low, gruff male voice called from the roof’s access point.
“Not again,” she whispered, closing her eyes. One minute more and she’d have had her hand around him.
A beam of light swept the area and Logan quickly stepped back, his hands moving to adjust his pants. He scanned her as if checking to see if her clothes were in place before turning his attention to the man with the flashlight.
“Officer Ferguson,” he said, stepping into the light.
“Logan Reed. Shit, son, I saw two heads up here and figured it was some of the high school kids getting into trouble. I haven’t caught you up here in years. Decide to lob some water balloons at the crowd?”
“No, sir. We came up here for a bird’s-eye view of the crowd.”
Sadie turned, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She was so turned on that she felt indecent. In the dim light, she saw an older man with a large belly wearing a blue uniform.
The older man gave a loud bark of laughter. “A view of the crowd? Is that your story? Well, you call it whatever you want, I still need you to come back down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Logan took her hand and led her to the door. Before they reached Officer Ferguson, he leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“Tomorrow night, no interruptions.”
11
LOGAN ARRIVED AT the guesthouse and found a note on the door instructing him to come in and grab a beer. He obeyed. Three steps inside he found Sadie running around in a white towel, cradling her cell between her neck and shoulder. Waving him toward the kitchen, she mouthed the words I’m sorry.
Logan nodded, but he wasn’t eager to give up the view. The T-shirt she’d worn the other night had covered more of her legs. He’d been on edge, wanting to get her back to where they’d been the other night on the couch. Only this time they wouldn’t be interrupted by a trip to the hospital or a police officer old enough to be his father. Tonight there was nothing standing in the way.
Unless he got her naked and then realized he wasn’t ready.
“Listen, Anne-Marie, I need to go,” she said to the person on the line. “But I promise I will have a decision for you tomorrow. I’m not going to let this deal fall apart if I can help it.”
Moving so quickly he wondered if the towel would fall off, Sadie brushed past him and into the kitchen. She dumped her cell on the counter before turning to him. “I hope we’re not going to be late for our reservation.”
“Nope. No reservation.”
“Good.” Her hands went to the top of her towel, holding it in place. “How was your date?”
He blinked and looked up at her face.
“Charlotte? The raffle winner?” Her fingers toyed with top of the towel as if she’d realized what she was doing to him, standing there, damn near naked, with the promise of sex tonight burning between them. “Ice cream?”
Logan turned to the fridge. He wanted to take her out before they lost their clothes. Pulling out a beer, he used the opener on his keychain to pop the top. “It went well.”
“You can tell me all about it over dinner.” She paused in the archway separating the kitchen from the hall. “Right now I need to get in the shower. I was about to when someone from my publisher called. We started talking and now I’m running late. But since you’re here you can tell me where we’re going.”
Logan held the beer bottle to his lips and smiled. “Surprise.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What should I wear?”
“Whatever you want.”
Sadie looked him over, noting his clean jeans, T-shirt and cowboy boots. She nodded and disappeared down the hall, her hips swaying beneath the towel.
Closing his eyes, he rested his hand on the butcher-block counter. It was going to take a miracle to get through the dinner date he’d planned. Sadie set him on fire. And sure, a big part of it was the way they got so close that his body burned with anticipation, only to be interrupted. He’d been replaying the first night, here on the couch, over and over in his mind. The way her shirt had ridden up her thighs, the feel of her skin beneath his hand, the sound of her voice as she’d issued commands— If he didn’t start thinking about something else he was going to need a cold shower before they went out.
Logan opened his eyes and set his beer on the counter. Outside the window, the sound of a bull kicking metal made him jump. His hand knocked the bottle, spilling the remaining beer over the counter and onto a stack of papers.
“Ah, hell.” He sprang into action, locating the paper towels and mopping up the mess. Glancing at the paper, he cursed again. He’d soaked part of her book. Wiping the pages with the towel, the words caught his attention.
Logan froze, the soggy towel in one hand and her pages in the other. He should ask before he read this. But he couldn’t put the paper down. The words drew him in, refusing to let go.
His hands hold my thighs, pressing them apart. His mouth hovers an inch above my bare flesh, waiting for my command.
“I want to feel your mouth on me. Now.”
He buries his face between my legs and I close my eyes. This man—the one who burst into my life and demanded a place—he answers to me now. The heady feeling, knowing I control him and not the other way around, coupled with the first brush of his tongue, pushes me close to the edge.
He is powerful, inside the bedroom and out. His associates in the business world admire and fear him. But at night, he comes home to me. He strips off his expensive suit and kneels before me—the girl who once let a man take and take until she barely recognized herself, until she no longer knew the sound of her own voice.
I am not the quiet girl willing to let the men in my life walk all over me. Not anymore. I found my voice. And I intend to use it, in the bedroom. Especially there. I will tell him everything he needs to know to drive me wild. I will not let him leave until I am completely satisfied. I refuse to settle—refuse to let any man dismiss my needs and desires. Not tonight. Not ever again. If necessary, I will tie him to the bed.
His tongue glides back and forth over the sensitive nub, a thrilling mix of gentle brushstrokes and pressure.
> “Your fingers,” I say. “Use your fingers.”
He runs one hand down my inner thigh. His index finger circles my opening before sliding inside.
“More,” I demand. “I want to come. Now. Like this. I’m so close.”
Logan set the beer-stained paper back on the counter. If he read any further, they would never make it to dinner. After that one page, he was about as close to exploding as the girl in the story.
Staring out the window, he tried to count back from one hundred. But it didn’t help. His dick ached, begging for release.
He shook his head. And to think he’d been worried she was a reporter. But this, the erotic scene so unlike any fiction he’d ever read, was just as threatening. Maybe more so. It was as if she’d looked inside his mind and discovered his deepest desires, things he’d never told anyone.
“I’m ready. Almost,” Sadie said, rushing into the kitchen. “I need to grab my purse.”
Logan turned away from the window and watched her move around the room, her heels clicking against the wood floors. Her boots ran up to her knees, then bare skin up to her mid-thigh. She’d chosen the same skirt she’d worn that first day in The Quilted Quail. He didn’t look to see if she wore the same top. He didn’t care. He wanted to push her skirt up and sink down to his knees before her spread thighs.
“Logan?”
“I spilled beer on this. I tried to clean it up.” He picked up the papers, turning his gaze to her face. “Is this what you write?”
Her eyes widened with surprise. But only for a second. If he hadn’t been watching her closely, he might have missed it. She buried her shock with a resigned look. Her hands fell to her sides and she dropped her purse to the floor.
“Yes. I write erotic fiction,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. Before now. If you want to leave, I understand.”
“Leave?” Logan let out a laugh. Walking out the door, away from her, that was the last thing on his mind. He’d read those words and pictured himself kneeling between her legs waiting for orders.
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