Run the Risk

by Lori Foster

  The brief contact proved addictive—sparking awareness, firing his blood.

  Over a simple kiss.

  He made it all the way to her kitchen before he realized she still stood at her open door, staring after him, frozen in shock. She watched him set down the beer, the steak and potato.

  She looked ready to flee the apartment.

  Pretending he didn’t understand the reason, Logan asked low, “Everything okay?”

  She treated him to another intent stare, consuming him with her innocent gaze. “Yes.” Letting out a long breath, she closed the door, faltered a second, then stepped forward. “Yes, everything is fine.” Head down, mouth pinched, she bustled past him. “I already started the grill. Another minute or two and we can put on the steaks.”

  Logan caught her arm, his fingers wrapping around her. She was slim, her bones delicate.

  Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

  “You picked up the place.” She’d closed the door on her bedroom and bathroom, so he didn’t know about those spaces, but the cardboard pizza box, empty cans and papers were gone. “I hope you didn’t tidy up on my account.”

  “Oh, no, not at all.” Sidling out of his reach, she plumped a throw pillow at the end of a love seat, putting the entire piece of furniture between them as a barrier. “That stuff was leftover from last night.”

  Her efforts to distance him only made him feel more predatory. Alarm filled her gaze as he approached. She jerked around, turning her back on him, but then just…stood there, waffling, uncertain.

  A defense mechanism? How badly had her damned brother mistreated her?

  Savage, protective instincts sharpened. She was so damn sweet, so shy.

  Having her would be sweet, too. Not that it mattered; his reasons for being here with her now, for using her, had little enough to do with her growing appeal.

  An appeal he hadn’t noticed before getting close to her.

  Using the back of one finger, Logan stroked the side of her neck and was rewarded with her shiver. Her incredible softness stirred him more and roughened his voice. “You ate pizza all alone last night?” The image pained him.

  “I… Of course.” She swayed back into him. “I am alone.”

  Amazed by how quickly she melted, he settled both hands on her shoulders. Again he noted her slimness. Not skinny, but most definitely slight in the way of females.

  Would it really be this easy? Did she not possess a single iota of self-preservation? She wore her heart on her sleeve, her need for affection painstakingly obvious.

  He wanted to pull her closer, wrap his arms around her, but he didn’t want to scare her off.

  Using his thumbs to rub the backs of her upper arms, he said, “You could have invited me over.”

  “I…” She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t.”

  Because her brother wouldn’t allow it? Bastard.

  Logan leaned closer, his breath on her nape, his whisper near her ear. “Anytime, Sue. You have my number.” His lips just touched her lobe. “Or just knock at my door.”

  Breathing hard, she shifted—then lurched out of his reach. “No, I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, “but I won’t ever do that.” She all but raced out to the patio. With her out of the room, Logan looked around.

  Her furniture, ragtag and mismatched, had probably come with the apartment, same as his. As an acting manager for the four-unit building, did she get to live here rent-free? Where did she get money for food? For clothes? Lack of funds likely accounted for her secondhand clothing. She didn’t have a car—because she couldn’t afford one?

  It disturbed Logan, how isolated and alone she was. He always empathized with those less fortunate; never in his life had he wanted for a single thing—except justice. But with this woman, it went beyond a sense of social responsibility to the needy.

  It went beyond anything familiar.

  Where the hell was her brother? Why did Rowdy leave her so unguarded?

  From what he’d uncovered, he hadn’t considered Rowdy Yates a “bad” man, just a man of poor choices and, in the case of his employment with Morton Andrews, worse acquaintances. Now, knowing Pepper? Rowdy had to be the lowest type of villain. How else could you explain her circumstances?

  Other than a work history that included everything from dishwasher to deliveryman, carpenter to bouncer, there’d been little on Rowdy, and even less on Pepper.

  Logan knew her brother worked, he drifted, he teetered on the edge of trouble—and he dragged Pepper along for the ride.

  Logan hadn’t been able to find anything on their educations, parents or other relatives.

  But Rowdy had worked at Checkers—which was the wrong club at the wrong time. While employed there he’d gotten embroiled in corruption. His testimony was needed to bring down Andrews, but for two years now, he’d dodged involvement. The last anyone had heard from Rowdy was right before a reporter had his throat cut.

  After that, nada.

  Until now.

  Now, Logan had Rowdy’s kid sister, and much as it went against the grain, he would use her to get what he wanted.

  Justice.

  Revenge.

  Peace of mind.

  Unwavering, Logan picked up his food, snagged two beers, and went out to the patio to join her.

  *

  PEPPER LAY IN HER BED, wide-awake, miserably hot, and dissatisfied.

  The fan in her window stirred the humid air, pushing it around the room and over her mostly bare body.

  A cold shower hadn’t helped, not after four long hours of Logan Stark’s personal brand of seduction.

  God, she felt singed. The intimate way he’d looked at her, the suggestive way he talked.

  Even the way he ate his steak somehow affected her to the point that she’d barely touched her own, when she’d been anticipating the dinner.

  She had planned to ask Logan some personal questions, but he’d kept her on the defensive with small touches and warm smiles. It had taken all her wits to keep from falling under his spell.

  But she wanted to. Badly.

  Actually, she wanted to be under him.

  Impossible.

  Rolling to her back, she stared at the shadowed ceiling and wondered if he was asleep. After that spontaneous kiss he’d given her before walking into her apartment, she’d been on guard. When she’d finally gotten him to the door, ready to say goodbye, she’d stuck out her hand.

  A handshake she could handle. It was civilized. Socially acceptable.

  But he’d done her in even then, lifting her hand, pressing his firm mouth to her palm. Inundated with the sensations all over again, she curled her fingers and groaned.

  When her phone beeped, she jumped, then quickly sat up. No one had her number—except Rowdy.

  She turned on a light, pressed a button on the phone and put it to her ear. “Hey.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No.” They both kept strange hours, but even if they didn’t, Rowdy would always call when others least expected it. Because it was always a looming threat, she asked, “Is anything wrong?”

  “You had company.”

  She gulped. How did he find that out so quickly? “A neighbor.”

  “A man.”

  Since Rowdy actually owned the apartment building, buying it outright under yet another alias, she could understand his consternation. “I don’t know too much about him—”

  “But you had him over anyway?”

  She understood his incredulity. “It’s not like that. His name is Logan Stark and for some reason…” Well, she couldn’t just tell her brother that Logan hit on her. That’d not only infuriate him, it’d also make him as suspicious as she was. “He wanted to share dinner, that’s all.”

  Cold silence.

  “C’mon, Rowdy,” she cajoled. “I’m careful, you know that.”

  “You’re playing with fire.”

  Maybe. “It’s not a big deal. Dinner, that’s all.”

  “Then tell me wh
y.”

  She shrugged to herself. “I wondered the same thing. It’s not like I’d be appealing to him.”

  He cursed low. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “You did,” she corrected. “But it’s okay. A low profile is what’s most important, right?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “There’s not much you do like these days.” She sighed, feeling for her brother, worried about him, and so tired of all the subterfuge. “Please, believe me, Rowdy. I won’t take any risks.”

  “Maybe not on purpose, but that was a risk you took last night, so I’m going to check into him.”

  Hmm… “Maybe you could find out where he works.”

  “Ask him,” Rowdy said. “We’ll see if what he says to you meshes with what I find.”

  “All right.” If the opportunity presented itself, she could try a little prying.

  “Give me a week or two to find out what I can about him. Until then, watch your ass.”

  Of course she would. Not like anyone else was watching it. Well, except her brother—and she could do with a little less vigilance from him, especially now that Logan was in the picture. “Love you, Rowdy.”

  His voice softened. “Love you, too, kid.” And then, right before he hung up, he admonished, “Behave.”

  Pepper put the phone back on her nightstand. It would be so nice to visit with Rowdy, to spend an entire day with him. But he wouldn’t allow it.

  She understood why, but that didn’t stop her from missing him, more and more each day.

  It saddened her, but as she tried to get to sleep, it was Logan she thought of, not her brother.

  And that disturbed her most of all.

  *

  ON THE THIRD FLOOR of his exclusive, all-service club, Morton Andrews held court. Idiots surrounded him, but they were his idiots, loyal to him, afraid of his influence, so he tolerated them.

  He eyed the cop who’d just entered. No, he wouldn’t offer a seat. He’d show no courtesy at all.

  Cops had to remember their place—as hired help. “Is it true that Rowdy Yates has turned up?”

  Surprise showed, but then was quickly covered. “Where did you hear that?”

  Interesting. So maybe there was some truth to it. “You forget my many tentacles? I have ears everywhere. You know that.”

  A nod of acknowledgment. “Yes, I know that.”

  Morton accepted he had few virtues, and patience definitely wasn’t one of them. “Well?”

  “There’s nothing concrete on Rowdy.”

  It irked him sometimes, that cool confidence, the near disdain. Others cowered around him. Others understood the threat. But not this one. “You’ll let me know when there is?”

  “Of course.”

  Truth, or false assurances? Didn’t matter. In his own way, and in his own time, Morton knew he’d get to the bottom of it. For now, it amused him to let the illusion of trust exist. “All right, then.” And just to be a prick, he said, “You can go now.”

  Taking the dismissal with no show of insult, the cop turned and left.

  Morton shook his head. To his way of thinking, the only good cop was dirty—or dead. He’d yet to decide the fate of this one. But soon…

  *

  FOR THREE DAYS, Logan kept his distance. It wasn’t easy, but he wanted Pepper to think about him, to anticipate seeing him. Anticipation could break down her barriers, and that’s what he needed.

  After spending the day working for his brother Dash, he’d expended a lot of tension. Physical labor always did that for him. Sunshine, sweat, using his hands, working his shoulders and thighs…he enjoyed it.

  Likely Dash did as well, which would explain why he’d not only bought the company, but worked alongside the laborers on a regular basis.

  There’d been a lot of concrete work throughout the afternoon. Sweat flattened his hair to his head and kept his T-shirt glued to his back. Everywhere he stepped, his dusty boots left footprints. Too much sun made his face feel tight.

  And still he loved it.

  Dash had the right idea. Make his own way doing good, honest labor, and build a great reputation at the same time.

  It didn’t hurt that the construction company gave Logan great cover. No one knew he and Dash were related, so no one paid him any attention. On the construction site, he was just one more grunt, there to help with the physical workload.

  Just as he reached his door, Pepper’s opened.

  Satisfaction burned in his gut.

  He glanced up, saw her standing there uncertainly, and smiled. “Hey, Sue.” He continued to unlock his door, pushed it open. “What’s up?”

  “I, ah…”

  He glanced at her again, a brow raised.

  “I haven’t seen you for a few days.”

  “Been working.” He leaned in the door to drop a thermos and hard hat. “That’s how construction is. You don’t work for a month, then you’re nonstop busy for a while.”

  “Construction?” She eased farther into the hallway.

  Seeing this as a prime opportunity, Logan rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. “Yeah.” He gestured. “You want to come in? I need to shower and grab some dinner, but then we can visit.”

  “Oh.” Shaking her head, she retreated a step. “No, I—”

  Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he reached for her, caught her hand, and pulled her forward into the hall and then into his apartment. “I only need a few minutes. What’d you have planned for dinner? I’m starving.”

  Not the most subtle hint, but maybe she’d be female enough to pick up on it and take pity on him.

  “I was going to order a pizza.” She looked around his apartment with interest but jumped when he closed the door. Apprehension welled up. “I should go.”

  “I’d rather you stay.” He dropped down to his couch but didn’t lean back into the cushions, not with his shirt damp through and through. He began unlacing his work boots. “I’d put off the shower, but I’m a sweaty mess. It’s bad enough that it’s in the nineties, but add in the humidity, and it was miserable today.”

  “Yes.”

  At that faint agreement, he looked at her, found her staring at his shoulders, and smiled. “I probably smell like a locker room.”

  Her face again warmed, and she breathed, “No.”

  Logan reveled in her response. Had he reduced her to one word replies? Just to keep her tongue-tied, he stood and pulled off his shirt.

  Her jaw loosened, and she drew in a shuddering breath.

  Damn, could a woman be more enticing? More in need of a long hard ride? She damn near fainted when he reached past her to set his boots on the floor inside the door.

  Close to her, crowding her a little, he emptied his pockets on the table, setting out his wallet, cell phone and some change. “Stay put, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  She stared at his throat.

  Remember what you’re doing. Giving her a verbal nudge, Logan whispered, “Sue?”

  Her gaze jumped up to his.

  “Tell me you’ll be here when I get out of the shower.”

  “Yes.” She nodded slowly. “I’ll be here.”

  He couldn’t resist touching her, but because he was a mess, he used only his baby finger to stroke her warm, downy cheek. Then, before he lost it, he said, “Make yourself at home,” and turned to head into the bathroom.

  He hoped she would use the time alone to snoop a little; it was why he’d left his wallet and second cell phone sitting right there. Anything she found would only reinforce his cover.

  Scrubbing head to toe, he removed the grime even as the cool water helped to temper his explosive lust.

  Not that he should have been exploding with lust. It made no sense. This was a job, just like any other. His association with her was a means to an end, and Pepper Yates, aka Sue Meeks, was as far from a femme fatale as a woman could get.

  But knowing she waited in the other room left him half hard, his guts knotted and his balls tight.


  Shit.

  In a hurry to get back to her, he turned off the shower and dried. Now that he’d gotten her into his place, he didn’t want her to turn tail and run before he could take advantage of the situation and advance his goal.

  But as he walked back in, snapping his jeans along the way, he found her still at the door, his belongings untouched, her expression a little lost. It appeared she hadn’t moved an inch. Hell, it almost looked as if she held her breath.

  New sensations tensed his muscles. He didn’t know for sure what he felt, but he felt it in spades, unsettling and blistering hot.

  Without saying a word, their gazes locked, he approached her. For several seconds they stood there, staring at each other while the charge between them arced and crackled, growing stronger with each beat of his heart.

  Softly, he said, “You look ready to bolt.”

  She rolled in her lips and shook her head.

  Because he couldn’t not touch her, Logan put a hand to the top of her head. Her hair was silky soft, warm. He stroked back to her nape, and then down the length of that long ponytail, stopping with his hand open on the small of her back. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Then, as he nudged her closer, she blurted, “I hadn’t heard from you…”

  His strategy had obviously worked—so then why did he feel like such a prick? “After working on the construction site, I came home each day pretty beat.”

  “I didn’t mean… You don’t owe me anything.”

  Her vulnerability chewed on his conscience. “No?”

  Without his urging, she drew closer, her attention on his mouth. “I just… You had said…so I thought…” She clamped her mouth closed and squeezed her eyes shut. “Never mind.”

  “I gave you my number,” he reminded her.

  Her tone now more strident, she shot right back, “I told you I wouldn’t call.”

  So she had.

  He probably should’ve kissed her already to avoid this little conflict.

  Better late than never.

  But he didn’t take her mouth. Instead, he lowered his head and brushed a kiss over her heated cheek, down to her firm jaw, and then to the side of her silken neck.