by Ann Major
Until tonight, when Logan had walked into the ballroom and looked at her, his gaze as lost and feverishly dark as her own broken soul, she’d believed herself incapable of ever loving him or ever sharing her profound loss with him. Now old emotions were reigniting.
He spread her legs wider. His tongue delved deeper, and she moaned as the throbbing excitement built, spreading like a ravaging flame that devoured every part of her until she burst in a final explosion and became completely his.
Breathing hard, she shut her eyes.
Do we choose those we love? Or are they a gift? Hadn’t he always possessed her soul?
“For nine years I’ve wanted to do that again,” he whispered, “to taste you, to hear you moan like that. To give you pleasure.”
At his husky words and tender embrace, she held onto him tightly, not daring to let herself believe anything he said.
It was just sex. “Don’t say things we’ll both regret.”
“The last thing I want is for you to regret anything about tonight,” he murmured. Then he moved up to straddle her.
“No regrets. I promise. I’m a big girl now.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his mouth to hers.
“I was a fool nine years ago,” he said.
“So was I.”
“You were only naive, but I was cruel. Can you ever forgive me?”
“That will depend on what you do next.”
“I don’t want to hurt you like that ever again.”
Then don’t, she thought as he put on a condom.
When he finished, she kissed his lips in a long, soul-shattering kiss. When she felt his sheathed manhood probe at the velvety folds of her secret entrance, she opened her legs, and he plunged—deep and true. For a long moment, he simply held her and was still, and she savored the sensation of being joined to him.
Oh, the pleasure, the immense pleasure that only being with him could give her.
“I promise not to hurt you,” he whispered.
She nodded, not really believing him. After all, he’d promised such things before.
Slowly his hands began to caress her hair. Then his mouth brushed across her lips, her cheek, before moving down to her throat.
Bending over her, he began to move with her in such abandon, she was soon crying out.
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she arched her body higher and higher, meeting his every thrust. Their passion built, and she surrendered completely, exploding with him.
Afterward, she buried her face against his shoulder and held on to him for a long time, wishing, no, longing for so much more than a man like him could ever give a woman like her.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his arms tightening around her as he brushed her hair out of her eyes.
The confused emotions in her heart made her suddenly shy. “Sex makes people, especially women who are fools like me, do and feel the craziest things. I could write a book on the subject.”
“Please don’t. Not if you’re going to write about me.”
She giggled. “You’re a prude. You know that, don’t you?”
“Conservative.”
“Not in bed.” She smoothed her fingers through his chocolate dark hair. When the thick lock fell back over his brow immediately, she pushed it back again and smiled. “Only afterwards, do you get uptight, when you fall back into being your true self.”
“My true self? Who the hell is that? Do we ever know our true selves? For years I did what my grandfather taught me to think was best for the family.”
“I found mine behind a camera.”
“Lucky you.”
“Or not. I saw too much pain. I can’t even pick up a camera now.”
“You didn’t answer my original question,” he said. “What were you thinking a while ago.”
“I don’t know. I’ve forgotten.”
“Then I’ll make love to you again, in the hope that you’ll remember.”
“Will that be your only reason?” she teased.
As soon as he began to kiss her, the moist warmth of his mouth and tongue had her shivering in newly heightened awareness of him, maybe because the first time they’d made love tonight, he’d broken down all the walls of her resistance and she was wide open to him now. As before he swept her on a dark tide of passion to the other side of the moon, to a wild place that was theirs alone, a place where she forgot herself and might have whispered desperate, foolish things against his ear, but fortunately in that last shuddering moment, she remembered all that divided them.
In the past he’d hurt her, and it had taken her years to get over it. Who was to say that although she was older and wiser, it couldn’t happen again? No matter how close to loving him she felt, she could not let herself succumb.
“I never thought I’d feel like this again,” he said afterward, triumphant that he’d taken her to such heights, maybe because his manhood was still embedded deep within her and she was clinging to him fiercely.
She couldn’t think with him inside her. She felt too warm and snug, too safe, and such feelings were not to be trusted.
“I have a lot of making up to do for how I treated you, don’t I?” he said.
“An entire lifetime wouldn’t begin to suffice,” she said. “So we agree then, that you owe me?”
He pulled her even closer if that were possible. “Big time. I will make it up to you. I swear. I don’t care if it takes an entire lifetime.”
Her heart caught as she eased herself out of his arms. Not that she was about to let herself hope for anything from him, for she had learned that hope, not fear, not grief, was the cruelest of emotions. And men like him would say anything in bed. The truth would come in the morning.
When he yanked the sheets around them and wrapped her in his arms again, she thought about the dark-haired little boy they’d lost, the little boy he didn’t know about…yet.
Then, soon, because of Logan’s body heat and his tenderness, the image dissolved. For the first time in years, she felt almost safe even though she knew she shouldn’t, not with him, not ever with him.
Despite her misgivings, she fell into a deep, fathomless sleep.
Logan woke up first, wrapped in the warmth of a beautiful woman, the one woman he should not be with, their tangled sheets reeking of steamy sex. Alert, in the dazzling light of a new morning, he froze.
It was a helluva shock to find Cici’s head resting so trustingly on his shoulder. Not that it should have been. What did last night mean?
Had he been lying to himself when he’d been so determined to send her packing? Remembering how tenderly she’d held him each time after they’d made love, he winced. She was sweet, as sweet as she’d been as a girl. What did she want? Need? Had he ever thought of that once?
Had he simply used her?
She deserved better.
Hell, any woman deserved better.
Even as the memory of her mouth all over his body stung him, he told himself she couldn’t possibly fit into his life. Last night hadn’t changed anything. And yet….
Slowly, trying not to wake her, he shifted his weight. Gently placing her head onto a pillow, he had eased himself almost to the edge of the bed before she stirred. Rolling over, she faced him. With a happy little sigh, she tenderly traced her fingertips down the length of his arm.
“Logan,” she whispered dreamily.
“Right here,” he murmured, trying to resist the instant high voltage coupled with the unaccountable tenderness he felt for her.
Long lashes fluttered again, revealing dark eyes glimmering with too much hope and affection. “I thought you’d be long gone.”
Hell.
He should have been. He didn’t know what to say. He only knew he didn’t want to hurt her any more than he had to. “I’m where I want to be.”
“Really?”
“Really!” It had been heaven lying in her arms. That part was undeniable. Determined to leave as fast as possible, he threw off the s
heet and then couldn’t help but admire her beautiful body. And her smile. She had an incredible smile. Then he frowned when he saw the vague, moon-shaped scar on her abdomen that he’d first noticed the afternoon he’d barged in on her. Without thinking, his hand lightly traced the white curve.
“What happened to you here?” he murmured, growing more concerned when she trembled.
Her eyes snapped open. Meeting his, they grew huge and confused, so painfully confused, and then tears, real tears filled them. Before he knew what had happened, she was turning away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “You’ve got to tell me.” Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and felt her body trembling even harder.
Her face was pale. Her lips quivered when she turned toward him again. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “At least, not right now, when you probably have a million things to do.”
Alarm filling him because she was so passionately upset, seemingly for no reason, he pulled her closer. He felt guilty as hell, wondering if this fresh emotional turmoil could possibly be his fault.
“Tell me,” he said, forgetting everything he needed to attend to in New Orleans and concentrating on her.
“I tried to tell you…once…”
But, as she was about to begin, his cell phone began ringing, interrupting her.
“Go on,” he said, ignoring it.
But his ringing phone had her distracted. “Hadn’t you better answer that first?” she said.
“It can wait.”
“No. Go ahead. It doesn’t really matter. You know how easily women become emotional. You have important things to do.”
She turned away, and he reluctantly lunged for his phone.
No sooner had Logan said hello, than Mitchell Butler blasted him. “What the hell did you do to my daughter?”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She becomes very upset every time I ask her a question or mention your name.”
“Okay,” he said, feeling guilty as he waited for more.
“No! It’s not okay, and until I find out what you did to her, the merger’s off.”
“I can explain.” But could he?
“Then get your sorry ass back to town and do so.” Mitchell hung up.
“What’s wrong?” Cici asked. “Was that Alicia?”
“Her father. He’s calling off the merger. I need to call Hayes.”
She nodded, her expression cool, as he punched in Hayes’s number.
Hayes answered on the first ring. Logan didn’t bother to identify himself. “Butler just called. He wants a meeting.”
“I know. This afternoon. At one sharp. He says the merger’s off. Mind if I ask what the hell’s going on?”
“I can be in New Orleans in an hour or so. I’ll explain everything then.”
“Must have been some party. Did Miss Bellefleur throw you another one of her curve balls? Did you strike out or hit a home run?”
“Don’t hold your breath until you get the update.” Logan flipped his phone shut and whirled on Cici.
“Sorry about all that,” he muttered, feeling bad about how he’d treated Alicia. Suddenly he was too aware that their lives were on opposite tracks. “I guess I’d better get back to New Orleans and start putting out all the fires I’ve started.”
“Sure,” Cici whispered, but her voice caught. And her face was paper white. “I’ll make you some coffee and toast, so you won’t have to stop for breakfast on your way home.”
“You were telling me what happened to you,” he said as he grabbed his slacks off the floor.
“Not now, when your world’s in pieces because of me and you’re in such a hurry,” she whispered, her voice sounding sad and lost as she turned away.
“But I want to know happened to you,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s obvious you have truly important concerns this morning.”
“Cici…”
Ignoring him, she opened a can of coffee.
“Well, if she wouldn’t tell him, she wouldn’t tell him. He had to respect her reasons and let it go, at least, for now.
He dressed hurriedly. Not that he didn’t look a mess with both his shirt and slacks so wrinkled they looked like he’d slept on them. Hell, he probably had.
“Last night was great,” he said.
“Right,” she said, popping two pieces of bread into her toaster.
“Incredible,” he persisted.
“I’m glad you feel that way…if you do.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means whatever happened last night, this morning…these phone calls are your reality.”
“Hell.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
He couldn’t even look at her, much less lie to her, so he stared out the window for a long minute while that telltale nerve in his jaw jumped painfully. “Look, I do have to get back to New Orleans as fast as possible.”
“Of course. I know.” Her teeth chattering, she wrapped her red robe more tightly around herself and concentrated on her toaster. Frowning, she began to tap her nails on the counter. “Damn it, why are appliances always so slow?”
Hoping to dispel the distinct chill in the morning air, he smiled and said, “It’s because you’re watching it.”
She didn’t look up from her toaster. He could tell she was in an even bigger hurry than he was for him to be gone.
“Hey, would you quit worrying about my toast? I can eat on the road.”
“I’m not…worrying…about your stupid toast. Or you. I’m thinking about my looming deadline. I need to work. You’re not the only one with a life, you know. I need to get some writing done. No more procrastinating. The last thing I need is this distraction.”
“So, that’s all I am now to you, a distraction?”
“I can always hope, can’t I?” she said quietly.
“Me, too.”
When his toast popped out, she jumped. Then clenching her fists at her sides, she took a deep, determined breath before plucking the two pieces out and tossing them onto a plate.
“So, the sooner I leave, the happier you’ll be?” he said.
“What do you want me to say? What other choice do I have here?” Her tone and gaze were bleak. “You have your world of mergers and wealth. I have mine. Nine years ago I didn’t fully understand such realities. I do now. Last night was great. But it’s over. So, go. You’re free. No strings attached.”
The woman who’d writhed in his arms with total abandon, his Cici with the sparkling eyes, was gone. In her place was a woman with a bad case of bed hair, an ashen complexion and dull, swollen eyes. He’d made her unhappy—again.
Obviously, she was right about their situation, but for some harebrained, illogical reason, this thought didn’t make him happy at all. He hated upsetting her.
“Eat,” she commanded gently. “Then go. For both our sakes. Oh, and lock the door on your way out.”
“So, you’re saying last night was a mistake?”
She was padding toward the bathroom, but at his question, she stopped and turned. “You didn’t look all that happy when I woke up, so for you…I think it was. So, I’m saying don’t ever knock on my door again…Not unless…”
“Unless what?”
Her warm eyes fixed on his face and held his gaze for a long, intense moment.
“You’re smart. You figure it out.”
He wanted to rush across the room and pull her close. He wanted to crush her to him and never let her go. He wanted to stay and drink coffee and talk to her for hours. Which was ridiculous.
Instead, he swallowed. She was right. They’d had sex. Nothing more. Shrugging, he turned. Then bracing himself, he walked out the door.
But with every purposeful step he took away from her, his feet felt heavier. And so did his heart. He wanted to hear about everything she’d done when she’d been away.
The merger he’d worked so hard on was going up i
n flames, and all he could think about was Cici’s wounded feelings and his own leaden emotion as he faced his life without her. What the hell was wrong with him?
Seven
A front was sweeping in from Texas. The gloomy morning matched Logan’s mood as he stood at the front door of one of Jake’s new houses, talking to Jake’s real estate agent.
Cici. As Logan had driven to New Orleans, he’d kept seeing her in her red robe with her messy hair tumbling about her face in those crazy tufts, with her brilliant blue eyes lit by despair and hope. Even then, she’d seemed utterly beautiful.
And once away from her, his body had reacted viscerally to her absence. With every mile, the lump in his throat had grown and his chest had tightened until his heart had seemed squeezed by a vise. He hated the way they’d parted.
More than anything he’d wanted to turn back and floor the gas pedal. How could it feel so insane to be leaving her, when what was really insane was his tense longing to be with her? Why couldn’t he focus on the merger?
“Thanks for your help,” Logan said aloud, trying to sound normal, as he handed Jake’s real estate broker his card. “So, if you see my brother, you’ll be sure to tell him to call any of these numbers. Mr. Mitchell Butler wants to make sure his daughter’s all right, and we think Jake was the last person with her.”
“Then she’s safe and sound,” the man said reassuringly. “Jake’s the most trustworthy guy in the whole world. But you should know that—you’re his twin.”
“Right.” Logan nodded. Then the door slammed, and Logan found himself standing alone on the porch of one of the newly built houses Jake and his investors were constructing in the Lower Ninth Ward.
With solar panels on the roof as well as an escape hatch in case of another flood, the home was sleek and modern. The first floor topped the required eight feet above sea level by at least a foot or two.
Logan leaned against the railing. He had thirty minutes to get to the emergency meeting Mitchell Butler had called in Hayes’s office, and he didn’t have anything new to give to Mitchell.