by Lily Everett
Jessica whirled, finally giving him a view of her delectable backside, but she didn’t move to grab the coffeepot. Instead, she filled a teakettle with water, set it on the four-burner range and turned up the heat under it.
Logan cocked his head, intrigued. “You’re having tea? You always drink coffee.”
She gave him a strange look. “No, you’re having tea. Herbal, in fact.”
He snorted. “The hell I am.”
Jessica ignored him, the way she always did when she’d made up her mind to drive him completely insane. “Until I research the do’s and don’ts of chronic insomnia, you’re not having any caffeine.”
Dismay turned his voice into a low growl. “Now wait a damned minute.”
Twirling to face him, Jessica braced her hands on the counter behind her. “You agreed to follow my instructions regarding your health,” she said tensely, eyes flashing. “Are you going back on our deal already, over something as small as a cup of coffee?”
That shut Logan up for a second, long enough to weigh the cost-to-benefit ratio of pushing this. Yeah, he loved his morning espresso, but did he want it more than he wanted to know Jessica’s secrets?
“Fine,” he snarled, slamming away from the table. Hey, nothing in the deal said he had to be a good sport about any of this. “But I’m not drinking tea. Tea is just water boiled with sticks and leaves. I’d rather drink out of the toilet.”
“If that’s what you prefer, be my guest,” Jessica said calmly. “Just so long as it’s not caffeinated toilet water.”
Damn it, now he was biting down on a grin. She was uncomfortably good at shaking his bad moods loose. “Got it. So what else are you prescribing for me today, Nurse Jessica?”
Her green eyes took on a glittery sheen of satisfaction. “A healthy breakfast. Do you think you can deal?”
Logan nodded. “Speaking of deals, I think we should count yesterday as the first day of our agreement. In which I held up my end of the bargain by sleeping straight through the night—and that means you owe me.”
Pausing in the act of opening a carton of eggs, Jessica swallowed audibly. Staring down at the fragile white shells, she said, “Fine, but you’re coming with me for a walk around the island. You can ask your question while we get a little light exercise.”
Logan was so cheered by the prospect of delving into the locked box of Jessica’s past, he didn’t even want to argue about the exercise. “Sounds great. I assume you packed me a pair of sneakers.”
He only said it to elicit his favorite Jessica look—the single arched brow and silent lip curl that carried a strong subtext of bitch, please.
“Obviously,” she muttered, turning back to the stove.
Oh yes, the cracks are already starting to show, Logan mused, almost whistling as he sauntered through the cottage in search of his packing case. The unflappable Jessica Bell was more than a little flapped.
Curiosity, the burning fire that guided Logan’s life, the best distraction and comfort he’d ever found, crested in his chest. When he finally got to peer behind the opaque curtain of Jessica’s professional distance, what would he find?
And the question of why he cared so much, why Jessica stirred his insatiable curiosity in a way no other woman ever had? Well. That was easy enough to ignore.
Chapter 3
Jessica’s brain obsessively ticked over the list of information she’d compiled about sleep disorders. The instant she had breakfast under control, she started Googling like a madwoman. There was far less research available than she would have expected for such a basic human need, but Jessica was confident in her problem-solving skills. She was determined to figure this out.
She made a mental note to look into whether trauma affected sleep patterns. He’d said he first started experiencing insomnia as a teenager—was that around the time of Phillip and Marilyn Harrington’s tragic car accident?
The resignation in every weary line of Logan’s face as he’d revealed the extent of his insomnia had torn at Jessica’s heart. More than anything, she wanted to be able to promise him that he didn’t have to live like that, in a constant cycle of exhaustion and frustration. She had more research to do, but she was cautiously optimistic enough to make up for the niggling worry over the question Logan was about to pose.
Glancing down at the route she’d mapped on her smartphone, Jessica said, “Turn left up ahead, at … yes, at Main Street.”
“Of freaking course, this place has a Main Street. And my grandparents’ house is on what, Island Road? Very creative, this town’s founders were.”
Normally Jessica, a New Yorker by choice if not by birth, would wholeheartedly join in the sophisticated eye rolling at small-town cutesiness. But as they skirted the lush green lawn of the town square and shared friendly greetings with an elderly couple walking a tiny poodle, Jessica couldn’t find it in herself to look down her nose at Sanctuary Island.
“You’d prefer something more fanciful?” She blinked at him innocently. “I would have thought you’d like the simple directness of Island Road.”
“I prefer my avenues numbered, orderly and logical, thank you very much.” Logan tucked his hands in the pockets of the brand new track pants Jessica had bought him, sharp gaze taking in every detail of their surroundings.
He sauntered down the sidewalk, broad shoulders brushing hers on every other step. It was another glorious summer day, early enough to be warm rather than hot, and the constant gentle breeze cut the humidity nicely. Logan tipped his head back as they walked, and Jessica caught her breath silently as an expression she’d never seen crossed his handsome face.
With the sun beating down and an ocean wind ruffling his brown hair, Logan Harrington looked content.
The clench of her heart convinced her once and for all that she’d done the right thing in bringing him to Sanctuary. She’d always enjoyed her monthly checkin call with Penny Little, the caretaker of the Harringtons’ vacation home, and getting the news of the slow-paced, friendly island.
When Logan collapsed in that board meeting, his older brother had decreed an enforced vacation was in order. At once, Jessica had felt a tug on her heart telling her to whisk Logan away to Sanctuary Island.
He could heal here. That was worth the discomfort of answering a few probing questions.
With that in mind, she led them left on Main Street, away from the town square. The clusters of houses grew sparser the farther they walked, the quality of the road deteriorating from smooth pavement to rough gravel over the next mile. She kept an eye on Logan, whose main form of exercise was generally accomplished naked and horizontal, but he didn’t appear to be struggling as their walk stretched longer. In fact, a healthy color bloomed in his pale cheeks for the first time in weeks.
And still he didn’t ask his question.
Relaxing a bit, Jessica thumbed in the changes to her GPS map that would take them on the longer route past the stretch of public-access beach along the eastern edge of the island. Her advance prep on this place had turned up an interesting tidbit about why it was called Sanctuary Island, and she wanted to check it out firsthand.
In strangely companionable silence, they crested a small hill lined with loblolly pines. At the top, they paused to get their breath back and stared out over the vista spread at their feet.
From the break in the trees atop their hill, the ground sloped down in a tangle of wax myrtle and sorrel to the edge of a wide salt marsh. Dark green patches of tall cordgrass waved in the breeze and the scent of salt hung heavy in the air.
Jessica’s heart leaped as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Grabbing Logan’s elbow in a reflexive gesture of excitement, she couldn’t stop herself from pointing and bouncing like a giddy child.
“Look,” she whispered. “Can you believe it?”
Logan followed the angle of her arm, eyes widening as he saw what she was pointing at. “Huh. Looks like some farmer’s ponies got out of the barn.”
Jessica shook her he
ad, gaze locked on the small band of rangy, shaggy horses grazing lazily among the cordgrass. “They’re wild. The entire island is a wild horse sanctuary—there are no fences anywhere, and all the residents look out for them.”
“That’s insane.” Logan stared down at the horses with a perplexed smile. “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a horse that didn’t have a mounted police officer on its back, or a carriage for tourists strapped to it.”
“They’re beautiful.” Jessica sighed, caught by the indefinable air of freedom the feral animals exuded. These were no tame pets, taught to take sugar cubes from a little girl’s open palm. These horses lived in the open, survived the harsh winds of winter and the tearing storms of spring, foraging for food along the island’s shores.
“You’re beautiful.”
Logan’s quiet voice startled Jessica from her reverie. She glanced up to find him staring at her, rather than the view. The open appreciation in his dark blue eyes sent a wash of pleasure drenching through her body.
He’d complimented her before, with a wink and a smirk or a cheerfully leering grin, and she’d easily brushed it off. This felt different. Honest. Real, in a way that should have been terrifying, but wasn’t.
“Thank you.”
She’d been right to bring them here, where magic sparkled in the sea air and rode the hot rays of golden summer sunlight. Jessica could feel her heart, the heart she’d carefully encased in layers of ice years before, beginning to melt as she watched a gangly young colt kick up its spindly legs as it gamboled through the meadow, annoying its mother.
And with every breath, she was deeply, achingly aware of the man at her side. She didn’t need to look at him to feel the moment when he lifted his hand to smooth a lock of red hair torn loose from her ponytail by the wind off the water.
The skim of his fingertips over the shell of her ear stole her breath, and everything low in her body tightened as if he’d plucked a string. Desire, the sharp, dangerous kind she’d forsaken a long time ago, heated her from the inside out. Reckless with it, drunk on the salt spray and the freedom of the wild horses, Jessica said, “I’m ready to answer your question now.”
*
Logan felt the way Jessica’s pulse fluttered under the sensitive pads of his fingers. From their closeness? Or from her obviously deep-seated fear of showing him anything personal about herself?
Deciding it didn’t matter—they had a deal—Logan ruthlessly squashed any potential guilt and said, “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. The first question. And I’ve decided to dive right in, because that’s how I roll.”
Her heart kicked again, although her finely sculpted features remained impassive. Fascinated by the dichotomy, Logan dropped his hand to the side of her neck where he’d be best able to track the data of her heart rate. Human lie detector, he thought absently, although he didn’t truly expect Jessica to lie. She might not be thrilled to share her history, but there was a rock-solid core of honor to Jessica that he knew would keep her from welching on their deal.
“Well?” Her voice was firm, even bored, but the tickle of her pulse against his fingers told another story.
“So eager,” Logan murmured, low and heated, just to see if her heart rate would jump. But instead it seemed to smooth out into a steady, slow rhythm. He frowned, and a smile curved Jessica’s perfect lips.
“Yes, sir.” She was the picture of demure professionalism, blinking wide green eyes up at him.
Dropping his hand with a muttered curse, Logan stepped back. “Balls. I can’t do the seduction thing when you remind me that you’re technically my subordinate.”
Her smile faded. “I know.”
Logan jammed his hands into the pockets of the track pants. “The way you boss me around, I forget sometimes.”
“You sometimes forget to pay attention to anything that isn’t related to the company or your gadgets.” Jessica shrugged, wandering over to perch on a fallen tree trunk by the side of the path. “Someone needs to look out for you.”
“It took me a while to realize that’s why you’re so damn bossy.” Logan ran his fingers through his hair. “How many times did I fire you that first week? And since? But you never go.”
He didn’t mention the glow of warmth it gave him now, every time he pushed her away and Jessica pushed right back. In Logan’s experience, people left. They couldn’t freaking wait to leave, which was why he preferred to spend his time with the fascinating puzzles in his lab rather than socializing.
Jessica was different. She never courted his interest, never tried to intrigue—and yet, effortlessly and inevitably, the enigma of Jessica Bell had captured Logan’s attention.
“I don’t go because you have no power to fire me,” she reminded him with relish. Man, she loved to hold that over his head.
“And apparently, even at my most deliberately obnoxious, I don’t have the power to make your life miserable enough to quit.” Once it had sunk in that he couldn’t fire Jessica and make it stick, he’d pranked her mercilessly for a week.
He’d rigged her desk drawers to stick, then pop open at irregular intervals. He’d fiddled with her ergonomic office chair so that whenever she sat down, the seat sank to the lowest position. He’d reprogrammed the calendar application on her tablet to randomize the date and time of every event she entered. And when none of that fazed her, Logan got really creative.
“Remember when you convinced the entire security staff that I was a stalker and should be barred from Harrington Tower?” Jessica sighed reminiscently. “Good times.”
“That was one of my favorites. I spent hours doctoring the security feed to show you sneaking into my private lab after hours. First time I ever missed a deadline for Miles.”
Miles Harrington, in his capacity as CEO and president of Harrington International, had not been pleased when Logan failed to appear at the quarterly meeting of the shareholders. In his capacity as the eldest Harrington brother, Miles seemed to enjoy pointing out how much Logan’s pranks looked like the pigtail pulling of grade school romance, to the untrained eye.
“That was the last of the pranks, come to think of it,” Jessica realized.
“And it was the start of your campaign to transform me into a healthy, well-adjusted human being.”
“Not that you make it easy.”
With an evil grin, Logan flopped down in the grass, careless of staining the new workout gear. “Why would I make it easy for you to turn me into Miles when it’s so much more fun to be me?”
He tilted his head back to catch the unfamiliar warmth of the sun on his face, and caught Jessica’s troubled gaze.
“You know I don’t actually want to change who you are, right? I want you to take better care of yourself. There’s a big difference.”
Equal parts uncomfortable with and delighted by her show of concern, Logan stretched his long legs out in the grass until his sneakered foot nudged hers. “And you’re so dedicated to my health that you’ve agreed to answer whatever question I pose, no holds barred. So here it is.”
She crossed her legs as elegantly as if she were wearing a couture gown instead of spandex pants and a sweatshirt. Without his human lie detector trick, there was not a single crack in her poised, professional façade. “Hit me.”
Suddenly, all Logan wanted in the world was to shatter that mask of calm indifference. To make Jessica Bell react with passion. So he ditched the softball question he’d planned to ask about her parents, and went straight for the throat.
“Why are you so determined to keep me at arm’s length?”
She froze for an instant, only a heartbeat, before opening her mouth. Too quickly.
Logan shook his head. “And don’t give me that canned stuff about professionalism. I want the real answer. Because we’d be explosive together, Tink, and you know it.”
The hot red flush that bloomed along her cheekbones set off a battery of triumphant fireworks in Logan’s chest. Passion!
Of course, when she spoke, he
r voice was precise and calm, edged with enough acid to sting. “What I know is that you’re spoiled. You’re a wealthy, uncommonly intelligent man entirely too used to getting what you want. Maybe I turn you down just to help you get accustomed to hearing the word no.”
Logan blinked, genuinely taken aback. “What makes you think I get everything I want? And I noticed your little evasion there, by the way. Don’t expect me to let that slide. I want a real answer.”
“To which question?” Jessica asked tightly.
“Both! All!” Logan clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching for her. “I don’t see how you can consider me spoiled when I’ve lost everyone that ever mattered to me. Just because I have the sense to read the pattern and limit my desires to those that are attainable—like casual sex, alcohol and my work—that doesn’t make me spoiled. That makes me a realist.”
Jessica fell out of her prim pose on the log, her lithe limbs going loose and appealingly awkward as her laser focus zoomed in on his face. “Logan.”
It was all she said, his name, but it felt brand new, as if she’d never said it before. Or never so intimately. Heat constricted Logan’s chest, threatening to spread downward to his groin.
Hastily drawing his legs up to rest his arms on his knees, he said, “But this isn’t about me. I’m pretty sure deflecting the question onto me and my inner workings violates the spirit of our agreement. So unless you want to call for a helicopter to come pick me up from this godforsaken rock…”
Jessica narrowed a glare at him, her breath coming sharp and fast. Tension strung out between them, taut as a wire. Greedy for more of the real Jessica Bell, the passionate woman instead of the perfect assistant, Logan did what he’d do with any experiment that began to show signs of success. He pushed it further.
“I know you have the company’s chopper pilot on speed dial,” Logan taunted, standing up and dusting himself off as if he were on the point of heading back to the cottage to pack. “We could be landing at the Wall Street heliport before nightfall.”