by Jaye Wells
“Yes, I was born near Edinburgh, but we have been in America so long that none of us really has much of an accent anymore.”
“You mentioned you mother and brother. What about your father?” she asked.
A shadow passed across his face. She instantly regretted indulging her curiosity.
“You don’t have to—” she started.
“No, it’s fine. My father’s death was the main reason we moved to America. He was killed during a...robbery. My mother thought it best we move to get a fresh start.”
“How horrible for all of you. Your poor mother had to leave everything behind and raise two young sons on her own. She must be a strong woman.”
“You have no idea,” he said. She detected both respect and exasperation in his tone.
“I assume you’re a close family.”
“Yes, although sometimes they drive me crazy,” he said with a grin.
“It wouldn’t be family if they didn’t,” she joked back.
“Is your family close too?”
Syd paused. She didn’t really want to reveal too much about her family. The pain she felt over their rejection was still fresh.
“I don’t really speak with my parents.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with sincerity. “Do you have siblings?”
“No, just me.”
“I can’t imagine that. You must get lonely,” he said.
“Sometimes,” she shrugged. “But you get used to it.”
“I’ll admit the prospect holds some appeal. When I just want to be alone to work, it seems like some family member is always knocking on the door or calling.”
“Actually that sounds kind of nice. Always having someone to care about what you’re doing.”
Logan must have sensed her sadness at the topic, so he changed subjects. “So I have to ask, who is your favorite artist?”
“Hmm. That’s a tough one. There are so many,” she said. Syd took a sip of wine while she pondered the question. “I guess if I had to chose just one, though, it would be Klimt.”
After that they continued to discuss art for some time, debating the merits of one artist over the other. Sydney found herself amazed by his knowledge of art history. She figured a scientist wouldn’t have a lot of time to study the arts. Logan continued to surprise her.
The topic gradually moved on to books and movies. Then Logan shared some amusing stories about his exploits with Callum and Alaric, whom he considered a brother.
Syd looked over at him as her laughter finally subsided after a particularly funny story. She didn’t know if it was the wine, the beautiful night, or the laughter, but she hadn’t felt this good in months.
Logan looked back at her with a smile. She was struck again by the contrasts he presented. She originally found him somewhat intimidating, but seeing him now, she felt comfortable. He leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass.
“This was fun,” he observed.
“Yes, I never thought I’d find someone who could keep up with me in an obscure Monty Python quoting contest.”
“I meant the whole dinner,” he said, suddenly sounding more serious.
“Uh, yes, it was very nice,” she said. Suddenly she felt shy again.
An uncomfortable silence descended.
“So, do you have a boyfriend?” Logan blurted.
“Uh, no,” she said hesitantly, wondering where he was going with that.
“Good,” he said with a nod.
“Good?”
“I mean it’s good this project isn’t keeping you away from someone special,” he amended.
“I guess,” she said with a shrug. She took a nervous sip of wine to cover her unease with the tension that hung between them suddenly.
Logan put down his own glass and leaned forward. “Look, I lied. The real reason I asked is that I know we’re working together, but I keep having . . . unprofessional thoughts where you’re concerned.”
Her breath caught. Holy crap! Talk about cutting to the chase. The last thing she expected when she agreed to dinner was for this gorgeous man to tell her he was warm for her form.
He put his hand over hers on the table and met her gaze.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Uh, no, I just didn’t expect you to say that.”
“So . . . what do you think about . . . what I said?”
“Uh, I admit there is some sort of . . . something there.”
He chuckled. “That’s specific.”
“Well, I don’t really know what to say. Um, thanks?”
“So you don’t feel anything?” he asked with furrowed brows.
“I didn’t say that,” she said quickly.
He chuckled and leaned in farther. “What are we going to do about that?”
She felt herself leaning toward him, the seductive sound of his voice entrancing her.
“I don’t know,” she breathed.
“I’m sure if we put our heads together we can think of something,” he responded a breath away from her lips.
Oh. My. God. He’s going to kiss me! Syd’s mind shouted as Logan cradled her face in his hands and began his descent. Shut up and enjoy it, her body countered. Before she could think of anything to say to him, his mouth caressed hers tentatively.
She breathed in the heady scent of red wine and warm male and gave into the inevitable. She stroked his lips with her own, emboldened by the electricity arcing from her mouth to her pelvis.
Everything changed as her nervousness faded and her craving for him took over. Their tongues intertwined as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly he lifted her from her chair, and then the strong muscles of his thighs cradled her. She felt her libido spin out of control. Yet at the same time, the warm shield of his body her made her feel oddly safe.
She twined her arms around his neck and tilted her head for a better angle. His arms wrapped around her back, caresses quickly giving way to urgent kneading.
Her groan echoed into the silence of the night surrounding them. His hand moved around to stroke her breast. She scooted back to give him better access and barely noticed when her elbow bumped something.
The sound of shattering glass broke the spell surrounding them. Syd jerked up when she felt something wet hit her leg. She slid toward the ground, but Logan steadied her—his reflexes so fast she barely knew what happened. She stood quickly and surveyed the scene.
Shards of wine glass crackled under her feet, and a small pool of red stained the flagstone patio. Her heart pounded in her chest, whether from the interruption or the kiss itself, she couldn’t decide.
“Logan, I am so sorry. I guess I bumped it when I . . .” she trailed off.
He smiled back. “It’s just a wine glass. No harm done, except to your skirt. I’m afraid you’re going to have to get rid of it.” He touched the stain on her thigh. The contact brought Syd back to her senses.
She glanced at Logan, who seemed intent on a second round of tongue jousting—minus her skirt, apparently. She abruptly stumbled back from him.
“Oh no, what the hell are we doing? No more kissing!” She held her hands up to slow his advance. He stopped and looked at her.
“Syd, it’s just a skirt. I’ll buy you a new one,” he said calmly and then continued his advance.
“It’s not about the skirt. Logan, we shouldn’t be kissing, period,” she said.
“Why?” He raised a challenging brow.
Her thoughts still a bit scrambled from his taste and touch, she struggled to formulate a compelling reason for them to stop. “Because?”
He chuckled. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that was one-sided.”
“No, it was both of us,” she admitted, “but we have to forget it happened.” Now that the sensual fog had cleared, her mind had kicked into flight mode. The realization she had been just shy of ripping his clothes off caused her to panic. How could she forget she was there because of her job? She hadn’t read the museu
m manual lately, but she was pretty sure sleeping with patrons was a no-no.
Logan took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll forget it. But I agree it would complicate things to pursue this . . . whatever it is between us.”
Syd sent him a grateful look. “I appreciate you being so understanding.”
“Believe me, I am kicking myself mentally as we speak,” he said with a wry grin.
“That’s my cue to leave, then. Good night.” She reached out to shake his hand. He hesitated and smiled at her formality. Then, he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth. The brief caress of his lips on her skin sent a tingle up her arm. She withdrew her hand and turned to go before her resolve was tested any further.
“Thank you for the dinner. Bye,” she said over her shoulder as she rushed to get out of there.
As she flew through the patio doors, she heard him say, “It was my pleasure.”
Chapter Five
The shrill ring of the phone startled Logan awake. He glanced at the clock and groaned. Five a.m. After Sydney had left, he tried to concentrate on his work to take his mind off of her. But he finally gave up and headed to bed around two.
“Yes,” he snapped into the phone, ready to tear into whoever had the audacity to call this early.
“It’s me,” said Alaric. “We have a problem.”
Logan sat up. Alaric wouldn’t call unless it was something serious.
“The delivery of blood disappeared. The driver from the shipment company never checked in with his boss. His manager got nervous and sent someone out to check the route. Logan, they found the driver unconscious and the truck empty.”
“Raven,” Logan said with a snarl.
“That’s what I think, too. No one else would have a reason to raid a shipment of blood.”
“Damn! This is going to set us back,” Logan said and hit his fist into a pillow. Several feathers flew into the air after the pillow ripped from the impact.
“I’ve already been in touch with Francesca at Brethren headquarters. She is going to start collecting fresh samples from the elders as soon as possible. Then she’ll bring the blood to us herself in a day or two. After all, we’re so close we don’t need much.”
“I suppose I could convince mother to donate a couple of pints in the meantime. Her blood is old enough to do some preliminary tests against the samples of the Lifeblood,” he said, referring to the synthetic blood they were testing.
“Isn’t she out of town?” Alaric reminded Logan.
“Damn, I forgot,” he said. “Okay, maybe we can do some tests on blood samples in the labs at Murdoch Biotech. Meet me there in an hour.”
They said their good-byes, and Logan hung up. He shook his head and got up to dress. Some days it just didn’t pay to be immortal. The last week alone brought a rogue vampire trying to thwart his research, a vixen curator tempting his flesh, and a nagging mother insisting he pursue stolen artwork. He shuddered to think what the next week would bring.
Syd looked at the clock on her dashboard as she drove toward Logan’s the next morning. Ten o’clock, much later than she normally got to work. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. For the last few nights, stress-induced dreams had her waking constantly. Her favorite one involved falling off a cliff and waking an instant before impact.
One moment she felt good about the agreement she and Logan had made, and then the next she felt her stomach drop at the prospect of seeing him again. Currently anger won out as she railed against herself for her lack of willpower.
“What kind of idiot kisses a man just because he knows some stupid movie quotes?” she asked herself aloud. “The same kind who falls off ladders and thrusts her breasts in men’s faces, that’s who.
“Today you will be a rock, unaffected by him in every way. Do not stare at his rear end, do not look at his lips, and for God’s sake, woman, do not spend any time alone with him.”
Luckily, Jorge was not there to witness her ravings. She needed him at the museum today to lead a tour group from the Raleigh Ladies’ Auxiliary. Jorge made the perfect tour guide for a group of older women. He flirted outrageously with them and complimented their shoes and handbags, and they in turn shared the best gossip from Raleigh society.
Syd stopped the car in front of Logan’s house. Despite her tough talk, she was nervous again. What if it was awkward? What if he thought less of her? What if she threw herself at him in a weak moment? Not gonna happen, sister, her mind demanded.
She took a calming breath and headed for the door. Before she could knock, she noticed a piece of paper stuck in the jamb.
Sydney—
Had urgent business. The door is unlocked. Make yourself at home. Should be back this afternoon.
L.
She wondered why anyone in this day and age would leave his door unlocked. She looked around the front of his house and recognized the answer. Logan lived about fifteen minutes outside of Raleigh on a tract of land set back from the road and covered with pine trees. Not much chance of a stranger wandering into his unlocked door. Still, she felt uncomfortable as she let herself in.
“Logan?” she called from the foyer. She didn’t want to chance that he had returned from his business early and forgotten to take the note off the door. She called his name once more, but the only sound was the echo of her voice in the large marbled entryway.
She heaved a sigh of relief and went to the library. At least she could put off having to see him so soon after their embarrassing interlude. She set her briefcase on the table and got to work.
Six hours later, she rubbed her eyes. Reading old documents was hell on the vision. But she couldn’t complain about the progress she had made today.
She still didn’t have conclusive proof, but she found a few references to family portraits done by a man named Cornelius Murdoch. The name surprised her because it meant a member of the family might have painted Royce’s picture. If so, the man obviously had great talent, but she had never heard of him. She made a note to search for the name in one of the art databases she frequently used for research.
She also found a letter from a friend of the family commiserating with them after vandals broke into the home and stole many valuable items. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Logan’s story meshed with what she was seeing here. But she still needed a specific reference to a painting of Royce Murdoch as well as a description fitting the painting at the museum.
She decided to call it a day. She needed to go by the museum before heading home to catch up on her sleep. But deep down she knew she wanted to get out of there before Logan returned.
She grabbed a piece of paper to leave him a note. Chewing on the end of her pen, she struggled over what to say. Finally she wrote: Logan, hope you had a great day! I know I did. See you tomorrow!
Nope, she sounded like a cheerleader on speed. She crumpled up the note and tried again.
Logan. Thank you for the use of your library. I accomplished much today. I shall return tomorrow. Sydney.
Jesus, now she sounded like a Victorian barrister. That note joined the other one.
Logan. See you tomorrow. Sydney.
She nodded and decided the short-and-sweet approach was the way to go.
She gathered the discarded notes and her briefcase and headed to the foyer. She left the final note on the console table. As she turned to go, she heard the sound of a garage door opening from the rear of the house.
He was home. Panic set in, and she ran to the front door and was in her car in no time.
Whew, that was close! Her body thrummed with adrenaline.
She looked in the rearview mirror as she pulled away and saw Logan standing on his front porch watching her escape.
So much for professionalism.
Logan watched the dust curl behind Sydney’s car as she rounded the bend and disappeared behind the trees lining his driveway. He figured she must be late for an appointment given the speed with which she drove.
He went back into the house and saw
two pieces of crumpled paper lying near the doorway. Had Sydney dropped these as she left? He bent to pick them up. He opened the first one, and his eyebrows furrowed. It was a note from Sydney sounding like an anal retentive lawyer. He opened the second one and chuckled.
He looked up and saw the third note on his console table, finally clueing in that these were practice notes. Logan found it endearing that she practiced what to say. He retrieved the note she had decided to leave. His laughter echoed through the house. The woman continued to amuse him. He considered leaving them for her on the table in the library. He could just imagine her face when she found them in the morning.
Chuckling some more, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Deciding they would be good to read when he needed some comic relief, he placed the notes in the drawer of his nightstand. Then he plopped on his bed with a sigh.
He and Alaric had worked nonstop since six a.m. They finally decided to call it a day when it was obvious they couldn’t do much more until the Brethren liaison arrived in the morning.
He still could not believe Raven’s audacity. She had a reputation for rebellion among the Brethren. However, messing with his family indicated a level of boldness that surpassed her previous exploits. The Murdoch family was well respected in the vampire community. His mother had her hands in many of the council’s initiatives, and even he and Callum had some influence due to their contributions to the betterment of vampire life.
The Brethren Council was created one hundred and fifty years ago to aid their kind in a rapidly changing world. A group of visionary elder vampires created laws to protect vampires from discovery by humans. Their philosophy that vampires could peacefully coexist with mortals influenced their laws. Thus feeding from and turning humans was forbidden, except in rare cases. Any vampires who broke that law were banished to areas where they could no longer harm mortals.
Logan’s work provided an array of products that allowed them to live like mortals. Vitamin therapies helped counteract the sun allergies that plagued all vampires, and iron supplements counteracted the extreme anemia which was to blame for many of their weaknesses. In fact, one of the reasons vampires needed blood so much was for the iron it provided. Of course, the blood also provided nutrients needed to maintain their strength and to constantly repair the damages of daily living. Bagged blood was a decent solution since they couldn’t feed off humans directly, but Logan knew Lifeblood would be the key to finally ending their dependence on human sources of nutrition.