Shatter (St. Martin Family Saga)

by Watson, Gina

  “How do you know so much about business?”

  “I’ve read some stuff.” That was the truth. Logan researched everything he did. Too much, some said. But when he took on a project, he wanted to do it right. And with the minimum number of avoidable mistakes.

  As he drove to his apartment, her words echoed dully within him. Outsider. Intruder. Their sexual connection hadn’t felt forced. He hadn’t felt like an intruder then. Again, he’d only intended to kiss her. She’d been the one clawing her way up his chest. Maybe he should just forget this liaison. He could serve his beer at the sub shop. He tapped his fingers on the wheel, thinking, imaging his options. Still… She had that body. And they’d both gotten off on the sex. That instant connection had to mean something.

  Yeah, something all right. Something told him she was going to be trouble. But still he decided to sleep on it before making a hasty decision.

  He turned in and parked in his designated spot. From his apartment he could see the edge of the building that encompassed the brewery. He planned to run a few miles, shower, and walk over to the Good Doctor. He was proud of his accomplishments and all his research had said a partnership with her would be good for business. He didn’t want to mess that up. He wouldn’t mess that up. And he wouldn’t let her mess it up either.

  3

  The following day Logan returned to the La Bella Luna bar with the tap handles for his respective brews. He’d decided he would see the endeavor through. He’d guessed Jessie had been through a lot and given the emotional connection at their first meeting, he was prepared to cut her some slack. Still, her words had taken root in his head like a cancer.

  She offered him a plate of lasagna and garlic bread right after he arrived, but she didn’t hang around to talk. She disappeared into her office as soon as she was sure Logan had what he needed. He assumed the food was a peace offering, but he would have preferred that she sit with him while he ate.

  The food was good, zesty and filling, but eating alone wasn’t fun.

  An hour later Logan was busy installing the levers when a commotion from the front of the restaurant distracted him. He looked up to see Alan carrying Michael, a distressed Michael who was crying loudly and chanting, “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”

  A nerve in Alan’s jaw pulsed, and sweat seeped from his brow. “Quiet now, boy.”

  Jessie came running out from her office when she heard Michael’s cries. “What’s going on?”

  Alan dropped Michael on the table of one of the booths near the bar. Huge blue pools of pain focused on Jessie, and Michael sobbed, “Mommy, it hurts.”

  Jessie bent low to poke at the scrape on Michael’s leg. “You’re bleeding. Let me get the first aid kit.”

  Logan watched as she brought a rag, alcohol, ointment, and bandages and handed them off to Alan.

  Alan poured alcohol on the rag. “Be still now, boy.” Michael continued to squirm, and Alan couldn’t get a grip on him to wipe his leg with the alcohol.

  “Hold still.” Frustration laced Alan’s stern voice. He popped Michael on the thigh and then shook him. “I said, hold still, dammit!”

  Jessie gasped, and Michael hollered, his face as red as an apple.

  Jessie immediately inserted herself between her son and Alan and poked a finger into Alan’s chest. “Don’t you ever hit my son!”

  Logan couldn’t take anymore and eased out from behind the bar.

  Michael reached out his arms in Logan’s direction. “Logan.”

  Logan snatched him up off the table, and Michael stopped crying straightaway, burrowing his hot, tear-streaked face into the space between Logan’s shoulder and jaw.

  Alan shook his head and exhaled noisily. He threw the alcohol-laden rag to the floor. “See if you can do something with him, because I can’t.”

  For Michael’s sake he would keep quiet but when Alan slapped and shook the boy, Logan wanted to punch the guy square in the jaw. Michael wasn’t a bad child, he was a hurt child.

  When Logan did his residency, he’d loved the challenge of treating children, something about their innocence just made him feel happy. He liked to be the one to ease their pain and dry their tears.

  He set Michael back on the table and inspected the wound. He let out a long whistle. “That’s a big-boy scrape.” At the same time he spoke to Michael, Logan squeezed Jessie’s hand, reassuring her that Michael would be okay.

  “I’m a big boy.”

  “That you are.” Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out his loose change. “Michael, I need you to do something for me. It’s important. Do you think you can do it?”

  Michael bounced a couple of times. “Yes, I can do important stuff.”

  Logan lifted his gaze. Alan, Jessie, and Michael all had their eyes set on him. “I need you to count how many coins I have and when you’re done, I need you to do it again. Got it?”

  “Got it!” Michael held out his hands, and Logan dropped the coins into them.

  “I gotta bandage your leg, okay, buddy?”

  “O…kay.” Michael was busy counting the coins. He started over, shifting all the coins to one hand. When they threatened to spill free, Jessie cupped her hands under his.

  Logan poured alcohol on the cut and said, “Hey, Michael, what year were you born?”

  “Two zero zero eight.”

  “Look for a coin with two zero zero eight on it.”

  Logan dabbed at the cut, then wiped off the excess alcohol. He rubbed on an antibiotic ointment and secured a bandage over the wound. He checked Michael out, looking for other injuries, and frowned, his muscles tensing, when he saw Alan’s red handprint on his thigh.

  Logan tousled Michael’s hair and said, “All done.”

  Michael held out a coin. “Look, I found one!” His grin filled up most of his face.

  Logan held up his hand. “Hey, high five.” Michael slapped his hand to Logan’s.

  “Are you gonna show me the next magic trick?”

  “That’s right—I owe you a magic trick.” He waved his hand, fingers fluttering madly, in front of Michael’s face. “Prepare to be amazed.”

  ≈

  Jessie couldn’t believe how Michael had taken to Logan and vice versa. They were an instant hit. Yesterday she’d watched from her office as Logan completed the Crayola trick. The sight of Michael with his little arms laced around Logan’s neck had her misty-eyed.

  Now she watched, frozen in place, not wanting to miss a moment of her son interacting with Logan.

  Alan leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll call you later.” Jessie didn’t look at him; she was too ticked off at him for smacking and shaking Michael. And he hadn’t even told her what had happened to Michael in the first place. She nodded coolly.

  Jessie slid into the booth and watched Logan work his magic. He drew a one-dollar bill and two paperclips from his pocket.

  “Okay, I’m going to need an assistant. Do I have any volunteers?”

  Michael bounced with excitement and raised his hand high. “Oh me, me!”

  “Okay, Michael, you got it!”

  With impressive drama, Logan said, “Behold, two ordinary paperclips!” Logan waved the clips and the dollar under their noses, and they nodded. “Logan the Magnificent will link these paperclips together in midair, and I will need my trusty assistant to catch the clips before they fall to the floor. Are you ready, trusty assistant?”

  Michael and Jessie replied in unison, “Ready.”

  Logan folded the bill into the shape of the letter S. He strategically placed the clips on the top of the bill. “Three, two, one…” Logan tugged the ends of the dollar hard, causing the clips to fly into the air and link.

  Michael reached up with both hands and grabbed the clips. He gasped loudly when he saw they were indeed clipped together. “Wow! Logan the Magnificent did it. Look, Mommy. They’re together.”

  Logan and Jessie laughed while Michael kept fiddling with the clips. Logan bowed elaborately, eyes shining, when seve
ral of Jessie’s employees clapped and whistled from across the room.

  Logan smiled and said to Jessie, “My work here is done.” He circled the bar and started messing with the tap handles.

  Jessie watched Logan’s retreating back, knowing that she’d been mistaken. Logan was much more of a man than Alan would ever be. Logan would never strike Michael. And Logan seemed to truly care, even for near strangers. How could she have been so blind?

  “Mommy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want Logan to come to the park with us.”

  Every Saturday Jessie took Michael to the park, and he pretended to be a pirate, racing around on the playground equipment the city had purchased. The apparatus was shaped and decorated like a pirate’s ship, every little boy’s dream play land.

  Alan usually went with them, and he would read a book on the bench while Jessie played with Michael. Seeing Alan hit Michael was reason enough for her to dump him, but she wondered if Michael might have questions if she did. She didn’t want to set up any insecurities in him.

  “What about Alan?”

  Michael looked around, no doubt making sure that Alan wasn’t in earshot, then he scrunched up his face. “I don’t like Alan. I want Logan.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask him. But he has stuff of his own to do. You can’t get all mopey-faced if he can’t come.”

  Michael nodded and used his hands to scoot her toward the bar.

  She stood. It seemed she had some groveling to do.

  “Hey, Michael. Hi, sweetheart.”

  Ah, momentary salvation in the guise of her mother. Jessie’s groveling was gratefully postponed.

  She and Michael both turned when Jessie’s mom joined them. She kissed Michael, and he showed her his leg and told her, twice, about Logan’s magic trick. Jessie sent Michael home with her mom, promising again to ask Logan about the park. Then she took a tour around the restaurant, making sure the dinner settings were in place, and spoke with her hostess and night manager. When she couldn’t think of anything else to do—and after she’d touched every table at least twice, she turned back toward Logan.

  She would break things off with Alan tonight. But now she had another man to contend with. Now it was groveling time.

  Jessie walked up to the bar and took a stool across from Logan. Their eyes met. His were cool, maybe assessing, and he kept tinkering with the damned taps. He wasn’t making this easy for her.

  “Thank you for what you did.”

  “There’s no need to thank me. Michael was injured. Just because I don’t keep a strict schedule doesn’t mean I don’t have compassion.”

  He was definitely angry with her. She supposed she’d deserved his attitude. She’d been pretty snippy herself yesterday.

  Logan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself when your boyfriend hit Michael.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend!”

  “Came to your senses, did you?”

  “Listen, I’m sorry for the things I said to you. Clearly, I was wrong. Things aren’t always as they appear. I get that now.”

  “No, they aren’t.”

  Jessie bit her lip and her brow furrowed. She purposely slid her hands under her thighs so she wouldn’t bite her nails. “Look, on Saturdays I take Michael to the park. He’s sort of become infatuated with you. He…” She picked up a set of salt and pepper shakers, clinked the glass together. Why was this so hard? She pushed the shakers back into place and then sat on her hands, not wanting to give away her nervousness.

  “He wanted me to ask you to go with us, but if you do, I have to ask that you tread lightly. He needs a male influence in his life and as I said, he really cares for you. I have the feeling that he’d latch on to you without hesitation. And you may or may not want that; that’s for you to determine.” She licked her lips, stopping when he suddenly lifted his head and his eyes burned as he focused on her mouth. “I-I realize I have no right to say what I’m about to say, but please understand that I have to do right by my son.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I can’t have you coming around a lot and then all of a sudden not. It wouldn’t be fair to Michael, so think about it first. If you want to join us…if you want to spend time with us”—she inhaled another long breath and then let it out slowly—“if you want to spend time with me, please join us Saturday.” She looked away and bit her lip. Might as well go all the way. “We’d both like to spend more time with you.”

  She slipped off the stool and turned to walk away, but Logan grabbed her wrist and led her around the bar, where he pulled her to him. He whispered in her ear, “Michael is a great kid, and I’d be honored to accompany him to the park. As for you, I have thought of nothing but you writhing beneath me. I can still smell you on me. Together we are sodium and chlorine.”

  Breathily she repeated, “Sodium and chlorine?” Wait, was he saying she smelled like chlorine?

  Using his thumb and index finger, he rubbed her earlobe. “Sodium burns when it comes into contact with chlorine. When they get together, there’s heat and there’s fire.” He tugged at her hair, pulled a strand free from its clip, and twirled it around his fingers.

  He was so close to her, she could feel his heat through layers of clothing. And he was staring at her bottom lip. Her tongue slipped out to run across the very place his eyes rested. His breath intoxicated her, and the need for him built in her core, leaving her hot and edgy.

  She needed to experience that deep connection with him again. Yes, she wanted to burn.

  “Michael is staying the night with his grandmother. Would you like to meet me at my house tonight, after I get off?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She hoped she’d get off more than once later that night.

  Logan growled. His eyes narrowed. And when he said, “An army of three hundred angry Spartans couldn’t keep me away,” Jessie’s panties were instantly soaked.

  4

  Logan parked his truck at the address Jessie gave him. He thought about the words she had spoken back at the restaurant. She was worried about her son getting attached to him. Even he had to admit things had never happened so fast before, but he felt like he’d known Jessie for years rather than days. He silently vowed to be cautious. The last thing he wanted to do was confuse Michael. He knocked at the front door.

  Jessie answered wearing a deep purple silk robe. Her skin was pink and dewy from a bath.

  “Jessie, are you trying to kill me?”

  Her eyes went wide. “What?”

  “It’s obviously hard for us to take it slow; you’ve just made it damn near impossible.”

  Her house was a little cottage with original wooden floors and archways leading from one room into the next. From the front door Logan could see into the living room, kitchen, and dining areas. The colors were bright and fun, and her home smelled like apple cinnamon.

  She placed her hand on his forearm and lightly pulled him in. Logan stepped across the threshold and kicked the door shut. His hands reached to cradle her head, and he licked at the seam of her thick red lips. God he loved her lips. He wanted to explore them and let them explore him. After he nibbled on her enticing bottom lip, his tongue sought entry into her mouth, and she parted those lips on a sigh. He ravaged her mouth, and she aggressively matched him, tasting his tongue and then licking into his mouth.

  When he pulled back for air, he said, “You’re warm and fresh from a bath; I could eat you with a knife and fork.”

  Jessie panted. “You’re so intense.”

  “Hmm?” Logan placed his lips at her collarbone and suckled. “What’s going on under here?” Logan slipped his hand under her robe. “Do you even know how beautiful you are? Just the color of your hair makes me hard.”

  Breathless, Jessie repeated, “The color.”

  Logan palmed her scalp. “Your hair smells like apples and burns like fire, as if it’s alive. And when the light hits it, the color swirls and changes.” He fanned his fingers
and ran them through her hair from root to tip. “I saved something I got today that reminded me of you.” He pulled a brand new penny from his pocket. “All day I kept trying to recall the color of your hair yet couldn’t quite place it. I got this with some change and thought, that’s it. That’s the color of Jessie’s hair. I can’t get it out of my mind.” Logan lifted a handful of her hair to his nose and inhaled.

  Jessie’s eyes closed, and she melted into his embrace. Her hands went to his hair and tugged lightly. Tingles raced down his spine.

  Logan carried her to the table in the dining room—a site he’d arrowed in on when he’d stepped inside—and laid her down, parting her robe. She was a feast, and he’d enjoy her as one.

  He spread his hand wide and rubbed the valley between her breasts. Then he cupped one of her milk-white mounds and began to knead. Logan loved the look and feel of her teardrop breasts with their puffy peach-colored nipples. He’d never seen anything more erotic, except perhaps the light dusting of bright copper hair that covered her mound. Unable to wait, Logan closed his mouth around the soft velvety cloud of her nipple. When he skimmed the tip delicately with his teeth, she moaned. When he bit a little bit harder, her back arched off the table. Logan grinned and did the same to her other breast. Her white creamy skin was perfection.

  She reached for his head, but Logan wasn’t done exploring yet.

  He bent her knees so he could access the little bud that peeked out from her soft pink folds. His mouth anticipating her taste, he bent so that the flat part of his tongue made contact with the hard knot.

  “Logan!”

  She was so responsive, ready to come. But he wanted her to soar. He left her clit and moved to her labia, drawing each side into his mouth, tasting and sucking. He licked along the seam between them. After getting her wet with his mouth, after feeling her juice rush out of her, he pulled back to look at her pussy. To his amazement, her clit grew more prominent. He couldn’t resist another taste.