by Lily Everett
Chapter Two
When Logan agreed to Jessica’s terms, he hadn’t counted on his old pal, insomnia, showing up to make it impossible to keep his word about sleeping on command.
But here he was, staring up at the sloping ceiling above the loft bed, eyes dry and burning and sleep nowhere on the horizon. The silence of the empty cottage pressed in on him like a weight. And his preferred methods for shutting off his brain long enough to get to sleep—sex and alcohol—were unavailable for the moment.
Frustration at his inability to conquer his own body, to simply give in and let sleep knock him unconscious, seethed through his veins like an unscratchable itch. To distract himself, he considered the most enticing dilemma he’d faced in quite some time.
What question should he ask of the elusive, mysterious, impenetrably professional Jessica Bell?
He considered what he knew of her already. Over the years since she first appeared in his lab and laughed at him when he ordered her to stop tidying and get out, Logan had discovered shockingly little about what made his personal assistant tick—other than her dedication to efficiency and competence.
In fact, he barely knew more than he’d gleaned from hacking into the Human Resources department’s secure servers and reading her résumé.
Jessica Anne Bell, twenty-eight years old, bachelor’s degree in communications from Illinois State, previous work experience as the personal assistant to the CEO of a chain of luxury boutique hotels.
Then there were the details he’d observed over time: long naturally red hair with a slight wave to it, green eyes in a fair-skinned, oval face. High, clear forehead, straight nose, pink mouth shaped for smiling. His gaze frequently caught on her pert chin with the tiny indentation in the center—a genetic trait inherited from one or both of her parents.
Which was the sum total of what he knew about her family. He didn’t even know where she’d grown up—her deliberate, thoughtful speech patterns contained no discernible accent.
Jessica didn’t cake on the makeup like some women Logan knew, but she wasn’t a bare-faced natural girl, either. She favored classic, sophisticated fashion, preferring to fill her wardrobe with little black dresses and well-fitted pantsuits in jewel tones rather than chasing the latest trend, and since she was tall and slender as a model, everything looked good on her.
It was possible Logan had devoted quite a bit of time to gathering information on his assistant.
Only because she’s a mystery, he consoled himself as he laced his fingers together behind his head. She’s the one puzzle I haven’t been able to solve. And once I get the answers to some burning questions, I’ll never be distracted by her again.
Downstairs, the cottage door swung open, letting in the scent of roses on the warm evening breeze. Jessica was back from her exploration of the island, and from the rustle of plastic bags, Logan surmised she’d also stopped in to whatever quaint general store this island boasted, to secure provisions.
He tracked her progress from the cottage door, across the bare hardwood floor of the miniscule living room to set the grocery bags down on the kitchenette’s tiny table. She spent some time unloading whatever she’d bought, cupboards opening and closing, the refrigerator making a soft whir as it clicked on. It was oddly relaxing. Logan felt his muscles soften against the mattress as some unnamed tension flowed out of him.
Until he heard the light click of Jessica’s heels on the stepladder leading up to the loft above the living room, where Logan was supposed to be sleeping.
Before her head cleared the top of the ladder, he’d turned onto his side and shut his eyes, evening out his breathing into a slow, deep rhythm. Jessica paused for long enough to get Logan’s heart pounding with the possibility that she’d call him out for faking it and refuse to answer a question later.
But finally, he heard the soft tread of her retreat down the stepladder, followed by the quiet snick of the downstairs bedroom door closing. Excellent, he’d fooled her. Smiling to himself, Logan settled in to wait a reasonable amount of time before coming back downstairs to demand his daily Q & A session.
The next time he opened his eyes, bright morning sunlight suffused the loft, along with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee.
Hauling himself up off the mattress was surprisingly difficult. He’d slept straight through the night for the first time in he didn’t even know how long, but he didn’t feel nearly as rested as he would have hoped. Instead, his body ached as if it had been tied in place for the past nine hours, his limbs weighted down with stones.
He managed to get down the stepladder without falling and breaking his neck, but it wasn’t easy. When he finally felt the cold hardwood floor under his bare feet, he exhaled a grateful sigh.
“I told you I should be the one sleeping up there.” Jessica’s no-nonsense voice from behind him sent a pleasant shiver up Logan’s spine.
“Tonight,” she declared, “we’re switching. You can take the bedroom, I’ll take the loft.”
Logan shrugged, not wanting to start the day with an argument. He’d be sleeping in that loft, though. Just because he hadn’t reliably slept through the night since his parents died, that didn’t make Logan a child to be coddled and ordered around.
Dropping into the nearest kitchen chair, Logan dredged up a winning smile. “You made coffee. That’s why you’re my favorite, Tink.”
“I’m your favorite because your brother pays me well to make sure your needs are met,” Jessica corrected absently. Most of her attention was focused on the frowning scrutiny of Logan’s face.
He rubbed a hand over his whiskery jaw, hiding a wince at the thought of how rough he probably looked. Meanwhile, he realized sourly, Jessica was pressed, perky perfection in her fitted cobalt-blue fleece sweatshirt and a pair of black spandex workout pants.
Hoping to induce her to turn around so he could get a peek at the hind view, Logan picked up the coffee cup set out with the plates and silverware in the center of the table. He waggled it beseechingly, making his best puppy dog eyes.
But instead of filling the mug with the sweet nectar of life while bending over the kitchen counter in those tight black pants, Jessica said, “You actually slept last night. I checked on you.”
“Yeah, so?” It wasn’t a lie, Logan reasoned, since he had actually dropped off.
“So why don’t you seem refreshed and rested?”
Logan shrugged. “When I go through long periods of having trouble sleeping, I kind of acclimate to not sleeping. Then when I do finally manage a full night, my body doesn’t know how to handle it. I wind up groggy, still tired.”
“That’s awful! Is that normal?” Worry created an adorable crease between her brows. It probably didn’t say anything great about him that he loved that look on her face.
“Might not be normal, but normal is boring.” Logan shrugged. “Anyway, it’s been happening since I was a teenager. It used to bother me, but I’ve lived through it every other time. I’ll live through it this time, and next time, too. No need to call out the National Guard.”
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 somet
hing 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 Three
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 head, 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 hi
s 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.