by Lily Everett
Until now. The lid was coming off that box, exposing him to feelings he hadn’t ever learned to master, and no matter how hard he worked to suppress them, Jessica didn’t think he’d be able to close that box up again. Not entirely.
The boy who’d learned that deep personal connection only led to pain and loss had grown into a man who did his best to hold people at arm’s length. But in the last few days, Logan had gotten closer to his brother—and to her—than he’d been to anyone in a long time. It was no wonder he was freaking out.
“It’s late,” she tried. “Come to bed.”
“I’m not tired.”
Heart heavy with guilt, as if she were somehow responsible for the fact that Logan and his brothers couldn’t seem to find common ground, Jessica attempted a smile. “I could tire you out.”
His eyes gleamed briefly in the moonlight, but he shook his head. “You’re right, it’s late. You should get some rest. I’ll follow the rules, have some hot milk, come to bed when I think I’ll actually be able to sleep.”
Jessica hesitated before agreeing. Those were the rules, suggested by sleep experts who alleged that spending time lying in bed unable to sleep would only begin a cycle of frustration that prevented a person from nodding off. Better, they said, to reset the brain by getting up and reading for a bit, then going back to bed to try again.
And Logan was used to spending most of his time alone. If he needed a few solitary hours to process the evening’s events, that was certainly understandable.
Still, this felt like a step backward. He’d been doing so well, falling asleep every night in her arms, that tonight’s nervous energy and restless pacing made her wary.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Wake me up when you come to bed?”
He nodded, crossing the porch to cradle her face in his large, warm hands. Her pulse fluttered like the wings of a moth, unable to resist the lure of the light.
Logan bent his head and brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Good night,” he whispered against her lips.
“Wake me up, seriously,” she reminded him again.
“I will,” he promised.
But when Jessica startled awake hours later, as the silvery light of dawn filtered through the curtains, she was alone in the bed. The sheets on Logan’s side were cool to the touch, the pillow undented.
Sliding from the bed, Jessica shivered and wrapped her blue silk robe around her shoulders. She padded from the bedroom out to the main room, her bare toes flinching from the cold hardwood floor. “Logan?”
There was no answer but a shuffling sound from above. Still half-asleep, Jessica looked up. Had he slept in the loft? Since they started sleeping together, the loft and its smaller, less comfortable bed hadn’t seen much use beyond storing their empty suitcases.
Annoyed at herself for feeling a pang that Logan might be learning to sleep better on his own than with her, Jessica started for the built-in stepladder that reached up into the loft space.
She was on the third rung before she remembered what else was up in the loft, besides a low, narrow bed.
Hurrying up the ladder, heart in her throat, Jessica cleared the floor already knowing what she’d see.
And there he was. Logan crouched beside the bed with his confiscated cell phone clutched in his hand, thumb typing so furiously and intently, she knew he hadn’t even heard her call his name.
This was why she’d taken the phone. When Logan got embroiled with work, he lost track of everything else. Nothing mattered but the problem in front of him.
Nothing and no one.
Gritting her teeth against the vulnerable girl inside who was hurt that she’d been forgotten in favor of a piece of technology, Jessica climbed the rest of the way into the loft and cinched her robe more tightly around her waist.
“All right, you checked in. Now hand it over,” she demanded.
Without looking up from the backlit screen or ceasing his lightning-fast typing, Logan bit out, “There’s an emergency at the lab. They need me back there. I’m catching the morning ferry back to New York.”
Jessica closed her eyes and gathered her patience. This was exactly what she’d tried to avoid. “No, you’re not. You’re on vacation. Deal with it. The lab can deal with it—this so-called emergency is nothing more than a group of employees who have been spoiled by constant access to you, and who need to learn to self-direct and take responsibility for their jobs.”
His head shot up, his bloodshot blue eyes lasering in on her face. “You knew about this?”
“I’ve kept up to date with the e-mails from the lab, yes.” The increasingly frantic e-mails, begging for more direction and next steps on the project Logan had handed them before he left. “I told you I’d monitor the situation, and I have. You left them with adequate instructions. They may not be geniuses like you, but they should be able to figure this out on their own, without bothering you.”
Finally tossing the phone aside, Logan rounded the bed and dragged his suitcase out of the space by the wall. “I’m leaving. I need to get back to my lab, my work.”
“You need to stay here and keep healing,” Jessica said, reaching to take the suitcase from him, but Logan jerked away.
“I’m fine,” he said in a rusty voice. His swift, shaky movements told another story, and Jessica noted all the familiar signs with a growing sense of alarm.
“You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you? Logan, you have to see how bad for you this is.”
“It’s my job. I’d think you, of all people, would understand why that’s important to me.”
Rocking back on her heels, Jessica didn’t have time to figure out why that felt like a slap. “Important enough to jeopardize your recovery?”
“I’m not jeopardizing anything.” Dropping the suitcase over the side of the loft with a bang that made Jessica jump, Logan started down the ladder after it, clearly intent on packing.
A deep wellspring of panic bubbled up unexpectedly, goading Jessica to say, “So the fact that once we go back to Manhattan, this thing between us is over—that doesn’t even factor into your decision.”
She heard Logan pause halfway down the ladder, but mortification and an intense need to hear his response kept her from walking to the edge of the loft to catch sight of him.
When he replied, his voice had lost some of the frenetic distraction in favor of a coolness that sent shivers down her spine. “You still want to go back to the way we were, when we leave here.”
“I mean—that’s what we agreed.” Surprise and confusion pushed her to the loft ledge to peek over. Logan stood with his legs braced apart, his head slightly bowed so that Jessica’s gaze snagged on the vulnerable nape of his neck, the light brown tendrils of his overlong hair. From this angle, his shoulders were immense, wide and strong, before his torso tapered to the whipcord leanness of his waist.
As well as she now knew that body, and as hard as she’d worked to make herself an expert on the man inside, this trip to Sanctuary Island had shown her how much there still was to learn. She could spend a lifetime unraveling the complexities of a man like Logan Harrington, and never tire of the challenge.
On the teetering, dangerous point of throwing caution out the window and telling Logan she wanted to continue their relationship when they went back to New York, Jessica opened her mouth—only to be interrupted by Logan.
He tilted his head back, and it was as if he’d slammed an iron shield down behind his blue eyes, hiding everything he thought and felt. “You’re right, we had an agreement. I won’t go back on my word. So I guess it’s over.”
And that was it. The tender green shoot of hope that had taken root in Jessica’s heart withered and died, killed by the frost of Logan’s cool declaration. Dimly, she was aware of the irony—that she’d been the one to put these rules in place, trying to protect herself, and yet here she was with a yawning, aching emptiness cracking open her rib cage.
Desperate to hide her hurt, Jessica turned to descend the ladder
in a flurry of blue satin.
“But you are going back on your word,” she argued, hoping the hoarse breathlessness of her voice could be attributed to the effort of climbing down from the loft. “You said you’d stay here until you were well.”
“No, I said I’d stay here one day for every question you answered honestly.” Every distant, abstracted word flicked over her raw nerves like a whip. “I don’t have any more questions, so I don’t have to stay. And, by the way, I’m not a child. As much as you love to direct my life and organize my every movement, you are not actually the boss of me.”
She reached the bottom of the ladder in time to catch the bleak irony of Logan’s half smile. He was really leaving, without actually making a full recovery. How long would it be before he was right back where he’d been two weeks ago, in full-blown exhaustion, collapsing in his lab from stress and overwork?
Fear and hurt sharpened Jessica’s voice to a pitch that shocked her. “You may technically be a full-grown man, but if I treat you like a child, it’s because sometimes you act like one.”
For the first time, a flicker of anger pierced the defenses he’d slammed into place over his expression. Good. Jessica preferred angry Logan to the robotic stranger he’d turned into.
“I see. So taking responsibility for my job, my department, that’s childish behavior.”
Holding her head up, Jessica firmed her jaw. “No. But running out on your brother’s engagement breakfast, to avoid facing the emotions that brings up for you? That’s childish.”
With a sardonic twist to his mouth, Logan bent to retrieve the suitcase he’d tossed to the living room floor. “Well, to be fair, I never promised to change. I only promised awesome, temporary sex.”
Jessica abruptly wished she’d taken the time to get dressed before going in search of Logan. She needed the armor of her professional wardrobe, her clean, classic suits and sensibly sexy heels. This satin robe didn’t provide enough cover from Logan’s sharp, searing glare.
And when he scored a direct hit like that, she couldn’t help glancing down to see if the bloody wound was visible.
Playing her final card, Jessica reached out a hand and caught Logan’s arm as he brushed past her toward the bedroom. “Logan. Please don’t do this. Stay, for me.”
He stiffened under her touch as if her fingers carried an electric charge. “I’ve wasted enough time here,” he growled.
Jessica stumbled back a step, pain rocketing straight through her chest.
Wasted time. The days and nights on Sanctuary Island that had been some of the most intimate, important hours of Jessica’s life were no more than wasted time to Logan.
Cold and numb, Jessica wrapped her arms around her ribs and met Logan’s impassive gaze. “Fine. But if you go back to New York today … I’m not coming with you.”
Chapter Ten
Logan stared at Jessica, a volcano of emotion seething under his skin. He didn’t understand his own feelings, the restlessness and need to fight against the shackles binding him to this island.
He had to get out of here.
But to leave without Jessica? Even though she intended to follow through with the end of their affair when they got back to New York, the very idea of leaving her behind made him pause—just as she must have known it would. She’d always known how to maneuver him. Well, he was through with that.
Narrowing his gaze against the rise of anger and betrayal, Logan kept it as chilled down as he could, even while striking back. “Now who’s using a personal relationship to try to manipulate our professional lives?”
She drew back as if he’d raised a hand to her, and Logan had to clench his fists against the urge to step forward and soothe the hurt he’d caused. This was madness, the chaotic welter of confused emotion she pulled out of him as effortlessly as breathing. He couldn’t stand it, didn’t know any way to weather it other than to run.
“Fine, go then.” Jessica looked away, the bed-tousled strands of her red-gold hair like flames against the paleness of her cheeks. “I’ll cover for you with Dylan and Penny when I go over to the café to help set up for the party.”
Logan forced himself to shrug. “If you want, since you promised to help out. But I never actually promised them I’d be there.”
Her lips thinned. “And you always keep your promises.”
The scorn in her uneven voice caught him on the ragged edges of his nerves. “All except one,” Logan snarled, his mouth running ahead of his brain for once. “I was actually fool enough to start to fall in love with you.”
Every line of Jessica’s body, lovingly outlined by her shiny, clinging blue robe, went still and tense. Eyes large and intent, she murmured, “And yet, you’re still leaving?”
He nodded once, short and sharp, and she closed her eyes.
“You don’t know what love is. Sir.” And she turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her with an implacable, gentle click.
Logan stared at the blank expanse of white-painted wood, paralyzed for a long, agonizing moment before he realized she’d shut herself into the room that contained everything he’d intended to pack in his suitcase. Part of him wanted to storm into the bedroom, shake her by the shoulders and force her to admit that she felt something more for him than a week’s worth of lust—and part of him only wanted to leave and never see her again.
The vibration of his phone in his hand, signaling an incoming text, jolted him out of the black cloud of indecision.
He had his phone. Everything else was replaceable. “To hell with it,” he muttered, turning on his heel and throwing open the front door. Thanking God and GPS that the island was small and easily walkable, Logan jogged around the house and out to Island Road. He paused by the town square to key in the location of the wharf that docked the ferry.
Totally absorbed in his map app, it took Logan a few seconds to register the increase of wind gusting against his face and hair. Until suddenly his wrinkled button-down was flapping like a flag, and the air was split by the unmistakable rhythmic whir of helicopter blades.
Shading his eyes with the flat of his hand, Logan stared up in bewilderment. For one crazy moment, he wondered if he’d summoned the company chopper with the power of his brain and the intensity of his desire to get off this island.
He tracked the progress of the sleek bird as it touched down on the green grass of the town square, right next to the picturesque little bandstand at the center. The side door slid open, and his older brother, Miles, descended from the chopper with an enigmatic gesture at the pilot.
The only man Logan had ever seen exit a helicopter without crouching and scuttling away from the still-rotating blades, Miles strode across the town green as if he were crossing a corporate boardroom. He was all pressed lines and perfectly tailored three-piece suit, his light brown hair ruthlessly combed back and anchored in place.
That’s what a healthy, well-adjusted human being looks like, Logan couldn’t help thinking with a grimace. Maybe Miles was the Harrington brother Jessica ought to be with.
Even the merest suggestion of that idea caused a chain reaction of possessive denial and anger so strong, Logan was all but snarling by the time Miles reached him.
“Good, I didn’t know if you got my text,” Miles said without preamble.
“I didn’t. But thanks for bringing the chopper to pick me up.”
“Pick you up?” Miles raked him with an impassive look, then glanced over his shoulder. Logan followed his gaze to watch, wide-eyed with disbelief, as his perfect escape route lifted off the grass in a tornado rush of wind and scattering leaves.
“Damn it, Miles,” Logan growled, clenching his fists until blood throbbed in his fingertips. “Call her back. I need to get out of here.”
“You’re not going anywhere. We have a situation.”
“I know!” Logan ran his fingers through his hair. “The lab—”
“The lab is fine without you.” Miles flicked his fingers dismissively over a non
existent speck of dust on his charcoal-gray sleeve. “I checked in with them before I flew down, and empowered your second-in-command to take charge, to keep them from panicking.”
Feeling the cage around him constrict, Logan scrubbed a hand over his prickly jaw. “Damn it, Miles.”
“Focus.” Miles snapped, sharp and loud, in front of Logan’s face, as if he were an unruly puppy. It took everything Logan had not to bite at those fingers. “I’m talking about Dylan.”
“What?” Confused, Logan whirled to stare across Island Road at the white-trimmed Victorian house. “Something happened to Dylan? I just saw him last night, he was fine.”
Miles snorted. “For values of ‘fine’ that include ‘being taken for a ride by yet another scheming gold digger,’ sure.”
“Oh, that.” Logan frowned.
“Yes, that.” Impatient, Miles started walking, as if assuming Logan would fall into step beside him. When Logan stayed put, Miles arched an imperious brow over his shoulder. “Well? Come on. We have work to do.”
A headache screamed to life behind Logan’s tired eyes. This was why he preferred the controlled conditions of his lab. The fierce rush of life in the outside world was too hard to keep pace with. “Work.”
Miles paused on the curb to study his brother, a critical frown lowering his brows. “I thought you were supposed to spend this week resting. Damn it, Logan, you look worse than when you left. Where the hell is Jessica Bell?”
The sound of her name in Miles’s stern, uncompromising voice sent an odd jolt through Logan. “Leave Jessica alone.”
Miles’s mouth went hard and flat. “I pay her—very well, in fact—to keep you functioning. She’s obviously falling down on the job. But I’ll deal with that afterward.”
“After what?”
Smoothing a hand down his already perfectly smooth suit coat, Miles glanced up at their grandparents’ vacation home. “After I break up Dylan’s engagement, of course. Now let’s go.”
Logan, who had never in his life considered trying to stop Miles from doing something he was determined to do, hesitated. “Wait.”