by Kira Blakely
“It’s fine because I know every authority on this damn island. We’re going to go back to the bungalow, make a few calls, and get an annulment. Simple as that. And after that, you’ll get back on a plane to New York. This will all be over.”
I stared at him for a moment, taking that in. It sounded good, didn’t it? All of this over? Except it was far from it. I hadn’t done what I’d come to do. I hadn’t found out much about him, except that… oh god, his secret. The prison time, the best friend who’d betrayed him.
No, I couldn’t use that against him. It would kill me to do that.
“All this will be over soon. I promise, Katie. Come on. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” I said, and touched a hand to his broad chest, relishing the feel of his skin, so smooth, tight across his muscles. “That’s it? I’ll go back to New York, and we’ll never see each other again?”
Logan blinked once, and his hands rested on my hips. He didn’t reply, just stared.
“Well?”
“We need to get back to the bungalow,” he said.
And that was all the answer I’d get, apparently, as pathetic as it made me feel. We set off across the sand in silence, walking side by side, not touching, the sun beating down on us. I had plenty of time to consider the fact that I’d actually meant what I’d said. If I did leave, which I couldn’t, of course, I’d never see him again.
And I’d slept with him. Twice, if I counted what might’ve been a night of pleasure on the beach which I couldn’t even remember. God, this was a total mess. How had it come to this?
This job, though it went against every journalistic bone in my body, had seemed so simple.
Track down the recluse. Gather dirt. Report back to the man who had my life, and my mother’s life, on a knife’s edge. Hand it all over, and we were free to continue as usual. I’d researched as much as possible on Logan before I’d come, and had convinced myself that he would be cold, and mean, that he would be ruthless.
He was anything but. He was warm and sweet, and he’d put me first several times since we’d met. This was too difficult, but offered the choice between this gorgeous man and protecting my family, I knew what I had to choose.
The marriage thing? That was merely a hilarious and horrific complication. We’d deal with it.
We arrived at the bungalow twenty minutes later, and I flopped down on the sofa in the living room and exhaled.
“All right,” Logan said. “You wait here. I’ll sort this shit out.” The sentences were formal, almost abrupt, and he didn’t smile. For once, he seemed the cold man I’d expected.
“Sure.” I couldn’t be petty about this. I got up off the sofa and walked through to the guestroom where I’d left my clutch. The tangled sheets immediately reminded me all over again of our sex yesterday.
I lifted my clutch, opened it, and brought my cell phone out.
I had about ten missed calls, half from an unknown number, half from Mom. “Shit,” I whispered.
“Everything okay?” Logan spoke from the doorway to the bathroom.
I jumped and tossed the phone into the air, barely catching it as it dropped. “Oh my god, you scared me,” I said. “Yeah, everything’s—”
My phone trilled and cut right through my words. I looked down at the screen and swallowed, hard. It was the unknown number again. Marino had first contacted us from an unknown number.
“You going to answer that?” Logan asked, tilting his head to one side, still bare-chested and a distraction, but wearing pants now at least. “Katie?”
Chapter 9
Logan
Katie didn’t answer the call. She let it ring, her mouth half-open, those plush, delicious lips working to form words that wouldn’t come.
I equally wanted and distrusted her. The distrust had come from my dealings with Marino, and my dealings with women in the past. The want? Shit, that’d come out of fucking nowhere, and I couldn’t rid myself of it no matter how much I tried.
I’d almost buckled when she’d mentioned her return to New York and the possibility that we wouldn’t see each other again.
“It’s work,” she said, at last. “I can take it later after we’ve dealt with our little shitstorm in a teacup.”
My gaze tracked over her body, firm beneath the blue cocktail dress she’d worn last night, and the night before. Shit, I still hadn’t had her bags retrieved from the Fuego. I’d been too distracted by her, by Marino, by all the drama on this island.
“I thought you were going to call someone about the whole annulment thing?” She slipped the cell phone back into her bag.
“The phone’s out,” I replied. Which was already a cause for concern. It was an island, sure, and things worked differently here than they did back in the States, but I’d never run into a technical difficulty with any of the phones at this resort before. “Mind if I borrow yours? I’d like to phone my cell and see if someone answers. I need it back as much as we need the annulment.”
Katie hesitated and my suspicion deepened. “Sure,” she said, at last, and brought the phone back out of the bag. She handed it over, still with deep reluctance, and I forced a smile in her direction, ignoring the surge of desire when our fingers brushed.
“Thanks,” I said, and unlocked her screen. I entered my number and dialed, pressing the phone to my ear, waiting.
The number you have dialed is not available at present. Please try again—
“Fuck,” I grunted, and hung up.
“No answer?”
“Nope. It’s probably been sold and stripped for parts by now.”
Katie giggled and put out her hand. “All right, so can I have my phone back?” she asked.
“After I’ve called the front desk to get the number for a local lawyer,” I replied, then walked through to the living area, past it, and into the kitchenette where the phone was, and the list of numbers tacked up beside it.
Katie followed, hot on my heels. The suspicion which had budded grew. What was her deal? Why was she really here, on this island, and why didn’t she want to leave? I hadn’t seen her bother to contact this agent and other person she’d supposedly planned on meeting with at El Toro.
I shoved my doubts aside, along with thoughts of her naked underneath me, moaning for more, and dialed the number for the front desk. Three rings, no answer. Five rings, no answer. This was bullshit.
Each time I’d called the desk in the past, the answer had been immediate. “What the hell?” I hung up and handed her phone back. “No answer there either.”
“I guess we try again later, then,” Katie said. “Which is fine. It’s not like this marriage is going anywhere. Ugh, but this ring certainly can.” She put her phone on the kitchen counter and worked at the ring on her finger. She tugged, wrinkled her nose, and squirmed on the spot. “Shit. It’s not coming off.”
“For real?”
“Yes, for real. It’s not coming off,” she repeated. “God, where even did it come from? I mean, unless you were carrying it around in your pocket.”
“Here, let me see,” I said, and took her hand. I ran my thumb over the cheap gold and frowned. “I don’t make a habit of carrying rings around, and I wouldn’t be caught dead buying one like this. The robed dude must have provided it.” Or someone else. Christ, this was a fucking mess. “Come.” I walked her to the sink in the kitchenette, still holding her hand, then opened the cupboards and searched them.
I’d made a point of asking the resort to stock my bungalow with food, much to their chagrin. I didn’t usually order room service, and though the bungalow was billed as a self-service deal, they expected Mr. Wright to make full use of their restaurant and services, rather than cook for himself.
But I understood what it was like to be stuck in an emergency without the essentials, and this time, it’d paid off. I scooped a bottle of extra virgin olive oil out of the cupboard, unscrewed the lid, popped it off, then brought the bottle over to her hand.
“Think it will work?” she aske
d.
“Only one way to find out,” I said, and poured the oil over her hand. I set the bottle down, then took her tiny hand in mine and worked the yellow liquid into her finger around the ring. I massaged a little and she sighed. “That good?”
“Kind of, yeah. Don’t judge me for saying it, but this is probably the most relaxed I’ve been the entire time I’ve been on this island.”
“I don’t blame you,” I replied, and fell silent focusing on her dainty fingers, the gaudy ring, and the sensation of her smooth skin beneath a layer of oil.
My dick rolled over in the pants I’d thrown on when I’d returned to the bungalow. Easy. Calm the hell down.
The ring still didn’t budge. “What, did they weld this thing on?” I asked, and tugged a little.
“Ouch,” she said.
“Shit, sorry.” I massaged away whatever pain I’d caused, this time meeting her gaze. She was so expressive, so fucking gorgeous. Innocent, blue-eyed, and strawberry blonde—I’d never had a type, but damn if she wasn’t it. And you don’t know her. Can’t trust her. “So, tell me,” I said. “Why’s your name Jinx?”
“It’s just a nickname,” she said, and shrugged, flushing a pretty pink. The same pink as her nipples. Fuck, definitely not a good idea to think about them. “I was clumsy as a kid and people started saying I was jinxed. It stuck, and I’ll admit, I kind of like it. It’s spunky. Maybe I’ll use it as a pen name one day. Katie Jinx has a ring to it.”
“It sure does,” I replied, still working her fingers.
Katie gulped. “That feels really good.”
I had her right where I wanted her. “Do your parents call you Jinx too?”
She stiffened slightly. “My parents? Well, I— My mom does. She’s the only parent I’ve ever had. My dad left when I was really little.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. I hadn’t had the best parents either, but at least I’d had two of ‘em, for a short while anyway.
“It’s fine.” She waved away the words with her free hand. “It’s not like you can miss something you never had. My mom was all I needed, like a dad and mom all rolled into one. She did girly stuff with me, and she taught me how to fish.”
“You can fish? Shit, I love fishing! Deep sea or fresh water?”
“Both, but I prefer the deep sea. There’s something about being out there on the ocean, you know?” Katie lit up, becoming more animated than I’d seen her since, well, since I’d been inside her.
“Fuck yeah,” I said and opened my mouth to suggest I take her fishing someday. But Marino stalled me. The missing phone, the blackout night, the threats, the emissary. I couldn’t ignore all of that, put everything I’d worked for these past six months on hold for this woman.
An awkward silence followed, and I quit massaging her hand, grabbing some paper towels from the dispenser beside the sink. “Here,” I said, and she dried off. “Listen, I feel like a dick for not having your bags sent over. You must be seriously uncomfortable in that.” I couldn’t help getting another eyeful of her in the dress.
“Yeah, it’s pretty shitty,” she said and tugged on the fabric to straighten it out. “I think I’ll take a shower.”
“Good idea,” I replied. “You can take some of my shorts and a shirt out of my closet. Probably be more comfortable than that. And, shit, I’ll whip us up something to eat while you’re busy. We’ll think more clearly on a full stomach.”
“Sounds great,” she said and offered me that sweet smile again. The doubts I’d had about her evaporated. Katie picked up her cell and trudged off, her ass swaying in the dress, begging to be followed down the hall. Not this time. Let her go.
It was difficult to do just that. I hadn’t let go of anything for a long time. My business, my personal life—I was in control of it all, and a part of me wanted to do the same with her. But she couldn’t be controlled. She was free, and that was part of the appeal.
I shook my head to clear it and set about clinking pots and pans. There was bacon in the fridge, eggs too, and some fresh bread in the bread bin. Tomatoes, fuck yeah, and some mushrooms. All the fixings of an awesome breakfast. I balked at the champagne bottles which clinked in the refrigerator door. Whatever had happened last night had definitely involved alcohol, and I didn’t want a repeat.
The bacon was sizzling in the pan, its scent of salty goodness spreading through the kitchen. Finally Katie returned, wearing—god help me—a loose T-shirt which stopped a couple of inches above her knees.
“I would’ve worn the shorts too,” she said, “but they kept falling off. No offense, but you’re pretty big.”
“I don’t think there’s a universe in which I’d find that offensive,” I replied, grinning at her. Her legs were gorgeous—smooth, pale, practically fucking edible. I averted my eyes to keep from freaking her out.
“So,” she said, and sauntered over, bringing with her the scent of coconut. Her hair was dark now, messy and wet, and she ran her fingers through it. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan,” I said, “is not to panic. Panic gets us nowhere. After breakfast… shit, what time is it?” I checked the clock on the wall. It was already 4 p.m. “After dinner, we’ll try calling the front desk again.”
“Right,” Katie said, and, once again, placed her cell phone on the counter. “Well, you know, I could always run out and see what’s happening instead. While you’re busy cooking I mean.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah, why not?” She frowned at me, because, of course, she didn’t know who might be lurking on the island, waiting in a shadowy corner to jump out and snatch her, take her from me.
If I was a dog, my hackles would’ve risen. “No,” I said. “We’re in this shit together, right?”
She lifted her hand and looked at the ring on it. “At least you don’t have a gold ring glued to your finger.”
“True that,” I said.
“Seriously, I can go check it out for us.” She shifted toward the exit and I crossed the space between us, caught both her hands and held them tight. Jinx inhaled, sharply, fluttered her eyelashes up at me.
“No,” I said. “You’ll stay.” Now. Tonight. The day after. Fuck, why did I need her around so badly?
Katie’s lips quivered as she bit down on the bottom one. “Stay?”
“Yes,” I breathed, the pan behind us still popping and crackling on the stovetop, hot as the air between us now. My cock strained to be inside her. “Stay.”
She released her lip slowly and moaned, “Logan—”
Chapter 10
Logan
“Shit, Logan!” She wrenched her hands out of my grip and hurried past me.
Not what I expected in the least. I spun and watched as she grabbed the pan and shifted it off the stove, barely saving the bacon – it would’ve burnt if I’d gone through with taking her again, taking her and bending her.
“Damn, sorry,” I said, grinning. “Good save. Hunger wins out, huh?”
She ignored the comment, though her stomach grumbled to confirm it regardless. Never mind the fact that her nipples poked at the fabric of my shirt. She was hot for me again; no way, she wasn’t.
I’d suck on those nipples through the fabric, leave two little wet patches, then rip the whole thing up and feast on her pussy.
“Logan?”
“Huh? What?”
“You’re, um, staring.”
Well done, dickwad. Now you’re scaring her. “Right. The bacon. The food. Let’s get a pot of water on to boil. You liked poached eggs, right?”
“Love them! They’re literally my favorite way to have eggs.”
“With a runny yolk?” I asked, diverting my thoughts from the sunshine and heaven between her smooth, silky legs.
“Of course,” Katie replied. “I’m not one of those heathens who eat egg yolks hard.”
“Good, because I’d have had to throw you out of the bungalow if that was the case. Two things I can’t abide, gorgeous, are hard-boiled eggs and we
ll-done steak.”
“You and I are going to get along just fine, in that case,” she said and laughed. It was like bells pealing on a Sunday afternoon. Christ, she was adorable. “So, what can I help with? You’re doing the eggs, which means I can do the…?”
Bending. I had to get a handle on this before I lost control with her again. “Mushrooms,” I said. “Chop the mushrooms. We’ll cook ‘em in butter and eat them on the side. And shit, we’ll do some roasted tomato with rosemary and garlic too.”
“Wow,” she said. “You like cooking?”
“Love it,” I replied. “When I’m not working, at least.”
“You work a lot?”
“You could say that.” I walked over to the kitchen cabinet and got out the pot, then took it over to the sink to fill it, ignoring the urges which almost overtook me every time I was near her.
“Me too,” she said. “I write articles, but I’m pretty much always working.”
“What do you do for fun?” I asked, trying to distract myself from her tight little body, with thoughts of who she was as a person. It was an exercise in futility.
“I read,” she said. “Wild, right? I read, I travel sometimes, and I spend time with my mom and her dog, Butch. I like family time. Being at home and chilling out is pretty much what I like to do, I guess. What about you?”
I turned off the faucet and brought the pot back to the stove, placing it on the eye still hot from cooking the bacon. “Fun? What’s that?” I asked, a half-smile parting my lips.
Katie stared at me for a second longer than absolutely necessary before turning back to her workstation. She’d already chopped half the mushrooms on a wooden board and brought the next one under the knife. Her movements were sure, decisive. She put her whole body into bringing that knife down, and shit, even that turned me on.
“What?” she asked without looking up from her work.