So many sweets. His body hadn't consumed this much sugar in all the time he'd been in the army. The high was...well, sweet. He ordered another coffee to help combat the sugar coma that was bound to come.
Faye flitted about him, filling him in on townspeople, those he remembered and some he hadn't, while offering him more to eat. He couldn't refuse her and asked for a bag to take with him.
The next thing on his list, after securing a place to live, was a gym.
He covered his thickening-by-the-minute middle with his hand as though to ward off more calories. "Faye, everything tasted delicious, thank you. But I can't eat anymore."
"Tomorrow morning, I make blueberry sweet rolls with a lemon icing that you won't want to miss. They sell out quickly."
Inwardly he groaned. If he hit the gym first thing in the morning, he might be able to try one or two. "You doing okay?" he asked. She'd survived breast cancer while he'd been gone too.
"Don't worry, Logan, I'm fine. No sign of the cancer returning," she spat the word cancer like the dirty thing it was. "My doctors say I'm in complete remission."
He knew this from his communications with Faye over the years, but he still worried. "This isn't too much work for you?" He gestured to the bustling café.
"Oh, no! I love it, so much better than running the bar, and it keeps me young. The bar is where Trixie shines."
"Speaking of Trixie, do you happen to know where she might be?"
Faye's animated face fell. She gathered up her white apron-covered skirt and sat across from him. She leaned in like she was about to deliver bad news. "She's out with Miles."
"Strangefellow?"
"Yes. Listen, Logan, you need to do something. I think she might be getting serious about him. Never has she gone out with a man this many times."
A fist clenched around his heart, and the cookies he'd scarfed down turned to stones in his stomach. "Got a key to her apartment?"
"Why, are you planning something romantic?" Her eyes brightened.
"Yeah, something like that."
Chapter Seven
"Can I come in for a drink?" Miles asked.
He'd walked Trixie up the stairs to her apartment, his hand holding hers. It was freezing, but she shivered for a whole other reason entirely.
He wasn't asking for a drink, but a lot more from her than that. She'd thought she was ready.
But…Damn it, how long was she going to keep herself from living a full life? One with orgasms.
Don't think of Logan.
He wasn't the only man who could give her an orgasm. Besides, he was the past. Didn't matter that he was back in town and they’d shared a kiss last night. They were over. The only thing between them was paperwork. Miles looked completely capable, and by the heated look in his eyes, he was more than willing to give her an orgasm. Maybe more than one.
She needed more than one in a bad way.
Miles was a good man. Employed, hardworking, and handsome. So he'd been married a few times. Well, three. Technically, she didn't have a clean record in that department either. Since she'd been dating him, there hadn't been any red flags to warn her away; if anything, Miles seemed perfect. Attentive, caring, and funny. He'd shown her a good time tonight just like all the other dates they'd gone on. She enjoyed his company.
So why was she trying to talk herself into sleeping with him?
Because it had been so long since she had slept with anyone. She didn't think she had to list the reasons why she'd slept with Logan. If anything, reason hadn't been a part of the equation. More like no reason at all.
She'd had a very enjoyable dinner with Miles. They'd laughed and she'd forgotten for a little while about work, about Logan, and had just appreciated being a woman with a man who found her attractive and didn't want anything from her other than her company.
Except now, he wanted a drink.
She didn't know what to do.
"Trixie?" Miles asked, his voice concerned. "You okay?"
"Fine. Just fine." Was that her voice sounding so shrill? Damn it, she was fine. Really she was. And it was time. Way past time. Nerves rippled to the surface. "Miles, I'm not...that is...I haven’t had men in for drinks...like...ever." Had she just admitted that? "Not that I'm a virgin or anything. I'm not a virgin. I'm just not good at this."
"Relax." He smiled. The light that illuminated the small landing, bathed his features in a comforting glow. He brushed a strand of her hair back from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin. "Drinks could also mean anything from actual refreshment, to intimate conversation that might lead to a kiss or two, possibly proceeding to a heavy make out session that may or may not lead to making love. We'll take it as far as you are comfortable in going. Just remember that I have to drive home, so don't take me to the edge of reason and toss me off."
She giggled—actually giggled—and suddenly her nerves settled. "Okay, I promise." Unlocking the door, she held it open for Miles to enter behind her.
The moon shining through the windows made the open concept room glow with a romantic silvery light, so she didn't bother to turn on a lamp. Miles's hands settled on her shoulders, and he slowly unbuttoned and slid off her coat.
"I can get you that drink now, if you'd like," she said, her voice husky, her heart hammering loud in her chest.
"The only thing I want is you," Miles whispered before his mouth came down and took hers.
His beard scraped her skin, but his lips were soft and supple as they explored hers. She sighed into him, loving the feel of being held. Miles's kiss didn't heat her blood and turn her into an unquenchable ball of fire like Logan's had last night. No, his was more of a warm, comforting type of experience. One that she really could get used to. She felt safe, wanted, yet she could still think.
The corner lamp clicked on, startling them apart.
"Get your hands off my wife," Logan said, his voice deadly quiet and more threatening because of it. He sat in her leather chair, his elbows on the armrest, his feet planted square on the floor, with his hands locked into fists.
"Logan? What are you doing here?"
"I live here," he said with a finality that sent chills through her.
"The hell you do!" she shouted.
"Whoa, what?" Miles stammered. "Back up. You're married?"
"No, yes. Sorta. Damn it."
Logan unfolded himself from her leather chair ignoring her outburst, focusing all his attention on Miles. "Take your hands off my wife or risk losing them."
"Quit calling me your wife."
Miles released her, and instantly she felt adrift in a sea of ice. "Are you married to him?"
She opened her mouth to answer but couldn't find the words to explain.
Miles glanced from her to Logan. "Someone better tell me what is going on, because I don't sleep with married women."
"You'd better not have slept with my wife," Logan growled.
"I said, stop calling me that!" Trixie yelled. "This ends right now."
"Damn right it does," Logan muttered. "My wife isn't dating another guy."
"You—" Trixie pointed a finger at Logan "—need to leave."
"Not happening, babe."
"Trixie," Miles said her name in that quiet, calming way of his. "What the hell is going on? Who is he to you? I thought you said he was just an old high school flame?"
"Logan and I—it's complicated—but, yes, technically we are married." Miles reacted like she'd slapped him, and she hurried to add, "But we're estranged. He left me eight years ago."
"Now hold on," Logan interrupted.
"Nothing out of you," she said to Logan. The look in her eyes froze him in place, and she turned back to Miles. "All that's between us is paperwork that he needs to sign. I've signed my part. Once he signs his it's like we were never married."
Miles looked at her with a mix of accusation and hurt. "Did you invite me in for a drink because you wanted to be with me, or because you wanted to forget him?"
She couldn't speak for a
moment and unfortunately her silence answered for her.
"Trixie, you should have told me you were married. You know what my wife did to me."
Trixie's shoulders slumped with shame remembering the pain in Miles's voice when he'd told her about his ex cheating on him when he was away working on the slope. "It's not like that. Miles, I—"
She reached out her hand toward him.
He took another step away from her. "Let me know when you are no longer...attached. I might still be around."
And with that he left, closing the door softly behind him.
Chapter Eight
An enraged growl escaped Trixie's throat for Logan putting her in this position and the hurt she'd caused Miles. "How dare you?"
"Dare? You really want to go there?" Logan asked in a dangerously soft voice.
The hair on the back of her neck rose, and everything inside her went on alert. She'd never seen Logan like this. Dangerous, deadly...and desperate.
"Where do you get the balls breaking into my place and staking a claim like some Neanderthal? Who the hell do you think you are? And if you say my husband, I'm not responsible for what happens next."
He opened his mouth to make a harsh retort. At least that was what she'd thought he'd do. It was what he would have done in the past. Instead he stopped, dragged in a harsh breath and slowly let it out. "Trix, I was...surprised to see you with another man. It...made me a little crazy."
"You think?"
"How would you feel if you saw another woman slobbering and hanging all over me, her hands cupping my ass?"
She'd want to claw her hair out. "You were out of line."
"Answer the question, Trixie." He strode closer. "What would you do?"
"This isn't about me. It's about you crossing boundaries."
"Then you'd better add this breach to my list of offenses." He dragged her into his arms, and before she could utter a protest, he crushed her lips under his.
He held her tight, his fingers biting into her arms almost painfully. There was no way she was breaking free. But she didn't want to be free. Her inner vixen bared her teeth and nipped at his lower lip. He growled, one hand fisting in her hair to keep her prisoner for his mouth, the other grabbed her ass, and held her against his erection.
"Tell me you don't love him," he demanded between bruising kisses.
When she didn't answer fast enough, he held her away from him. The loss of heat from his body was almost unbearable.
"Tell me, Trix. Now. Do you love him?"
The only person she'd loved in her lifetime was here, right in front of her. The ice around her heart cracked a little bit with the realization. She didn't want to love Logan. It hurt too much. "No, I don't love him, but I wish I could."
"Why?" he gasped out as though her words had hurt him. But that was impossible. Logan was invincible.
"I want to start living again."
"Explain?"
"What do you mean explain? I work. All the time. I want companionship and romance. Sex. All the things I have been living without."
"You've been living without sex?"
Of course he would hear that over companionship and romance. She didn't want to have this conversation with Logan. She didn't want him to think that she'd been pining away for him all these years. Even if she had been. Criminy. She tore out of his hold and moved across the room. He let her go as though afraid to move until he heard her answer.
"How long, Trix?"
"How long, what?" She played like she didn't know what he referred to.
"Sex," he hissed. "How long has it been since you've had sex? Answer me."
"No. I don't have to." She didn't go so far as to tell him it was none of his business, because she knew that would break the bonds holding him in check. She was fascinated by his restraint. That was something he hadn't possessed when he was younger. "I should call the police and have you arrested for breaking into my apartment."
"Go ahead and try it."
She heard the dare implied and knew that he wouldn't stop her from picking up the phone and doing exactly that. Chances were it would only embarrass her and broadcast the news of their sticky situation over the "candy cane chain" faster than a sugar rush on Christmas morning.
"You are not living here."
"Yes, I am. We need to work things out, and I can't think of a better way to do that than living as man and wife. First thing we are going to do is be honest and forthcoming in our relationship. No speculation or wondering what the other is thinking and needs. We talk. Communicate. Starting with who the hell you've had sex with?"
He seemed to brace himself for the answer.
"You really want to know how many men I've slept with since you've been gone."
He swore under his breath, but she still heard it. This was killing him.
"It's been eight years, Logan. Eight very long years. Do you really think I waited, pined for you?"
"Just give me a goddamned number so I can deal with it and get past it."
"Seriously? I was supposed to keep track?" She should not be enjoying herself at his expense, but suddenly she was calm and doing exactly that.
A vein throbbed in his jaw and traveled up his temple. Any minute now, he'd implode holding himself in check like that.
"Fine," he gritted out through ground teeth. "Don't give me the actual number. Just let me know if there were any serious...fuck...never mind. I can't do this." He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's killing me, Trix, imagining you with other men. Forget it, don't tell me. I don't what to know."
"What about communication?"
"We start with a new slate. We don't talk about how many people we've been with."
Jealousy swiftly bared its teeth and took a bite out of her. How many women had he been with? He'd traveled the world. He could have slept with a woman on every continent. Many women on every continent. This wasn't fun any longer.
"No one, Logan," she admitted. "You are the only man I've ever slept with. There has been no one else."
Air whooshed out of him and his head fell back on his shoulders. "Thank you, God," he prayed to the ceiling. Then he straightened, dragged in a deep breath, and looked at her like she was prey.
He stalked toward her.
Oh boy, she'd made a mistake telling him that, because he now seemed unstoppable armed with the information.
"Wait!" She held up her hand to ward him off. Like that was going to happen.
He shook his head. "You are mine."
"No, I'm not. Don't you dare lay claim to me."
He circled her around the room until the back of her legs hit the edge of the couch. "You really should stop daring me to do things." He hauled her into his arms.
"Stop!"
His mouth was a breath away from hers when he spoke, "I'm not going to stop this time, Trixie. If you're honest with yourself, you don't want me to, and it's been eight years since I've had sex too. Eight very long years," he parroted her words. "We're due."
Just as he'd deflated with relief at the news that she hadn't slept with anyone, so did she. Shards of ice calved from her heart, melting into liquid heat. A sound of need and surrender escaped her, and she arched into him, taking his mouth with hers.
Logan emitted a rumbling growl of satisfaction, held her captive, while his tongue dived the depths of her mouth. He held her so tight that she should've felt imprisoned, but she finally felt free. Powerful and desired and irresistible.
It was a heady combination.
There was no doubt what Logan wanted and that he wasn't going anywhere until he got it. But then she wasn't letting him leave until he'd satisfied her either. Multiple times over. Like a cat in heat, she rubbed her body against his causing another growl that was part frustration and gratification.
Her world tipped as he swept her up in his arms. He didn't take his mouth from hers, as if afraid that she'd speak and tell him no. Seconds later, he laid her on the bed and followed her down to the mattress.
He struggled to rid her of her clothing. She heard a tear in the fabric of her top before he succeeded in getting her naked. She was just as desperate to have no barriers between them, but her fingers fumbled with buckles and buttons. He cursed and suddenly stood next to the bed.
Then everything changed.
All the frenzy was gone. The look he gave her as he undid the front of his jeans sent shivers dancing through her body. If she didn't stop this now, she might not survive the storm to come. But she wanted him. Had always wanted him. Could she throw caution into the wind and hope that they would have a different result this time? That they could compromise?
Those were really questions she should have answers to before she slept with him, but words evaporated as he stood before her naked.
Once again he'd dragged her inner vixen to the surface, and she was out of control with desire for him.
Slowly he climbed back onto the bed—giving her plenty of time to object—and crawled up her body. His breath whispered across her lips, imploring rather than demanding, "Let me love you, Trixie."
Her heart thudded at his words. His lips teased the area under her ear that drove her to distraction, and she trembled under him. Any reasoning of why she shouldn’t make love with this man—her husband—became as weak as a snow flurry in the heat of the midnight sun. His hands relearned her shape as they brushed over her breasts, down her sides, to her hips, where they cupped and held her against him. He was rigid and hot as he held himself at her entrance without penetrating her. Almost as though he waited, waited for her to be ready for him.
She trembled under him. Her wide stare met his in the shimmery moonlight shining through the windowpane. She was unable to blink until tears dampened her eyes. He regarded her with such tenderness that she couldn't breathe.
This didn't make sense, but felt right, even if it was wrong.
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