“Five hundred tickets.” Aunt Lou looked her straight in the eye. “I heard.”
Sadie went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. “It was for a good cause. Literacy.”
“Frankly, I would have preferred anyone to Charlotte Matthews. My nephew has enough problems. He doesn’t need to deal with hers.”
“I don’t know about that. I think she might have helped him, too,” Sadie said, careful to keep her voice low, aware of Logan’s presence in the other room. “Sometimes it is good to set the pain of losing someone aside and just have ice cream.”
“Yes, it is.” Aunt Lou’s take-no-prisoners expression softened. “Logan is a good man. A selfless man, fighting for his country and then Jane. It’s about time he found his own happiness. A way to put the past behind and get on with his life.”
“I’m not his future,” Sadie said quietly. She was not about to tell his aunt that she was Logan’s way to move on with his sex life.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“He still loves Jane.” There, she’d said it. Announced the fear that had been eating at her to Logan’s aunt and a sleeping baby.
“Of course he does. He’ll always love her,” Lou said. “But life keeps going. Past loves take up their proper position—in the past—and the heart moves on. He’s a good man, Sadie. He deserves a second chance at love.”
Sadie nodded, realizing that was true. Loving someone in the past didn’t rule out falling for someone new. But she couldn’t be that person. Too many obstacles stood in their way.
“I’ve only known him a few days,” Sadie said. And we’ve spent a large part of our time together naked. “That’s hardly enough to build a future on.”
“He’s a soldier. Logan only has these brief pockets of time before he goes back to putting his life on the line and serving his country. A few days, a few weeks, sometimes a month or two if we’re lucky. It’s not much. But it’s all he’s got.”
The reality sank in as their conversation came to an abrupt end. Lacey woke up, Laurel reappeared in the kitchen and the men came in looking for dinner.
Sadie sat through the meal, half listening to Aunt Lou debate the merits of reality TV with Laurel. It seemed Logan’s aunt had a weakness for The Real Housewives. It didn’t matter which city, Lou loved them all.
Mindlessly eating fries, Sadie thought about Aunt Lou’s words. A few days, a few weeks, sometimes a month or two if we’re lucky. It’s not much. But it’s all he’s got. Logan’s life happened in fast-forward. He did not have the luxury of letting a relationship grow and develop over time.
If Sadie wanted more, if she wanted to see him again, she had to tell him. Soon. Before he shipped out, she had to tell him everything. And hope he didn’t walk away.
After dinner, Laurel shooed everyone to the front room, insisting she and Sadie could handle the dishes. Lou eagerly agreed to take the baby. Greg and Logan followed.
“I need to tell him,” Sadie said, taking a clean dish and drying it with the rag. “He has a right to know that I’m weeks away from telling the world I’m MJ Lane.”
“Why? You’ll have gone your separate ways by then, right?”
“Maybe. Probably,” Sadie said, her gaze focused on the dish towel.
“Sadie, look at me,” Laurel said. “I’m right. This is something more than a fling, isn’t it?”
“Not yet.” Sadie reached for the next dish. “But...”
Laurel held on to the plate, forcing Sadie to look up at her. “There’s a but?”
“But I might have feelings for him. I might want more.” Sadie shook her head. “Still, there are too many ifs in the way. If he’s over his late wife, if he is ready to start a new relationship, if he cares about me—”
“He does,” Laurel said firmly. “He cares. I heard he shut down the bookstore to take you to dinner. He cares. And he can’t help the fact that he’s a widower.”
“Yes, you’re right, Laurel. But this isn’t a fairy tale. What if a reporter finds me here and takes a picture of us together? They might question who he is. His face and his name—he’s under orders to stay out of the public eye. I should at the very least tell him who I am and let him decide if he wants to take the risk.”
Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Mount Pleasant’s not exactly a hotbed of paparazzi. And, honey, you’re not Angelina Jolie. I don’t think they’re hunting you.”
“No, I’m not. But I called the paper yesterday while I was waiting and wondering if Logan would come back. Speaking as an unnamed source, I confirmed that the picture they took of me walking into my building was MJ Lane. I pretty much guaranteed there will be interest in solving the little mystery of who is MJ Lane. And keeping that from him feels wrong.”
Laurel’s brow furrowed. “I guess that means you’re leaving soon.”
“No, I’m still here for you and Lacey. It is just one picture. And they didn’t run it today. They might not run it at all.”
“Sadie, if the shot was taken in front of your building, they know where you live. How many redheads live there? You? Maybe one more? If they quiz your doorman, they’ll find out who you are. And then you’ll have to go back.”
“Yes.” Sadie said. “But that will take time. And I was always going back. You know that.”
Laurel nodded. “Then spend the time you have with Logan. Explore your feelings for him. You’re not supposed to commit every part of yourself up front. Not in any relationship. Tell him when you’re ready. But don’t walk away from happiness just because you have a long list of ifs. Wait and see.”
Her twin had a point. Sadie was already struggling to hold on to her heart where Logan was concerned. And he hadn’t offered his. But he’d opened up to her, let her in, told her things he hadn’t told anyone. Shouldn’t she do the same? Even if it might spell the end to their fling?
* * *
LOGAN FOLLOWED SADIE up the steps to the guesthouse. Something was bothering her. She wasn’t laughing or smiling.
“Did Aunt Lou say something to you?” he asked.
Sadie led him into the living room and sat down on the couch. He claimed the spot beside her, silently wishing she’d taken him straight to the bedroom. They didn’t have much time left. Now that he’d spoken with the journalist, effectively removing the threat even if Hunter had led them down a different path than the one the top brass wanted to take, he expected a call any day from his colonel.
“Yes, she did.”
Logan mentally ran through all of the potentially embarrassing stories his aunt could have shared. She’d raised him, so that list was a long one. But not one of those stories would have stolen away Sadie’s smile and her laughter.
“She thinks that your love for your late wife is in the past,” she said.
They were back to this. That word—widower—once again reared its ugly head.
“It is,” he said firmly. “I’ll always love her, Sadie. But I’ve closed the door to that part of my life. You’ve helped me do that. So did talking to the reporter, but mostly, it’s you.”
She nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. But you’re leaving,” she said. “Soon.”
The way she said those words, he knew they’d reached the crux of what was troubling her.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m always leaving. That’s the cold, hard truth of my duty as a soldier.”
Sadie nodded. She looked on the verge of saying something. Judging from the pained look on her face, he didn’t want to hear those words. Maybe it’s best if we go our separate ways or I can’t take it, knowing you’re leaving. Always leaving. He’d heard those words before and he couldn’t stand to hear them from her. Not tonight.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t say it.” He reached out and pulled her onto his lap, her back to his chest and her bottom nestled against h
im. His lips touched her ear. “Tell me what you want. Tonight. Don’t think beyond that. Just tell me how to drive you wild.”
“I liked your skills in the shower,” she said slowly.
That was all he needed. The future would wait until tomorrow. Sadie was still his—for one more night.
Logan lifted her off his lap as he stood. Taking her hand, he led her into the hall, toward the bedroom. “I think it’s time to get you wet.”
17
LEAVES RUSTLED. A branch snapped. Footsteps. Those sounds could only mean one thing.
Enemy.
Logan opened his eyes, alert and ready. Only this wasn’t Afghanistan. He was lying in his aunt’s guesthouse beside Sadie. He could feel her long hair, still damp from their seemingly endless shower last night, pressed up against his chest. Her naked body fit perfectly with his.
“Cows,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his eyes with his hand. He slid away from Sadie, careful not to wake her. He needed to round up the escaped animals before his aunt noticed they’d jumped the fence. Lou would try to catch them. And when she did, she’d probably catch a glimpse in the guesthouse window. He didn’t want Aunt Lou to find him lying naked next to Sadie.
Click. Click. Click.
Logan moved to the window. He heard the rustling again, but this time he knew it wasn’t livestock. He’d never met a cow that could hold a camera.
“Shit.”
He went to the bathroom and retrieved his clothes. Whoever was out there had spotted him and retreated. If he was smart, he’d be long gone before Logan walked outside.
Logan rounded the side of the guesthouse, moving silently over the grass. Scanning the area, he spotted a guy dressed for duck hunting crouching in the bushes. A camera hung around his neck. Another bag, slung across his chest, held a selection of long lenses.
For the second morning, Logan felt as if he’d woken to a nightmare, one where his mistakes resurfaced again and again. Maggie, the woman his teammate had fallen for, might be willing to write a positive account of their mission, but the guy snooping around his aunt’s farm? Ten-to-one odds he wanted dirt, not a feel-good story about a war half the country didn’t support.
In the field, a cow mooed. The guy with the camera turned and spotted Logan. He was on his feet in seconds, running. Logan went after him. He’d kept up with training while home on leave, but this guy was fast. It was as if he made his living running away from windows, camera bag in tow. By the time they neared the fence on the property border, Logan was close.
“Logan?”
He heard her voice and glanced over his shoulder. Sadie, wearing a T-shirt and underwear, raced toward him.
“Go back inside,” he said. “This doesn’t concern you.”
His target pivoted, lifted his camera and aimed. At Sadie. This left Logan with a choice. He could block the shot or tackle the man to the ground.
Logan shifted right, moving in front of Sadie. Protecting her, keeping her free and clear of his mess, that was more important than taking this guy down.
The intruder lowered the camera, turned and started running. Logan went after him. But then the guy slid like a ball player aiming for home plate, and escaped under the wire fence.
Logan thought about jumping over, but a second later, he heard a car starting, then wheels on gravel. He’d lost him.
Sadie stopped by his side, breathing hard.
“You need to go back inside,” he said. Not that the guy would come back. Logan suspected he’d scared the intruder away. At least for a little while.
“No—”
“It was a reporter. He had a camera.” Logan shook his head. “Christ, I knew it was only a matter of time before more started digging.”
“Logan.” She placed her hand on his arm. “He wasn’t here for you.”
He studied her face. Remorse. Regret. It was all there plain as day. She’d been hiding something from him. He’d been so damn wrapped up in his own secrets and what to tell her, he hadn’t thought to ask about hers.
“Come inside,” she said. “I’ll tell you. Everything.”
She turned to the house and Logan followed, his mind running through the what-ifs. Jealous boyfriend? Ex-husband? Criminal past? She led him into the living room. “Before we talk, I need pants. Wait here, okay?”
She returned minutes later wearing purple sweatpants and carrying two glasses of water. “Thought you might need a drink after your run.”
He nodded, accepting the glass. She settled on the sofa across from him. Days earlier, they’d sat in these same places. He’d been dying to touch her, his only concern that she would want more from a relationship than he could give. Lust—it was powerful. Caught up in a web of physical desire, something he’d denied himself for so long, he’d put on blinders, ignoring any hints that Sadie wasn’t 100 percent open and honest.
Only this wasn’t just physical desire. He’d trusted her. He’d told her things he’d never shared with anyone. He’d let this become more than a fling, more than hot sex. He’d thought it had meant more to her, too. The way she’d looked at him last night, as if his leaving would crush her, had said plain as day this was more.
But he had a sinking feeling he was wrong.
“What is it, Sadie?” he asked. “What led a guy with a camera to your bedroom window?”
She took a long drink from her water glass, set it on the table and folded her hands in her lap.
“I’m MJ Lane.”
Logan leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. Her words didn’t mean anything to him. “You have a secret identity?”
“I’m the author of the Isabelle’s Command series. Or at least it will be a series once I publish the next book. You’ve heard of it? The internationally bestselling erotica book everyone is talking about?”
Logan shook his head. “Haven’t heard of it.”
In his world—at the base, in Afghanistan and even in Mount Pleasant—no one was talking about erotica, at least, not to him. The fact that she was successful explained a lot, like her ability to rent the guesthouse and spend a month helping her sister. He knew she’d grown up poor, so he’d figured she made good money writing. But it didn’t explain the guy with the camera.
“My book has done well. Much, much better than anyone expected,” she said. “I’m releasing the second installment in the series next month. To promote the book, I’m revealing my identity. On national TV.”
Logan sat back in his chair.
“The press has been trying to figure out who is behind MJ Lane for months. Before I came here, I caught a reporter taking pictures of me outside my building,” she continued. “It was only a matter of time before they learned the truth, and I wanted to capitalize on the reveal. Control it. That was one benefit of being here, in Vermont. I didn’t think anyone would look for MJ Lane in Mount Pleasant.”
Logan raised his glass and downed the water, wishing it were something stronger. “I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been discovered.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I would have, but—”
“This was just a fling.” Saying those words left a bitter taste in his mouth, like he’d been hoping for more. But he couldn’t do more. He’d made that clear from the beginning. He had to leave. Go back to work. Deployments and relationships didn’t work for him. He’d learned that from Jane.
But, stupidly, he’d always assumed he’d be the one hurting her when it was time to end this thing, not the other way around.
“There’s more. The other day, while you were in New York, I called the paper that had the pictures and confirmed that the woman was MJ Lane,” she said. “But I honestly didn’t think they would connect the dots and find me here. You can’t even see my face in the shot. I thought my secret was safe and under contr
ol.”
Logan nodded and pushed to his feet.
“It was selfish not to tell you.” She stood. “Especially after you shared so much. And I had no right to risk drawing you into the spotlight. You’ve been clear that is the last thing you want or need right now.”
“No, you didn’t.” Logan shook his head. He couldn’t help but wonder—if she’d told him, would he have walked away? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted one last chance to be with a man who didn’t link my name with MJ Lane and expect some sort of magical performance in bed,” she said quietly. “I know that sounds silly, but it’s the truth.”
He wanted to reach across the coffee table and touch her. But he couldn’t. He had to leave. He had orders to stay out of the press and she’d delivered them to his doorstep. This fling had to end. Now. But—
“Sadie, you are magical. It has nothing to do with your career. The magic? That’s just you.” He studied her across the table. She looked close to tears. But she fought to hold them back. “And I get it. I know what it is like to want someone to see past the labels. You’re the first person in a long time who has looked at me with something other than pity.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, shaking his head. “But I should go. I can’t be a part of this.”
Deep down he knew it wasn’t just the press that was pushing him out the door. He’d never held back. Not with Sadie. And the fact that she had, even if he understood the reasons, stung.
She nodded. “I’ll talk to my publicist and see what she can do to keep you out of this. I’ll leave a note with Lou either way.”
“Thanks,” he said, and walked out of the room.
Without looking back, Logan left the guesthouse and headed for his truck. He needed to get away from here. Clear his head. Decide if he should call his commanding officer and explain. Probably best to wait. Sadie would send a note when she knew more.
He smacked the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. In the span of one morning, they’d been reduced to passing notes. But he didn’t see another way. It was bad enough he’d talked to the writer in New York. Of course, Hunter hadn’t given him a choice. And his CO knew about that transgression. This one was on him.
Command Control Page 14
