Out of Control

by Tory Richards

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he returned, running his hands through his damp hair. “You seem to be around here a lot lately. Hiding out?”

  That’s not what she meant by asking him what he was doing there. Libby thought about coming clean with him, but decided it was too soon to know if she could trust him. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, returning his curious smile.

  “Maybe. Does my being here bother you?” she inquired, meeting the bold look in his eyes. He had sexy eyes, the color of warm metal. And he looked just as hungry.

  “Now why would you bother me?” Logan returned, his eyes dropping down the length of her in a lazy sweep that caused Libby’s pulse to race and her breath to catch.

  She wanted to die when she felt her nipples pucker against the thin top she was wearing, wishing she’d taken the time to put a bra on after her shower. But it never occurred to her that she’d have company. By the time Logan’s gaze traveled back up her body Libby was nearly squirming. He’d cleverly turned the tables on her, proving that he was the one bothering her, and she didn’t like it one bit. He had no business looking her over with that secret look simmering in his eyes, like he knew how to turn her inside out. Then it occurred to Libby that maybe he’d heard Scott’s comment about her being a hot little number, and was trying to judge for himself if it was true.

  “Like what you see?” Where had that come from? It was all she could do to stop her hand from flying up and covering her mouth.

  Logan burst out laughing, surprising Libby. “In answer to your question, I like what I see, a lot.” There was a brief moment of silence. “You don’t unnerve easily.” He took a step in her direction.

  His comment caused a wild flutter in Libby’s stomach. She would have taken a step back but there was nowhere to go. A tingle ran down her spine as he advanced on her. Left with no choice but to tilt her face up she raised an eyebrow, hoping to intimidate him. Or at the very least give him something to think about. Luckily he halted inches away from her. Libby had to look a long way up to meet his eyes. “You should remember that,” she said saucily.

  Logan’s eyes revealed his amusement over her statement. “Maybe you should eliminate using the word please next time you want a man to leave you alone. Because, from where I was standing, it was having the opposite effect on your ex.”

  “I can handle Scott,” Libby insisted. “Or any man for that matter.” There were ways to bring a man to his knees.

  “I hope you’re not relying solely on kneeing a man where it counts,” Logan said, as though reading her mind. Libby’s eyes rounded when he inched closer. “If a man’s really determined to kiss you, Libby, it’ll take more than that to stop him.”

  “Then he might get more than he bargained for,” she countered, slipping away to get a glass from the cupboard, before she embarrassed herself by throwing herself into his arms and begged him to kiss her. “Would you like a drink of water? You look like you’ve been working hard.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “For a glass of water?” Libby said in astonishment, looking over her shoulder at him.

  Logan laughed, the deep rich sound running like smooth velvet over her and making her aware of him as a desirable man more than ever. “No. I’m here to mow the lawn. Gramps said Margaret likes to take naps in the afternoon so I thought I’d better check first.”

  Considerate, caring, handsome, Logan seemed to have a lot of the qualities Libby was looking for in a man. “Goodness is there no end to your talents?” she teased, filling the glass with water from the fridge. “Gram’s napping now but should be up any moment. I can mow the lawn later.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said, taking the offered glass from her. “I need that job. In case it’s slipped your notice, I’m a firefighter out of work.”

  Libby scrutinized Logan for a minute, trying to determine if he was being cute, or telling her the truth. His expression was guarded, but he couldn’t hide the glimmer of truth in his eyes as he brought the glass to his lips. He tossed his head back to take a long drink, and Libby took the opportunity to watch the play of muscles in his powerful throat. Their eyes met when he straightened again.

  Libby swallowed with difficulty, trying to push down the flash of desire uncurling in her belly. What was it about him that got her hot so fast? “I’ll bet you dinner that Gram’s not paying you,” she said, crossing her arms.

  His mouth quirked with humor as he shrugged. “It’s good therapy. I’ve been laid up for a while.”

  Libby nodded with understanding. “I understand you were injured in a forest fire. What happened?”

  Something in his eyes changed, as fast as a lightning streak in a stormy sky. “That subject’s off limits.” His words were clipped and sounded final. In a heartbeat his mood has changed from casual, almost carefree, to a man on the edge.

  Libby schooled her expression to remain cool, her curiosity instantly piqued by the hostility in Logan’s tone. She sensed it wasn’t directed at her, but she had definitely opened up a wound that hadn’t healed yet. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he finished his drink then set the glass down on the counter. The look that came over his face almost frightened Libby, because it was the look of a man who’d lost his soul, or at the very least someone who’d been to hell and back. Everything about him was tense. Yet there was a sheen of pain in his eyes he couldn’t disguise.

  Her heart twisted with compassion, and the only thing Libby knew at that moment was that she wanted to reach out to him and comfort him in some way. With tears building in her eyes she said, “Logan, I’m sorry.” She made the mistake of lifting her hand to him.

  “No!” In a lightning fast move he caught her wrist in midair, halting her from reaching her target, which had been the side of his face. “The last thing I want from you is sympathy.” He jerked Libby close.

  She caught her breath, her head falling back so she could meet his eyes. Their gazes clung. His were stormy, churning with a mixture of anger and desire. Libby knew when a man wanted her. Just when she thought he might kiss her he released her and pivoted to leave.

  “Thanks for the water. Let me know when Margaret wakes…”

  “Logan.” Libby didn’t know what she was going to do, only knowing it was important she do something. She headed him off at the door, causing him to halt or slam into her. He had no choice but to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened but talking about it might help.”

  His eyes flared with warning. “I don’t need any help.” The wild look that came over his face made her think of a cornered animal with no way out.

  “Your reaction to my harmless question proves that you do,” she said softly. “I don’t mean to pry but—”

  “Then don’t.” A muscle twitched in his lean jaw.

  It was obvious he expected Libby to move out of his way, but she held her ground, determined to say her mind. “You talk about therapy for your body, Logan. What about therapy for your mind and heart?”

  “Don’t try and analyze me, lady,” he exploded, his eyes glittering shards of black glass. “I don’t need you or anyone telling me what I need. You have no idea…” He cut himself off, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It was clear he was close to losing control. “For your own sake, Libby, I suggest you move out of my way.”

  “Logan, I…”

  “Damn it!” he finally swore, taking a step closer. “You ask too many damn questions!” He yanked her to him and slammed his mouth down on hers, taking her brutally and carelessly. He bruised her lips, but she merely wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered against his mouth.

  His grip slowly loosened and his lips softened against hers, caressing now instead of punishing. Moaning, Libby opened her mouth beneath his and their tongues meshed and explored each other. Liquid fire exploded through her, her nipples taut with pleasure. For a second she forgot where they were, savoring the explosive moment between them.

  Without warning L
ogan pulled away, his breathing ragged as he stared down at her. His dark expression revealed his hunger, yet Libby could see in his eyes that he was struggling with another emotion, too. Whatever it was he was in control enough not to let it rule his actions. Gradually he released her.

  “Now is not a good time,” he said in a low tone. “It’s too soon.”

  Too soon for what? Libby was afraid to ask. Whatever happened to Logan in that forest fire was tearing him up inside. For some unexpected reason she felt a burning behind her eyes. She moved away from the door to let him pass before exposing her tears. She heard the screen door slam behind him and turned to see him hurrying down the steps toward the lawn mower.

  Vincent was sitting on his porch and Libby returned his wave before swinging back to the kitchen. Maybe in time Logan would tell her what happened to him, or, if she got the chance, she could question Vincent about it. Wiping her eyes, she grabbed the grocery list off the fridge and the keys to her car off a peg by the door. Right now she had grocery shopping to do before taking Gram down for her monthly hair appointment. Then off to dinner at her folk’s place.

  * * * *

  Logan felt like a bastard for the way he’d treated Libby. He could still see the wounded look in her eyes. But he wasn’t ready to talk about the accident that had scared his body and claimed the lives of two of his best friends. He’d known Ron and Pete since childhood. They’d grown up together in the same neighborhood, had gone to the same schools. Through thick and thin they’d remained the best of friends, making a pact early on to become firefighters.

  Only during their high school years had there been a brief lull in their activities. When spending time with girls had taken precedence over spending time with each other, and anything else. But eventually even that had taken a backseat to their strong friendship. Ron was the only one who had settled down and gotten married. Pete had been a player, finding a new girl every weekend, swearing she was the one, until the next one came along. And Logan had found Anne and fallen in love with her. Life, until the accident, had been going great for all of them.

  Anne. He squashed the thought of her out of his head, pushing the mower faster and harder. Sweat ran rivers down his face, and he welcomed the tightening of his muscles. Proof he was well enough to return to work. Now all he had to do was convince the doctors of that. But they were more concerned about his mental health, convinced until he could talk about what happened he wasn’t ready to put it behind him and get on with his life. They wanted him to face it.

  Hell, they didn’t have a clue. He thought about it all the time, dreamed about it. More times than he cared to remember he’d wakened in the middle of the night, his sweat-drenched body racked in unbearable pain over the memory of that day, and the guilt he felt surviving when Ron and Pete hadn’t. How many times was he going to relive every moment of the last few minutes of their lives? Seeing the look on their dirt-streaked faces when they recognized they were trapped, and the dawning knowledge of what the outcome would be? By the time they realized the wind had picked up, fanning the flames out of control, they were surrounded by toppling trees and smoke so thick they couldn’t see their hands in front of their faces.

  A movement toward Margaret’s driveway drew his attention and he glanced up to see Libby walking toward her small Toyota. From a distance she could pass for a young girl, all long legs and wild hair. But when she flipped that heavy mane back, his attention zeroed in on her breasts, bouncing and perky beneath her knit top. Then she was sliding into the driver’s side and shutting the door. When she looked his way Logan quickly averted his gaze, pretending he hadn’t been watching her.

  The truth was that everything about Libby bothered him. And he’d be less than honest if he didn’t admit when he was around her, all he could think about was kissing that tempting mouth until she was breathless. Until there was less sass and a lot more heat. Logan had a hunch that sooner or later she was going to say or do something that pushed him into doing exactly that.

  And a lot more.

  When he’d walked up to the screen door to see her ex making a move on her, his first instinct had been to barge in and beat the man to a pulp. Jealousy like he’d never known surfaced so fast it had nearly choked him. Only he knew he didn’t have the right to feel that way. Moreover, it was none of his business. Although it had calmed him considerably when he’d heard Libby ask the other man to leave. Her comment had been the only thing that had kept him from following through with his earlier thought.

  Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm, he cut the last strip of Margaret’s lawn, thinking of the cool one waiting for him at the bar down the street. One thing was certain; he wasn’t in the mood for penny poker, bingo or riding through the neighborhood for two hours in a golf cart. His blood was screaming for something a lot more stimulating. For some reason the sight of Libby, naked at the pool, flashed before his eyes.

  Only this time, he was screwing the hell out of her.

  Chapter 7

  Libby checked the clock on her dashboard as she pulled into the parking lot of Toni's Bar and Grill, realizing she was very late. She parked her car anyway. She’d made plans to meet friends at seven but dinner with her folks had run into overtime. Then she had to drop Gram off, making sure that she was going to be okay by herself for a few hours. Her indignant reaction brought a smile to Libby’s mouth. She hadn’t wasted any time pointing out that she didn’t need a full-time babysitter.

  She made her way to the bar; praying Leslie and Pat were still there. But it wouldn’t surprise her if they’d moved on to a livelier establishment. Tony’s was a good meeting place, or if you just wanted a drink, but it was too quiet and tame as far as bars went. Quiet, shy Pat would be okay, but Leslie liked the disco type bars where the music was loud and the dance floor was crowded. She was always on the lookout for her next Mr. Right.

  A couple was exiting the establishment as she reached the door. She scooted in, finding herself in a gloomy atmosphere of quiet conversation, the clink of glasses, and a TV with some sports channel on in the corner. Although there were booths along the wall, there was also a square wood bar in the center of the room for patrons who didn’t want to order a meal. Most of the stools were occupied.

  As Libby scanned the crowd for her friends someone put some coins in the corner jukebox, selecting a country song by a popular artist. She exchanged smiles with a couple as they left their booth and headed to the small dance floor at the back of the room. Someone laughed, catching her attention, and she turned to see another couple smooching at the bar. It was obvious they’d had a little too much to drink; they were all over each other. She watched them for a moment before shifting her eyes to the man sitting next to them. Her smile quickly disappeared.

  It was Logan.

  What is he doing there? Well, that’s a stupid question. He had just as much right being there as anyone else. He was nursing a beer, watching the game going on at the pool table. There was a woman sitting on the stool next to him, but Libby got the impression they weren’t together. She was doing her best to capture his attention though, only Logan seemed oblivious. For some reason that made Libby grin.

  She sobered instantly when the floozy, dressed in a skintight leather skirt and off the shoulder blouse, put her hand on the high part of Logan’s thigh. She laughed at something. Her move was obvious and got the reaction she was looking for. Logan swung around, his gaze touching briefly on Libby, and then doing a double-take, narrowing when he recognized her. She felt a flutter in her belly. There was no way she could measure up to the well-stacked, blue-eyed platinum blonde, vying for his attention. She’d dressed for comfort in jeans and a short tee-shirt that bared her midriff. No makeup except a little lip gloss. Libby had taken the time to pull her hair up with a clip, and most of that had managed to escape. She figured she must look like a used dishrag to Logan.

  As though sensing his distraction the blonde leaned in close and said something into his ear. Not takin
g his eyes off Libby, he mouthed something back. Then, before her startled gaze, he slid off the stool and walked directly toward her. To make matters worse, Libby felt her body respond in a very natural yet noticeable way. It was too late to continue searching for her friends. Her only thought now was on Logan as he continued to close the distance between them with intent in his eyes.

  Her gaze fell, quickly taking in his jeans and the way they hung low on his lean hips, molding his thick sculptured thighs. He was wearing a black tee-shirt that looked like it was poured over him. His lion-colored hair was ruffled as if blondie had been running her fingers through it. The predatory gleam in his dark eyes was dangerous, holding her a willing captive. Libby wondered if his lazy expression was the result of too much beer. But Logan didn’t move like he was drunk; his actions were sure-footed and definitely held purpose.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Libby’s brows rose with surprise. “Well, hello to you too,” she countered, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m meeting friends.”

  “Come on.” Logan took her by the hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. She didn’t have time to utter a protest when he pulled her sharply against him and began to move.

  “What’s going on?” she inquired, pulling back far enough to meet his eyes. His gaze shot to blondie and at that moment it dawned on her that Logan was using her to send a not-so-subtle message to the woman. A soft chuckle escaped her. “What’s the matter, Logan? Can’t stand the heat?” she said recklessly. The woman was glaring at them so hard that it was a miracle lightning bolts weren’t shooting from the center of her eyes.

  “I’ve been trying to get rid of her for an hour,” he admitted, holding Libby close but not tight. “But she’s too dense and hasn’t gotten the message.”

  “I don’t think she’s relying on her brain to get what she wants,” Libby teased back, relaxing against him. “Obviously you’re not hungry enough.”