Logan's Redemption

by Cara Marsi

  Fighting her guilt, she reached out to put her hand over his big one on the counter. Should she have invited him to her parents? She couldn’t. Too much was at stake.

  “That’s a very generous thing to do,” she said.

  He pulled his hand away. “Don’t give me more credit than I deserve.”

  “You have no one?” she asked. “You never talked about your family. Before, I mean.” She chewed her lip, wishing she could bite back the words. She hadn’t wanted to bring up the past, their past.

  He stiffened and a muscle worked in his jaw. “My mom died when I was thirteen. I don’t know if my dad is dead or alive, and frankly I don’t care.”

  The bitterness in his voice and the loneliness that washed over his features squeezed her heart with pity. She knew he didn’t want her pity.

  “No matter what he did he’s still your father.”

  “Don’t go there, Doriana.”

  She studied the golden tea in her cup. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, but time seemed to stop. Releasing her breath, she looked into his eyes. “You left me.”

  Surprise widened his eyes before he quickly recovered and the cool mask slipped on again. “I had to go.”

  “Why?” Now that she’d opened the cage to the ugly monster between them, she couldn’t put it back.

  Tension held him rigid. “It was a long time ago.”

  She knew by the stubborn line of his jaw that he wouldn’t say more. Her shoulders sagged.

  “Go to bed, Doriana.”

  “I’m not sleepy.”

  “You’re probably more tired than you realize.” He stood. “Go on up. I’ll clean the kitchen. You’ve had a rough day.”

  She pushed herself off the chair. “You’ll stay the night?”

  “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

  She looked deeply into his eyes before turning from the room. How long did she need him? Just for tonight? There was a time when she couldn’t imagine life without him.

  * * * *

  Doriana brushed her teeth, fluffed her hair and bit down on her lips to give them color. “What are you doing?” she asked her reflection. Trying to make herself attractive? She was going to bed. Alone. Logan would sleep on the couch. And that’s where he’d stay.

  She padded to the bedroom and opened a dresser drawer. Her fingers brushed over a silk nightgown, a sexy extravagance that she’d never worn. “No you don’t,” she whispered.

  She pulled out a high-necked cotton gown and slammed the drawer shut, locking away the silk and her own dangerous desires. Doriana slipped the nightgown on and buttoned the neckline. Too bad she couldn’t button the restless yearning that fired her senses. Her body and soul cried out for the warmth of Logan’s arms and the passion of his kisses.

  “Stop it, Doriana.” Fear and insecurity had weakened her. That’s all it was. Logan walked out on her once and he didn’t care enough now to tell her why. She’d made a life for herself and Josh without him. She didn’t need Logan. So why did she feel this aching loneliness?

  She yanked her bedcovers down and climbed into bed. She would not think about Logan. She would not dream about him. Doriana reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. Josh, framed in his latest school picture, smiled back at her. His eyes and smile, so like Logan’s, seemed to mock her. She opened the night table drawer and slid the picture in.

  She lay in the darkened room, listening to the house sounds. Did her house always creak like this? Did Logan lie awake on the sofa and think of her? They had a son, but they’d never spent the night together. Now she and Logan slept a floor apart, breathing the same air, hearing the same sounds. So close and yet they might as well be an ocean away.

  She punched her pillow as if the act might purge her thoughts. A faint sliver of moonlight glimmered through the sheer curtains to reflect on the ceiling. Did the moonlight skim Logan too?

  The shatter of glass brought her upright. Logan.

  She threw back the covers and leapt out of bed. The staccato of her heart kept beat with her feet as she raced down the stairs. A break-in? The alarm hadn’t gone off.

  The pillow and blanket she’d given Logan were folded on the couch, but no Logan. A string of soft curses came from the kitchen. She hurried toward the sound and froze when she reached the doorway.

  Logan, clad only in jeans, swept away broken glass with a broom.

  She couldn’t quite stifle her laugh.

  “Damn.” He turned toward her and dropped the broom, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry about the mess. I broke a glass.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said with a shrug.

  They stared at each other. His masculine beauty held her. Her gaze scanned his muscular chest, covered with a light matting of golden hairs that narrowed to a vee before disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. Her throat went dry. “You’re very tan,” she said in a whisper.

  She clutched at the neck of her nightgown as his hot gaze traveled her body. She glanced down. The bright kitchen light made the thin cotton of her gown transparent as silk. Her face burned and she knew she blushed.

  “Go to bed, Doriana.”

  The roughness of his voice hit her raw emotions, releasing the tension of the past weeks and the numbing fear earlier tonight. A sob escaped her. Her knees watered and her body sagged. Logan grabbed her before she could sink to the floor.

  She clung to him, digging her nails into the firm skin of his shoulders. Tears spilled from her eyes.

  He brushed a tender kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay. It’s been a tough night.”

  She gripped his shoulders and pressed her face against him. The rough hairs on his chest brushed her sensitized skin, filling her with an aching awareness. She inhaled his male scent, woodsy like the leaves rustling outside.

  “Sweetheart,” he said. “I know you’re upset, but I think you’ve scarred my shoulders with your nails.”

  She jumped back, swiping at tears. Hysterical laughter bubbled out of her. Logan’s hands spanned her waist.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, finding her voice.

  “It’s okay, Dorie. You didn’t hurt me.”

  At the catch in his voice she locked her gaze with his. He stared at her with eyes darkened by desire. She reached out to skim a finger along the fullness of his lips.

  He groaned and gently pushed her away. “Leave before we do something we’ll both regret in the morning.”

  He was right. But why did she feel so...cheated?

  His gaze softened and he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “I know you’re scared. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  Logan followed her up the stairs, so close his body heat warmed her. No one would harm her while Logan was in the house. But who would protect her heart?

  She got into bed and gathered the covers close under her chin. Protection against Logan or herself?

  Logan sat on the edge of the bed. The pale moonlight caressed his chiseled features and sculpted chest. He looked like a statue, a golden Adonis. But Logan was flesh and blood. Her pulse kicked up.

  Doriana turned her back to Logan and to the longing he stirred in her, a longing that only he could satisfy.

  “I’m here for you, Dorie,” he whispered. He rubbed her shoulder, his touch heating her through the bedclothes.

  A feeling of peace, laced with sadness, stole over Doriana. Not for the first time she wondered what her life have been like if she and Logan had married all those years ago. Would he ever tell her why he left and would it be reason enough to forgive him?

  * * * *

  Bright sunlight teased Doriana’s eyes open. She let out a contented sigh and snuggled against the warm body nestled next to hers. She hadn’t felt this peaceful in years. Warm body?

  She stiffened and turned slowly to face a sleeping Logan. Despite the chenille spread separating them, his heat reached out to her. She should wake him, should insist he leave immediately.
But she just wanted to lie there and drink in his beauty.

  Golden eyelashes curved against his high cheekbones. His tousled hair begged for her touch. Unable to resist, she smoothed hair back from his face. He looked soft and young, with traces of the boy she’d loved. She wondered what in his life had put the hard edges to his features. Where had he been all these years? And had he thought about her at all?

  “Logan.” The word sighed through the room.

  He opened his eyes slowly. “Morning,” he said, his voice thick and rich. Awareness dawned in his sleep-filled eyes and he rolled off the bed to stand in front of her in all his masculine glory. Sunlight bronzed the gold of his skin. She forgot to breathe.

  “God, I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to stay in your bed, but I nodded off.”

  She sat up and shivered in the sudden chill as the covers slipped off. “I’m glad you were here.” She couldn’t tell him she’d had the best night’s sleep in a long time.

  His gaze skimmed her and he blew a breath out. “You’re determined to test my willpower, aren’t you?”

  “What?” She glanced down. She had felt warm during the night, and half asleep, she had unbuttoned her nightgown. The tops of her breasts were exposed now and her nipples pebbled under Logan’s hot gaze.

  She licked her lips. A small groan escaped him.

  Their gazes locked. The years seemed to peel away like the layers of bedclothes. They were young and reckless and so in love. Did their bodies recognize what they weren’t ready to acknowledge? Hope and desire heated a sensuous path through her.

  “Logan,” she said in a soft voice. Her body wanted the man he’d become, but her soul yearned for the boy she’d loved.

  “What if I asked you to make love to me,” she said.

  Desire, pain, and fear flitted across his face. “I couldn’t,” he said in a tortured voice. “We can’t.”

  Humiliation washed over her. She looked quickly away.

  He eased on the bed and took her hands in his. She burned where he touched her.

  “Look at me, Dorie.”

  She turned to him.

  He touched her face with gentle fingers, and with a hand that shook. “I want you. But there are things about me you don’t know. Things I can’t share.”

  Hurt and anger formed a knot in her stomach. Would he ever trust her enough? She pulled free. “Go. Leave me alone.”

  “I wish I could leave you alone.” He skimmed a calloused finger over her lips.

  “I think it would be best if you leave now.”

  He flinched as if she’d hit him. Pain shadowed his eyes. He stood. “I’ll call the phone company from downstairs. They probably can’t do anything yet, but I want to put them on notice.”

  “I’ll get dressed and be downstairs in a few minutes.”

  He studied her. “I don’t like leaving you alone over the weekend. I can stay with you.”

  She clenched her fingers around the sheets. “No.”

  He held up his hand, stopping her protest. “No strings attached. You can bring your son home. I’ll make sure you’re both safe.”

  Panic seized her. “You can’t. I can’t.” She drew a calming breath. “I’ll go to my parents for the weekend.”

  He gave her a long look. “Okay. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He turned and left the room. His footsteps on the stairs seemed to rebuke her with his rejection.

  She was a fool for Logan all over again.

  * * * *

  Logan slammed the door to his rattletrap Jeep and thrust the key in the ignition. He’d allowed things to get out of control and compromised his integrity. She’d asked him for protection. And he’d hurt her.

  He started the car and eased out of the driveway, resisting the urge to drive like the wild boy he used to be. He wasn’t a teenager any more. And he wanted Doriana the way a man wants a woman, passionately, completely, all-consuming. She didn’t want him, not really. She’d only reached out today because of her own fear and vulnerability. He’d done the right thing, walking away. He felt like hell.

  ~~~~

  CHAPTER NINE

  Doriana smiled a greeting at the other riders and eased into the crowded elevator. She punched the number for her floor, then punched it again when the elevator doors didn’t close quickly enough. She glanced at her watch. A half hour late. She was almost never late for work.

  Each stop of the elevator increased her agitation. After the long holiday weekend where sleep eluded her most nights, she’d been unable to wake herself this morning. Or maybe it was dread at facing Logan that made her wish Monday wouldn’t come. She hadn’t seen him since Friday morning when she’d humiliated herself by asking him to make love to her. And he’d turned her down. Doriana stiffened her shoulders. She’d act like Friday never happened. Yeah, right, a small voice taunted.

  The elevator doors opened to her floor and she stepped out. Taking a deep breath, she headed for her office. Gratitude tempered her apprehension. Logan had come to her aid when she needed him. He’d called her cell phone every day since Friday to be sure she was okay. A twinge of guilt pulled her. He thought she spent the weekend at her parents.

  When she entered her office Logan looked up from his computer. Relief flashed in his eyes and he came around the desk. “Are you all right? I was just about to phone you.”

  The concern in his voice sharpened her guilt. “I’m fine. Overslept. Holiday weekend.”

  “And a rough one at that,” he said softly.

  Her face heated. Was he thinking about Friday morning? But she read only friendly sympathy in his eyes. Apparently her clumsy attempt to get him into her bed meant nothing to him. She should feel relieved. Instead she felt rejected.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. “No more phone calls?”

  She shifted her briefcase to her other hand, wishing she could shift her thoughts as easily from the picture of Logan in her bed and her overwhelming need for his touch and warmth. She’d thrown herself at him because she felt scared and vulnerable. That was all. And he’d recognized her insecurities. She was glad for his restraint. Someday she’d actually believe that.

  Doriana shook off her thoughts and threw him a smile. “No more calls. I really appreciate your coming over Thursday night, especially on a holiday.”

  “It was nothing,” he said. “I wasn’t doing anything.” His eyes darkened. “Even if I were busy, I would have helped you. I’d never let anyone hurt you, Dorie.”

  The caress in his voice and his pet name for her squeezed her heart with regret for what might have been. But you hurt me all those years ago, Logan. The painful words came unbidden to her mind.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  She notched her chin. “I’m fine. Just thinking about all the work ahead of me. I guess I’d better get busy.” She brushed past him to her office.

  * * * *

  Logan released a breath and rounded his desk to sit in his chair. He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he could rub away the feeling he’d somehow hurt her now. If she only knew the effort it cost not to take her into his arms and hold her until the wall she’d built around her feelings crumbled.

  Maybe he’d let her down all those years ago, but he’d had no choice. She’d had her whole future ahead of her, a future that couldn’t include him. Doriana deserved better than a guy with too much scarred baggage, a guy who carried the mean streets of Philadelphia in his soul. He wouldn’t disappoint her again. He’d protect her and keep his hands off her at the same time. Whatever they once shared died the night he left Philadelphia. A small voice he couldn’t silence mocked him with the lie of his words. Logan punched the computer keys, not caring what he typed. He should have given this job to one of his subordinates.

  * * * *

  “How about lunch?”

  At Logan’s softly spoken words, Doriana looked up from her computer. “Lunch?”

  He lounged against the doorframe. Despite his casual s
tance, he looked like a dangerous animal, coiled and ready to spring. And she was his prey. She swallowed.

  “You need to eat.” His lopsided grin made heat curl in her stomach. “Let’s go.”

  “Go? Together?” Her throat tightened. After Friday she couldn’t trust herself with him. “I can’t. I’m swamped.”

  “Lighten up, Doriana. The world won’t end just because you didn’t stay at your desk for an hour.” He walked into the room to stand in front of her. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to relax. I thought we were friends.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly friends.”

  “Then what are we?” he said, moving closer.

  “Co-workers.”

  He straightened. “Reminding me you’re the boss?”

  The challenge in his eyes made her bristle. “I’m not some snooty elitist.”

  “Prove it.” He planted his palms firmly on the wood surface of her desk. Sunlight glinted on his days-old growth of beard, empathizing the firm set of his jaw. She grabbed a pencil and twisted her fingers around it, resisting the urge to touch his face.

  “I don’t want to spar with you, Doriana. I just want to take you to lunch.”

  She met his unwavering gaze. She’d prove to herself she could handle her emotions where Logan was concerned. He’d be gone in a few months anyway. The thought darkened her mood like the sudden clouds that scudded over the sky and obscured the weak sunlight.

  “It’s my turn to pay,” she said, standing. “You paid for the cheesesteaks.”

  “You’re on,” he said, throwing her a devastating smile that weakened her knees like steel girders set in sand.

  The little deli was crowded but they’d managed to find a small table squeezed into a corner at the back. Doriana looked down at the thick sandwich in front of her. The spicy odor of warm pastrami and hot mustard churned her stomach in delicious anticipation. What had possessed her to order such a thing? She hadn’t eaten pastrami since high school. She raised her gaze to find Logan staring at her, an amused light in his eyes.

  “What?” she said.

  “You going to eat all that?” Laughter tinged his voice. “How do you manage to keep so slim? You wolfed down your cheesesteak the other night.”