by Desiree Holt
“No parties.” He was dead serious. “I mean it, Leslie. It’s so important to keep everything very low key. We discussed this.”
God. What if after all this careful planning, it fell apart at the last minute?
“I know. Believe me, I know. I was just teasing a little.” She hugged him. “I told them you don’t like that kind of fuss any more than I do.”
“And no one’s suspicious?” He had to make sure.
“Not at all. I promise.”
“Did you get rid of the phone?” She’d bought a burner so he could text his message to her that he was on the way and to put things into motion.
She nodded. “Right away. Just like you told me to.”
“I can’t believe this actually worked.” He blew out a breath.
They’d been setting this up ever since he made the decision that this was his only option. From the moment he knew he could trust her, that he felt something for her that she shared, they’d made careful plans.
He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck. “I hate bringing the possibility of this danger to you, sweetheart.”
“We’ll be fine, Grey. And look. I’ve been practicing your new name.”
He cupped her face. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I think I’m the lucky one.”
“Oh, yeah. Hooking up with a fugitive from a drug cartel. Real lucky.”
“Grey.” Her voice was serious. “We all make mistakes. We do things we regret later because sometimes we have no choice. That doesn’t make you a bad man.”
“I think a lot of people might argue that point with you. But enough of that for now. Maybe you should show me where we’re living and I can put away my stuff. I had enough clothes on the boat so I’m good until we can do some shopping.” He looked around the small marina office. “Or do you need to be here? Can you leave for a bit?”
“Of course. All the charters have been checked out for the morning and Eddie can handle anything else. He usually does the heavy lifting, anyway.”
“Our story’s good with him, too? No questions?
“None. I don’t think Eddie has a curious bone in his body.”
“Good.” He sniffed the air. “And I think that’s me with the fish smell in here. A fishing trawler smells like…well.”
“Fish?” She grinned at him.
He chuckled. “That it does. I could use a shower along with a nice cup of coffee.”
“Come on, then. Let’s get you to the house and get you fixed up.”
The town looked exactly as it did in the pictures Leslie had shown him. The downtown, such as it was, ran perpendicular to the marina where it dead ended. He noticed it took care of most of the main necessities in life. Leslie had told him for anything beyond that Eastport was just two miles across the causeway.
Her house, a typical saltbox with its steeply pitched roof, nestled into a hillside in a row of similar houses. How different everything was from the tropical environment he was used to, the Spanish style and Craftsman bungalows.
No palm trees either, he thought wryly. Instead there was a mix of maple and elm and yes, even the pine trees for which the state was known.
Everything is different now, including my name. Maybe getting back to the basics of life will help me straighten out the mess I’ve made of everything.
In the living room, he set down his suitcase and his briefcase and took a moment to look around. Leslie’s house was small but neat, and decorated with a great deal of thought. Hardwood floors wore colorful rag rugs and their colors had been picked up by throw pillows on the couch. The paintings on the walls were few but chosen well. He had a feeling they were by local artists. No more bidding at auction on outrageously priced works. And now he saw that as a good thing.
He normally wouldn’t spend much time taking stock of things like this. A house was a house, after all. Large, small, whatever. But he’d forgotten what a home was, a place where people lived and loved. God, he’d certainly fucked up his life.
Leslie stood there, watching him, twisting her hands with the first attack of nerves he’d ever seen from her. The worry lines were back on her forehead.
“It’s nowhere near as grand as what you’re probably used to.” She wet her lips. “But it’s very cozy and I’m comfortable here.”
“Come here.” He held out his hands to her and took her small ones in his. “It’s perfect. Better than perfect because it looks and feels like you. What did the big house get me except in a lot of hot water?”
On his journey up from Florida he’d had a lot of time to think. Probably too much, allowing him to take painful stock of the life he’d walked away from. He wondered what would have happened if instead of letting Moreno put him in a box with his cash infusion, he’d downsized the company, sold off the less profitable units, and forged ahead from there. But greed was a terrible thing.
And look where it got me.
This was a whole new life for him. He would be comfortable here. Very comfortable. He’d make it work because he wanted to.
He gave her a quick hug. “I swear to you, Les. This is just perfect. New man, new name, new home.” He kissed her cheek. “New woman. It’s all good.”
“Our bedroom is on the second floor.”
He smiled at the sudden hint of shyness in her voice.
“Well, lead me to it.”
The house, including the wall by the stairs, was a nice mixture of woods and wallpaper, creating an atmosphere of warmth. The bedroom was surprisingly large, with a four-poster, queen-sized bed, large dresser, and a picture window looking out at the backyard.
“I made room for your things in the closet and the dresser,” she told him. “And there’s fresh towels in the bathroom.” Her eyes had a worried look to them. “You’re sure this will be okay for you?”
“I’m looking forward to living here. To this. To you. To us.” He gave her a smile he hoped was reassuring. He took her hands in his. “I would never have been able to do this without you. And this is what I want.”
She blew out a breath and he saw the lines of tension on her face ease. “Okay, then. Take your shower. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen.”
“One more thing. Do you have Internet here?”
“Of course.” Her lips curved in a smile. “We’re still in civilization here, Gra-Grey.” Then her smile disappeared. “What do you need?”
“I just want to be able to monitor the fallout from this. Make sure my daughter’s okay.”
“Of course.” Her voice was laced with sympathy. “That had to be the hardest part for you.”
“I have to make sure they don’t go after her. I was careful to keep her out of everything, even if it meant driving a wedge between us.”
“No problem. I’ll write the password down for you.” Then she grinned. “Now go get rid of that fish stink.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After he did that, he’d talk to Leslie about a place to hide a couple of things in his briefcase. Someplace no one would look for them. And he’d ask her to accept a heavy responsibility.
* * * *
Logan prided himself on being a disciplined Marine. Controlled in any and all situations. Removed from extraneous influences and able to focus completely on the task at hand. But he hadn’t counted on Devon Cole walking into his life, the first woman in forever to awaken long dormant feelings and desires. To prick at the pain he’d kept hidden all these years. He was having a hard time telling his cock to behave where Devon Cole was concerned, not to mention his emotions. He never let his emotions into the game. Into anything, for that matter. Not anymore.
But almost twenty-four hours after he’d first laid eyes on her, he still couldn’t get himself under control. He was consumed by a need to protect her. The fact that after being scared out of her wits and nearly killed she’d managed
to pull herself together and not fall apart only increased and enhanced her appeal to him. He’d guarded a lot of women since joining Vigilance, but Devon was the first to remind him of Amanda. Same courage, same core of strength, same…everything.
He couldn’t seem to take his mind off everything she did. Last night she’d barely slept. He was well aware of that fact, being across the hall from her and all. He slept with his door open and was conscious of every little sound. A little after midnight she’d gotten out of bed and opened her door. She stared into his room, as if trying to figure out if he was asleep or not.
“I’m awake,” he told her.
“Don’t you sleep?” Her voice had that soft, slightly cottony sound that told him just how uptight she was.
“As much as I need to.”
She stood there in the doorway to her room for a long moment. He noticed that she’d put on long pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and wondered if that was what she always slept in or was she just hiding from him?
“I’m going to leave my door open. Okay?”
“Works for me.”
Another long pause.
“It’s not that I’m afraid,” she tried to assure him. “I just like sleeping with my door open.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable.”
What he’d wanted to say was he’d be happy to climb into her bed with her and keep her safe all night. Oh, and by the way, if he got to hold her and feel that soft body against his so much the better.
Dumbass.
He gave himself a mental smack in the head. Not once since he’d left the Marines and signed on with Vigilance had he even been tempted to mix it up with anyone, especially a client.
Of course half of his clients had been men so that reduced the list. Of the females he’d been assigned to for one reason or another, he liked most of them personally. But this thing with Devon was different, waking up feelings he’d forced himself to bury deep.
He’d promised himself if he ever felt anything for another woman, he wouldn’t let boundaries prevent him from following through.
Of course, Devon Cole was still a client. He wasn’t sure, despite the electricity crackling between them, if she’d welcome a move from him. Or if he had the right to make one. Or what would happen if he did. But having her walk into his life like this, a woman so like Amanda in every way, had to mean something.
Am I trying to convince myself of it? Make her into something she’s not?
While there was always that possibility, he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t the case.
He fixed a fresh cup of coffee for himself and carried it over to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. The sun was just making an appearance, and from the elevated site of the house he could see it cast its rays on Arrowhead Bay, the tiny body of water that gave the town its name. From his vantage point he could see the marina with its floating docks and the rows of boats in their slips. The Driftwood, the restaurant adjacent to the marina, wasn’t open for business yet but the Coffee Pot was. The little diner that served coffee and fresh pastries and breakfast sandwiches for people going out in their boats, whether for business or pleasure, already had its lights on.
The ambience of Arrowhead Bay was a big portion of why he’d chosen to live here. He could get excitement anywhere in the world, on a job or on vacation. Vigilance agents weren’t required to live here, only to show up for their assignments and at least a week of conditioning between jobs. But this place was special. Here was where he recharged his batteries and maintained his humanity, often after jobs he was afraid would rob him of it. Right now he hoped it would settle his brain and help him understand this situation with Devon.
The rule at Vigilance about involvement with clients was a minefield. Avery was very strong about that and he’d never stepped over the line. Not once. He had a well-earned rep for no involvement with anyone. Ginger Brody, the top computer expert at Vigilance, teased him by calling him Mr. Ice Box because she said he could keep his emotions locked down. Where was Mr. Ice Box now?
Gone, the moment Devon Cole barreled her way into his life. He’d never expected to meet someone again who hit him right where he lived physically and emotionally. The way Amanda had. Same latent sexuality, same courage and determination. And no, he wasn’t substituting. He could have done that many times before. Either fate was giving him the famous fickle finger or he was being given another chance. He wished he knew which it was.
He still remembered the feel of Devon’s body in his hands when he lifted her from her car. The way she fit against him when he carried her away from it. The light scent of whatever she shampooed her hair with. He’d had a lot of trouble hiding the fact his cock was hard as a spike.
Control, he urged himself. Get your shit together.
The last thing he wanted to do was fall on her like some sex-starved maniac, because this was about a whole lot more than just sex.
“That’s one of the things I love about this house.”
Devon’s voice startled him. He gave himself a swift mental kick in the ass that he hadn’t even heard her come up behind him. Some bodyguard he was. He was too busy thinking of doing other things to her body besides guarding it.
She moved to his side, holding her own mug of coffee. When he glanced sideways at her his unrepentant shaft raised its head and whispered, My turn. He hadn’t realized it last night but whatever she slept in was made of thin, soft material that draped her body, outlining her breasts, her hips, and her most splendid ass. He wanted to coast his hands over her, feeling every dip and swell and curve.
Holy fucking shit.
Maybe he could hit himself on the head with a hammer.
“The view.” She said it as if he was in some way mentally deficient and didn’t know what she meant.
“Yes. The view. I can see why you’d love it so much.”
“I’d come and stand here in this very spot,” she went on, “looking out toward the water. I could almost feel the sun on my skin, and smell the salty breeze from the water. And somehow for those few minutes I could make myself believe that everything was okay. That my father hadn’t turned into someone I no longer knew.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
She shrugged, then took a sip of her coffee. “Nothing you can do about it. Nothing I could do about it. He just closed himself off more and more, until there was no way for me to reach him.”
“Yet you kept coming to see him,” he reminded her.
“Yes. We’d been doing so great together and then suddenly it all went sideways. Because I kept hoping under all that remote exterior I’d somehow find my father. I didn’t realize he’d already disappeared.”
She sat heavily on the couch, placed her mug on a little side table, and dropped her head into her hands. Logan wasn’t sure exactly what to do so he sat beside her, trying to take his cues from her. He was stunned when she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her face still buried in her hands. It was an automatic reaction for his arm to go around her and hold her against his body. His very misbehaving body.
She was soft and warm, and a faint scent of vanilla and jasmine clung to her. Without even realizing he was doing it, he touched his mouth to her temple and kissed it softly. He tensed at once, waiting for her to push him away or jump up and ask him what he was doing. She did neither of those things. Instead she pressed even closer to him, her breath whispering across the hollow of his throat where his pulse now pounded like a jackhammer.
“Devon, listen.”
“Listen to what? Do you have answers for me? I hardly slept last night. I kept remembering those two men and what they wanted to do. And the phone calls, from someone equally as unfriendly. Just hold me for a little while, Logan. Okay?” She looked up at him. “Can that be part of your bodyguard duties?”
He swallowed a laugh. “Honey, what
I’m thinking of has nothing to do with guarding your body.”
She pressed a little closer to him. He stroked her upper arm, a gesture meant to give ease and comfort, but those were sure not things he was feeling. Apparently she wasn’t, either, because she lifted her face to look at him, a question in her eyes.
As if she’d said the words out loud, Logan murmured, “If we don’t get up from this couch right now, we’re going to be in big trouble. I don’t think I can be responsible for my actions.”
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, a gesture that sent a message straight to his balls.
“Maybe responsibility is highly overrated. I’ve been responsible all my life.”
“Devon,” he began again.
She reached up and touched her fingertips to his mouth. “I’m tired of being sensible. Always doing the right thing. Never really letting go. Just for a while I want to forget about this disastrous mess I find myself in.”
He was only human. He figured that could be his excuse as he threaded his fingers in her hair, tilted her face to his, and pressed his mouth to hers. He’d been fighting this since the minute he laid eyes on her. You can’t recreate the past, he told himself. Walk away. But even as he thought the words he knew that was impossible.
Her lips were so soft and smooth he couldn’t help swiping the tip of his tongue over them before he eased it into her mouth. And he was lost.
God! She tasted like seven kinds of sin, hot and wet and welcoming. He wondered if every bit of her tasted just as good. Then he forced the thought from his mind. As turned on as he was from the built-up frustration, if he didn’t get control of himself, he was liable to come in his pants like a horny teenager. Which was exactly how he felt. When her tongue moved to slide over his, it was like kissing a live electrical wire.
He tightened his hold on her head, tilting it first one way, then another to adjust the angle of their mouths. His tongue seemed to have taken on a life of its own, slipping over hers, licking the tender wet flesh inside, scraping over her teeth, then plunging as deep as it could. It only served to make his need to thrust his dick inside her stronger and more urgent.
