by Jean Oram
A teenaged boy stopped at their table, his golf shirt sporting the name of the cottages.
“Avery, my man!” Logan gave him a funny guy-to-guy handshake and Ginger felt her heart grow a size bigger. Logan was a good man. That’s why she’d married him.
Married.
That still packed a wallop though, didn’t it?
“How did the math test go?” Logan asked.
“Aced it.” The boy gave a sheepish, proud smile. “Did you get married?”
Logan reached for Ginger’s hand, leaning closer. “Sure did. Ginger, this is Avery, the math ace. Avery, my beautiful wife, Ginger.” He kissed her hand, giving her a lingering look that had heat pooling in places it shouldn’t while out in public. Their earlier kisses had been hot, taking them close to the proverbial edge, and she had a feeling neither of them would be able to hold back much longer.
But was she ready to give this marriage legitimacy by consummating it? She wasn’t entirely sure.
“Cool.” Avery bobbed his head a few times.
A woman who looked to be in her seventies, despite her blond hair, joined Avery. She presented herself like a full Southern belle, with her fitted dress, high heels and perfect hair. Ginger was immediately intrigued.
“Hello, Avery. Logan.” The woman sized up Ginger, the new rings on her finger as well as Logan’s. She turned her attention to Logan, looking unimpressed. “And now you’re married?”
“I told you I was engaged.” He winked at the woman, who harrumphed.
“I had a very nice woman lined up for you, you know.”
Logan turned to Ginger. “Lucille was hoping to set me up on a blind date with her great-niece.”
Ginger bit back her amusement at the woman’s obvious displeasure over being taken out of the match-up game. “Sorry.”
Lucille narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously as though trying to sniff out the reason for their hurried nuptials.
“Well, I have to get back to work,” Avery said, looking uncomfortable.
Lucille gave another harrumph and left, too, after claiming that she knew what Logan was up to.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Nadia leaned forward, asking, “Who’s Avery?”
“I tutor him in math sometimes. Good kid.”
“Don’t you just love Logan?” Nadia asked Ginger. She had one elbow on the table as she gaped openly at him, and Ginger felt a flash of jealousy even though she knew Nadia would never stray from Ted and vice versa.
“I’m right here,” her fiancé teased. “And if I’d known you found math cool I would have told you about what a math-lete I was in school.”
Nadia slipped her hand onto his thigh. “What’s a math-lete?”
“An athlete. In math.” Ted gave a chuckle. “I was a nerd, hon. Full out.”
Nadia leaned over to give him a kiss. “That’s part of what I love so much about you. You’re good with money, knowing where to invest and when, too. Plus you’re good in bed.”
The two of them laughed.
“So what drew you two together?” Ted asked, waving his champagne flute toward Ginger and Logan.
“Besides running into each other,” Nadia added, recalling their story from the night before.
Ginger looked at Logan and bit her bottom lip. How truthful should she be?
“My first wife couldn’t see the real me,” Logan said. “Ginger can.”
Ginger paused, pressing her hand against her chest. His words felt so…
Logan looked lost as he took another sip of his drink. “That was a poor comparison, wasn’t it? Kinda like whacking a baby kanga at a kid’s birthday party.”
Ginger gave his hand a squeeze. “That, right there. That’s what drew me to Logan.”
Nadia sat back in her chair with a frown. “Whacking baby animals?”
“No,” Ginger said softly. “That little flare of real man hiding under the bulk. You’re not who you say you are, Logan Stone, and I’m going to figure you out.”
Ginger was doing it again. That look-inside-his-soul thing she did, pinning him with her gaze. She knew he wasn’t who he pretended to be, but he didn’t think she had figured out who he really was.
Unless she wasn’t who she said she was…
What if she was a spy for Vito? A henchman?
And he’d just married her.
Logan fought with himself, struggling to keep his hand under hers, act like a man who wasn’t quickly shutting down the outside world, putting himself in a bunker so he could protect himself, have a good think.
Ginger laughed, watching him. “I’m freaking you out, aren’t I?” She leaned closer, running her fingers through his hair in a way that sent shivers down his spine like rockets. “You’re so used to hiding you don’t know what to do with a woman who sees you, do you?”
He fell into the depths of her emerald eyes—eyes that sometimes looked almost gray like his own, but today looked just as bright as her dress. Sharp eyes. Eyes that saw everything. And yet there was an innocence, a fresh look at life that agents no longer possessed after about five months on the job. And that spark? He’d never met a true villain with that, either.
She was one of a kind or else who she truly was—just a woman. Someone he could hide behind while angling closer to a man who killed out of greed.
He forgot about their tablemates, Nadia and Ted, as he focused on Ginger, mindlessly nodding his approval when Dallas, the resort owner, came by to see that all was to their satisfaction. Ginger had grown quiet since saying their vows, and he believed she was experiencing doubts.
“And who are you?” he asked, dragging his finger across her palm.
Her back straightened and she let out a shaky breath. “Your wife.”
She bit her bottom lip as though trying to mask her delight with his touch and attention, but the intensity in her green eyes had ratcheted up to another level. A level he wouldn’t mind exploring.
Ginger McGinty was different from the rest, and not just because she cared and mattered. Darn it, but she saw the man he was trying to be, and that made him feel like his whole world could change, that this fake marriage could turn out differently than they’d planned.
But it was built upon a bed of lies. Because once he peeked out from under them, she’d see what a big liar and user he had been from the moment they’d met, and that would be it. Game over. Girl gone.
Devastation.
Because of him.
The very idea made it difficult to breathe.
Nadia and Ted pushed their chairs back, quietly saying good-night, slipping off so as not to break the spell between the newlyweds.
“Do you trust me?” Logan asked Ginger, still stroking her hand.
She watched him, those eyes probing. “I think I do.”
“But you’re not sure?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t actually know you that well.”
“I had a dog named Ribbit as a kid, and my favorite color is the color of your eyes.”
She blushed, looking away.
“I know that you aren’t used to compliments. You like them but you don’t want to depend on them, believe them.”
“What makes you so smart?”
“Life.”
“Do you trust me?” she asked, shifting closer.
“Yes.”
“No hesitation?” She seemed surprised.
“I have a pretty good sense about people.”
“Then what am I thinking right now?”
He lifted a strawberry from the fruit platter that had been delivered between the main course and the cake. He held it to her mouth and she took a bite. “I didn’t say I was a mind reader,” he claimed.
“I don’t know what to think about you.”
He did his best not to pull back, put up his guard, because he knew she’d see it.
“You’re all tough and burly. Manly. But you’re also squishy-sweet.”
Logan frowned, unsure whether she’d just delivered a comp
liment or not. “Don’t tell my personal trainer that.”
“You have a personal trainer?”
“No.”
“See? How can I fully trust a man when I don’t even know if he has a trainer?”
“A trainer makes me trustworthy?”
She shook her head. “You’re deliberately obtuse.”
“You’re deliberately cute.” He tapped the end of her nose.
“What are we going to do, Logan?” Her eyes were pleading, her fears coming to the surface.
“We’re going to hold on and see where we are by the time you have to return home.” He paused, caressing her hand. “Because the past twenty-four hours have been simply unreal and I think it’s shown us that we can’t escape destiny.”
“That was nice,” Ginger said as they walked back along the beach. There was cheering up ahead, tiki torches lighting up the darkened beach, the full moon hiding behind a few clouds. Her best guess was that it was the engaged couples’ games night.
“Are we still allowed to join in now that we’re married?” she wondered aloud. It would be a shame if the two of them no longer got to go. Although lately she’d been less eager to pick everyone’s brains about the shop, and more interested in spending time with Logan.
It would be wise to return her focus to work, the whole reason she’d traveled all this way.
“Hmm?” Logan looked up. They’d taken turns being quiet and introspective tonight, and she wondered if their wedding had brought back memories of his first wife.
He caught her hand, drawing it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, suddenly back from wherever his mind had wandered to. “Nice rings.”
“Thanks. I know a guy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah... Want to join the fun?” she asked. She wasn’t in a rush to go back to their cottage, where she was certain staff had decked out the place, expecting them to consummate their union like true newlyweds would.
Sure, it wouldn’t be a heartbreak to make love with Logan, but she also didn’t want to get attached, like the big sucker she was. Ginger could already feel herself being pulled in. If they acted like a married couple both in and out of the cottage, well, she worried her heart might wake up, shed its mourning clothes and hop on in without realizing this wasn’t serious or real.
Logan was already drawing her toward the rowdy group of lovers, intent on joining them.
“What are they doing?” she asked, trying to make sense of the hubbub.
“Looks like the limbo.”
“I rock the limbo.”
He gave her an appraising look. “In that dress?”
“In anything.” Feeling playful, Ginger hiked the skirt of her dress a little higher and acted like she was going under a limbo stick. “See?”
“Sexy.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” she said with a wink.
Moments later they were among the throng of people and pushed onto a small stage strewn with roses for an upcoming game. Logan scooped up a rose and handed it to Ginger.
The game organizer had them face each other before drilling them with questions. The goal was to answer more than any other couple in one minute.
“Close your eyes, Logan and Ginger.”
They complied.
“What’s your lover’s eye color?”
“Green,” snapped Logan.
“Gray with flecks of yellow,” Ginger said.
“Open your eyes. Correct! First fight.”
“Haven’t had one.” They smiled at each other.
“None?” The organizer looked out at the crowd, many of whom jeered in disbelief.
“Ginger, your dream for Logan.”
“That he returns to Blueberry Springs with me.”
She inhaled sharply. Shoot. Where had that come from? Even Logan’s eyebrows shot up, but before she could think on it, the next question was being asked.
“Logan? Same question.”
“That she stays safe.”
The crowd gave a soft “aw...”
There was his safety thing again. Maybe the gun from their cottage had been his. But if so, why not fess up?
“How many kids?”
“Ten,” Ginger said, and Logan laughed. “I mean one. I don’t know!” The pressure of an immediate answer was starting to unwind her ability to think before speaking.
Logan said, “How about two or three?”
“Perfect.”
“Sexiest thing about each other?”
“Everything,” Ginger said breathily, before catching herself and giggling.
“I’d agree,” Logan said. He ran a hand down her bare arm, taking her in. Time slowed and all that mattered was the man in front of her. Her husband.
“Pick one thing,” the announcer insisted.
“His caring side.”
Logan stared at her hard enough that she worried she’d said the wrong thing.
“Her faith and trust in me,” he replied finally. He pulled Ginger into a soft kiss and she felt herself begin to fall.
Chapter 5
Logan swam through the Atlantic, his flippers pushing him forward as he passed clumps of seaweed and the odd school of speckled sea trout. The moon was bright, giving him enough light he didn’t need his own if he stayed near the surface. When he reached the marina he made a silent wish that Ginger would continue as his talisman.
He didn’t like the water in marinas. Not just because boat owners occasionally forgot to close the valve on their black tanks when they came in from deeper waters, but because he was never fully trusting of marina ground fault protection systems, which were meant to protect anyone in the water from being electrocuted by the cables running power to the docks.
He moved through the water, counting off docks until he came to the one that had Vito’s yacht. He’d placed a tracking device on it a month ago, but the boat had been pulled out of the water for maintenance and it had been knocked off along with the barnacles.
Logan pulled the new tracker from his belt and, with gloved hands, attached it to the boat’s hull.
Task completed, he began the long swim back to Ginger.
Ginger. She thought he was caring. That’s what she’d said at the party hours earlier. Caring. Him.
The woman who saw him. The woman who had ensured he now had access to a visa, giving him time to finish the mission, plus come up with a new plan for himself and Annabelle.
But Ginger…
Sweet, sweet Ginger.
The two of them had slipped out of the party and walked back to their cottage in silence. They’d changed into their pajamas and wordlessly cuddled on the giant bed among the candles and flowers, drifting off to sleep.
He’d never done that before. Just been with someone. Quiet. Together. Bonded on a level that required nothing, not even words.
It had been difficult pulling himself out of bed and into the cold waters of the Atlantic. And just as difficult to keep pushing aside the dream she’d blurted out. She wanted him to come home with her.
It didn’t fit. And yet…he kept thinking about it, imagining it, wondering what it would be like to step back into civilian life, to marry, to allow himself to have dreams of a family once again.
He let himself mull over what the changes in his recent thinking might mean in regards to his job, before switching his mind back to the mission. Tomorrow he’d dress as a maintenance worker and add eyes and ears onboard Vito’s yacht, something he hadn’t done yet due to work on its interior. Bugging devices were, of course, already in Vito’s car and beach house, and regular intel was downloaded by the agency. So far nothing convicting, but he was getting there and had high hopes for Thursday.
Nearing the cottages, Logan checked his watch: 3:48 a.m. Not bad. He was still in that quiet window of the night. Late enough that most partyers had already found their way home, and early enough the morning staff weren’t heading in to work yet. He would come ashore, ditch the gear—putting it back in the resort’s scuba shed—th
en slip into bed alongside the woman who was slowly worming her way into his life.
Logan swam into shallow waters, surfacing once, checking the beach for eyes. This was where the full moon above was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because he could see what he was up against, curse because it meant he was almost as easy to spot.
Seeing the coast was clear, he swam in as shallow as his gear would allow, then surfaced. He stood, turning so his back was to the shore and the rows of cute cottages lining the beach, then waded backward in the rolling waves so his flippers wouldn’t catch. The night was beautiful, the moon’s reflection rippling on the ocean swells. It was a nice night to be out for a swim. With everything so quiet and calm it made it difficult to believe a diamond smuggler lived on these very shores.
Logan stepped onto the firm wet sand of the beach and turned to take off his flippers.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He stumbled, digging one his flippers in the sand and tumbling over.
“Ginger!”
She stood above him, hands on her hips, looking very much the wife of a man caught scuba diving alone, in the middle of the night.
Uh-oh.
“Hi, honey.”
“Don’t ‘hi honey’ me.”
May as well go with the truth.
“This is exactly what it looks like.”
“Really?” She didn’t sound convinced, but his honesty had taken her edge and disintegrated it.
“Yup. And you look beautiful in the moonlight.”
“Scuba diving? In the middle of the night?”
He slipped off the flippers. “It’s just around supper in Australia.”
“That’s not going to work with me, buster.” She pulled him to his feet and he was half tempted to resist, give her a gentle tug that would have her landing on top of him in her jeans and sweatshirt. “You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.”
“Sorry.”
She shook her head, gazing up at him. “You do weird things in the middle of the night.”
“True.”
She was studying him, obviously wishing she had the right to interrogate him. Instead of pursuing the thread of conversation like most women would have, she gave up with a sigh. “How did you even find a wetsuit to fit you?”
