Logan eased her legs wider, his thumbs grazing the juncture on either side of those trailing curls. He kissed her gently, his hot breath teasing the swollen, aching flesh. Her hands still above her head, she wrapped her fingers around the wrought-iron of the headboard, the metal cold under her heated palms.
She swallowed back a moan at the first brush of Logan’s tongue against her center. Fire crackled along her nerve endings, pushing beyond the boundaries of her body. She couldn’t sit still, but didn’t dare move away from that incandescent sensation.
As he tasted her again and again, she burned hotter and hotter, air harder to drag into her lungs. She let go of the headboard, reaching down for him, reaching out for something she couldn’t grasp. Logan locked his fingers in hers as his tongue dove in over and over, driving her to the edge of insanity, the edge of bliss.
She leaped over the precipice, exploding into paradise. The exquisite sensation rocked through her body, seemingly endless, pulsing and strumming along her skin. She came back to herself by degrees, first aware of Logan’s mouth still resting on her, his hands locked in hers, the feel of her naked body against the cool sheets.
Opening her eyes, she looked down at him, pale moonlight glinting in his blue eyes. When she tugged, he moved up to lie alongside her, gathering her into his arms.
Her mind still couldn’t grasp the surprise, the suddenness of their intimacy. Her body still trembled in the aftermath. Her emotions lay in a jumble, and as she nestled in the sanctuary of Logan’s embrace, she struggled to sort them out.
One bright gem glittered amid the confusion, an overpowering realization that terrified Shani to acknowledge. A consequence to their intimacy she would have never anticipated. She tried to blank her mind from its pull, to deny that the gorgeous treasure had lodged itself in her heart. But it burst into her awareness nonetheless.
I love him.
Somehow during their dinners together, the long talks, the glimpses of tenderness she sometimes caught, she’d moved from grudging respect to tentative friendship to a leap of faith she never expected. It wasn’t so much the public face of Logan she’d come to love, but what she sensed lay beneath the surface. The truth of him that he was as yet unwilling to fully show her.
“Logan…” She didn’t know what she was about to say, what he might have heard when she spoke his name.
“Damn.” He whispered the oath, tension suddenly rippling along his body. “Damn.”
“Logan—”
But he pushed away, rising to his feet and switching on a bedside light. “Go back to your sister’s room.”
Shani pulled the covers up to her chin. “We should talk about this.”
“We shouldn’t have even done this.”
He grabbed her pajamas and dropped them on the bed. A knife of hurt in her chest, Shani fumbled with the buttons on the shirt. As she dressed, he watched her, and she shivered at the intensity of his gaze.
Slipping from the bed, she took a step toward him, hand outstretched. He edged away from her.
“Please.” She tried to close the distance between them, but again he stepped out of reach.
“Don’t,” he rasped out.
Now heat rose in her cheeks, mortification settling as a sour brew in her belly. Tears stung her eyes as she tried to understand how this man could take her to heaven one moment, then cut her off from himself the next.
Why couldn’t it have just been physical pleasure between them? Why couldn’t she have been like other women, who could enjoy their bodies without the specter of deep emotion intruding? Good Lord, how could she have let herself fall in love with him?
Turning on her heel, she strode from the room, picking up speed as she continued down the hall. She took one look back when she got to Rachael’s room. A wedge of light from his open door backlit Logan, silhouetting his tall frame.
For a moment, she considered stalking back down the hall, speaking her mind, confessing her feelings for him. But she wasn’t sure she could bear the humiliation. Because he would most certainly rebuff her and break her heart all over again. And it was her own fault, for letting him in when she should have fought tooth and nail to keep him out. How could she have been so stupid?
With the book still lying in Logan’s room, she had no choice but to switch off the light and lie in the dark until she fell asleep. But the knot of pain inside her, the endless replay of what had happened with Logan, kept her awake for hours.
For the rest of her visit, Shani did her best to keep the chaos inside her to herself. In conversations with her family, she forced herself to smile and laugh when she really wanted to weep. When she interacted with Logan, she managed to maintain a cool neutrality, friendly on the surface, keeping her emotions well protected.
Her mother, always preternaturally aware of any secrets her daughters harbored, no doubt guessed that something was amiss, but she kept that observation to herself. Still, Shani often saw her mother’s considering look pass between Logan and Shani. Somehow, Mrs. Jacoby sensed that something had happened, and whatever it was troubled her.
As much as it grieved her to say goodbye to her sister and mother, Shani felt tremendous relief as she and Logan drove to the airport. She still had the hours traveling beside him, but at least the tension of putting up a front for her family would soon be over. She bought a book at a newsstand in the Eastern Iowa Airport, intending to keep her nose buried in it during both legs of their trip home.
Their conversation was limited to the bare essentials—whether she was warm enough in the car, if she wanted to check her small carry-on or keep it with her. He stayed close to her during their wait in the security line, as they walked to their gate. But his silence weighed heavily on her. She knew they should talk, clear the air about what had happened between them. But she just didn’t have the energy to initiate the discussion.
Too wired to sleep on the Iowa-to-Denver flight, she did her best to focus on the book that had sounded so fascinating when she’d looked it over at the newsstand. Logan kept his head bent over his own work, flipping through another stack of documents he’d brought with him. When they got to Denver and learned that a freak snowstorm would delay their flight to Sacramento, Shani almost wept with exhaustion.
Logan took one look at her, then commandeered several in a row of plastic seats near their gate. Spreading out his thick parka, he gestured to the makeshift bed.
“Take a nap,” he told her. “I’ll watch over you.”
That did bring tears to her eyes, although she turned her head away so that Logan wouldn’t see. She slept for three-quarters of the two-hour layover, tiredness dragging her into sleep despite the hardness of the plastic chairs she stretched out on.
It was nearly 10:00 p.m. by the time Logan pulled the Mercedes into the gate of his estate, almost midnight Iowa time. Shani could barely see straight as they wound up the drive. When she glanced toward the cottage, it almost looked as if the lights were on inside and the door lay ajar.
Did Logan call Mrs. Singh and ask her to turn down Shani’s bed? She didn’t recall him calling anyone since they landed, but as fuzzy-brained as she felt, he could have when she wasn’t paying attention.
They pulled up to the cottage, and Shani fumbled with her seat belt. When she reached for the door handle, Logan put out his hand to stop her.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
“You don’t need to open my door for me,” she muttered as she pushed the handle.
He grabbed her arm. “Shani, stay here. Lock the door after me.”
Fear trilling along her spine, she swung her door shut again and locked it after Logan had slipped out. Focusing on the cottage, she realized the door was open and it appeared that most of the lights were on. She suspected it wasn’t Mrs. Singh who had left the cottage like that. But who?
Logan cautiously pushed open the door and took a quick look inside. He unclipped his cell phone from his belt. He tapped in three digits—911, Shani guessed.
As he d
isappeared inside, Shani shivered, looking around her. Could someone still be here, watching? Even inside the locked Mercedes, terror bubbled up inside.
Finally, Logan came outside again. At his gesture, she unlocked the car and joined him on the cottage’s small front porch.
He took her hand. “Someone broke in.”
Even though she’d guessed as much, the news wrenched her. A sudden realization sent her into a panic. “Where’s Seymour? Did he get out? He’s always been an indoor cat.”
“I found him hiding under the bed,” Logan reassured her. “I shut the bedroom door.”
At that, Shani burst into tears. Logan folded her into his embrace, letting her soak his sweater with her sobbing. She sagged against him, the last vestige of her energy evaporating. He lifted her in his arms and carried her inside.
A brief survey of the cottage revealed that although the bedroom had been torn apart by the intruder—all the dresser drawers pulled out, the mattress askew on the bed, a lamp tipped and broken—it seemed nothing had been taken. Shani’s small jewelry box had been opened, but the few pieces she hadn’t taken with her to Iowa were still inside. The television and DVD player in the living room didn’t seem to have been moved.
Logan didn’t leave Shani’s side the entire time they waited for the police. Only after the female deputy from Placer County Sheriff’s Department arrived did he hurry over to the main house to check the situation there.
“Nothing’s disturbed in the main house,” he told the deputy once he’d returned. “Front and back doors still locked, all the windows are intact.”
“What happened to your alarm system?” the woman asked.
Shani could see the tautness in Logan’s jaw as it worked. “I don’t know why the exterior segment of the system didn’t pick him up. It looks like we neglected to set the alarm in the cottage before we left on Wednesday.”
The deputy looked around her at the general state of disarray. “If I had to guess, I’d say the perpetrator was searching for something. Drawers pulled out and emptied, closet and cupboards rifled through. Yet you say nothing’s been stolen….”
“I can’t find anything missing,” Shani said, sitting on the sofa with Seymour in her lap. The cat clung to her like Velcro, purring loudly.
“Can you think of what someone could have been looking for?” the deputy asked. “Do you keep drugs here?”
Shani shook her head. “Other than the progesterone and estrogen for my pregnancy. I’m guessing that’s not what you meant.”
“No,” the deputy said. “But a druggie probably wouldn’t have checked the labels. He would have just taken the bottles.”
“They’re still in here,” Logan said, checking the refrigerator. “Doesn’t look like they’ve been disturbed.”
The officer shook her head. “I can send someone from the CSI team down to dust for prints, but that won’t do you any good if the perp’s not in the system.”
After taking down a few more details, the deputy left abruptly when another, more pressing call came in. After the woman had gone, Shani sank back against the sofa, her fingers buried in Seymour’s fur. She tried to will herself to stop trembling but couldn’t seem to manage it.
Logan stood over her, his face clouded with anger. “You can’t stay here any longer.”
She nodded. “I’ll go back to the apartment.”
“Not the apartment. You’re moving to the main house.”
Shani wordlessly shook her head, but Logan wasn’t about to concede this argument. “I can’t be sure of your security out here. The apartment’s too far away. Unless you’d rather I stay with you there—”
“No. It’s too small. We’d be…”
Far too close together. Bad enough in the main house with her bedroom only down the hall from his. But at least Mrs. Singh would be there most of the time.
Logan sat beside her on the sofa, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her. “Shani…” When she kept her gaze downcast on her cat, he risked placing his fingertips on her cheek, turning her to face him. “I’ve done a damn poor job of keeping you safe.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I didn’t set the cottage alarm when I should have.” A sudden thought punched a hole in his chest. “What if this bastard had broken in while you were here? While you were asleep or during the day when I was at work? The thought of you being alone, unprotected—”
She dropped her hand over his, her simple touch soothing him. “I’ll stay in the main house.”
He took a long breath. “I’ll call Patrick Cade tomorrow. Arrange a more visible security presence at the estate.”
Patrick was most well known for the Internet security firm that provided all the software that kept Good Sport’s computer network safe. He also owned a more covert business—an executive-protection service that provided bodyguards and security staff for celebrities and CEOs. Logan had never felt the need to utilize Patrick’s less-public services until now, but he knew enough about the man to trust anyone in his employ.
Unwilling to let Shani leave his sight, Logan accompanied her into the bedroom as she gathered up some toiletries, a nightshirt and a change of clothes for tomorrow. He took care of tucking the cat into his carrier. Once Logan had Shani safely at the main house, he would come back for whatever other necessities she required. Tomorrow he’d bring the rest of her things over.
As she looked around the bedroom one last time, her foot caught on the nightstand drawer that had been pulled out and dropped on the floor. The drawer was flipped up on its side, spilling what was left of its contents. Logan’s hand on Shani’s arm prevented her from falling, but couldn’t stop her from barking her shin on the drawer.
She sank to the edge of the bed, tears of frustration glittering in her eyes. “This isn’t my night, I guess.”
“You need to get into bed.” The thought of joining her there, of holding her until morning, flickered into his mind.
She started to rise, her gaze downcast. She suddenly dropped to her knees, upending the drawer completely.
“Look,” she breathed.
Taped to the bottom of the drawer, up against one of the edges, was a small key. Shani peeled it off, removing the tape that had affixed it to the drawer.
She held it out to him. “I think it’s for Arianna’s diary.” Angling toward the bed, she lifted the skirt and slid her hand between the mattress and box spring.
She sighed, relief clear in the sound. A moment later, she produced Arianna’s diary. “I can’t imagine anyone would be searching for this, but I was a little afraid it might be gone.”
As she tried to get her feet under her, she swayed and sat back down. Taking her hand, Logan lifted her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “It’s past midnight. You can open the diary in the morning.”
With the cat carrier in one hand and Shani nestled on his other side, they made their way to the main house. Over Shani’s objections, Logan carried her upstairs to one of the guest rooms that Mrs. Singh always kept ready. He brought the cat up next, then ordered Shani to change and get into bed while he carried their luggage and a last few things over from the cottage.
By the time he delivered the last load—her textbooks and book bag—Shani had already fallen asleep. She’d left the bedside light on and he could see the shadows under her eyes. A consequence of the shock of the break-in, surely, but he felt a certain responsibility for some of the stress reflected in her face. His complete lapse in judgment Thanksgiving night had shaken the delicate balance they’d achieved in their relationship.
He sat on the edge of the bed, gently so as not to disturb her. If he couldn’t curl up beside her, curve his body against hers, he would allow himself a few minutes to watch her sleep. As her mother had said, Shani nurtured a precious gift inside her. He couldn’t help but want to be with her, ponder that life growing within.
Except it was more than that. The realization of how vulnerable Shani was, pregnant with his child, how horrify
ing it had been to imagine her endangered by the SOB that had broken into the cottage went beyond her being a surrogate mother for him. Somewhere along the line, she had become as important to him as the child she would bear.
Yet, after the baby was born, when the surrogacy agreement had been fulfilled, she would walk out of his life. There would be no reason for them to have any contact at all. Despite her relationship with Arianna, Shani had been a near stranger to him before last August and would become one again.
As he imagined Shani leaving his home that last time, despair took root inside him. How could he possibly let her go? Never see her again?
Mrs. Jacoby’s words echoed in his mind as they had so often since Thanksgiving. What would it hurt if you married her? He hadn’t answered her that night, presented any argument. But now, as he watched Shani sleep, he couldn’t hide from the truth.
How miserable he’d made his wife in their marriage, how unhappy she’d been. How unbearable it would be if he ruined Shani’s life as he had Arianna’s. How he would be as helpless to make Shani happy as he had been his late wife.
What would it hurt? Shani, certainly. And perhaps their child, as well, subjected as he would be to the inevitable tension between his parents.
Still, the notion had sunk its teeth into him deeply. It was never far from his conscious thoughts these days. If he was selfish enough to ignore the emotional fallout for Shani, he could have everything he wanted by marrying her. He would keep her by his side. His child would have a mother, an extended family.
He could make love to her every night. Just the thought set him on fire.
For a moment, he let himself relive Thanksgiving night, when he’d given in to the burning need to see her climax. It had been a shock to every cell in his body watching her, her ecstasy nearly as satisfying as his own would have been. It astonished him that her pleasure had been enough for him.
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