by Lora Leigh
His cock was like steel wedged beneath his jeans, and it would probably be prudent to ensure she wasn’t aware of it. All it would take was the slightest spark to set fire to the arousal he could feel threatening to burn out of control between them.
“I’m going to assume you dislike puppies,” she said as though it were a crime as he remained silent and measured grounds into the basket of the coffeemaker. “How can a man that kisses like a pirate dislike puppies?”
Bemusement filled her expression as the last part of her comment made his lips actually ache to kiss her again. “That should be illegal or something.”
The fact that she was staring at him accusingly did nothing to deter the want-to surging through his senses.
He ignored her, just as he pretended to ignore the whine coming from the patio and the hunger raging between them.
“You’re not answering me, Callahan,” she reminded him with an edge of anger now.
“You didn’t ask a question; you made a comment,” he reminded her. “You said you were going to assume I didn’t like puppies, and said I kissed like a pirate. Thanks by the way.” He shot her a mocking smile, hoping it would piss her off enough to make her leave, because he couldn’t seem to do it himself. “Why argue the assumption when all it’s going to do is delay your departure before we both make a helluva mistake.”
He ignored that fist-sized lump of regret that seemed to grow in his gut.
And in his balls.
“Wow, that just sliced to the bone,” she said mockingly as he watched from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a mistake before.”
It didn’t seem to bother her overmuch.
She propped herself against the counter and his dick nearly pushed past his zipper.
Son of a bitch, that confection of lace and, according to his research, chiffon, a chiffon so soft, so silky, it almost vied with her flesh in softness.
“Evidently it didn’t slice deep enough, because you’re still here tempting me to make that fucking mistake.”
Her lips tugged upward in a smile at his comment as she glanced at the counter. “You set out two coffee cups. My mother would be appalled if I were to be so rude as to leave now.”
He dropped his gaze to the counter. There were indeed two coffee cups set out. Matching cups. He was unaware he owned matching coffee cups.
It hadn’t been intentional.
“Why would you want me to share my coffee if that cut went so deep?” he asked even as he poured the coffee before picking up both cups and turning to her.
“Thanks, though it’s no wonder you never sleep if you drink coffee this early in the morning,” she pointed out knowingly as he handed her the drink. “And I rarely refuse coffee. If I did, I’d never get to drink it.”
She was obviously ignoring his question.
“I sleep fine.”
“You’re terse enough, so I highly doubt it,” she said with obvious patience.
Terse.
His cousin’s fiancée, Cami, had a tendency to call him that on occasion as well.
Lifting the cup to his lips, he sipped at his coffee rather than making a comment. He contented himself with the fact that he was trying to glare at Skye.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t fazing her. She was merely laughing at him as she sipped at the heated liquid herself.
And he still wasn’t certain how he felt about that. He knew standing in his kitchen arguing was only going to push him faster into taking her straight to his bed. And only God knew when Logan would allow either of them to come up for air after that.
Maybe weeks.
He could bet on months.
The problem was, he was pretty certain that he would keep this woman around indefinitely.
Big mistake there.
“Good coffee.” She shrugged as she lowered the cup, still watching him with gleaming emerald eyes. Tempting him. As though she knew his dick was fighting to take control and just waiting for the moment he would break.
Logan frowned. “Of course it’s good coffee. How can it be bad coffee?”
“I make bad coffee. Horrible stuff.” Her nose twitched as though in distaste.
She was lying to him. She had to be.
“You measure it into a filter, slide it in a pot, add water, and flip ‘ON,’” he said. “How do you mess that up?”
“Easy.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter.
“I would have thought editors of boring tech manuals would have to know how to make coffee,” he pointed out.
Which might well be true, since she really wasn’t an editor, but telling him that was a great big no-no at the moment.
“And I would have thought a man of your intelligence and determination would be doing more than lazing around his house, ignoring his puppy, and waiting on an inheritance rather than proving his innocence,” she retorted sarcastically.
He only laughed at her.
“You think I have anything to prove to the bastards around here?” he questioned, though she was beginning to doubt the amusement in his gaze. “Come on, Skye, you should know better by now if you’ve listened to any of the gossip at all.”
She did listen to gossip, which was why she highly doubted it.
“Why do you do it, Logan?” She didn’t mean for the question to come out with such somber intensity. “Why do you let this county try to rip you apart without striking back?”
For a moment, she wasn’t certain he would answer her.
“Our mothers were the county’s sweethearts,” he said softly, surprising her. “Our fathers were the county black sheep, even before their parents’ deaths. Wild as hell and completely unconcerned about tact. When they married the daughters of the barons, everyone said David, Samuel, and Benjamin would bring them to a bad end. Thirteen years later, they did just that, as far as everyone was concerned.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
He laughed. “This place is like a fucking little fiefdom for the barons and their families, Skye. They are the reason for employment here. The reason why the county is sustained. And our mothers,” his voice softened, “they clothed the poor, fed the hungry, played Santa’s elves at Christmas, volunteered every weekend at the Socials to watch the children. They were everyone’s sweethearts. Everyone’s little sisters. And the fact that each of them was pregnant when they married our fathers only fueled the belief that they were somehow forced into marriage.”
“Incredible,” Skye murmured, shaking her head as she watched him closely. She could feel the regret and sadness that filled him.
She risked the question. “And twelve years ago? What happened then?”
Knowing sarcasm filled his expression. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask about that.”
She lifted her shoulders, her expression, she knew, was filled with the sympathy and regret she felt.
Logan sighed. “They were all wonderful, beautiful women. That’s what I keep trying to tell you, Skye. We didn’t kill them, but they definitely died because of us. Do you really want to join them by continuing to tempt me?”
Thankfully, the puppy saved her on that as it cried out as though in agony once again.
She started to say something anyway; then clamped her lips shut before she glanced toward the door leading to the living area, her expression turning accusing.
The pup was scratching at the glass. Whining. Again.
Logan pretended he was ignoring the dog even though she was slicing through his senses.
Again.
“You can’t let her just sit out there alone,” Skye finally said. “She cries every night, Logan. She’s breaking my heart.”
Logan sipped at the coffee again before replying. “I didn’t tell the little squatter to take up residence, now did I? Or to howl like it was dying every time someone else took it home, until they brought it back? If it bothers you so much, then take it home with you.”
The laughter was gone now. Just that fast,
it erased quickly from her face and she was glaring at him.
Her eyes sparkled with nothing less than disapproval. Could have been more than disapproval, but tonight he was in an optimistic kind of mood. He was going to go for disapproval rather than the optional dislike.
“You really don’t like dogs?” She blinked back at him and the dislike—no, disapproval—was completely overshadowed by shock.
“Never met anyone who disliked dogs before?” He sipped at his coffee again, preferring not to answer the question directly.
“I have never in my life met anyone who didn’t like puppies. Kittens. Babies.” She shook her head as though it were completely inconceivable.
“Babies?” He paused in the act of lifting his coffee cup to his lips again.
As though he needed the caffeine after that statement.
“A very broad term.” She lifted her shoulders again, that graceful little shrug that lifted her breasts and rounded them just a little bit more. Just delightfully.
And made his hands itch to cup them, plump them, possess them.
“Ah, a broad term.” He nodded sharply. “Whatever the term, if you want the puppy, take it home with you.”
“My lease doesn’t allow puppies.” She glared back at him.
“Neither does mine,” he snapped back, almost in triumph. Hell, he should have thought of that excuse before.
Maybe not. Her expression became entirely too skeptical. “You own your home, Callahan.” There was just the cutest little snap to her voice.
He almost laughed at her. He would have, but that little mutt scratched at the door again, reminding Logan— He didn’t need puppies, kittens, or babies. Things happened. Bad things happened, and they could get taken away. They could be taken away permanently.
“I know your landlord,” he stated coolly. “I’ll have a talk with him.”
And he would. The little mutt was killing him, but he didn’t dare allow himself to get attached to the dog. No more than he dared to allow himself to get attached to his neighbor.
For the briefest second, he glimpsed sympathy in her gaze before it turned curious. “Why do you have to be a grump all the time? I know for a fact that the man who warned me away from him last week isn’t an asshole. Why do you have to pretend to be one?”
He finished his coffee.
“I am an asshole,” he assured her. “It’s just easier to warn prospective lovers that it’s only one night. I like my privacy and I don’t like ties.”
Her eyes narrowed. Pretty, dark eyes that seemed to mesmerize him, ensnare him. And almost made him choke on the lie he just let spill from his lips.
Hell, maybe he was hitting his midlife crisis or something, because it was all he could do to keep his hands off her or his heart from wishing. Hoping.
He was too fucking old for this shit.
“You’re lying,” she said softly. “Do you think everyone I meet in town isn’t real quick to warn me of the dangers of living next to you?”
Fuckers!
Logan sipped his coffee before replying. “You’re not listening.”
“I rarely do, “she agreed. “But it’s been twelve years. Surely you can afford to have a life now.
“And just four weeks ago some nutcase decided to copycat the Sweetrock Slasher and nearly killed my cousin’s lover.” His tone was intentionally harsh. “And that was after he’d already killed another woman. No, Skye, I don’t think it’s safe yet to have a life. And it’s sure as hell not safe to have a dog.”
It probably never would be.
“She’s an orphan, Callahan,” Skye finally sighed softly. “Like you. Like me.” She gave a small sad smile. “For some reason, she seems to want you, not me, and not anyone else. That’s a gift you rarely get. Can’t you just take her in for a few days?”
Logan set his cup back on the counter, careful not to allow himself to feel anger or to show any emotion where that unneeded information was concerned.
“I can take it to the shelter.” He lifted his shoulders as though it didn’t matter. “I’m sure it can find a family there.”
The recrimination in Skye’s gaze was, frankly, pissing him off. Because she had no idea how much he wished—
She breathed in slowly, as though forcing herself to maintain patience, before she set her coffee cup on the counter carefully.
“You don’t need anyone, do you? Did you even check on your grandmother?”
“I don’t have a grandmother.” He kept his tone even, but the anger and the hunger for things he knew weren’t his still burned inside him.
“I saw her at the pharmacy the other day,” she said then, her tone too soft, too filled with sympathy. “She asked about you.”
“And why would she do that?” It was almost a sneer, but he couldn’t seem to get it just right.
Her shoulder lifted negligently. “I don’t know, but she seemed very worried.”
“Stop.” It was time to put his foot down and get her the hell out of his life and out of his head. “If you’ve heard the gossip, then you know everything. Stop being so fucking nosy.”
“And stop caring about you?” That couldn’t be an edge of regret in the question. “The big, bad, tough Logan can’t have anyone care about him, or care for anyone, can he?”
“They end up dead.”
And he couldn’t forget that.
“And you just sit back and accept it?”
“Hell, baby, it’s millions in cash, bonds, and property.” He laughed mockingly. “Wouldn’t I be stupid to turn my back on that?”
He would in a heartbeat if he thought it would change a damned thing.
But it wouldn’t. Just as leaving before hadn’t changed anything.
“You’re stupid if you think I believe a word of what you just said,” she said, her voice low now. “I listen to everything I’m told and I know how to put two and two together. Three big tough military heroes aren’t going to take this lying down. You’re here. You’re investigating it, aren’t you?”
Logan stared back at her narrowly. “I don’t give a fuck, Ms. O’Brien. All I intend to do is live here until those bastards die in order to prove to them they aren’t stealing a fucking thing from my parents or from me. After that, Corbin County can kiss my fucking ass.”
Silence stretched between them. Disappointment finally filled her gaze and the sight of it tightened in his chest, far too close to his heart.
“Do whatever,” she said coolly. “It’s time I head home. I have better things to do than try to charm Scrooge tonight. Have a nice, lonely life, Callahan.” She turned as though to leave.
He was damned if he wanted her to leave.
“Take the dog home with you,” he finally snapped as anger got the best of him. “If I wanted it, I would have brought it in. And I don’t have time for a trip to the shelter. Remember they put down unadopted dogs there. There’s no way that mutt is going to get a home the way it howls and cries twenty-four seven.”
And the puppy needed out of the mountain air. Pugs could sicken easily. They needed care. Just like women and babies did.
“If she wanted me, she would have come into my house the first two times I sweet-talked her across the yard instead of turning and hightailing it back to a door that stays locked against the poor little baby,” she informed Logan with that hint of anger. “What is your deal where this puppy is concerned? You can’t keep her and you don’t want to take her to the shelter. What do you want to do? See her starve in your backyard?”
“I don’t have a deal,” he said between clenched teeth, trying to ignore that deeper spark raging at him to end this now. “And I feed it.”
That spark that had his dick hard and his hands itching to touch Skye. It was the same spark he’d felt the first time he’d met her, strangely enough, in his own backyard just after moving into the house.
“You have something,” she informed him as she slowly straightened. “But nothing that relies on you, depends on you, or could survive
without you. Right?”
And she just had to point that out, didn’t she?
“Deliberately,” he assured her as he watched her expression, her expressive eyes, and what he saw there had his chest tightening in both anger and regret.
Because he saw pity there. Pity and sorrow.
And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.
“You think all that responsibility is something to sneer about then?” she asked him accusingly, anger sparking in her own eyes then. “That it doesn’t matter, because there’s nothing or no one you can survive without?”
That wasn’t exactly true.
“I have my family,” he stated.
He heard that rasp in his voice that assured him he was losing control of that tight rein he had on his emotions, on his angers. On the fucking hunger to have her.
She had no idea—
No idea the hell he and his cousins had suffered through over the years and the losses they’d had no choice but to survive. Losses that had forced them out of Corbin County, only to once again force them back.
“Your grandfather?” she asked archly. “Or just your cousins? The cousins who own everything you have ever worked for or deserved in your life? One of whom has his own fiancée now? The other who has just invested in his own business? Possibly two of them? Everyone in this county is gossiping about the fact that you signed over everything you own, everything, Logan, to two cousins who are evidently determined to at least try to have a life.”
“And what the fuck is your point?” he snarled, feeling the loss of that precious, careful control now.
Damn her to hell, she had no idea how much it hurt to sign over everything he had ever dreamed of having in his life. To watch Crowe and Rafer fighting against the hell he could see was coming with every shred of lost dreams that still existed inside them to have a life.
He had no choice. Someone had to watch out for the other two. Someone had to be seen as the Callahan monster to, he hoped, make the monster haunting them back off.
“What do you have for yourself, Callahan?”
“One too-nosy neighbor who doesn’t seem to know how to call me by my first name rather than my last and a too damned delicate pup that refuses to let me find it a home?” he questioned harshly as his arms dropped from his chest and he advanced on her, his head lowering as he glared down at her. “What business is it of yours, Ms. O’Brien?”
