by Jo Leigh
“Drop your robe?” The hopeful puppy dog eyes were adorable.
“No. Not what I was going to say.” She reached across the table to touch his large, tanned hand. Just thinking about his rough palm cupping her bare breasts started a flutter in her tummy. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject at all.”
“It’s okay.” Logan squeezed her hand. “You’d be surprised at how many people flat-out ask what it’s like to fight in a war. I tell them it’s like going to another planet. The same rules don’t apply.”
“I know you were in the army. This afternoon that man at the exhibition center called you Captain.”
“I was in the regular army with him, then I went to special ops. Basically, I was an army ranger. And Delta Force.”
“Really? I saw that movie with Chuck Norris a long time ago.”
“That was more hype than truth.”
“Of course.” Kensey blushed and leaned back, moving her hand to her lap.
Logan smiled. “But yeah, it’s tough to come home. I’m giving a presentation in two days about what guys face after a tour. The world you lived in was one of absolute vigilance. The fight or flight response never turns off. And then you’re back in a happy suburb in Cleveland or LA and every sound is magnified, every movement suspect. It takes a lot of practice to be a civilian again. Especially for spec-ops personnel because they tend to do more than one tour. That’s not to say they come home burned-out. They bring a whole lot of invaluable skills back with them.”
Kensey almost asked him how many times he’d been deployed but stopped herself.
“I’m trying to get more companies to see that and hire vets. The thing they want most is to feel useful again. And hell, it’s not charity. Too many people don’t understand what it means to have a trained special-ops soldier on their team. My security company is still small but other than my sister, everyone is ex-military. Most of them are on-call because I don’t have enough work yet, but that’s slowly changing. We were involved in taking down an international sex trafficking operation last year. So we’ve picked up more clients.”
“The bust that happened in New York?”
He nodded.
“I read about that,” she said. “In the Times. I don’t remember seeing your name, though.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. It doesn’t matter. That kind of publicity won’t get me the business I need. I’m looking at a bigger picture. My goal is to have two thousand full-time employees within five years. Maybe more. It’s doable but it’ll take money and connections. I’m hoping to sign on as a subcontractor with someone here who has both. I’ve got a lot riding on it.” Logan exhaled. “Every day more and more vets are coming home to nothing. The people I hire know therapy for every employee is nonnegotiable. So everybody gets help, which is another consideration.”
Kensey let what he’d said sink in for a minute. He really was one of the good guys, wasn’t he? He’d already served his country, and now he wanted to help his fellow vets train and heal so they could live the civilian life, yet use the skills they’d learned through their service.
“How many did you do?” she asked, finally, unable to stop herself. “Tours, I mean.”
“A lot,” he said with a wry smile. “The thing is, in between deployments you don’t get to go home and chill, you’re in training to go on your next tour.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I don’t know. From what I’ve seen so far, you’d make a great candidate for a certain type of work.”
“Nope. I’m too independent. I’ve never been great at groups of anything.”
“No Girl Scouts?”
“I only eat the cookies.”
Logan sat up straight. “There’s gotta be cookies in that pantry. You want to come look?”
“Nope. I’ve just had my sugar allotment for the day. For several days, actually.”
“Come on. Don’t be like that. Staying here? The best R & R ever? The cookies have to be killer.” He held out his hand to her, and she couldn’t say no.
Not that she gave a damn about the cookie assortment. She liked the warm, tingly feel of his palm pressed to hers. Middle school kids held hands. It wasn’t a big deal, certainly nothing that should feel this incredibly intimate. Yet it did. Another oddity... She couldn’t remember ever being with a man and feeling relaxed enough to let her guard down. It was easy to do with Logan. Maybe too easy.
He rooted around until he found the cookies. It was like watching a kid at Christmas. He turned to her, his expression helpless with a kind of awed joy. “Double Stuf,” he said, as if he was talking about the Mona Lisa. “They melted into guck by the time they arrived where I was stationed. I missed them. A lot.”
“Aww, that makes me not want to make fun of you.”
He turned on her again, only this time so sharply she jumped. “Make fun of me, eh? I’ve got a good memory, Kensey whatever-your-last-name-is. I will remember this.”
She was already laughing at his inability to remember her last name, but what got her... “Really? You think you can remember something for three more days? That’s amazing. I should have known you were in Delta Force.”
He couldn’t keep a straight face, either, and it felt like heaven to just laugh like this. Over something silly and meaningless. Laughing just because it felt good. Laughing with someone.
With Logan.
He put the cookies on the counter, then settled his hands on her hips and smiled. She looked up into his handsome face, tilting her head back to maintain eye contact as he pulled her against him. She was tall, with or without heels, but with both of them barefooted, he seemed so much taller than she was. It was kind of nice for a change.
She lifted a palm to rest on his chest and he lowered his mouth to hers. He brushed a soft kiss across her lips, and then he adjusted the angle of his head. Just as his tongue swept past her parted lips, his hand slipped inside her robe.
A giggle threatened to ruin the moment. She tried to ignore it.
Logan lifted his head. “What?”
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat. The giggle came out in a whoosh. “You taste like Cap’n Crunch.”
“Is that right?” He gave the belt a good tug and her robe fell open. His gaze locked on her hardened nipples. “What have we here?”
His lips barely grazed her right breast when his phone rang. Up on the living room wall, the text showed the call was coming from McCabe Security and Investigation.
8
LOGAN FROWNED, AND it was such a rapid transition, it made Kensey step back. It was doubtful the caller could see all the way into the kitchen but she quickly retied her sash.
“I have to take this.” Logan was already on his way to the living room, where he took a seat on the couch and accepted the call. “Mike,” he said. “It’s late. What are you doing at the office?”
“Okay, this is weird. I’m looking at you in your friend’s apartment, right? Lisa told me to use your office phone if I needed to call you.”
Logan sighed. “You know my sister. She wanted to see the place so she rigged the calls to go directly to Skype. It’s pretty cool, though. I’m looking at you on a wall monitor in the living room. What’s up?”
As Kensey cleared the table she glanced at the wall. Mike had short dark hair and a lean face shadowed with stubble. She put the milk in the fridge and carried the bowls to the sink, trying to ignore what was happening in the living room. Or that she and Logan were wearing matching bathrobes. If he’d wanted to speak privately he would’ve taken the call in his bedroom. Still, she didn’t want to be nosy.
“I got a problem,” Mike said. “You remember I told you about Tony? One of us. The Special Activities Division. Dude was burnt and left out to dry?”
“Yeah, sure. I remember.”
“I saw him down at Rocco’s Gym and he looked like shit. After he went too far in the ring, I pulled him aside. He’s not doing well. He didn’t tell me what had happened in Islamabad, but I could see why he’d been sent back. Bad PTSD. Permanent tremor, enough anxiety to fill a football field.”
“I thought he was staying at that VA halfway house.”
“He’s been sleeping rough. Jumping at every noise. The dude needs some solid sleep and to get cleaned up. I don’t think he remembers what it feels like to be human.”
“Okay,” Logan said. His voice was low, and he was rubbing his jaw as he seemed to think it over. Mike waited without fiddling around, his gaze squarely on Logan. The office around him was nothing special. Almost bleak but for a group of beautiful sunset pictures on the plain white walls.
“Take him to my place, if he’ll go. Check out his meds. Then get Dr. Price to go talk to him. You know what to do, Mike.”
“You think the doc will act on my say-so?”
“Why not?”
“You’re always lead on these things.”
“Hell, Dr. Price knows you. Probably knows all of us better than most people do,” Logan said, with a quiet hollowness to his voice that filled Kensey with a sudden and inexplicable sadness.
“Okay. You know I’d take Tony to my place except all I’ve got is that efficiency.”
“Don’t worry about it. Like you said, he’s one of us. Put him in the guest room and you take my room. Stay with him. But take care of yourself. Listen to your gut. You’ll know if he’s carrying. Explain the lockdown to him. He won’t like it, but he’s used to orders and regs.”
Mike let out a humorless laugh. “No, he won’t like it. But he knows me, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll take care of him.”
Kensey caught a glimpse of Logan’s brief smile. And oddly, she thought she understood a little of what he was feeling. He had every right to be proud. Taking care of other vets was as much his mission as working to expand his business. And for that, she was proud of him, which was completely ridiculous. She’d met Logan only yesterday. But it wasn’t as if she ran across men like him often.
“I know you will. Listen, buddy, you’re more than ready for this. We get that contract and you’ll be taking on more responsibility. Which you’re also thoroughly prepared for.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Mike said. “Getting the contract, I mean. Have you seen Holstrom yet?”
Kensey froze. The glass she was holding nearly slipped out of her hand.
Holstrom? Had she heard correctly? What business could Logan have with—
Oh, God. The contract he so desperately wanted.
Was this some kind of sick cosmic joke? Of all the companies for Logan to be going after, why did it have to be Holstrom’s? Although it made sense since Holstrom was the largest arms dealer and defense contractor in the country. And Logan had a very aggressive plan to expand quickly.
Silence hung over the room. No one was talking.
Lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t realized the call had ended. She cautiously glanced over her shoulder. Logan stood at the window looking out, his voice a low murmur.
No, he hadn’t disconnected the call but had switched to his cell phone. For privacy, she imagined. Was it because he didn’t want her to hear about his dealings with Holstrom? That made her nervous. Even if Logan’s sudden secrecy had nothing to do with her, personally, it could mean he knew Holstrom wasn’t completely on the up-and-up.
She hoped not. She so wanted Logan to be one of the good guys.
With the last of the dishes loaded in the dishwasher, she tightened the belt on her robe, unsure what to do next. She took in the breadth of Logan’s shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, and hips the thick robe couldn’t hide. The backs of his calves were visible, tanned and solid with muscle. He probably ran ten miles every morning before getting around to his regular workout.
Logan wasn’t just smart and ambitious, he was fit and disciplined and knew how to control his ego. Well, not when it came to showing her a thing or two about his agility, she thought, and allowed herself a small smile. But he didn’t care about having his name in the paper or receiving credit for his work. Maybe his strength of character came from operating in the shadows for most of his adult life. It didn’t matter. She was damn good at reading people and Logan hadn’t been faking all that passion burning in his eyes when he’d spoken of his fellow vets. He was nothing like Holstrom.
Which begged the question...how much did Logan really know about the man he wanted to do business with? Had they already met? Did they have any kind of relationship? Or did Logan know only what the public was fed by Holstrom’s very clever PR staff?
To the world, Holstrom was a huge success story. Totally legit businessman. If not for the whispered rumors filtering through her smaller circle, she would have never thought any differently.
She stared at Logan’s back, unsure what to do next. She knew how he expected the rest of the evening to go. Sex had been at the top of her list, as well, until five minutes ago. Even now her body longed for the warmth of his touch. Just thinking about his skilled mouth made her lips part. But did she trust her brain to remain detached? Could she hide the uncertainty and fear building inside her?
He probably had no idea the man he was so desperate to work with was a thief...well, an alleged thief. Although the more she learned about Holstrom, the more convinced she was that it was true. But then proving Holstrom had possession of the Degas was the only hope she had of helping her father. Still, if she was right, which she honestly believed she was, hording works of art for his own pleasure spoke volumes about the kind of man Holstrom was, and for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine Logan sending any of his people to work in Holstrom’s world.
But perhaps that, too, was just wishful thinking. She had no way of knowing if Logan would simply rationalize Holstrom’s behavior. After all, Logan had told her he was more interested in the bigger picture. Interested enough to overlook Holstrom’s transgressions? That was impossible to know unless she came out and asked Logan. No way could that happen. She’d open herself up to all kinds of questions.
And she was in no position to provide answers. Not without setting herself up. It wasn’t as if she was lily white in all this. If she was lucky enough to get a glimpse of the Degas in Holstrom’s possession, she would do everything in her power to expose the man.
Even if it meant Logan’s deal would blow up in his face.
Dammit.
Why hadn’t she kept her distance? Well, she sure as hell had no choice but to stay away from him now.
God, fate could be so damned cruel. She liked Logan. She’d even dared to consider what might happen once they returned to New York. They both led busy lives which involved travel, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it could have turned out to be the perfect arrangement. No strings. No expectations. Great sex.
But now...
She moved toward her bedroom, lingering in the hall to take one last look while he was still engrossed in his conversation. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, which was just as well.
Then she slipped into her bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her. He might knock, but she hoped the shut door was message enough.
Most likely Logan knew nothing about the man beyond his shrewd business dealings, and it was difficult for anyone to argue with his success. If Holstrom offered Logan the contract, would he still want it if he did know? Was he right to put his vets first, and take the money, regardless of the morals of the man giving it to him?
She was tempted to call Neil and get his take. But it was late, and he was busy. And she needed to really think about how much she wanted to reveal. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Tonight, she was going to give herself some quiet time to figure things out before she faced Logan
again.
It pained her to admit it, but she had to consider the possibility that Logan’s connection to Holstrom might be of use to her. If all else failed, that link could be her way in.
Great. What did that say about her own morals?
* * *
ONCE HE WAS off the phone with Mike, Logan found the kitchen empty. Kensey had obviously been busy. The table was cleared, the cereal and milk put away and the dishwasher loaded. He’d been so deep in conversation with Mike that he hadn’t heard her.
She was probably in his room, waiting. God, he hoped so. Just thinking about her in his bed was making him hard. Forget about replaying what she could do with that lush mouth of hers.
No Kensey in his room or his bathroom. Which led him to standing outside her door.
Her closed door.
Maybe she was just changing. Or brushing her teeth, which he should have done. He almost went back to do just that, but then if she came out looking for him, she might think he wasn’t interested in having part two of their evening, so he waited.
She was awfully quiet. And it didn’t look as if a light was on.
Finally, it came down to leaving or knocking. He wasn’t crazy about either option. But he wanted to talk to her. If he’d said something or done something...maybe she felt insulted that he’d been on the phone for so long. But he doubted that. Kensey wasn’t the type to get huffy over him taking a work call.
Maybe he should knock. Just once. If she didn’t answer, or if no light came on, he’d go back to his own room and that would be that.
Disappointed and confused, he stood there for another minute before he turned and walked down the hall. At first he’d thought it was cool that Sam programmed the floor tiles to illuminate with each footfall. But the lighted path he retraced to his room cast weird shadows on the walls.
