Diamonds & Desire: The Priceless Collection

by Gill, Angelita

  “It is.” When he skimmed his fingers along her arm, she shivered involuntarily. Good grief. She couldn’t form any coherent sentence now. What was she about to say? “Mmm. Logan—”

  “I like it when you say my name,” he told her, his voice deep, hypnotic. “Really like it.”

  He came in, and she steadied a hand to his chest. Uh oh. He was going to kiss her. “Wait.”

  “I can’t.” He possessed her mouth before she could stop him. Not that she really tried to. His lips were warm, sweetly insistent, firm with silken power. Whatever she’d imagined kissing him would be like didn’t come close to the real thing. He parted his mouth, cajoling her do the same, and when she received the barest taste of his tongue, she gasped with the compounding desire overtaking her. She drew back, breath lost, making it a challenge to speak. “Y-you need to know—”

  “Whatever it is, it’s not important. This is. Please. Again.” He possessed her mouth with more urgency, and she couldn’t find the strength to break away, as much as she knew she must. He moaned low, capturing her upper lip with a tender pull, then her bottom, taking her mouth over and over, wiping every kiss in her memory before this one. His tongue touched her lips and she opened with a soft cry of surrender as he slowly slid inside. The taste of him knocked her senseless. A combination of sugar, a trace of liquor, and his own personal flavor. She slid her palms over his broad shoulders, linking them behind his neck.

  This time Logan pulled away. “Wow,” he breathed, his forehead touching hers, arms encircling her back, “More.”

  “Mm-hm.” Jordana grasped his face as he claimed her again. Addicted. Perhaps simply stalling. He might not want to kiss her again once she told him about Rebecca. What was that saying about the messenger?

  She dropped her head back, and he transferred his lips to the corner of her mouth, down the line of her neck, as her eyelids drooped heavy with lust. Oh, he was making this impossible. She fought against the impetus pulling at her to let go, and lose her mind in lust. “Logan, seriously. I... I don’t want you to stop, but you have to.”

  His hands splayed on her back, fingers digging in, as he continued kissing her neck. Just when she thought her legs would give out, he lifted his head. Blinking up at him, she started to notice his eyes were glazed over, unfocused, pupils dilated. He squeezed his eyes shut. Then did it again. “What...what is it?” he rasped. “All of a sudden I don’t feel…so good.”

  Oh no. The drug must’ve taken effect. She hesitated, searching his glassy eyes. “I need to talk to you about Rebecca.”

  Logan shook his head short and fast. “Rebecca?” He leaned on her as if he had trouble keeping upright, only catching himself from collapsing on her by splaying a hand on the wall. He cursed, squinting.

  Pretty soon, he’d fall asleep on her if she didn’t take action.

  What to do now? If she didn’t take him somewhere quick, there would be a real problem on her hands: a passed out millionaire on the floor of a five-star hotel, too drugged to move. “Your room,” she exclaimed, straining him to keep him upright. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “You want to go to the suite? Really?”

  At the drowsy hopefulness in his tone, she could stop from smiling as she responded with a firm and clear, “Yes. Immediately.” She pulled him out of the alcove. He stumbled a few steps, but blessedly, was able to walk on his own without aid. The roofie was working and working fast. Jordana growled inwardly. The conniver might have gone as far as drugging him, but she wouldn’t get anywhere near him now.

  The elevators were just around the corner. “Wait here,” she instructed.

  “I will,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Jordana scampered to the front desk and a minute later, a security guard brought her purse. Returning to the elevators, she pushed the up button and went to Logan, taking his heavy arm and putting it around her shoulders. “Here. Lean on me.”

  “I’m okay,” he claimed, even though he accepted her support.

  He definitely wasn’t okay from what she was witnessing. An elevator opened up. “What floor?” she asked.

  “Nine.”

  After the doors parted, Jordana wobbled on her heels down the long hallway, with Logan’s arm around her, and her feet crying for a reprieve. Thankfully, he found his room key without assistance. The classically decorated suite was spacious and decadent with elegant furnishings and a panoramic breathtaking view of San Francisco. For crying out loud, it was bigger than her entire apartment and her neighbor’s combined.

  After Logan shut the door, he took his arm off her shoulders and shuffled for the bedroom to the left. Stretching a hand out to the king sized four-poster bed, he sat down on the edge of the mattress with a soft grunt and tiredly peeled off his jacket.

  Sympathy bloomed in her heart as she took off her heels. Going to the bedroom, fiddling with her fingers, she stood in front of him. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

  Shoulders slumped, face drawn with fatigue, he shook his head. “Sorry? No…no I’m sorry we couldn’t finish what we started.” His hands reached out for her waist, drawing her to him. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Jordana set her hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to. Now listen, I have to tell you something.”

  Ignoring her, he pressed a soft kiss between her breasts, causing her legs to want to give from the tenderness of it. With a hungered moan he kissed the top of her right breast, then her left, between them again, clenching his fingers on her hips. She gave a whimper and her eyes fluttered closed while she raked her hands in his silken hair, holding him close. When she felt the zipper on the side of her dress give, she flashed her eyes open, thinking she should stop him. She did nothing of the sort as he pulled her dress down, exposing her breasts.

  He drew back, and the expressions on his face—resembling awe, appreciation, and longing—had to be because of the drug.

  His mouth dropped open. “My God, Jordana,” he groaned. “You are…”

  She gasped as his arms suddenly dropped, his eyes rolled back, and he flopped to the bed.

  Out cold.

  Chapter Three

  “Logan?” She gave him a little shake. His response was a soft snore.

  She sighed in relief, re-zipping her dress, noticing the bulge between his legs. Oh my.

  “Stop it. The poor man in unconscious,” she whispered. She took off his glossy dress shoes and, after an insane test of strength, moved him up to the middle of the bed so he would lie comfortably. The herculean effort of pushing and pulling his heavy athletic body didn’t stir him at all. She checked his pulse, which was strong, and he breathed steadily. He’d be okay.

  As she began removing his bow tie and undoing a few buttons of his shirt, she slowed her actions, idly adoring his handsome face. Too tempted, she smoothed away an errant lock of his black hair, skimming his cheek with her fingertips.

  A harried knock on the door startled her. Moving away from Logan, she hesitated on the edge of the bed, debating whether she should answer or ignore it.

  “Logan? Are you in there?” a muffled voice called. “It’s Rebecca.”

  Jordana instantly glowered. Oh. Her. She headed to the living room, unpinning her hair, mussing it. When she opened the door, she wished she could’ve taken a picture of the expression on the woman’s face.

  “Yes?” Jordana greeted.

  Rebecca crossed her arms, flicking a glance over Jordana’s shoulder. “Where’s Logan? I need to speak with him right now.”

  “It’ll have to wait.” She wanted to give Rebecca a piece of her mind, tell her she knew what she’d been up to, and how despicable it was, but that would be pointless. All that mattered was her plan had been foiled.

  Her icy blue gaze damned Jordana, turning to slits. “Hey, Logan and I have been friends for a long time. We came together and—”

  “An
d you’re leaving without him. Goodnight.” She shut the door and stood on her toes to look through the peephole.

  Rebecca growled with frustration, putting a cell phone to her ear. “Mother!” she grit out, stomping off.

  “Yes, by all means, call your mother and tell her about your epic fail.”

  Satisfied, Jordana smiled. Though it crossed her mind to go home, she decided not to leave Logan alone. For one, Rebecca could find a way in his room and salvage her scheme. Two, since she didn’t have time to explain anything before he passed out, she’d have to do it tomorrow.

  Besides, it would take her almost an hour to get home from here and she was exhausted. She switched off the lights. Moving around the bed, she fixed her gaze on him. Fate had put her in Lucee’s place for this reason, and she wanted to see it through. Lifting the hem of her dress, she climbed on the bed and lay down, facing him. Sure, she could sleep on the sofa, but thought it best stay close to him in case his condition changed. Taking in a long breath, she determined to stay awake as long as possible to watch him, and make sure he was all right. She tucked her hands under her cheek and bent her knees to her chest. He murmured incoherently, and turned his head toward her, the corner of his mouth lifting.

  Tomorrow might be a little awkward, considering all she had to tell him.

  However, she didn’t want to think of that now. She wanted to think of his kisses…the long, sensual, desperate taste of him. A smile spread her lips.

  ***

  What the hell was that piercing sound? Logan blinked his sore eyes open and saw shafts of sunlight peaking through the curtains.

  Punched in the head with a resounding migraine, he rolled to his side, and came face-to-face with Jordana, sleeping, her head resting on one bent arm.

  Apparently he’d invited her to his room, though by the looks of things, they’d come up here and fallen asleep. In their clothes. Except for his jacket, tie, and shoes, he was still dressed, and she still wore her gown, the both of them lying on top of the sheets instead of naked and in between them. He raked a hand through his hair, mystified. The evening flashed back in bits and pieces, but the present scene was very peculiar, considering his past. He couldn’t remember a time he ever spent the night with a woman that didn’t include at least partial nudity.

  Well, regardless, she was lovely to wake up next to. Her brown hair had been freed from its pinned ‘do and spread all over the pillow in waves. Full lashes cast short shadows on her cheeks, her slighted parted mouth urged him to kiss her awake, the bottom lip had the cutest little dip in the middle.

  If only he didn’t have a headache the size of a mountain sitting on his skull.

  Forcing himself to sit up, he saw his aspirin sitting on the bedside table and grabbed it. In the bathroom, he took down the pills, splashed cold water on his face, combed a wet hand through his hair, and rubbed a fresh towel over his shadow.

  For the life of him, he couldn’t conceive how he’d passed out last night, since all he could recount were a few drinks and one glass of champagne. It took more than that induce a blackout, a lot more, especially if he had a woman as tempting as Jordana in his arms.

  He sauntered to the bedroom, hands in pockets. He remembered just about every event leading to this: cocktail hour, meeting Jordana, the auction, the party, their dance…those incredible kisses in the hallway, unzipping her dress, and then…question mark. He had to admit he’d been pleasantly surprised when she showed up in the ballroom, re-igniting his desire and excitement the second she smiled at him. The same powerful reactions he felt when he first set eyes on her during the reception.

  One minute, he was feigning interest in Lancaster’s endless rhetoric about—something, the next, Jordana stepped in with her quip about his mistake, and her presence revived his mood like a shot of sunshine after days of clouds.

  Their playful exchange had been a welcomed diversion to what began as a predictable evening. She was unlike every woman in the room, something about her separating her from the rest. Her soft beauty, smile, and unpracticed seductive air captivated him. She didn’t try to be anyone but herself and that stood out in room teeming with phonies.

  He’d given her the Sigvy out of impulse, a thank you for reminding him that he could still be enchanted once in a while. An outrageous gesture no doubt, to give her a necklace of such worth considering they were nothing more than strangers. Then again, he’d spent a lot more money for more honorable reasons, like helping fund a hospital wing…and for less honorable ones, like at a Baccarat table. And just like those times, it’d been worth it.

  Suddenly, his cell phone went off.

  Jordana awoke.

  He uttered a curse and dug deep in his pocket to silence it.

  She sat up fast, as if unsure where she was.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with grogginess. “I didn’t mean to wake you like that.”

  “Oh…that’s okay.” She blinked. “How long have you been up? What time is it?”

  “Not long. It’s a little after eight o’clock.” Needing strong coffee and something to dissipate the burning from his gut, he went to pick up the room phone. “I’m calling room service. What would you like?”

  “Coffee for sure.”

  “Way ahead of you.” The operator picked up and he ordered a carafe of the good stuff, muffins and fruit, then hung up. “They’re sending it up.”

  She pushed up from the bed and moved toward the bathroom, covertly avoiding his gaze.

  Drawing his brows together, he sat down on one of the chairs near the window.

  If they hadn’t had sex, then why did he sense discomfort on her part? Well, she did spend the night with a man she barely knew. Maybe she just realized that’d been unwise.

  He heard the faucets turn on and off a few times, and only after a minute or so, she emerged from the bathroom fresh faced, her long hair pulled away, with an expression of shy uncertainty. She reminded him of an innocent princess, one that he, the ogre, had captured and stolen to satiate his loneliness. Last night she’d seemed much less innocent.

  “Well,” he started as she went to her purse, “I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember some of last night. I feel like I drank a whole bottle of scotch. Straight. Without taking a breath.”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  “I do,” he rushed in the reassure her. He thought hard and long, then shook his head when once again, his memory failed at the same spot. “Most of it. The last thing I remember was…our kiss downstairs. What happened after that I’m reluctant to admit I can’t recall.” Not the complete truth. He remembered coming up here, unzipping her dress, and the beautiful sight of her breasts, but he didn’t want to embarrass her with that detail. He watched as she went to the mini-fridge and took out two bottled waters, and again, felt compelled to swear last night was irregular for him. “I want you to know I don’t make a habit of blacking out. Well, not since college. I was in a fraternity, after all.” His attempt to make her smile failed. She handed him the water and moved to stand by the window.

  An uneasiness settled, and he prayed he didn’t say or do anything the night before to upset her. Then again, if he had said or done something inappropriate, why would she have stayed?

  Fingering the delicate material of her dress, she said, “There’s a reason I came back to the party to find you, and it wasn’t just because you asked me to.”

  He shifted in his seat as he twisted the bottled water open. “What do you mean?”

  Folding her arms across her middle, she leaned on the window. “I’m going to try and be as detailed as possible. I can’t even believe the words that are going to come out of my mouth right now, but it’s all true.” She drew in a long breath. “You were roofied.”

  His first reaction was bafflement, mixed with uncomfortable laughter. He gulped down some cold water. Whatever he thought she
might say, it wasn’t that. “Are you joking?”

  “No,” she insisted. “Logan, I’ve been trying to tell you this since last night, but then the drug kicked in and you weren’t very lucid after that. I was able to get you up here, but almost as soon as you sat down on the bed, you went unconscious. So I decided to stay here with you so I could explain everything when you woke up.”

  His head still buzzing, he couldn’t grasp it all at once. Though, oddly, the logical part of his brain seized the explanation he’d been drugged, to account for his questionable coma. “Let me get this straight. Something was slipped in my drink? Explains why my memory is hazy and why I passed out for no real reason. But…how do you know this for sure?”

  “Because I heard all about how and why and by whom. It was your date. Your friend, Rebecca.”

  He lowered his brows with immediate disbelief. Rebecca did it? Now that was even harder to fathom. “Jordana, none of this is really making sense to me. What happened last night? Just be honest.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.” She clasped her hands together and bit a corner of her lip as she moved to sit down in the chair across from him. “It all started when I went to use the ladies room, after you’d given me the necklace,” she began, finally meeting his eyes.

  Jordana disclosed the whole tale with extraordinary detail. He would’ve had a hard time believing her if her facts weren’t so specific. Rebecca. Pregnant with Ben’s baby. Desperate. Aiming for his wealth and generosity and security for her future. Logan sat in pensive silence, putting the pieces together, searching for something he could deem false or misconstrued.

  He knew instantly she meant Ben Oliver, a college friend. He’d lost a fortune as an investor, was deep in financial debt, but too proud to let go of the lifestyle he’d been able to afford for years. Up until a few weeks ago, no one knew how bad it was. He got caught up in drugs, sunk to a depression, and hid it all like a pro. Obviously Rebecca had also been duped, or else she might have taken more precaution during their affair.