by Tina Donahue
No more. With an expression of wonder, Alexa rubbed her belly. It was still too soon for her to show. The ecru sheath she wore draped her body perfectly.
“You’re sure everything’s going well with the baby?” Ronnie asked.
“I’m hurling every morning right on time. So, yeah.”
Ronnie laughed.
“I am curious about what’s been happening at the agency.” She lowered her voice considerably, no doubt not wanting Hunt to listen in. “Anything I can help with from here?”
Ronnie patted the back of Alexa’s hand. “We have it all under control, just like I told you earlier when we were shopping.”
“All what? Under what kind of control? All you said was that everything was running smoothly.”
“It is. Business is great. Your ideas for the auction were fabulous, as I’ve already told you. It went off without a hitch.” Ronnie paused, remembering, then shrugged. “Well, one little catch.”
“What?” Alexa leaned closer and kept her voice subdued. “One of the clients reneged on his bid?”
“They’ve all been perfect gentlemen.” Ronnie finished her wine and put the glass on the cocktail table. “Especially Logan Kincaid, even though he did create kind of a stir.”
Alexa’s almond-shaped eyes widened a bit. She knew Logan from the previous escorts he’d hired when she’d still helped run the agency. “He created a stir with the ladies? They all wanted him to bid on them?”
“Not exactly. He wanted more than a day. A week, actually.”
“Wow. With who? No, wait.” Alexa put up her hand. “Felicity, right?”
“Nope.”
“Emma?”
“Not even close.”
Alexa frowned. “He bid on one of the guys?”
“No, of course not. He chose Tessa.”
Alexa sagged against the sofa, obviously surprised. “Sweet little Tessa? I mean, she’s very pretty and she does have curves to die for. But Tessa?”
“Uh-huh.” Ronnie smoothed her linen pants. “Wallace dropped her at Logan’s estate this afternoon. He called her an unusual girl.”
“Who? Logan or Wallace?”
“Wallace.” Ronnie turned to the hall, making certain it was still empty, Hunt continuing to do battle with infant furniture. Satisfied that he was, she continued, “Logan hasn’t offered an opinion on how unusual Tessa is, at least not so far.”
“Why would he? Why did Wallace?” Alexa shifted on the cushion like a teenager eager for the latest gossip. “What did she do?”
“Nothing really or yet, except to quiz him—Wallace—on how to get men to talk before sex.”
“Erotic talk?”
“Hardly.” Ronnie fingered her pearls. “Apparently, Tessa wants to get to know her clients before anything happens between them, or something like that.”
Alexa mouthed “wow”. “So, she wants to share more than pleasant conversation with her clients? Something deep?” She looked baffled, then worried. “Surely not about what happened to Logan.”
There was always that possibility. Ronnie grabbed the bottle of Domaine De La Presidente and poured herself another glass, suddenly wanting it. “Don’t know. Neither of them has called yet to cancel the rest of the week. That has to be a good sign.”
Logan switched on the bath lights. Every last one. This time, he didn’t bother to dim them as he had in the other rooms. The illumination poured down. Harsh. Cruelly revealing. The same as the bath’s mirrored walls.
Dozens of his images looked back at him, hiding nothing.
Time to face reality. Especially with Tessa. He was a client. She, an agency escort. No matter the pleasant time they’d already shared, it didn’t change the fact that they’d been playacting, like when he gave chase outside, catching then paddling her.
He smiled at the memory and stopped quickly at what the mirrors revealed. The truth of what he was, who he’d become. A man who didn’t want another deep relationship with a woman. He’d had a stomach full of that. Sex and carnal games were enough. The comfort of a warm female body, sufficient. That was, if Tessa ever decided to join him in here.
If she didn’t, Logan figured he couldn’t blame her.
He’d sensed her shock in the bedroom, even though she hadn’t said a word. Of course, her absolute silence revealed more than any words could. And now her hesitation punctuated it.
He was about to return to the bedroom to let her know it was all right if she wanted to leave when he heard her heading here. Logan kept his back to the bath’s entrance. Her. As Tessa stopped just inside the room, he turned his head to the side. From this angle, the mirror revealed no more than a glimpse of his scars, a fraction of what she now saw. Uneven skin mottled an angry red. The damage on the left side of his back traveled down to his buttock and the top of that thigh. Compared to his unmarked flesh, the injuries looked like a landscape from Mars.
When she said nothing, he asked, “Change your mind about that shower?”
She moved closer, the bath’s marble floor recording the tapping of her shoes. “No.”
He almost said, “why not?” Starting the conversation she’d once seemed so intent on having. A huge mistake he wasn’t about to make.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
He wished to god she wouldn’t. “What?”
Tessa shifted her weight from one foot to the other as though debating what to say.
“Go on,” Logan said, feigning nonchalance. “Ask.”
“Does it still hurt?”
That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. Nor did his injuries still pain him in the way she surely thought.
He turned to face her, expecting to see her barely concealed revulsion or pity. That is, if she were still looking at him at all.
To Logan’s surprise, she was. What appeared to be sadness and worry made her seem so fucking unpretentious, capable of being shocked by what sometimes happened in a world that should have been sane and safe.
Something shifted within him at her frank concern, until he remembered that he was a client. She was a call girl, trained to be everything a man desired…except honest. Genuine. The qualities he liked most about her. Could be it had all been an act. A part of her appeal to put her customers at ease.
God knew, he wasn’t a great judge of women. Nicole had certainly been proof of that.
“No, it doesn’t hurt any longer,” he answered. “I exercise regularly to keep the skin from getting stiff. There are also lotions the doctors prescribed. I’m assuming, or maybe hoping, none of it will be necessary someday. I really don’t know.”
Tessa went to him. Her hand stalled before she touched his chest, as though she were uncertain whether he wanted that.
Part of him did. A lot of him didn’t, not if sympathy fueled it.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, lowering her hand.
“Then you do know about me. What happened.”
“Not from your file,” she said hurriedly. “I didn’t read it.” She chewed her bottom lip, much as a kid would when caught doing something wrong. “I was on the Net.”
Of course. What he’d already suspected. She’d read the news stories. There had been so many of them. All showing Nicole’s picture, how gorgeous she’d been, smiling for the camera. Pretending. None of them capturing her as Logan had seen in private. Her eyes narrowed, features twisted in resentment.
“I know you’re cheating on me.”
He couldn’t count the times she’d accused him of that. That was the saddest truth of all. Although Logan knew he was no saint, he hadn’t strayed.
Nicole wouldn’t believe. They’d been wed less than a year when he finally faced the fact that he’d made a huge mistake in marrying her. She wasn’t the woman he’d fallen in love with. Exquisite, yes. But not even close to the confident female he’d once admired. She’d hidden her insecurities from him while they’d dated, charming him so easily, making Logan believe that her unwavering adoration was simply the way a woman be
haved when she was in love. That her gentle questions about his day weren’t meant to dog his every movement, but because she was genuinely interested in what he did.
Once they’d shared vows it should have calmed any fears she’d had. Instead, her insecurities grew by the minute. No matter what he did, where he went, Nicole questioned it. Insidiously at first, until Logan realized she was controlling more and more of his behavior. Always an easygoing man, he’d simply dismissed her conduct as wanting what was best for him and them. When he finally got fed up with it and pushed back, needing to breathe, she’d held off for a while, returning to the woman he thought he knew. Didn’t last. Soon, she was hounding him day and night with her accusations. If he was a second late coming back from a meeting, her recriminations began anew.
“You saw that woman again. I know. Don’t deny it.”
It was true that he’d made friends with a colleague in his field. However, there wasn’t anything sexual about it. Logan had simply wanted to talk, to ask for advice, a way to fix things, hoping that the Nicole he’d first known would come back somehow.
When that hope faded, she was already pregnant, leaving him with an unbearable sense of responsibility toward her and their child. He’d naively believed the baby might make everything better. Prove to her that he was committed. Even though he had considered leaving innumerable times, he’d never told her that. He assured her they’d be a family. Hell, he’d even adopted her daughter from an earlier relationship. Not because he had to, but because he adored the little girl. Samantha was six, Connor not yet two when the world Logan had known came to an end.
The nanny had called him, interrupting his meeting with investors. Clearly worried, she’d said that Nicole had locked herself and the children in the house. The nanny had only gone outside to get the kids’ things from the backyard. Samantha’s favorite doll. Connor’s Monster Bowling game.
Nicole wouldn’t let the young woman back inside.
Logan didn’t want to believe it. Nicole had been going to a shrink to work things out. They were deep into couples’ and family therapy. He’d learned how her insecurities drove her. That she lashed out because deep inside she was terrified. Unable to control her own emotions or life, she sought to do so with others. She wasn’t evil, she was scared.
He got it, and never once blamed her. He’d listened and tried to make things better. He’d actually begun to relax because she’d seemed so much better. Calmer. Trusting. The girl he’d fallen for.
“You’re not going to leave me. You’ll never take my children.”
Nicole had most likely started the fire when she’d seen Logan pulling up. He didn’t realize what she’d done until he saw smoke pouring from the children’s bedroom windows. Faster than he would have believed possible, flames shot out, a blast of heat shattering the glass. He couldn’t open the front door. She’d put something against it. He broke in through the living room window and crawled inside, screaming for Samantha and Connor. Acrid air stole his breath. He couldn’t see past the wall of smoke pouring from the upstairs. Something from above fell on his back. He felt none of the pain, only stark terror at what Nicole had done, needing to stop it. To make things right. To save his kids.
He’d learned later that it took three firefighters to pull him from the house. He kept trying to go back and awoke in the hospital’s burn unit. Everyone gone. All of it ashes, literally.
Tessa knew only a part of it, not the true horror. Seeing her sadness for him, what Logan sensed wasn’t an act, he said, “It’s all right. It’s over. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
Every time she’d said that word earlier, it had tugged at his heart, making him want to smile. Not now. Not ever again. She had to know the score. “I want to have a good time, Tessa. Nothing more.”
He’d gotten close once, delivering his heart and life willingly to a woman and look where that had led. Logan didn’t think he’d survive that kind of betrayal again with anyone. Especially Tessa. They barely knew each other, but he liked her far too much and that had to stop.
“Show me that good time,” he ordered.
She ached to wrap her arms around him, offering all the solace she could. The brief flash of horror she’d seen on his face tore at Tessa’s soul. Although she’d read the news stories about what had happened with his wife and kids, those were just words. The facts watered down so the public would find them palatable…like in those stories where rape became a sexual assault. Nicole’s act of suicide and murder were referred to as “the incident”. Logan losing his family, everything he’d cherished, “the fatal occurrence”.
Never had Tessa seen a man in more despair than him. Or more determined to fight it with sheer will and bravado. His walls were back up, higher than ever.
He wanted to have a good time, nothing more. No intimacy. Not even a brief friendship.
Although it pained her to hear that, Tessa understood where he was coming from. She moved into him at last, cupping his face, bringing his mouth down to hers. Her kiss wasn’t tender, not as she would have liked, but demanding, greedy, wanton. Exactly as Logan thought he needed. She drove her tongue more deeply into his mouth and wound her arms around his torso, her palms on his back.
He went rigid at her touching his scars.
He’d claimed they didn’t hurt any longer. Tessa wanted him to know that she’d heard him. She wouldn’t offer sympathy that would make him feel less a man…that would bring back all of the bad. She’d offer pure, raw sex.
He didn’t want more. Who could blame him, least of all her? She’d been hurt too. Not as much as he’d been, but she knew what it was like to feel inadequate. The only cure Tessa had found was to keep going, hoping the next man she met would find her attractive.
Logan had in spades. He’d given her confidence.
For that, she’d always be grateful to him.
She pulled him closer and wrapped her leg around his, her tongue exploring his mouth, sweeping over his teeth.
A growl poured from him, lusty and deep. He cupped her ass, drawing her pussy into his stiffened cock, then took command of their kiss. His bristly cheeks scoured hers, his tongue penetrating and exploring her mouth. He enjoyed her with such abandon—no longer Mr. Nice Guy—that when he finally let go, Tessa gulped air.
“More,” he demanded.
He regarded her through hooded lids, his hair hanging over his forehead, shoulders bunched with sexual tension.
Tessa wanted to smooth back his locks, trace his mouth with her fingertips, offering him peace that had eluded him for too long.
He wouldn’t accept it, of course. He’d made that quite clear. Wanting only to please him, she ran her hands down his torso, using his body to steady herself as she sank down. Her face was on the same level as his cock. She kissed his dark bush, inhaling his beloved scent as she fumbled with the bows on her sandals, at last untying them. With her palm on his flat belly, she straightened and slipped out of her shoes.
Without the added height, the top of her head came to his shoulder.
Tessa licked his right nipple, then his left, recording the bumpy areola, the small firm tip.
His chest expanded with his deep breath. She sensed he wanted to say something. Give a command. Break down and talk.
He didn’t.
Neither did she, moving past him, her arm deliberately brushing his. The many mirrors showed his reflection, him turning to see what she was doing, studying her naked ass and thighs. Seeing her flaws, clearly not considering them as such.
His cock was even longer, thicker than a moment ago.
The shower’s glass door rattled slightly as she swung it open. The area was spacious enough for a party of ten. Gold showerheads graced the far end of both walls. Tessa turned them on, adjusting the numerous dials until each flow resembled a spring rain and was warm as a womb. She sniffed the bars of soap, choosing the one that smelled of pine, as fresh as the outdoors. Rubbing it between her hands to work up lath
er, Tessa turned and waited.
Yielding. Submissive. A slave to his pleasure.
He closed the glass door, sealing them in the warm, fragrant space. This time when he approached, his expression was downright predatory.
Tessa sidestepped him. They turned, slowly circling each other beneath the spray, their hair, faces, and bodies drenched, their focus never drifting.
Logan arched one dark eyebrow. Pearls of water dropped from it. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing…yet. Face the wall.” Tessa lowered her head, affecting a servile pose. “Please.”
She might as well have asked him to bear his heart to her, no restraints, no secrets, or emotions held back. He looked that uncomfortable. She expected him to tell her “no”, or to leave. It was certainly his choice.
He did neither. With poise that contradicted what must have been going on inside him, Logan did as she asked—arms to each side above his head, palms on the slick coffee-colored marble, his feet spread.
Tessa swallowed at the terrible harm done to his beautiful body. Worse, to his hope and joy. She wanted to kiss each scar to somehow make it better. The remaining skin, or grafts, was stretched and shiny, like a raw wound.
He looked over.
Before he could ask what in the hell she was doing or thinking, Tessa eased lather over his uninjured skin and then the scarring, favoring neither, her only intent to arouse.
Logan’s shoulders dipped a bit, the tension leeching in degrees from his body. He rested his forehead against the marble, a mosaic of brown, gold and cream. Understated yet impressive, though no match for his male beauty.
Tessa washed his back and buttocks, exploring his sinewy muscles, his decided masculinity. On her knees, she tended to the backs of his hairy thighs, listening intently to every sound he made. There were a few contented puffs, as though he’d been holding his breath without realizing it, and then a sharp intake of air as she slid her hand between his legs and cradled his balls.
