by Jane Porter
A light from the cockpit drew her attention and she glanced up, noting the three men up front—two pilots and the male flight attendant.
They were an interesting-looking flight crew bearing very little resemblance to the pleasant, professional, middle-aged crew you’d find on a commercial plane. These three were lean, muscular and weathered. They looked so fit and so tan that it made her think they’d only recently retired from active duty with the military. As they spoke to each other in low voices, she tried to listen in, but it was impossible to eavesdrop from where she sat.
Abruptly the three men turned and looked at her and then the male flight attendant was heading her way.
“Did you need something, Miss Copeland?” he asked crisply. He didn’t look American, but he didn’t have an accent. He was an enigma, like the rest of the crew.
“Is there any water?”
“I’ll bring you a bottle. Would you like a meal? Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I could eat. Just water.”
But once she had the bottle of water, she just held it between her hands, too nervous to drink more than a mouthful.
The minutes dragged by, slowly turning into hours. She wished someone would give her an update. She wished she knew something.
But just when she didn’t think she could handle another minute of silence and worry, the distinctive sound of a helicopter could be heard.
She prayed it was Rowan returning—
The thought stopped her short. Just hours ago such a prayer would have struck her as ludicrous. But he’d gone after her baby and she was grateful for that.
Who would have ever thought she’d pray to see him again?
As the helicopter touched down the flight crew stood at the entrance of the jet as if prepared for battle.
Logan arched her brows. Rowan was serious about personal safety, wasn’t he?
But then the helicopter was down and the door was opening. Rowan was the first to step out and he was holding Jax, and as he crossed the tarmac, Joe Lopez was close behind carrying two suitcases.
What was Joe doing? Had he insisted on accompanying Jax to be sure she was safe? Or had Rowan wanted Joe along in case Jax got scared?
Either way Logan was delighted when the men stepped onto the plane with the baby.
Jax squealed when she saw Logan. “Momma!”
Logan opened her arms and Rowan handed the child over. “Hello, sweet girl,” Logan whispered, kissing her daughter’s soft cheek again and again. “How’s my baby girl?”
Jax turned her head to kiss Logan back. “I love Momma.”
“And Momma loves you. What did you think of the helicopter?” Logan asked her, giving her a little squeeze. “Was it noisy?”
Jax nodded and clapped her hands to her head. “Don’t like ear things. Bad.”
Rowan met Logan’s gaze over Jax’s head. “Not a fan of the headset.”
“Not surprised. She has a mind of her own,” Logan said.
“She does like Joe, though. She insisted on sitting on his lap during the flight. He’s good with her, too,” Rowan said.
Logan glanced back toward the galley where the flight attendant was taking the two suitcases from her assistant. “It was nice of him to come. Or did you make him?”
“I didn’t make Joe do anything. He is apparently very devoted to you—”
“Don’t start again.”
“Just saying, he’s here because he insisted.”
“I appreciate it. He’s been awesome with her since the beginning.” Logan frowned at the size of the two suitcases. “How long are we going to be gone?”
“Your buddy Joe did the packing. Apparently you girls need a lot when you travel.”
Logan’s eyes met Rowan’s. She gave her head a slight shake, her expression mocking. “You sound a little jealous of him, you know.”
“Me, jealous, of that...kid? Right.” Rowan made a scornful sound and turned away as Joe approached Logan.
“You all right?” Joe asked Logan even as he handed Jax a sippy cup with water.
Logan nodded and shot Rowan’s retreating back a disapproving look. “I hope he wasn’t rude to you,” she said to Joe. “If he was, don’t take it personally. He’s that way with everyone.”
Joe smiled and shrugged. “I’ve met worse.”
Logan gave him a look.
His smile broadened. “He doesn’t bother me. And he was actually pretty sweet with Jax—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t want to hear it.” Logan cut him short. “So is he going to send you back in the helicopter or are you having to grab a cab back? If you need a cab, just put it on my account. I won’t have you paying for something like that. It’ll be ridiculously expensive.”
“I’ll grab a rental car and drop it off at LAX.” Joe hesitated a moment. “Are you going to be okay?”
Logan kissed the top of Jax’s head and nodded. “Need tomorrow’s event to go off without a hitch—”
“It will. The fund-raiser will be huge, and the fashion show will be wonderful. But you’re the one I’m worried about.”
“Don’t. I’m fine. And my company...it’s everything. It’s my reputation. My livelihood. It’s how I provide for Jax—” She broke off, overwhelmed by stress and the weight of her reality. Her reality was harsh. People didn’t give her the same benefit of the doubt they gave others. She didn’t get second chances or opportunities...no, she had to fight tooth and nail for every job, forced to prove herself over and over again.
“I’ll handle it,” Joe said quietly, his deep voice firm.
“Thank you.”
And then he kissed Jax on the top of her head and he left.
Rowan didn’t seem to even notice that Joe had gone and it burned Logan up, how arrogant and callous Rowan was. Joe had been a huge help and Rowan didn’t thank him or care.
Why couldn’t Logan fall for someone like Joe...someone smart and kind and caring? Someone with emotions?
And then as if able to read Logan’s mind, Rowan was returning. “We need to go.” He nodded at the toddler. “Are you going to hold her for takeoff, or do you want me to buckle her car seat into a chair next to you?”
“Which is safer?” Logan asked.
“Car seat,” he answered promptly.
“Then let’s do that.”
“Has she ever been on a plane before?”
Logan shook her head. “We don’t...go out...much.” And seeing his expression she added, “We don’t need the attention.”
“Have things been that difficult?”
“You’ve no idea.” And then she laughed because it was all she could do. The haters and shamers would not win. They wouldn’t. She’d make sure of that, just as she’d make sure her daughter would grow up with a spine and become a woman with courage and strength.
* * *
Rowan glanced at his watch. They’d been flying four hours but still had a good four to five hours to go. He was glad that the toddler finally slept, though. Earlier she’d cried for nearly an hour when she couldn’t have her blanket. Joe had brought the blanket when they met up at the Santa Monica airport. The blanket was either in a seat or on the floor of the helicopter or perhaps it got dropped on the tarmac during the transfer to the plane. Either way, the baby was inconsolable and Logan walked with Jax, up and down the short aisle, patting her little girl’s back until Jax had finally cried herself to sleep on Logan’s shoulder.
Now Logan herself was asleep in one of the leather chairs in a reclined position, the little girl still on her chest, the child’s two miniature ponytails brushing Logan’s chin.
Seeing Logan with the child made him uncomfortable.
He didn’t like the ambivalence, either. He didn’t like any ambivalence, pr
eferring life tidy, organized, categorized into boxes that could be graded and stacked.
He’d put Logan into a box. He’d graded the box and labeled it, stacking it in the corner of his mind with other bad and difficult memories. After he’d left her, after their night together, he’d been troubled for weeks...months. It had angered him that he couldn’t forget her, angered him that he didn’t have more control over his emotions. He shouldn’t care about her. He shouldn’t worry about her. And yet he did.
He worried constantly.
He worried that someone, somewhere would hurt her.
He worried about her physical safety. He worried about her emotional well-being. He’d been so hard on her. He’d been ruthless, just the way he was with his men, and in his world. But she wasn’t a man, and she wasn’t conditioned to handle what he’d dished out.
He’d come so close, so many times to apologizing.
He’d come so close to saying he was wrong.
But he didn’t. He feared opening a door that couldn’t be shut. There was no point bonding with a woman who wasn’t to be trusted. Trust was everything in his world, and she’d lied to him once—Logan Lane, indeed—so why wouldn’t she lie again?
Maybe the trust issue would be less crucial if he had a different job. Maybe if his work wasn’t so sensitive he could be less vigilant...but his work was sensitive, and countless people depended on him to keep them safe, and alive.
Just as Jax depended on her mother to keep her safe.
He wanted to hate Logan. Wanted to despise her. But watching her sleep with Jax stirred his protective instinct.
At two years old, Jax was still more baby than girl, her wispy blond hair a shade lighter than her mother’s. They both had long dark eyelashes and the same mouth, full and pink with a rosebud for an upper lip.
Sleeping, Jax was a vision of innocence.
Sleeping, Logan was a picture of maternal devotion.
Together they made his chest ache.
Rowan didn’t want his chest to ache. He didn’t want to care in any way, but it was difficult to separate himself when he kept running numbers in his head.
March 31 plus forty weeks meant a December birthday. Jax had a December birthday. December 22 to be precise. He knew because Joe had located Jax’s birth certificate at the house and put it in a file for Rowan. You couldn’t just whisk a baby out of a country without any legal documentation. If they were flying on a commercial plane, he’d have to go through government channels, which would have required a passport.
But since they weren’t flying on a private plane, his pilot had submitted a manifest—which had included Logan Copeland. The manifest had not included the baby as he hadn’t known there was a baby until just hours ago.
The baby could potentially be an issue, but as Rowan had diplomatic immunity, he wasn’t too worried for himself.
Logan was another matter. She could definitely find herself in hot water should various governments discover she’d smuggled a baby out of one country and into another.
Fortunately they would be landing on Rowan’s private airstrip on his private property, so there shouldn’t be guards or officers inspecting his jet, or interrogating his guests.
But if they did...what would he say about Jax?
The child born exactly forty weeks after March 31.
* * *
Aware that she was being studied, Logan opened her eyes. Rowan sat watching her in a leather chair opposite hers.
He wasn’t smiling.
She just held his cool green gaze, her heart sinking. She didn’t want to panic and yet there was something very quiet, and very thoughtful, in his expression and it made her imagine that he could see things he couldn’t see and know things he couldn’t possibly know.
He couldn’t possibly know that Jax was his.
He couldn’t possibly imagine that she would have slept only with him. Her one and only lover in twenty-seven years. That didn’t happen anymore. Women didn’t wait for true love...
And so she arched a brow, matching his cool expression, doing what she did best—deflect, deflect, deflect. “Was I snoring?”
“No.”
“Was my mouth open, catching flies?”
“I want a DNA test.”
The words were so quietly spoken that it took Logan a moment to process them. He wanted a DNA test. He did suspect...
Deflect, deflect, deflect. “That’s awfully presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“You said you were a virgin. You made a big fuss earlier about how I manhandled your hymen—”
“I did not say that.”
“—which makes me doubt you were out getting laid by someone else in the following five to seven days.”
“Your math is excellent. I commend you. Not just a skilled lover, but also a true statistician, except for the fact that Jax wasn’t due for another month. She arrived early.”
“Your sweet girl was almost nine pounds, my love. She wasn’t early.”
Logan’s stomach heaved. He knew how much Jax weighed. He knew her birth date. What else did he know? “She’s not yours,” she repeated stubbornly.
“No, she hasn’t been, but she should be, shouldn’t she?”
Logan held her breath.
“We’ll test tomorrow, after we land.”
“You’re not going to poke her with a needle—”
“We’ll do a saliva swab. Painless.”
“Rowan.”
“Yes, Logan?”
Logan’s heart was beating so fast she was afraid it’d wake Jax. “You don’t even like children. You don’t want them. And you despise girls—”
“Is this what you’ve been telling yourself the past three years? Is this your justification for keeping Jax from me?”
You called me a whore. You said the worst, most despicable things to me.
And yes, those words hurt, but that wasn’t why she didn’t tell him. “I tried,” she said, her voice quiet but thankfully steady.
“And when was that?”
“When I called you. Remember that? I phoned to tell you, and instead of a ‘How are you? Everything okay?’ you demanded to know how I got your number.” She stared Rowan down, her gaze unwavering. “Even when I told you that Drakon had given it to me because it was important, you were hateful. You mocked me, saying you’d given me all you could.”
Her voice was no longer quiet and calm. It vibrated with emotion, coloring the air between them. “After you hung up, I cried myself sick, and then eventually I pulled myself together and was glad. Glad you wanted nothing to do with me, glad you wanted nothing to do with us, glad that my daughter wouldn’t have to grow up as I did, with a selfish, uncaring father.”
For a long moment Rowan said nothing. He just studied her from his seat, his big, lean, powerful body relaxed, his expression thoughtful. He seemed as if he didn’t have a care in the world, which put her on high alert. This was Rowan at his most dangerous, and she suspected what made him so dangerous was that he cared.
He cared a great deal.
Finally he shifted and sighed. “There are so many things I could say.”
Logan’s heart raced and her stomach rolled and heaved. “Why don’t you say them?”
“Because we are still hours away from Galway—”
“Galway?” she interrupted.
“—and I don’t feel like arguing all the way to Ireland.”
She blinked at him, taken aback. “We can’t leave the US. I don’t have a passport with me, and Jax doesn’t even have one yet.”
Rowan shrugged, unconcerned. “We’re landing on a private airstrip. There won’t be any customs or immigration officers on our arrival.”
“And what about when we return? Don’t you think it will be problem
atic then?”
“Could be. But Joe packed your passport when he packed for you, and he sent along Jax’s birth certificate, so we do have that.”
That’s how Rowan knew Jax’s birth date. That’s how he knew what he knew. But how did Joe know where to find her legal documents? She’d never told him...
Logan watched the slow drumming of Rowan’s fingers on his hard thigh, mesmerized by the bronze of his skin and the tantalizing movement of strong fingers, the drumming steady, rhythmic.
The man had good hands. They’d felt so good on her. His touch had a sensitivity and expertise that was so different from his reputation as an elite fighter...warrior...
He’d made her feel things she didn’t think she could feel, but no more. Hope and beauty—
No. Couldn’t go there again, couldn’t remember, couldn’t let herself fantasize that what had been was anything but sex. He’d made it clear she was just a lay. Sweat and release...exercise.
Her eyes burned and she swallowed hard, disgusted with herself for still letting his callous words upset her, hurt her. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t.
And yet she did.
Maybe if the sex hadn’t been so good she could play this game. Maybe if she hadn’t felt hope and joy, and maybe if he hadn’t made her feel beautiful...Things she hadn’t felt in so long. So many people had been hateful about her father. The world had become ugly and hostile, and then Rowan had been the opposite. He’d been light and heat and emotion and she couldn’t help feeling connected to him. Bonded.
And then he discovered the Copeland part of her name, having missed that the night before...
Logan exhaled slowly, head light and spinning, dizzy from holding her breath too long. “I can’t do this with you,” she said lowly, her hand reaching up to adjust Jax on her chest. “Not with her here.”
“What do you think we’re going to do?”
“Fight. Be hateful.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears. “But Jax shouldn’t be part of that. It’s not fair to her, or good for her—”
