by Jean Oram
Nearing the cottages, Logan checked his watch: 3:48 a.m. Not bad. He was still in that quiet window of the night. Late enough that most partyers had already found their way home, and early enough the morning staff weren’t heading in to work yet. He would come ashore, ditch the gear—putting it back in the resort’s scuba shed—then slip into bed alongside the woman who was slowly worming her way into his life.
Logan swam into shallow waters, surfacing once, checking the beach for eyes. This was where the full moon above was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because he could see what he was up against, curse because it meant he was almost as easy to spot.
Seeing the coast was clear, he swam in as shallow as his gear would allow, then surfaced. He stood, turning so his back was to the shore and the rows of cute cottages lining the beach, then waded backward in the rolling waves so his flippers wouldn’t catch. The night was beautiful, the moon’s reflection rippling on the ocean swells. It was a nice night to be out for a swim. With everything so quiet and calm it made it difficult to believe a diamond smuggler lived on these very shores.
Logan stepped onto the firm wet sand of the beach and turned to take off his flippers.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He stumbled, digging one his flippers in the sand and tumbling over.
“Ginger!”
She stood above him, hands on her hips, looking very much the wife of a man caught scuba diving alone, in the middle of the night.
Uh-oh.
“Hi, honey.”
“Don’t ‘hi honey’ me.”
May as well go with the truth.
“This is exactly what it looks like.”
“Really?” She didn’t sound convinced, but his honesty had taken her edge and disintegrated it.
“Yup. And you look beautiful in the moonlight.”
“Scuba diving? In the middle of the night?”
He slipped off the flippers. “It’s just around supper in Australia.”
“That’s not going to work with me, buster.” She pulled him to his feet and he was half tempted to resist, give her a gentle tug that would have her landing on top of him in her jeans and sweatshirt. “You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.”
“Sorry.”
She shook her head, gazing up at him. “You do weird things in the middle of the night.”
“True.”
She was studying him, obviously wishing she had the right to interrogate him. Instead of pursuing the thread of conversation like most women would have, she gave up with a sigh. “How did you even find a wetsuit to fit you?”
She was appraising him now, her curiosity palpable. The suit was thick and tight, no doubt showcasing everything he had to offer, the moonlight enhancing certain bulges as the wet material gleamed. He stood a little taller.
“Want to help me take it off?” he asked. His voice was lower, his tone slightly gruff as he tried to hide his longing for the woman before him.
“Ha,” she said weakly.
“Please?” He turned, offering her his back, where the zipper was located. It appeased him knowing she felt the draw, too. That pull cord that seemed connected to the shutter they both usually kept closed around others. Around her the shutters opened and she walked right on in without the usual sirens blaring or lasers slicing the air. It was like she had the top-secret, high-clearance fingerprint that allowed her exclusive entry. He kind of liked the idea of that. Having someone who belonged, who fitted up against his soul.
As she helped him out of the suit, moving around to face him, her cool fingers brushed his warm skin. She peeled the rubber wetsuit down his shoulders, his hands still pinned in the tight cuffs.
“I think I’ll tickle you,” she declared, taking a step closer, fingers drifting like seaweed over his exposed flesh as she decided on her best approach. He flung his hands out at his sides, pulling them free of the sleeves as he hustled backward.
“Oh, no.” He had never been ticklish, as he hated the helpless feeling it gave him, being at someone else’s mercy. And yet the very idea of her trying to tickle him made him weak, his body betraying him, his laughter already free of the gates. He stumbled backward into the softer, deeper sand, tumbling to the ground once more, reduced to laughter. “I’m not ticklish. Seriously.”
“Man, you are just too easy. I barely even touched you,” she said.
Apparently feeling generous, she resisted attacking him and helped him doff the rest of his suit.
“Next time wake me up and I’ll go with you,” she said, holding the utility belt for him.
“You know how to scuba?”
“No, but I like mischief and I can tell you were up to some.”
He stilled, more curious than alarmed. “Can you?”
“Yes.” She knelt beside him, tugging the clingy neoprene layer from around his ankles. After the snug warmth of the suit, the cool night air felt cold against his skin. It made him feel alive, and he reached for Ginger, tugging her to the sand beside him. He rolled onto his side, sheltering her.
She was quiet, aware.
He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, then her forehead.
He wished time would stand still, his enemies already fallen. He wished he could tell her that her good deed was going to help more than just himself and Annabelle. Ginger was someone who should never doubt herself, because her instincts were solid, her joy unrivaled. He wished he could let her know that when he slipped away, it was because he didn’t want to hurt her.
Ginger held her husband’s hand and climbed aboard Vito’s yacht, Nadia and Ted following on their heels. The past two days had been a blur of workshops, enjoying the Southern hospitality dinner that they’d won—it had been absolutely fabulous—and picking the brains of other couples, as well as spending as much time as she could with Logan.
Although now it was time to start dialing it back, in preparation for going home. Logan wasn’t coming to Blueberry Springs—he was leaving their marriage behind as he fulfilled his commitments to Annabelle, while Ginger returned to her real life. A life that looked so dull in comparison to the fun and playful time she’d had here. In two days she would be going home and would likely never see Logan, her husband, again. It was an odd feeling, and in a way she already missed him, which she knew was silly. She was already in too deep and was only going to have her heart broken if she allowed herself to continue to fall.
Impulsively, she turned on the large boat’s deck and wrapped her arms around Logan’s waist, holding him closer. She’d been honest when she’d blurted out that she wanted him to follow her back to Blueberry Springs. Even though she knew he couldn’t, she still wished it, wanting to see what might happen between them.
But that wasn’t his choice, even if being with him felt like the best, most natural thing she’d ever experienced. Maybe it was simply because there was no pressure to impress him for fear that he would leave, because it would be her who was going this time.
“Follow my lead today," Logan whispered against her ear, and her heart gave a little jump in her chest. She glanced up, unable to prevent the hope that welled inside her whenever they touched. He placed a kiss on her cheek and smiled, but she could see the tension riding in his jaw. He’d been edgy since dawn, pulling away from her more often than not. Logan had secrets, that she knew. Secrets he wasn’t sharing with her, and she had to remind herself that it was because they weren’t really married, weren’t really each other’s confidants, despite saying they trusted each other.
They would be parting soon.
“Are you doing—” Before she could finish asking if he was doing all right, he tipped his head down, capturing her mouth in a kiss so hot she nearly asked if there was a spare room aboard that they could borrow.
“You sure can kiss,” she said breathlessly when they broke apart. He gave her a distracted smile and she swallowed hard and slipped out of his grasp.
She shouldn’t take his behavior personally. His first wife had l
eft him, and Ginger was leaving him in two days. She knew what being left felt like.
They listened as the captain gave a speech on safety, pointing out the lifejackets and other flotation devices. She half listened, more curious about Logan and what she could do to get him to open up to her again.
Vito and his slender wife welcomed everyone aboard when the captain finished, and the yacht set sail, increasing Logan’s unease.
"You don't like sailing?" Ginger asked him, relieved to have possibly found the source of his odd behavior. He kept looking around, as though mentally doing a head count on a kindergarten field trip.
“Yeah.”
For days she hadn’t pried whenever he pulled back, but today she wanted to sneak her way into that part of him he kept reserved. That part she couldn't quite see all the way into. The part that reminded her that even though she might be falling for him, it wasn't something he wanted, because of whatever it was he had in that locked box inside him.
“Logan, what’s wrong?”
He finally met her eyes, his own filled with what looked like worry. He took her hand, holding it firmly.
“Ginger, no matter what…” He did a visual check of the other passengers again before returning his gaze to her. “What we have here? It’s real.”
She felt heat flood her as he confirmed her feelings as his own.
“It does feel real, doesn’t it?” Did that scare him?
“And anything I say or do is about me. Not you.”
“Is this about your first wife?” Her warm feeling had vanished, turning into the cold one she got before a man broke up with her.
Stupid heart, falling for Logan.
“No, not at all.”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
He blinked twice. “What? No. I care for you. A lot.”
Ginger’s tension melted. “Really?”
He inhaled slowly before letting his breath out again. “Yeah.”
He said that like it was a problem. But still. He liked her. She didn’t need more than that at the moment.
She smiled and hugged him tight. “Me, too.”
He was stiff in her arms, not letting go in the way she expected. He patted her head uncertainly, then pushed her back. “Whatever happens today, just trust me, okay? Know that you know the real me.”
She frowned. “Logan, is something—”
“Just promise you’ll trust me.” His voice was lower, more urgent now. “And do whatever I ask you to without questioning it.”
“Uh, is there a safe word?” she joked. “I’m not really into the dominance-submissive thing. I mean, I’m a bit curious, but—”
He didn’t smile, didn’t laugh. She was with a whole new Logan. The one she hadn’t ever managed to unearth. Until now. And she wasn’t sure how to take it. He had a ruthless look in his gaze, a resolve so steely it frightened her. This wasn’t the man she’d expected to find.
“Promise,” he commanded.
“Okay. Okay, I promise,” she said quickly, feeling the need for more space. She glanced out at the shore, which was rapidly growing distant. Ginger had a feeling she knew her husband of two and a half days even less than she’d believed.
Never fall in love on the job—that was the rule. And what had he done? Fallen for Ginger McGinty. The idea of her here on the yacht with a man who killed anyone who stood in his way, or knew too much, was driving Logan out of his mind.
What if something happened? What if Ginger figured things out and spoke up? What if Vito’s men knew who Logan was and tipped him overboard, then took off with Ginger and hurt her?
The idea had him clutching the side rail, his stomach tight.
“Are you okay?” Ginger tentatively touched his shoulder. He’d scared her an hour ago, he knew. He had let his fear for her overcome him.
But he had to know she would obey, that she would do whatever he needed her to in order to remain safe, because he sure couldn’t tell her who he was—not without losing his job. And then who would he be? There wasn’t much need for ruthless men outside of spy agencies and those cage fights his agent pal Zach Forrester sometimes watched.
It was hardly fair, scaring her, but Logan knew how far south “meetings” could go, and everyone on board was a puzzle piece Vito needed to unload his dirty diamonds. Logan was a wholesaler who could mix them with clean diamonds. A stone setter was sitting beside Ted, who was a chain store owner. And they were all about to become cogs in Vito’s new deal.
If Ginger asked him what his biggest fear was today, Logan would say it was that he might not be able to keep her safe in the moment she needed him most.
He should have found a way to leave her behind.
He’d mixed real life and the mission, and that made him a horrible agent. Add in that he’d put a civilian at risk as part of his cover.
In his books, that was unforgivable.
“Logan?” She was worried about him; he could hear it in her voice.
“Yeah, fine.”
He hated himself. It was that simple.
He’d lost his edge as an agent, and he’d be lucky if the whole mission didn’t backfire as a result.
He straightened, unable to look at Ginger, see her as someone who was vulnerable, innocent and about to become a part of something that was most definitely not.
What Ginger had seen and loved about him was fake. It was part of the act, an act that had begun to feel more real than who he truly was.
He felt like Logan Stone, diamond wholesaler. Kind, caring and thoughtful. A man who volunteered and acted as though he had all the elements of a real man.
But in truth, he was nothing more than a ruthless agent trained to take care of the world’s dirty underbelly. And when pure and innocent Ginger saw that later on today, she’d recoil. When she saw the lies, it would be over. The man she was falling for did not truly exist, no matter how much Logan wanted him to.
He shut his eyes. In another world, another time…he could maybe try to become the man she saw. The man he wanted to be.
But not today.
Today he had to be the man who brought down a diamond smuggler.
Ginger didn’t know what to think. Logan and she had such tender moments where everything felt real, like their souls touched. Then others when he withdrew and shut her out.
He was a good man, but something wasn’t right. There was something unknown bubbling under the surface and it scared her.
She excused herself to use the washroom, leaving him at the rail, where he was silently cursing himself.
Yeah, she got it. He couldn’t do it any longer. He’d been lying and it was time to cut the cord.
She’d had such high hopes for today. She’d planned to enjoy the sun and Logan, savor her freedom to just be, before she had to return home to the endless job of running her own business. She loved it, she did. But it felt flat, knowing she’d be there without him.
She was a fool. She’d skipped out on a workshop she’d paid to attend, in order to be here with Logan, because she’d believed. Believed in fairy tales, obviously.
Now she wanted to be back on land. She dried her eyes in the tiny bathroom and stepped out into the quiet cabin. Everyone was outside, the laughter and music growing with each mile farther away from shore.
She heard a knock in a nearby room and hoped it was the captain. Maybe she could ask him if he could send her back on one of the zodiacs strapped to the back of the yacht. Plead seasickness, family emergency, anything to get out of here before she created any more regrets or humiliated herself by crying over Logan.
In the doorway to the small room where she’d heard the knock, she struggled to make sense of what she saw. Logan was going through documents in a box that she suspected had been locked before he’d got there.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He snapped his head up, cracking it on the shiny wood cupboard that overhung the desk area. He cursed and clutched his skull.
"I said, what are you doin
g?" She stepped into the room.
Logan watched her for a moment, his face devoid of any emotion. "Close the door on your way out, please."
“Those aren’t your papers."
“Trust me to keep us safe."
"Logan, you’re scaring me."
"Trust me and leave.”
"How can I trust you? I don't even know you.” Her voice was getting louder, and Logan placed a hand over her mouth, swinging the door shut with an eerie click.
She struggled against him. He was too calm, too strong, and it was freaking her out.
He was a thief. A liar. A snoop. He was not the man she thought she knew.
"Please, trust me. I won't hurt you,” he whispered. His eyes met hers as he pleaded with her. He slowly lowered his hand, and she felt her eyes well up with tears of disappointment as she backed against the closed door, her heart thrumming madly in her chest.
"You lied to me.”
“Ginger, please.”
“You don't trust me like you said you did, and on top of it all, you’re shutting me out. None of this is real and I was a fool to have forgotten, to have believed.” She should be in a workshop right now, not trying to make a stupid happily ever after happen where it was obvious there would never be one.
"Ginger. Please."
“You know what I think of liars."
The door swung open, knocking her forward. It was Vito. Logan sat on the papers he’d been going through and pushed a hand through his hair.
“Sorry, Vito. The wife and I were having a fight.”
Vito was on guard, obviously displeased with finding them in his office.
“How did you get in here? This room was locked.”
There was a steeliness in Vito’s voice that made Ginger shiver, and she found herself backing toward Logan. “It was open,” she said. “I’m sorry."
