Between You and Me by Jennifer Gracen (19)

Chapter Eighteen

Tess put down her brush and stepped back to better survey the canvas. Painting was both her love and her infinite frustration. She could never quite get onto the canvas the exact vision she had in her head, no matter how hard she tried. It seemed elusive. But she loved the process, the actual painting itself... She always lost herself in it.

She went to add some more cobalt blue to her palette when her cell phone rang behind her. She didn’t answer it; she never answered it when she was painting, letting the call go to voice mail. Her head tipped to the side as she studied her work, trying to decide what to do next. She was so close to being finished with this painting, and it meant a lot to her. It wasn’t often she gave away her artwork as a gift, but she had a feeling—hoped—this one would be appreciated. Her heart was in it.

The phone rang again two minutes later. And again two minutes after that. Annoyed, she finally stomped over to look at the screen. It was her father. “Hello?”

“Finally!” Charles II bellowed. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“Why aren’t you leaving me a message when I don’t?” she shot back.

He paused. “Well. Having a good morning, are we?”

“I was, until this.” She so wasn’t in the mood for him today.

“My, my. You sound a bit testy.”

“I’m painting. You’re interrupting. You know how I get.”

“I do. So I apologize for interrupting.” Her father almost sounded earnest. “But I’m tired of leaving voice mails and not getting a return phone call. I deserve better. I don’t like being ignored.”

“Sorry,” she said. With a sigh, she sank into the armchair in the corner. She wouldn’t be able to paint now, her concentration had been broken. “But what if I was on the slopes? Would you have kept calling for hours? Just leave me a voice mail, Dad.”

“I told you, I’m tired of your not answering them.” His tone gained a steely edge. “You’ve been away for six weeks. This is ludicrous already. It’s time for you to come home, don’t you think?” Ah, that was the Charles Harrison II they all knew. Demanding, surly, arrogant, expecting the world to stop on a dime at his command.

“No, I don’t think,” she said. “In fact, I’ll definitely be staying here through March, possibly April too.”

“What?” he shouted. “Why?”

“Because I have some things going on here,” she said mildly, unfazed by his anger. “And until I see them through to completion, I’m staying here. I can do my work for the foundation from here, I’m not slacking. I’m just not physically in New York.”

“What the hell’s so important there that you’re staying?”

“That’s . . . my business. Sorry.”

Blistering silence from him. She could almost feel him thinking, trying to work out an angle, trying to figure out how to find out what she was doing in Aspen. God knew he had the connections and wherewithal; if he dug hard enough, he could probably find out. He certainly had in the past. Her personal life was rarely her own; he’d dug into her business more times than she could count. Being his only daughter hadn’t been easy, ever. The sense of ownership and entitlement where she was concerned hadn’t been clear to her until her college years, but once she’d realized it, it’d been an eye-opening game changer.

“A secret lover? Good for you.”

“It’s no one’s business but mine.”

“Aha! Struck a nerve. Must be a yes.”

“Stop,” Tess snapped. “Now.”

“I’ll come out there myself if I have to,” he finally warned in a low voice.

“Oh my God. Seriously? I’m turning thirty-eight in a few weeks,” she said, fighting not to lose her cool. “What are you going to do, force me onto your private jet and take me home? Been there, done that. It’ll never happen again.”

He hissed out a stream of air in frustration. “You were what, twenty-one then? And still bringing that up? Come on.”

“Twenty-two,” she corrected him. “And being literally dragged onto a plane in Milan by your goons is something I’ll never forget.” Or forgive you for, she added silently. “So why are you coming out here? For what purpose? To bully me into coming home, aka doing what you want? That ship sailed long ago.”

“Listen to you. My goodness. Is that really what you think of me?” he asked.

“Yup. Based on your track record.” A burst of anger shot through her veins. “I’ll never forget what you did. You’re lucky I ever spoke to you again after that stunt.”

“Let’s not go off the rails, here. The past is the past,” he said dismissively.

“Really? Past events affect the present.”

“We’re fine in the present.”

“I am,” Tess said. “But how about you? How’s your family, Dad?”

He grunted in response.

“You lost Pierce,” Tess said. “Dane and Charles barely talk to you. You ready to put me on that list too? The past matters. As for the present, don’t you threaten me that you’re going to come out here, because I have my own life. Don’t threaten me, ever.”

“I’m not threatening you!” he yelled.

“Wish I could replay the tape,” she said. “Sure sounded like it to me.”

“Excuse me for missing you,” he spat. “For being concerned for you.”

“Oh, stop it. You’re not. You know I’m fine, or you would’ve heard otherwise. You just don’t like that you don’t know why I’m choosing to stay in Aspen, what I’m doing.” She sighed. “You still want to control my life, even now. Nothing’s changed.”

“That’s not true,” he proclaimed.

“Sorry, Dad, but it sure sounds and feels like it.” She rose and started pacing the studio. Stress wasn’t good for her. She drew long, deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. “If you simply missed me, you would’ve left me a voice mail saying so. Not called me a bunch of times, been obnoxious about it, then made demands when you reached me.”

“I’d say you sound like your brothers,” Charles II said, “but apparently you haven’t been in contact with them very much either. You’re not talking to any of us.”

“Yes, I am,” she said, but felt a pang. The truth was, she hadn’t been good about returning texts and calls. It wasn’t like her. Why was she shutting them all out this way? It was something she needed to examine more closely. “Dad, I’m fine. I didn’t want to argue with you. Let me get back to painting, okay?”

“You haven’t even asked how I’m doing.”

“You sound fine to me. Same as always.”

He snorted. “Sorry to bother you. Excuse me for caring.” He hung up.

She growled as she set the phone down. Pierce didn’t understand why she still talked to their father, why she stayed loyal and tried to keep communication open. Days like this, she didn’t understand it either.

She went to the low table for her water bottle. As she sipped, she stared out at the scenic view outside the glass wall. Acres of evergreen forest stretched before snow-capped mountaintops in the not-too-far distance . . . The majesty of it never failed to move her. She gazed at it all as she calmed herself. She had been testy, and went straight into combat mode. But her father was capable of things . . . She knew him all too well.

Of course her mind went back to Milan. She’d gone to Italy the summer after graduating NYU, to travel and paint and find herself a little more. She spent a week in Venice, two weeks in Rome, then went on to Milan. There she’d met Paolo, on her second night in the city. She couldn’t help but smile now as she recalled him. Handsome, sweet, sexy as hell, and nine years older than her, they’d hurled themselves into a passionate fling. She was only supposed to stay in Milan for a week. She ended up staying for three.

It would have been longer, perhaps. But her father somehow caught wind of why she’d changed her plans, and didn’t like it. He’d sent his people—security goons—to Milan to bring her home. The memory of those three men, standing in her small flat, watching her pack her things, still made her blood boil. She’d had no say in the matter. She’d barely even been able to wish Paolo a tender but tearful goodbye, but at least she’d been allowed that much. She’d never forget the way he caressed her face and whispered sweet nothings in Italian against her ear as he hugged her that last time.

They’d lost touch soon after she returned home. It hadn’t been a great love, but it had been an intense connection, and Tess had hoped it wouldn’t die out so fast. She figured he’d been turned off by her father’s interference and couldn’t really blame him. It wasn’t until years later, after she got engaged to Brady, that she’d found out the truth. Glad that she’d found someone suitable to marry, her father told her how he’d threatened Paolo to make him stay away from her. Paolo had been indignant, but Charles II had won. Their relationship had healed and gotten past the whole debacle, but she’d never fully forgiven her father for it.

There had been other incidents over the years, big and small. There had been the way he treated her brothers as well, Pierce in particular. He claimed everything he did was for the good of the family, out of love. But the years of limitless power had warped his mind. She remembered him being a loving father when she was very small . . . but that had been before her parents’ marriage had blown sky-high. Now, the bottom line was: Charles Harrison II was controlling, egomaniacal, and ruthless. His children, though grown, were like trophies as much as people. The heart attack had softened him some. She’d seen that. But not enough. A seventy-year-old leopard couldn’t change his spots.

Now she wondered what he’d do if he found out her current plans and didn’t like them. Would he somehow shut down the clinic? Put Dr. Fuller’s career in jeopardy? Find Logan and threaten him within an inch of his life? She took a long sip of water. Yeah, she had damn good reason to keep her dreams and plans to herself.

She knew her brothers would never tell their father her plans if she asked them not to. They were loyal to her above him, without question. But . . . what if they didn’t approve either? They all had their own wives now, their own families. If they started with the maybe you just haven’t found the right person yet, give it more time crap, she’d pull her hair out. Maybe she wasn’t giving them enough credit. But she just didn’t want to argue or defend her position to anyone. She’d made this decision on her own, and was handling it on her own. It was how it had to be.

Because she knew what her brothers already knew, though none of them had said it aloud. The Harrison money and power was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. All the money in the world couldn’t buy happiness, or the love of your family. Their own parents were both walking proof of that. Biggest cautionary tale ever.

The four siblings always stuck together, understanding one another in a way outsiders simply couldn’t. And all four of them had fought through the murky parts to blaze their own paths to happiness—finding love, creating family. Her three brothers had somehow found their happy endings. It was her turn, dammit.

Logan had signed the initial papers waiving paternity rights. There’d be more to sign once she was actually pregnant, but he’d been completely agreeable every step of the way. And, if all went well, he was even willing to freeze a few samples so later on, a year or two down the road, she could give her child a sibling or two.

She’d given up on finding romantic love, but she could create a family and have that joy, that bond, on her own. That was all she wanted now. And she wasn’t ready to share that with her brothers, or her father, or anyone. For now, anyway.

Aspen had been a welcome retreat so far. Everything about it, from its quiet natural beauty, to spending time with Logan, to painting and reading and just . . . being on her own. The exhilaration and thrill of leading her own life away from the watchful eyes of her family was astonishing. The freedom . . . she’d never known how much she needed to break away from the Harrison clan until she’d done it. Being a dutiful daughter, a constant source of support as a sister, the face and responsibility behind the Harrison Foundation . . . being away from it all was revitalizing. A powerful renewal.

Movement outside caught her eye and she focused on it. A large, dark bird soared above the trees, cutting through the bright blue sky. A hawk? She narrowed her eyes and watched . . . No, it was an eagle. A bald eagle. Her breath caught as she watched the magnificent bird sail on the wind. Free to soar. She smiled as she watched him fly.

* * *

Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. Fuck. Again Logan raked his hands through his hair as he thought about it. Tess hadn’t mentioned anything . . . He wasn’t sure if he should do anything; they weren’t a real couple. But an agreed-to bargain or not, they were sleeping together. A lot. And mutually enjoying it. And enjoying each other as friends. Not to mention if he didn’t do anything, his mom would be suspicious.

Doing a little something for Tess couldn’t hurt, right? He was surprised to find that he wanted to. Best of all, since she hadn’t brought it up, she likely wasn’t expecting anything. So that would be fun too, to surprise her.

He was out on a work call, on the other side of Red Mountain. He had wood to chop up for the Andersons, but texted her before he could rethink it. Hey there, Long Island Lady. Hoping you don’t have dinner plans for tomorrow night? Then he picked up his axe, swinging with precise movements. He savored the burn in his shoulders, his arms, and the muscles in his back as he took in lungfuls of cold, fresh air and chopped at the logs in the snow.

It was a good workout. He’d just started to break a sweat when his phone buzzed in his pocket. But he set down the axe, curious to see Tess’s answer. She’d responded: I have no plans for tomorrow night, Thor. I was thinking you were just going to come over and try to get me knocked up.

He burst out laughing, then texted back: Can I do that after a nice dinner? It IS Valentine’s Day. If I don’t take my best fake girlfriend out, Mom will be suspicious.

Good point. Yes, dinner would be lovely. She sent a wink emoji, then added, I’ll dress up pretty for you, valentine style. One sexy red dress, coming up.

Oh man, he wrote, his blood racing at the thought. Well then, while you’re at it, consider this my official request for lingerie underneath. If not on Valentine’s, then when?

He laughed again. Her sense of humor never failed to delight him, and her vibrant personality . . . It had put some light into his life. She brought light to his dark. He was grateful for that. Smiling, he texted back, We SO win.

When he got to her door the next evening, he realized he was more than relaxed, he was almost . . . chipper. Maybe a bounce in his step. He was looking forward to a nice night ahead. It was great to be able to spend Valentine’s Day with a woman who wasn’t expecting anything from him but companionship, a good meal, and hot sex. Not just any woman, but a genuinely amazing woman, one he liked more with each day. Tess was . . . special. A rare gem. He wanted the night to be nice for her. She deserved that.

So when she opened the door and her eyes lit up at his offering, he felt like he’d scored a slam dunk. “Oh, Logan . . .” She smiled brightly as she looked over the enormous bouquet of two dozen red roses. “These are gorgeous.”

“Just like you.” He hadn’t wanted to go the dozen-red-roses route; it seemed too cliché for a woman as classy as Tess. At first, he’d asked the florist to mix together different types of red flowers, but it looked a little odd. So, two dozen roses, then.

He followed her inside as she said over her shoulder, “Let me just put these in water, and then we can go.”

His eyes greedily traveled over the tight red wrap dress that clung to her body. Long sleeves, low V-neck, it accentuated every graceful angle and curve. Falling above the knee, it also showcased her knockout legs down to her red stilettos. He let out a long, low whistle of appreciation. “You . . . that dress. Wow.”

She tossed him a flirty glance and grin. “Glad you like it,” she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

“I love it,” he said, following her, unable to take his eyes off her. “I’ll love it even more later, when I peel you out of it.” His mouth actually watered at the thought. His dress slacks felt too tight.

“Sounds fun to me,” she said with a sensuous grin.

His cock throbbed and he shifted his stance. As she set the bouquet down on the marble-topped kitchen island, he opened his coat and noticed her gaze sweep over him.

“You dressed up for me,” she remarked with surprise and delighted approval.

“Yeah, a little. You said you were, so . . .”

She went to him, running her hand over his crisp white button-down shirt. He hadn’t worn a tie, just the shirt and navy dress slacks, but she seemed to revel in his outfit. Her eyes lit as she looked back up at him with a smile. “You look very handsome.” She leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth, then went across the room to the cabinets. She bent over to pull out a tremendous crystal vase and he almost groaned from the view. Blood rushed south.

While she wrestled the roses into the vase, he crouched down to say hello to Bubbles and play with her for a bit, needing a distraction. He was too turned on; he wouldn’t be able to go to dinner with this raging hard-on and burning need.

“When you suggested getting together for Valentine’s yesterday”—Tess fussed with the roses, positioning them to her satisfaction—“well, I got you a little something. Now that I’m staring at these gorgeous flowers, I’m doubly glad I did.”

Logan straightened to his full height. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. That’s what made it fun.”

He had to smile. He’d thought the exact same thing about her, hadn’t he? “Then thank you in advance.” He moved around the kitchen island, the outsized bouquet of flowers between them. “Is it edible?”

Chuckling, she went to one of the many drawers, polished wood beneath marble countertops, and pulled out an envelope. She held it out to him with a smile. “Only if you like to eat paper.”

He opened it to find a season pass for skiing at Ajax Mountain—for the following year, all bells and whistles included. It was a great gift. And too expensive. And showed real forethought. His eyes flicked up to hers. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“You love skiing,” she said. Her long, graceful fingers reached out to push around some of the flowers in the vase. “This will assure me that next year . . . Well, forgive me, but if your mother’s gone”—she glanced at him, and he nodded to show it was okay—“and I’m not going to be around to drag you to the slopes on a regular basis, since I’ll hopefully be home in New York with a newborn—I thought if you have this, you’ll be motivated to get out and do something fun once in a while.” Smiling gently, her voice dropped as she added, “And maybe you’ll think of me with a smile when you do.”

A slow wave of heavy emotion rolled through him . . . something that made his heart squeeze and his insides warm at the same time. Jesus, she’d cut him off at the knees with this. He tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. His voice was rough as he managed to say, “I’ll always think of you with a smile, no matter what I’m doing.”

Her smile deepened. “I’d love to think so.”

Damn. He adored her. Only that second did he realize that he did, much less the depth of feeling. He cleared his throat. “This is an incredibly considerate gift. Thank you.” He moved around the island to gently pull her into his arms. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and letting her head fall onto his shoulder. His eyes slipped closed as he savored the feel of her against him.

And it hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut: This time next year, he’d be completely alone. More so than ever before.

His mother would likely be gone, which was devastating. He couldn’t bear to think of it, though he knew full well it was reality. And Tess would be living her life in New York with her baby, thousands of miles away. She’d become such a presence in his daily life . . . someone to chat with, laugh with, and yes, make love with. She’d be gone, their bargain completed, her need for his presence and services fulfilled. So she’d go on with her life, he’d be here, alone . . . and he’d miss her. He’d miss her like hell. The thought of that left him reeling, like a hole had been blown right through him.

He drew a long, deep breath as it all crested over him, trying to hold his ground. His hands ran over her long hair, up and down her slender back, sliding along the soft fabric of the dress as he breathed her in. She smelled so good, a musky vanilla scent that always made his senses fire to life. “You won’t visit once in a while?” His voice felt thick in his throat.

“Of course I will,” she said. “But it won’t be for a few months at a time, like this winter. A week here, a week there . . . and, well . . .” She drew back to look at him as she said quietly, “Have you thought about that it might be hard for you to see the baby once he or she is born? I know you’re giving up your rights gladly; right now it’s just an idea. But . . . it may hit harder when you actually see the baby. And if so, I don’t want to do that to you. I might stay away more than not.”

He hadn’t considered that. Suddenly he could barely breathe. But he looked her right in the eye as he said, “That’s kind. But I’ll be fine with it.” His voice was husky, his chest tight as he stared at her. “Don’t worry about me. And definitely don’t stay away from Aspen because of me. Okay? Everything will be fine. I promise.”

She only smiled, tender warmth in her gaze. “Let’s go to dinner.”

They went to Sophie’s Bistro. He knew it was one of her favorite restaurants and he liked the warm, cozy atmosphere, but he’d also chosen it for another specific reason. As they walked inside, he confessed he wanted to wipe away the memory of their last meal together there, when he’d bolted and left her there. “This time,” he said, “we’ll replace that debacle with a nice memory.”

She smiled, clearly touched. Her hand lifted to give his beard a quick, affectionate rub. “That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

Something like affection unfurled in his chest. “I even asked for your favorite table, that one in the back that’s hidden away.”

“How very Valentine’s Day of you, Mr. Carter.”

“I’ve done romantic in my time, you know,” he said, quirking a grin. “I’m rusty as hell at it, but for you tonight, I’m trying.”

“Nice work, fake boyfriend.” Tess winked as they were shown to their table. “It’s very appreciated. Everything you’ve done tonight. I haven’t been romanced in any way in a long time.”

“That’s criminal,” he murmured as he sat.

Dinner was lovely, the food delicious, the vibe between them genial and relaxed, as it usually was. They talked about random things, from movies and TV to their college coursework two decades ago to the work he’d done at the Andersons’ property and the work she’d done long distance the day before. The dim lighting, warm earthy colors of the restaurant, and tea light candles flickering in a bowl on the tabletop, all served to reinforce Logan’s opinion that Tess was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

Her hair sometimes reminded him of a mermaid’s storied mane. Tess’s thick, dark curls fell over her shoulders, way past her breasts, the ends spilling onto the table. No matter how often she swept them away, they always seemed to reclaim their position around her face, as if they had a life of their own. Her high cheekbones, generous mouth, and wide blue eyes were so strikingly shaped . . . Her lithe body always called to him, making his blood stir. But all that, as incredible a package as it was, wasn’t what made her so out-of-this-world stunning.

It was the light inside her. She was so easy to be with, while at the same time, he felt like she was way, way out of his league—and he couldn’t believe she continually chose to hang out with him. Tonight, he couldn’t stop gazing at her, filled with appreciation and warmth, drawn to her with an almost magnetic, unearthly pull.

He supposed it was because their friendship had become so solid, so genuine. They had each other’s backs in a way that he . . . Truth was, he hadn’t felt so supported, understood, or appreciated by anyone in a really long time. She’d filled a void in his life he’d refused to acknowledge existed. What would he do when she went back to New York?

As it had been earlier, the thought was a kick to the stomach, and his fingers actually flexed at the unwelcome idea. It’d only been a short time, but he liked having her in his life and had grown comfortable with it. With her. Jesus, how had that happened, much less so quickly?

“Dessert?” the waitress asked.

“No, thanks,” Tess murmured with a smile. “We’ll have that at home.”

Logan’s insides flooded with aching desire, both his body and his heart. Suddenly he wanted nothing more in the world than to take her home and make love to her. He wanted her all to himself. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, hold her close . . . somehow shut down all his raging thoughts. “Check, please.”

As they shrugged into their coats, his whole body started to hum with searing heat, the familiar rush of primal lust that gripped him whenever he thought about being with Tess. He was growing edgy with it. But as they got to the door and he opened it wide, they were blocked by a woman who was walking in.

“Sorry,” the woman apologized. Then his eyes met hers, hers locked on his, and his heart skipped a beat. Holy shit. Ugh, no.

“Carrie!” Tess smiled brightly, lifting a hand to squeeze the other woman’s arm. “Hi, how are you?”

Carrie’s icy blue eyes blinked off the shock as she looked from Tess to Logan and back again. “Tess. Wow. Hi.” She swept back her long blond hair, and as her stare settled on Logan, her jaw tightened a little bit.

He cursed up a blue streak in his head. Yeah, this was going to get awkward.

Clueless, Tess tipped her smile up to Logan. “This is Carrie. She’s the fantastic instructor of my yoga class. Carrie, this is—”

“We know each other,” he murmured, unwilling to play dumb or lie. He nodded in deference to Carrie, who was staring at him hard now. “How’ve you been, Carrie? You look good.”

“Thanks. Well. Small world.” The corners of her mouth twitched, something like a grimace. She crossed her arms over her chest and let her gaze lock on Logan. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“Tess is my girlfriend,” he said softly. Carrie’s eyes got wider. Shit, double shit.

“Girlfriend,” Carrie echoed. “Interesting. I thought you didn’t do relationships. In fact, I believe I’m quoting you directly when I say that.”

“I don’t,” he said. “Or, I didn’t.” He sighed. He couldn’t tell her the truth about his and Tess’s deal, but he hated the hurt he caught in her expression. Then he met Tess’s questioning gaze with a solemn one of his own . . . and watched her smile fade as understanding quickly dawned in her eyes. That was Tess: astute, intuitive, and sharp as hell. “Carrie, look—”

“No, that’s fine. That’s great. At least now I finally understand.” Her eyes narrowed on him, like heated lasers. “I get it. Maybe if I’d been an heiress, you’d have wanted a relationship with me, instead of my just being your regular booty call. Money like hers helps you swallow your reluctance, I’m sure.”

Tess stiffened at his side.

“Don’t do that,” he said to Carrie, low and tight. “Don’t insult her when you’re pissed at me. You’re better than that.”

“Go to hell, Logan. I’m better than you.” She shoved past both of them and stormed into the restaurant.

He stared after her, jaw clenched tight, heart pounding. Tess’s hand on his arm brought him back.

“Let’s go,” she murmured.

He glanced down at her, saw the utter calm and regal cool of her expression . . . ah shit. This wasn’t good. She was in Ice Queen mode. This wasn’t good at all.

Nodding and placing a hand on her back, he escorted her out into the cold night.

* * *

Tess sat very still in Logan’s truck, her hands in her lap. She was grateful for the warm air heating her, but something inside her had gone stone cold.

He was embarrassed and upset, she knew that. It was radiating off him in waves. But she sensed he wasn’t ready to discuss it. His jaw was clenched tight, his posture stiff.

She was a little upset too. That surprised her. Because really, truthfully, she had no right to be upset with him or the situation . . . but she was. She went into her own head to try to figure out exactly why as they drove in heavy silence back to her house.

By the time they got home, the tension was still thick as could be, and both of them had gone quietly rigid. She opened the door and Bubbles came running, barking her happy hellos. Logan crouched down to pet her as Tess removed her long coat and hung it in the closet. They moved into the living room and she turned on some lights.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked as he pulled off his coat and set it on one of the armchairs.

“No,” he said gruffly. “I want to talk about what happened.”

“Okay.” She stood there, intertwining her fingers in front of her.

He shook his head in displeasure. “You’re mad. I don’t blame you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad. And you have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “First of all, you have a life of your own, and who you slept with before me is none of my business. Second, you didn’t insult me, she did.”

“I hated that,” he bit out. “She was just lashing out.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “Guess I’ll be switching into a new yoga class. It’s a shame. She’s great at it. I liked her.”

He sighed and raked his hands through his hair, then over his face. “Okay. So, she was the one I was seeing last year, obviously. It started as a casual fling, but she . . . started having feelings for me. After a few months, she wanted us to date exclusively, turn it into a real relationship. I didn’t.” He started pacing the living room. “So yeah, when she saw us together, that’s one thing. But for her to hear you’re my girlfriend, when I told her in no uncertain terms that I didn’t do relationships? Of course she’s surprised, and probably hurt, and I feel bad about that. I do.” He scratched at his beard as he added, “But she had no right to sling an arrow your way. That was uncalled-for.”

Tess shrugged. “Don’t worry about that. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. It’s all over you. You’re back in ‘untouchable princess’ mode, and I hate it.” He stopped and looked at her mournfully. “I’m sorry, Tess.”

“Stop apologizing,” she demanded. “You did nothing wrong.”

He pinned her with a sad look. “Then why do I feel like you’re a million miles away when you’re standing right here?”

She stopped cold at that. He was right, and that wasn’t fair. They were friends. She could tell him anything. She trusted him enough, and respected him enough, to do that. “All the way home, I tried to figure out why I’m at all bothered by this. It’s got nothing to do with me, and I have no right to be put off. But here’s the truth . . .” She lifted her chin a bit, twisting her hands as she admitted, “It’s been easy to get lost in this. Especially tonight, with the romance of Valentine’s Day and all that . . . It was really lovely. I was really enjoying it all. But the lines got blurred tonight, and I’m mad at myself for forgetting that.”

He shook his head in frustration. “I was enjoying it too. We were having a great night. But—”

“Logan . . .” She took a deep breath. “The truth is you’re sleeping with me because we made a deal. Because you have to. But you slept with her simply because you wanted to. And I’m . . . a little jealous about that.” She pushed her hair back over her shoulders. It was hard to admit it out loud, but she would. “I wish you wanted me for the sake of just wanting me, like you did her at one point. I envy the fact that she attracted you on her own, without strings or a pact. I have no right to, but I’m human. So . . . yeah, it stings a bit.” She tried to shrug as she added, “That’s on me. I’ll get over it.”

He stared at her so forcefully, she felt her skin heat. Closing the space between them in two long strides, he gripped her shoulders and said in a low, intense tone, “We’re telling the truth? Okay, truth. Yes, we made a deal. I’m sleeping with you because of it. Lucky, lucky me. But if you think I don’t want you, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

She swallowed hard as her heartbeat upped its pace. His hands ran up and down her arms as he stared into her eyes, compelling her to not look away. “I love sleeping with you, Tess. I think about it all the time, and I shouldn’t. You’re my fake girlfriend. Friends with benefits, and that’s it. But being in this thing with you . . . It’s fun. Because you’re amazing.” A grin bloomed on his face. “You’re easy to talk to and goddammit, woman, I’m sorry, but I love getting in bed with you. That’s the truth. Legal papers and all, deal or not . . .” He trailed his fingers along her cheek, her silky jawline. “I’ve never been so attracted to a woman in my entire life.” He peered harder, brows furrowing as he whispered, “Jesus, Tess, do you really not feel that from me? Have I ever made you feel like making love to you is a chore?”

“No,” she whispered. “No, never.” Her heart pounded against her ribs. The things he was saying, along with how jealous she’d become at the thought of him wanting Carrie enough to sleep with her over and over, and the way he was looking at her now, all hot and intense and drop-dead sexy . . . Oh God, she had feelings for him that went way beyond friendship. She’d fallen for him, and it’d been so seamless she hadn’t even been aware of it. Until right now.

The realization hit her hard as she stared back up at him. This big, gorgeous Viking, this sweet and sensitive man who asked nothing of her and gave so much . . . she was crazy about him. She looked forward to seeing him every day, loved talking to him, loved being with him. Ohhh, she was in big trouble. He was only so at ease with her because they were just friends. He’d just said so himself. So any sticky feelings beyond that? That was not part of the deal.

“Tess,” he continued, blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside her. “Yes, we started this as a plan, each of us giving the other something we needed. But we’ve bonded. We’re real friends now. And our friendship means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.” He sighed as he admitted, “Carrie never did. She was really nice, and we had fun in bed, but I never felt anything for her, which is why I thought it fair to her to end it when I did. I was trying to spare her feelings. You understand?”

Tess only nodded.

“Sure, I wanted her then. But my Long Island Lady . . .” He quirked a grin. “I want you now. All the time. Deal or not, friends or not, you’re the most beautiful, desirable, sexy and sweet woman I’ve ever met. So don’t be jealous of her. I want you.” He lowered his head and took her mouth in a commanding kiss.

She swayed as she let herself fall into it. His hands slid up her back and into her hair, holding her to him as he plundered her mouth with deep, hot kisses. She couldn’t think straight, and she didn’t want to deal with what she was feeling. A piece of her wanted to run away from him, right there and then. But it was the end of her ovulation cycle. She needed to do what they were there to do. So she reached out and unbuttoned his shirt as they kissed, pulling the shirttails out of his pants with demand.

He pulled back to look at her, brows lifted, his gaze a silent question.

“No more talking,” she whispered. “Let’s go upstairs and get to work.”

That stopped him. He frowned, cradling her face in his hands. “Wow. Wait. We need to—”

“No. I don’t want to talk anymore.” She pulled away and headed for the stairs. It was easier to lie to him when she wasn’t looking at him, so she said as she walked, “You and your friendship mean a lot to me too, Logan. We’re good. So let’s go.”

She was halfway up the stairs when she realized he wasn’t behind her. She turned to look; he stood where she’d left him, in the middle of the living room, staring after her with a stormy, confused look on his handsome face.

“We’re fine,” she said firmly, even as her heart hammered inside her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Please join me upstairs?”

His eyes narrowed on her, pale green lasers scouring into her. Then he scrubbed his hands over his face, drew a deep breath, and started walking to join her.

Their sex wasn’t playful or fun. Intense and red-hot, the atmosphere in her dark bedroom was similar to the charged tension of makeup sex after a fight. They grabbed at each other without mercy, reckless and demanding. She dug her nails deep as they trailed over his back; he bit her and possessed her and made her scream for more. When he went to position himself over her, she brusquely turned her body, offering her back. She couldn’t do missionary position tonight. She couldn’t look into his eyes as he moved inside her . . . not with the emotions pinballing through her now. He’d be able to see how she felt about him if he looked deeply into her eyes, and she couldn’t bear the thought of it.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, signaling without words that she wanted something rougher and darker than she usually did. So intuitive, so in sync when they were in bed together, his eyes held hers for a long beat. Then, gripping her hips, he took her from behind, slamming into her hard as he went deep. She moaned loud and low, her fingers twisting into the sheets.

He took over and she gladly let him, giving herself up. Pounding into her, the sounds of their bodies slapping together and lusty groans and labored breathing took them quickly to another level they’d never hit before. He grunted over her, driving into her with mindless animal lust. She urged him on with her moans and motions . . . then she cried out his name, her head dropping down as the shouts tore from her throat. The erotic sounds sent him flying over the cliff. He dug his fingers into her hips as he groaned and bucked and shuddered and emptied himself deep inside her.

They fell to the mattress together in a tangled, sweaty heap, her hair everywhere, both of them breathing as hard as if they’d run a race. He held her close, spooning her, her back to his front as they worked to calm down.

Finally, he dropped a tender kiss on her shoulder. “There’s no way in hell you can think I don’t really want you after that.” He moved her hair aside to better expose her skin and kissed her shoulder again. His sexy voice rumbled in her ear, sending tiny shivers over her. “What Carrie said? She’s dead wrong. I don’t give a fuck about your money, and you know that. And yes, our deal is our deal, but I’m insanely attracted to you.” His hand ran down the length of her side, stopping at her hip. “Please tell me you know that?”

God, what he was doing to her. And he had no idea. She nodded and let her eyes slip closed. “I know that, Logan.”

“Okay. Good.” He kissed her neck and pulled her even tighter against him, closing one hand around her breast and one on her waist as he cradled her.

She let herself glory in how it felt to be held by him, the smell and feel of him . . . then she tried to pull away. “Gotta raise them up,” she murmured.

He let her go more slowly than usual. She swung her body around into position, lifting her legs up over the smooth curved headboard. He pushed a pillow under her hips. They lay together in silence.

She waited for him to do what he always did: go to get them both water, talk for a few minutes, then leave for the night. And it took a minute, but then he did get up from the bed and pad out quietly, and he did bring back a bottle of water for her, sitting on the bed beside her as usual.

“I’m glad we’re friends,” he said softly, gazing down at her.

“I am too,” she said. “I’m glad we can talk openly like we did tonight.”

“Same here. And I feel like . . . you heard me. You know. So that’s the end of that.” He paused, as if he were going to say more, then drank more water instead. “I better get going. I’m tired.”

“I’m exhausted. You destroyed me here. That was . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“I’m not sure what that was,” he admitted in a whisper. “But holy hell, it was intense. You’re more than a tigress, you’re a damn lion.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and he leaned down to kiss her lips. “I hope I didn’t leave bite marks. Or bruises on your hips . . . oh man. You’re gonna be marked up tomorrow. You have such pale skin . . . I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said firmly. “I loved it. Besides, you don’t get away with nothing. You’ll be feeling those scratches when you shower.” She couldn’t help but grin back.

“Ah shit,” he laughed. “Probably true.” He stared into her eyes. “We’re cool?”

“Totally.” Her heart squeezed as a voice whispered in her head. Liar. You’re a hot mess. Get him out before you beg him to stay. “Get home safely, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry. Always do.”

“Thanks for the flowers, and dinner.”

“My pleasure. Thanks for the ski pass. And wearing that incredible dress, and . . . everything. Tonight was . . .” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. Finally he said, “It was certainly memorable.”

She snorted out a laugh. “It was that.”

“Seriously, most of it was great. Think of the good parts.” He stroked her hair with tender fingers, making her heart ache and want more. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

He gave her a small smile and rose from the bed. She watched him get dressed, her mind racing and her heart in turmoil. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him to hold her all night as she dealt with these astonishing new realizations, these intense feelings she’d been clobbered by tonight. She wanted him, period. But she couldn’t act on it, or tell him. Ever. It was a dealbreaker and she knew it.

If she told him the whole truth, he’d leave. Because what he’d told Carrie, and Tess herself, was his truth: He didn’t do relationships. He’d been hurt too much by his ex-wife, and lost too much after Katrina. So they could be friends as long as he didn’t feel pressured for more, as long as it was the initial deal he’d agreed to.

The last thing she could do is tell him what she’d realized tonight . . . that she was falling in love with him. And as much as his prime directive was not to be tied to anyone, hers was equally clear: She wanted a baby more than anything in the world. More than her own romantic happiness. So she wasn’t willing to jeopardize whatever this was between them. If she told him what she was feeling now, he’d run for the hills like he had when she’d first asked him to be her donor—only this time, he wouldn’t look back. Her own heart, her own feelings and desires, would have to stay on lockdown. Logan felt a bond with her, and that was great. She believed him when he said that she and their friendship were important to him. But he didn’t want to be loved, and he didn’t want anything lasting, and that wouldn’t change.

When he said good night, she pressed her lips together and said nothing, only lifting her hand to give a jaunty little wave as he left her bedroom and closed the door behind him.