Chapter Eight

 

 

Funny how people took their health for granted until something went wrong.

Seated in his favorite leather recliner with his sore knee elevated in front of him to reduce the swelling, Logan flipped back and forth between the two ballgames on TV and absently reached for the bottle of sparkling water beside him.

He’d kill for a beer instead, but with him sitting on his ass most of his waking hours these days, he couldn’t afford to put on weight that would slow his recovery down even more. The bag of frozen corn he’d used as an ice pack after he’d come home from his physio appointment lay limp in a puddle of water on the side table next to him.

The doorbell rang just as the batter hit the ball into a gap between center and right field. As he stood up he tempered the burst of anticipation at seeing Taylor. The mixed messages she’d given him yesterday were a major red flag. She was smart and hot and he was definitely attracted to her, but he had no interest in pursuing anything with her if she was a head case.

Drama wasn’t his thing. She hadn’t ever been like that to him before, so last night had really surprised him.

Crutches in hand, he gingerly walked to the front door of his townhouse, putting a fraction of weight on his bad leg with each step. Since the latest x-rays had shown only a partial hairline fracture in the patella, his doc and physio had both told him to start weight bearing a little at a time, more each day, and see how it went.

He pulled open the front door to find Taylor standing on his welcome mat in another of the fitted skirt suits she seemed to favor—this one a pale gray that hugged every feminine curve.

He loved them on her for two reasons. One, the sexy, sophisticated look of them. And two, because on her those form-fitting power suits radiated a professional self-assurance he found sexy as hell. Today she wore her light brown hair loose around her shoulders, and she held a white square box in one hand, the same kind she’d brought to Charlie and Jamie’s last night.

The smile she gave him was hesitant, and behind the lenses of her tortoise shell-framed glasses he noticed faint shadows beneath her eyes that suggested she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. “Hi,” she said, that soft, feminine voice a stark contrast to the steely persona she presented to the world.

“Hi,” he answered, keeping his tone neutral.

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

Oh yeah, he loved her drawl. “Sure. Come on in.” He turned sideways, balanced his weight on his good leg while he held the door open so she could pass by.

She waited until he’d locked up and crutched his way back toward the kitchen before holding up the box, a hopeful, slightly sheepish smile on her lips. Her pink, soft-looking lips. “I brought you something.”

She’d frozen him out and shut the door in his face last night, and now she’d come over with a gift. What the hell did that even mean? “You didn’t have to do that.”

She shrugged. “Go ahead, open it.” After setting it on the counter she stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her.

He opened it, aware of her hovering there, watching his reaction. It was some kind of pie with a graham cracker crust and a topping of smooth, melted dark chocolate.

Oh yeah. “You’re an angel,” he said, inhaling the delicious scent of peanut butter. His mouth started watering.

She let out a quiet laugh. “It’s a peanut butter mousse pie topped with bittersweet chocolate. I saw it and thought of you.”

He looked up at her, her thoughtfulness making him smile. “You remembered.”

“I did.” Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses.

Before now he’d thought her eyes were brown, but this close with the late afternoon light streaming in through the kitchen window, he could see they had a lot of green in them. Pretty eyes, with long, thick lashes surrounding them. Together with that skirt suit and glasses, she had a definite sexy librarian vibe going on.

He found it hot as hell. A total surprise, because he’d never been into that kind of look before.

Until now. Taylor had him redefining his entire definition of sexy without even trying.

He decided that her going to the trouble of bringing him pie was a good sign. “I’m totally diving into this bad boy. Want some? I’ll share.”

“I do, actually. It’s been a bitch of a day.”

“Yeah?” He eyed her as he reached behind him for the cupboard where he kept his dishes. She did look tired, and a little pale. Overworking herself, no doubt. Charlie had told him a few times now what a workaholic Taylor was. He understood that, because he was the same way with his job. “The investigation not going well?”

In the space of a heartbeat, her entire expression closed up. “You could say that.”

He waited a beat for her to continue, but she didn’t, so he got busy cutting two generous slices of pie. The chocolate topping gave way to the pressure of the knife, then slid easily through the smooth peanut butter layer before crunching into the graham crust. Heaven on a plate.

“You’re trying to make me fat,” she accused as she took her plate from him. “This is like, two helpings worth.”

“Nah, it’s protein-rich because of the peanut butter. And it sounds like you’re in need of some comfort food.” If she really was worried about her caloric intake, he could think of a few ideas of how she could burn the excess off. With him. Naked.

“That’s true.”

“Come on, let’s go sit and eat these things.”

“Let me take that.” She scooped up his plate and followed him into the living room.

He dropped back into his chair, took his plate with a grin and waited until she was seated on the sofa beside him and looking around. Decorating wasn’t his forte, and it showed.

The living room was sparse but functional, just the sofa, chair, coffee and end tables, and of course his big flat screen mounted on the wall. The walls were the same neutral beige they’d been when he’d bought the place, because what the hell did he care what color they were? He wasn’t home all that much, and when he was in this room all he cared about was the TV anyway.

Taylor crossed her shapely legs at the ankle and started to lift her fork, but paused, her gaze on the short stack of books he had on the coffee table. They were crooked. She seemed to wrestle with herself a moment, then darted a hand out to straighten the books with a fingertip before easing back into the sofa and cutting a bite of pie with her fork. He hid a smile. She was so cute with her little neat nick tendencies.

Her eyes swung toward him. “So? How is it?”

“Mmmmhmmmm,” he groaned around a mouthful. The chocolate ganache was just stiff enough to give a bit of a snap when he bit into it, then immediately melted in his mouth. The peanut butter mousse was smooth and creamy, heavy on the peanut butter, and the graham crust gave a crunch to the mouthful.

Taylor smiled a little as she took her first bite. “Oh yeah.” She closed her eyes, her profile to him, and a sexy moan of pleasure came from the back of her throat. “Oh, that’s good.”

Logan’s mouth suddenly went dry, the peanut butter sticking to his tongue. His hand froze around his fork, mid-way through carving off another chunk of pie. That sound she made was so damn sexy, and made him wonder if she’d make that exact same sound when he found one of her sweet spots with his hands or mouth.

He swallowed the bite and washed it down with a sip of sparkling water. She kept herself so tightly contained all the time, so guarded, but there was an innate sensuality about her that he wasn’t sure even she recognized. If a mouthful of pie put that look on her face and got that kind of sound out of her, he could only imagine how she’d react to the things he would do to her in bed.

As if sensing his stare, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. He hurriedly shoved another bite of pie into his mouth and got busy chewing, not wanting to make her uneasy. If his size or nearness tended to make her stiffen up, ogling her like a sex-starved maniac definitely wasn’t going to help his cause.

And that cause was to get past Special Agent Kennedy’s defenses. If she’d ever let him.

Taylor shifted and lowered her gaze, took her time cutting her next bite. “So I’m um, I’m really sorry about last night. I must have seemed like a bitch after the talk we had at Jamie and Charlie’s place.”

Yeah, her coldness had confused the hell out of him. He’d chalked it up to her being uncomfortable with him showing up at her door uninvited, and wouldn’t hold it against her. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s…” She sighed, set her plate in her lap and seemed to consider her words carefully before continuing. “It wasn’t anything personal. I was just caught off guard by you showing up at my place like that.”

Her explanation confirmed his theory, but she didn’t look at him as she said it. It was driving him nuts, trying to figure out why she was so closed-up around him, and why he made her nervous. It wasn’t a good or exciting butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of nervousness, either.

Something bad had happened to her in the past, he just knew it. He wanted to know what it was, and then he wanted to beat the asshole who had hurt her.

“I get it. No big deal.” If he found out some dude had either threatened or physically hurt her, he’d be so pissed.

She glanced at him, opened her mouth as though she was about to say more, then stopped. Nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

What had she been about to say?

“Wow, you polished that off pretty quick,” she said in a brighter voice, nodding at his empty plate. “Want another piece?”

“Do I want one? Yes. Should I have one considering I’m off duty and sitting around on my keister all day? No.”

She laughed at that, and the sound made him smile. He’d noticed that Taylor didn’t laugh easily. She was always so serious. He wanted her to have more things to laugh about in her life. “Please, look at you. You probably burn off a piece of pie just sitting there, with all that muscle mass. Unlike me, who would have to do I don’t even want to think about how many miles on the treadmill to level out the caloric balance sheet.”

This time it sounded like she was noticing his size in a non-threatening, and maybe even appreciative way. That was progress, and he’d take it. “Maybe you’re just not doing the right kind of exercise.” His words dripped with innuendo, and she caught it. She looked away, her cheeks turning pink. It was charming as hell.

“Maybe not.”

Okay, he needed to tone it down a little before he made her really uncomfortable. “You ever been married? I never even asked you.” She didn’t wear a ring, though he knew plenty of married agents who didn’t.

Surprise flashed in her eyes. “No. You?” She forked up another neat bite, those big hazel eyes watching him.

“Divorced. Three years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, believe me, it’s for the best. We’re both happier now, and we’re better people apart.”

She only nodded, still watching him. It wasn’t like him to sit and blab about himself or his personal life, but Taylor wasn’t going to divulge anything about herself and if he wanted to gain her trust then he felt like he had to keep going.

“We met in college, then I went straight into a job with the agency. I worked undercover as soon as I became an agent, long hours and lots of secrets, and that didn’t help matters. We’d been together long enough by then that our families were pressuring us both to get married. I was dumb and naïve, felt like I owed it to her, and part of me stupidly thought that maybe once we tied the knot, it would prove to her that I was committed and she wouldn’t be insecure anymore.”

“But that didn’t happen.”

“No. Turned out, all our problems were still there, only then they were bigger because we were talking about bigger stakes. A family, the rest of our lives together. So yeah, things didn’t get better. I was addicted to my work, and she felt abandoned. It was a no-win situation and I wasn’t willing to give up the job I loved. She was the one who finally asked for the divorce. Pretty sure she was just as relieved as me when it was all over.”

“Do you have any contact with her now?”

“Not really. Every once in a while she’ll call me about something, usually advice on a decision she has to make or whatever. It’s not like we hate each other or anything. We both realize we made a giant mistake in getting married, that we were trying to force something that was never going to work. She’s moved on and so have I. And her brother and I usually go hunting together once a year if our schedules allow it.” He put his empty plate on the coffee table. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

Again she looked away and forked up more pie. “I don’t really have a family.”

Oh, shit. No family? Why not? Had they died? “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” But she’d closed back up again, and quickly finished the last of her pie. “Well thanks for having me over. I’d better get going. Lots of work to be done.”

“No need to rush out on my account. I’m just gonna be sitting here getting fat from the pie I won’t be burning off. Want to stay and watch a movie or something? I won’t make you watch the ballgame, promise.”

She flashed him a smile but shook her head. “Thanks though. I’d better get some more work done. No, stay where you are, I’ll get these,” she told him when he grabbed his plate and started to stand.

He let her take his plate, but followed her to the kitchen on his crutches and ordered her to leave them in the sink. Of course she ignored him, rinsed them and put them neatly in the dishwasher. He was pretty sure she wrinkled her nose at how crowded and dirty everything inside it was.

She glanced at the cupboard beneath the sink, then looked at him. “Where do you keep your detergent?”

Logan fought a smile. “Under the sink.” He started toward it but she bent and took out a packet of detergent, popped it in the dishwasher then turned it on.

It was so hard to keep from grinning when she straightened. “Thanks for the pie. It was great.”

“You’re welcome. But mostly I wanted to come and apologize for last night in person. I…felt badly.”

“I’m over it.” He should have called to warn her he was on the way over, and her coming here to apologize made it all a non-issue. Plus, peanut butter pie. The woman could turn him into putty in her hands so easily. And for some reason, that didn’t worry him in the least. But was she into him or not? She had him second-guessing his instincts now.

Her smile was full of relief. “I’m glad. And now I’ll let you get back to your game.” Purse in hand, she headed for the door.

He went with her, stopped a step further away from her than he would have anyone else, because he didn’t want her to feel crowded. “I still want to take you to dinner. If that’s okay.”

Another smile, this one sweeter than all the others. He wanted to hug her so bad. “Yes, I’d really like that.”

He didn’t want her to go. Not yet. He wanted to touch her. Kiss her. “Drive safe.”

With her hand on the knob she paused and turned back to him slightly, her gaze on the mat inside the door. She seemed to wrestle with herself before speaking. “In your job back when you were undercover. Did you ever have to do something that made you feel like you’d been torn in two?”

More than the words themselves, the way she said it—in that lifeless tone—and the haunted look on her face when she finally looked up at him, hit Logan in the chest like a punch.

His gut tightened, instinct screaming at him that something was wrong. Big time wrong. She was an agent. Something minor wouldn’t rattle someone like her, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have mentioned anything to him if it wasn’t huge. That alone worried him.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” She’d told him she’d had a shitty day, but he’d never guessed she’d been dealing with anything this serious. Add to that the way she’d acted when he’d gone to her house last night….

Something was definitely wrong. She could have just apologized by text, but she’d not only made a point of coming over to do so in person, she’d brought him a pie she had known he would love.

Because she was dreading going home, he realized with sudden clarity. Why? Was it that she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts and whatever problem she was facing? Or was there something more to it?

He opened his mouth to offer to follow her there, just to make sure she was okay, but then she shook her head.

And her careless shrug was less than convincing. “No, I’ll be fine. It’s just been…a really hard twenty-four hours, that’s all.”

Logan clamped his fingers tighter around the grips on the crutches to keep from reaching for her. After so many years in undercover work, he had the street equivalent of a PhD in reading people.

Strong as Taylor was, closed-off as she tried to be, right now she looked like she needed a hug in the worst way, and he’d love to be the one who gave it to her. But he wasn’t sure if she’d push him away if he did, and didn’t want to risk her shutting down.

“Once,” he said, and those green-flecked eyes lifted to his. “Once I had to do something that made me feel that way.” A drug trafficker he’d come to admire—even cared deeply about, in a twisted sort of way. Logan had been forced to turn on him at the end of a two-year-long op.

There’d been no way around it. But to make it in undercover work meant you had to get close to the target. Real close. Earn his trust, his loyalty. And it sucked when the target you had to bring down was more like a brother to you than your own flesh and blood.

The look of anguish and betrayal on his friend’s face when the bust happened had haunted Logan for a long time afterward. Even now he got an occasional twinge when he thought of Santos rotting away in a federal prison in Colorado.

Taylor searched his eyes for a long moment. “And did you… Eventually did you learn to live with your decision?”

That glimpse of vulnerability from her shredded his heart. He wished he could dive into her head and see what the hell was going on in there. But he wouldn’t lie to her.

“Mostly.” That op had been his last in undercover. He’d applied for FAST the following week and hadn’t looked back since. Except for in his guilt-riddled dreams.

Her long lashes lowered and she gave a slow nod. He’d never seen her this defenseless, this sad. He ached to hold her, make it better somehow, but he couldn’t help if she wouldn’t let him in and he didn’t want to scare her away by moving too fast.

“You know, not to brag, but I’m pretty decent with advice about stuff like that. I mean, if my ex-wife still calls me up to ask my advice, then I must be, right?”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It was like someone had hit a dimmer switch and turned down the light inside her. It bothered him and roused his protectiveness all at once. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

“I guess you must.” She reached for the knob. “Well, thanks again.”

“Hey.” Before he could overthink it or question his actions, he set one crutch against the wall and reached out to cup the side of her face.

Taylor froze, her gaze jerking to his, no fear there, thank God, only surprise and maybe a little wariness. He’d been wanting to touch her for a while now, and was only sorry it had taken this to give him the opportunity.

He held her like that for a moment, stroking his thumb over the softness of her cheek as he searched her eyes, wishing he knew what had put those shadows there. And whose ass he could kick to make them disappear. “I’m here, okay? If you ever need someone to talk to, you can talk to me.”

For a moment she stared back at him in stunned silence, whether because of the intimate touch or the offer, he didn’t know. He took advantage of it and shifted his hand around to cradle the back of her head, his fingers moving gently in her soft, shiny hair.

She was tough to read but he caught a glimpse of something in her eyes as they stared at each other that made his heart turn over. A deep, empty sadness that made him ache inside.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

She wasn’t going to tell him. Disappointed but not all that surprised, Logan dropped his hand and straightened, giving her back the space that seemed to make her feel safe. “Anytime.”

He shut the door behind her, the light scent of her still hanging in the air. For more than a minute he stood there, fighting with himself. His instinct told him to get in his truck and drive to her place, at least do a perimeter check to make sure she was safe.

God dammit. What was wrong?

He hobbled back to his recliner, but his mind wouldn’t shut off. Something really bad was going on with her, he knew it in his gut. And he’d go fucking crazy sitting here on his ass without making sure she was okay.

He made it a full ten minutes before he got up, grabbed his keys and headed out the door.