Crazy for Her (8 page)

“Dani,” he whispered, making her name sound like something precious.

“Please.”
Oh God, please don’t stop.

He reached up to turn off the lamp and stilled. She felt the change in him under the palm she rested on his bare chest. His muscles tensed, the arm at her back fell to the bed, and he took a deep breath.

What had she done wrong?

CHAPTER EIGHT

L
ogan blamed his lapse on his head wound.

How Dani had wormed his past out of him, he didn’t know. He talked of it to no one. Only Maria and Mrs. Jankowski were privy to most of the story because they were a part of it. Maybe the pain pills he’d taken at the hospital had given him a loose tongue.

The way those green eyes had turned all watery and soft on his behalf had been his undoing—that and the apple pie scent of her hair. He shouldn’t have left the lamp on. If he hadn’t turned his head to find the switch, he wouldn’t now be looking at Evan’s picture. He was about to dishonor himself with his best friend’s wife.

Mrs. Jankowski had drilled into him a keen sense of ethical conduct. “Honor,” she’d often said, “is how a noble man lives his life. He does not steal, he does not bully those weaker than him, and he does not covet another man’s wife.”

It was years before Logan accidently learned Mrs. Jankowski’s husband had left her for their neighbor, and likely the reason she considered the last item on her list important. And because a young boy liked the idea of being a noble man—something he’d believed beyond his reach before Mrs. Jankowski barreled her way into his life—he had adopted her principles as his own.

Logan picked up the photo of his teammate and stared into a face he had loved like a brother. He set it back on the table, gently pushed Dani away, and stood.

“Why?”

He had reached the doorway when she asked her question. He stopped, turned, and met her gaze. She knelt in the middle of the bed, her eyes full of hurt. Mrs. Jankowski would not be proud of him at this moment.

“It’s a matter of honor,” he said, and returned to his room.

The next morning—always up by six—Logan was in the kitchen making breakfast when Dani stumbled in, made a cup of coffee, and then disappeared back into her room. “Good morning to you, too,” he muttered. Was she angry about last night?

She could have at least asked how his head was. Christ, he was really mucking things up. Since arriving, he’d insulted her, wrecked her car, and was no closer to catching the creep stalking her. He shoveled eggs into his mouth and again considered bringing Buchanan up to guard her. No. No way was he letting Romeo anywhere near her.

Irritated about everything, he decided he shouldn’t be the only one not having a good day. He called Jake Buchanan to give him hell.

“What time is it?” Buchanan asked, sounding half-asleep.

“I don’t give a damn about the time. I want to know if there are prints on the fucking bear.”

“What bug crawled up your butt? I left you a message last night telling you what we got.”

Damn, he hadn’t bothered checking his messages. “Humor me here and tell me again.”

Logan heard a big sigh from Buchanan and then a female voice in the background. Typical Romeo.

“Can’t this wait until I pour about five cups of coffee down my throat? Better yet, why don’t you hang up and listen to my voice mail? I’ve got a bit of sweetness here, wanting my attention.”

Meanness crept into Logan’s voice. “If you still want to be employed tomorrow, tell me about the damned fingerprints.”

“Yes, sir.” Logan could almost hear Buchanan’s salute. “We lifted a thumbprint. Strange thing is, there were no matches, but the whorls and pattern lines are similar to Prescott’s. The print’s not Evan’s, but almost could be. What does it mean, boss?”

Damn. He’d started having a suspicion, but had hoped it wasn’t true. “It means you send your guest home, and then spend today delving into Evan’s life. His parents, birth certificate, everything, no matter how insignificant you think it is. Put Turner on a plane and send him to Dallas. Tell him to track down anyone who might remember the Prescotts—old neighbors, church, whatever. You got that, Romeo?”

“Not having fun in Asheville, boss?”

“Go to hell,” Logan said, and clicked off.

The rest of his eggs had congealed into an unappetizing mess by the time he hung up. He crammed two pieces of bacon and the last of his toast into his mouth, and then walked outside. Taking a deep breath of the crisp, early-morning mountain air, he tried to find his balance. The woman hiding in her room was throwing his world out of alignment. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

Logan stood on the deck and watched the sun come up over the mountain. When it was light enough to see the oak tree, he focused on it, but didn’t sense anyone there.
Who the hell are you?
The back door creaked open and he turned.

His gaze hungrily slid over Dani, taking in the white T-shirt that showed a slit of stomach above the waist of a pair of cutoff jeans, lingering a moment on the silver belly ring, and then on down to the latest toenail color, a purple so dark it was almost black. Did she change the color of polish to suit her moods? Should he take the near black as a warning?

“When you’re done ogling me, maybe you’ll tell me why you’re looking into Evan’s background.”

Yep, black toenails didn’t bode well. Not wanting to answer her question yet and since ogling her obviously annoyed her, he made a slow perusal in reverse direction, from her toes up. When he reached her eyes, he cocked a brow. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“You’re an ass,” she said, disappearing back inside to the sound of the slamming door.

He couldn’t deny the reality of their situation, and the sooner she accepted it, the sooner she would stop looking at him with hurt in those Irish green eyes. Not only was she Evan’s wife, but Logan Kincaid wasn’t good enough for her. How could a woman born into a house with seven bathrooms ever love a man who grew up in little more than a glorified shed with one barely working bathroom, a man whose mother spread her legs for any man with a few bucks in his pocket?

Never going to happen
.

Dani aimed a kick at the foot of her bed. “Crap!” She hopped in a circle and then sat, holding her toe. Madder at herself than Logan for letting him get under her skin, she threw herself back on the bed. When his gaze had roamed over her body, she’d seen the hunger in his eyes, had wanted to tear off her clothes and jump on him right then. He wanted her, but didn’t like it.

Why couldn’t they have hot, mind-boggling sex? She wouldn’t expect more from him. But no, he had his damn honor. “Stupid man.”

“I assume you mean me.”

She lifted onto her elbows and glared at him. He stood in the middle of the doorway, his hands in his pockets. God help her, one look at him and she was ready to drool. “Do you make a habit of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure talking to yourself constitutes a conversation, but I could ask the same.”

She sat up. “You have me there. I heard the end of your phone call. Was that Jake on the phone, and why are you investigating Evan?”

Startling her, he walked in, slid his arms under her legs, and picked her up, carrying her toward the living room. Holy Batman, he was strong. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re on your bed. My mind doesn’t work right.”

She was face-to-face with him, and if she dared, she could close the inches between them and kiss him, but she still smarted from his rejection. He had removed the bandage from his forehead, and she gently put her finger next to the cut. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? God, when I think what could have happened.”

He stilled and focused on her. “If I were truly lucky—” He gave a little shake of his head before continuing down the hall.

“If what?”

Stopping in the doorway to the living room, his gaze fell to her mouth. “I would have the right to do this.” His face lowered until his lips covered hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. He feathered kisses over her mouth, soft brushes that tingled wherever he touched, her top lip, the bottom, the corners. When she sighed in pleasure, his arm tightened around her back and he deepened the kiss.

When he nipped on her lower lip, she opened her mouth for him. Their tongues tentatively touched, and then tangled. He tasted of coffee and mint toothpaste.

He pulled her tight against his chest and made a low growling noise deep in his throat. The sound excited her until it mixed with the cry of a baby. Tearing his mouth away, he practically threw her on the couch.

“Christ, Dani, you’re killing me here.” He backed up until he fell onto the chair behind him.

Why did he look so miserable? He was unfathomable, a mystery, and he intrigued the hell out of her. In bed, she just knew he would take her to the stars, perhaps even to the outer edges of the universe. Making love with Evan had always been tender and beautiful. Sometimes she had thought her husband held back, afraid of hurting her. With Logan, it would be hot, wild, and out of control. There would be no holding back for him.

The man had unleashed something feral inside her, and she did a thing she never would have dreamed of ten minutes ago. She stood and went to him, braced her palms on the back of his chair, and lowered her face to within inches of his.

“I don’t want to kill you, Logan, I only want to fuck you.” When he parted his lips in surprise, she covered his mouth with hers and licked his tongue.

As she left the room, she glanced over her shoulder and winked. If ever a man looked lost, it was Logan at that moment. She almost felt sorry for him. It wasn’t until she was sitting in the rocking chair and nursing Regan while staring at Dr. Seuss curtains that she realized he had never answered her question.

Why was he looking into Evan’s childhood?

Dani sat in the sales office at the Jeep dealership and stared moodily at the two men bargaining over the price of her new Cherokee. Logan had to be the most stubborn man she had ever met. Never mind that she could afford to buy her own damn car; never mind her insurance would cover the cost. Logan was adamant that as he had wrecked her Cherokee, he would buy her a new one.

Exactly what services he provided the government and Fortune 500 companies other than security, she had no clue. Based on his SEAL background, there were probably some black-ops jobs in there, too. Even though she was certain he was doing well, he worked hard for his money and shouldn’t be spending it on her. The last thing she wanted to do was take anything from the boy who’d grown up with nothing.