Homecoming: The Billionaire Brothers (14 page)

Jessica gasped soundlessly, betrayal showing in her narrowed gaze and thin lips. “I’m not interested in an unearned promotion. And I certainly have no intention of earning said promotion in bed.”

Logan almost fell off the log in his haste to stand up. “What? I take it back, you’re not intelligent, you’re a blithering idiot like all the rest of them. I’m not offering to promote you in exchange for sex! How did you get that from what I just said?”

Her shoulders were coiled tight with tension under his hands, but she didn’t shake off his touch. Logan was counting it as a win.

“I … sorry. Maybe I am a little traumatized.” Jessica’s attempt at a smile was the saddest thing Logan had ever seen. “Russ used to talk about how I was ‘going places’ in the company. ‘Stick with me, sweetness, and you’ll go right to the top.’”

Logan couldn’t decipher whether the disgust in her tone was aimed at herself or at the King of All Douche Bags, Russell Owens. “Don’t apologize. Seriously. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t think about how it could sound. And anyway, you’re missing the point.”

“Oh?” She lifted her chin enough to get him thinking about how close their lips were, and if he tilted his head to the perfect forty-five degree angle, he could …

“Your point, Logan?” A bare hint of a smirk had one corner of her mouth dimpling distractingly.

Logan tightened his hands on her shoulders for an instant, savoring the warmth of her flesh through the thin, clingy material of her workout top. “The main point, and your most egregious failure of logic, is simply this. Russell Owens was—probably is, there’s no evidence he’s changed—a textbook sexual predator. He targeted an innocent, unworldly woman in a subordinate position, isolated you from anyone who could talk sense into you, established complete control over every aspect of your life and lied to you about his intentions. He knowingly, deliberately preyed on your desire to trust and your dreams for the future.”

A cynical twist replaced the smirk on Jessica’s lips, but her eyes were soft. “That assessment lets me off the hook too much, but okay. I certainly grant your premise that Russ was an exceptionally awful person. So what?”

“So … I’m not Russell Owens. I’m nothing like him.” Logan tilted the corner of his lips in a maddeningly sexy smirk. “In fact, I’m not like anyone you’ve ever known. So perhaps you should take this opportunity to get to know me a little better.”

She licked her lips, drawing his gaze. “I already know you quite well, thank you.”

Logan leaned in. “Then you know I’m used to getting what I want, one way or another. And what I want is you, for the duration of this forced vacation to Boredom Island.”

Tensing under his hands, Jessica never dropped her eyes. “And if I say no? What happens when we get back to New York?”

He shrugged. “The same thing that happens if you say yes. We resume functioning as normal, with you as my assistant and me ignoring your attempts to make me work less. No emotional entanglements inside the office.”

“Very convincing.” She grimaced. “But sex always leads to emotional entanglements. For me, anyway.”

In that vein, Logan made himself drop his hands and take a step back. No undue persuasion or influence. “If your final decision is no, then I respect that. But before you make that choice, just keep in mind that you’re no longer a naïve college girl. And I’m not a manipulative liar. I won’t buy you an apartment or jewelry. I won’t ask you to marry me. I won’t throw a tantrum when this thing between us inevitably runs its course and fizzles out—and I won’t hold a grudge or retaliate professionally if you choose not to pursue it.”

“So it’s completely up to me,” Jessica clarified, color high in her cheeks. “My choice whether to sleep with you—temporarily—or not?”

“Completely your choice,” Logan agreed with a magnanimous smile that morphed into a sharp, predatory grin as he leaned in to catch the ripe, sun-warmed scent of her skin. “But I’m giving you fair warning now. I intend to devote every bit of my considerable intelligence to convincing you to take full advantage of the extraordinary compatibility of our bodies.”

*   *   *

“You’re right,” Jessica breathed, swaying toward him. “You’re nothing like him.” Nothing like the man who taught her that love was a pretty story for fools and children. Her heart would be safe with Logan Harrington, because he’d never touch it. He had no interest in it. He was skilled in the arts of no-strings-attached sex and avoiding emotional entanglements.

Maybe she’d live a happier, more independent life if she followed his lead.

All he was interested in was sex. He admitted it up front, without embarrassment or apology. That might sound unappealing to some women, but those women hadn’t met Logan Harrington.

His eyes went heavy lidded and hot. “Does that mean you want to head back to the cottage and climb up into the loft with me?”

Heart skittering in her chest—was she really doing this?—Jessica refused to let her nerves show. “Nope.”

Disappointment, surprisingly strong, flashed across his handsome face. But instead of sulking, he gave her a smile. “Okay. No pressure. However, I reserve the right to keep tempting you to change your mind.”

That reaction gave Jessica the guts to say, “We’re not going up to the loft because beds are for sleeping. That’s one of the first rules of treating insomnia. So…”

She paused to control her voice, then thought,
what the hell?
And let it drop into the husky lower register that would take this conversation from suggestive to downright seductive. “We’re going to have to get creative.”

“Mmm.” Logan’s blue eyes lit up like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Stepping forward, he put his hands back on her shoulders and let his thumbs caress shivery circles into the sides of her neck. Jessica felt as if the weight of his touch was all that kept her from floating up off the ground. “I can do creative.”

A gull winged by overhead, soaring out over the marsh toward the sparkling ocean. Jessica sucked in a breath of salty air and let the new sense of freedom and possibility wash through her.

It had been a while, but she hadn’t forgotten how to flirt with her eyes. Cocking her head at enough of an angle to brush her cheek against the side of Logan’s right hand, she let her lips part in a slow smile. “The loft is off-limits, but that leaves the rest of the cottage up for grabs. Or, if you’re feeling extra adventurous…”

Nearly vibrating with excitement and nerves, Jessica brought up her hand to tug down the zipper at the neck of her gym sweatshirt. Not the best outfit for a seduction, she mused wryly, but she was a born problem solver.

And judging by the hungry way Logan’s gaze followed the path of that little zipper until it stopped right above her breasts, he wasn’t suffering from her lack of sexy lingerie. She hadn’t bothered with a sports bra, since they were only walking, and the work-out shirt had enough built-in support. So when Logan’s long fingers dipped from her neck, over her collarbone, and drew a line down the sliver of her breastbone revealed by the open zipper, Jessica knew her instinctive shiver would reveal her bra-less state in no uncertain terms.

Logan’s breathing changed, went deep and harsh in his chest, and the way his strong jaw clenched as he stared down at her made Jessica’s breasts feel warm and heavy. Her nipples tightened even more beneath his hot stare, and the moment stretched tight between them.

Until Logan broke the tension with a single, guttural sound, and swept her up into his arms.

Jessica’s last giddy thought before pleasure consumed her completely was,
This might be a mistake, but it’s a mistake worth making.

Chapter Six

That first morning of lovemaking, with the sun and the wind and the ocean all around them, stretched into an afternoon of strolling down to the beach and wading through the foamy white surf. The only other living beings they encountered were sandpipers hopping along the edge of the water, trying to catch the periwinkles before they dug down into the wet sand with a flash of sunlight glinting off their shiny shells. The band of wild horses was long gone—“Probably scared away by all the noise you were making,” Logan noted smugly.

Jessica didn’t have the energy to retaliate with more than a halfhearted glare and a determined snatch at his hand. Lacing their fingers together, she arched a brow that dared him to comment on her desire to hold his hand, but Logan mimed zipping his lips closed.

That didn’t last long, of course. They turned to head back to the cottage so Jessica could force-feed Logan something disgustingly healthy in retaliation for how thoroughly she’d answered his first intrusive personal question. She decided on a protein shake with apples and kale, to make it green and gloppy.

But before he agreed to drink it, he shot her a narrow glance. “If you want me to swallow that nasty concoction, it better earn me a bonus question.”

Jessica nearly fumbled the glass in her surprise. “You want to keep going with the questions?”

She’d been under the impression he’d already asked the one he cared about—and since it had led directly to the result he wanted, Jessica naked and writhing in his arms like a woman who hadn’t been touched in far too long, she didn’t see why he needed to ask more.

But Logan only smiled, his mischievous grin setting Jessica’s pulse pounding in delighted anticipation. “Oh, definitely. I haven’t come close to plumbing the depths of you yet.”

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but decided to ignore it in favor of rolling her eyes at his ridiculous innuendo. “Drink your smoothie. I’m going to shower—I have sand and dried saltwater in some very uncomfortable places. And when I get back … you can plumb my depths to your heart’s content. So long as that glass is empty, and your phone stays dark, silent and in your pocket. In fact, hand over the phone now. I’ll take charge of that until we leave the island. Consider it one of my rules for helping to rebuild your health.”

A brief spasm of irritated, reluctant respect crossed his face. “Damn it, you know me too well.”

He reached into his pocket with two dexterous fingers and withdrew the tiny, slim piece of high-tech gadgetry he was never without. It was his main link to the lab, and Jessica was well aware that if she left it in his possession, he wouldn’t be able to resist checking in and attempting to remotely control and oversee the latest project. His team at the lab was good, but far too reliant on the fact that Logan lived, breathed and thought about nothing but work.

Well, not for the length of time they spent on Sanctuary Island. She’d get him to think about something other than work if it killed her.

“Gimme,” she prompted when Logan clutched his fingers around the smartphone possessively.

“You’re a hard woman, Tink,” he said with a mournful look in his blue eyes. “Here. Promise you’ll take good care of her.”

“Her?”

How had she not known he thought of his phone as a woman?

“Sure.” Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, all long, powerful lines. A Thoroughbred in repose. “I call her Wendy. She takes care of me, tells me stories, tells me what to do.”

Jessica pocketed the phone smoothly. “If you’re searching for a mother, Peter Pan, you’re definitely better off looking to the phone than to me. Although I’m always happy to tell you what to do.”

Old, remembered sadness darted through his gaze, a silver-scaled fish appearing and disappearing through the currents of his blue eyes. She blinked and it was gone, replaced by the sardonic glint she knew so well. “Now Tink, don’t be jealous of Wendy.”

Shaking off the strangeness of the moment, Jessica paused in the bedroom doorway to throw a glance over her shoulder. “I’m not worried. After all, if Wendy were to invite you to join her in the shower, she’d be fried. Whereas if I were to ask if you wanted to clean up together…?”

Never breaking eye contact, Logan tilted his head back and downed the protein shake in five huge, continuous gulps. He slammed the empty glass down on the counter without even a grimace at the taste and strode across the living room like a man on a mission.

Apparently, his mission was to back Jessica against the doorjamb, closing her into the circle of his arms braced on the wall, and nuzzle her neck.

They made it into the shower eventually.

*   *   *

After the emotional roller coaster of his first question, Logan decided to keep the second one light. He asked if she had any brothers or sisters, which led to a discussion of what it was like for Jessica to grow up as an only child with parents who didn’t understand why she would want to leave their friendly Midwestern town to make a life for herself in New York.

“I always wished I had brothers and sisters. Preferably both older and younger,” Jessica said, propping her chin on Logan’s chest and tangling her fingers in his chest hair.

He winced, partly from the half-pleasurable sting of her distracted tugging, and partly because he knew better. “No, you don’t. Being in the middle is like being the last kid on your team in dodgeball—you get it from every angle, but you’re totally on your own.”

Jessica melted against him sympathetically, brushing her cheek over his chest and watching him with wide, soft eyes. “Did Dylan and Miles always fight a lot?”

From his position stretched out on the living room couch with Jessica blanketing him, Logan contemplated the cottage ceiling. “I guess. But they were close, too. Dylan is the youngest by a bit, a late baby, so there’s ten years between him and Miles. That kid tagged around after Miles everywhere he went, and Miles loved it.”

“And you? Where were you in all this?”

He shrugged to get his shoulders into a more comfortable position against the arm of the sofa. “Too busy learning how to code new programming languages. I didn’t have a lot of time for playing games and making friends. Even then, I wasn’t much of a joiner.”

“Weren’t you in the chemistry club? Or chess club? Come on, you’re stomping all over my nerd stereotypes.”

Logan let his lip curl slightly. “We may have gone to the most exclusive private academy in the northeast, but the chemistry club was a joke. At least to me. They were decades behind me, even though I’d skipped a few grades and was the youngest in my year by far.”