“Sorry.” He went into his bedroom and grabbed the laptop he kept there, then sat beside her on the couch. At least if his mind and hands were busy, he wouldn’t be thinking about touching her.
He pulled his cell from his pocket and turned on the hot spot for the Internet, watching her as he waited for it to connect. Her eyelids became hooded, and her arms wrapped around her middle as if she were cold. Logan set the laptop on the coffee table and covered her with the throw from the bedroom.
She pulled it up beneath her chin with a sleepy smile. “Thank you for everything, Logan.”
He smiled, feeling the impact of the realization that he’d do anything for her. He sat stock-still, momentarily blown away by the depth of his feelings for her. She sank farther down into the cushions, startling him out of his stupor.
He settled the laptop on his lap and checked on the emails he’d sent that morning to his contacts at the prison where Kutcher was being held. A while later Stormy’s feet nudged their way onto his lap, and he shifted his laptop to accommodate them. Her features had softened the way they had last night. She looked peaceful, as if she felt safe, and that last bit made his chest feel full.
Logan forced himself to concentrate on tracking down Bob Kanets, the dealer he hoped he’d be able to coerce into ratting out Kutcher for drug trafficking. If he was successful, it could keep Kutcher behind bars for at least a few more years. An hour later he had a list of Kutcher’s associates along with a trail of gas and other receipts marking his territory. He sent a text to Marco and got the lowdown on Winters, who seemed to have taken his advice to heart, going straight from work to home and staying put for the night. Marco would continue to tail him for a month. One piece of shit out of the way.
Stormy shifted beside him, and he wondered if it would be better if she felt like a stranger, because falling for a woman wasn’t in his plans, and as he set his laptop on the coffee table and lifted her into his arms, he knew it was exactly what was happening.
He carried her into her bedroom, pulled the blankets back, and set her down on the sheets. Light from the living room provided just enough illumination for him to see her lips curve in a sweet smile.
He debated undressing her so she’d be more comfortable, but didn’t trust himself enough to keep his desires in check. Instead, he pulled the covers up, moved her bags to the floor, and checked the locks on the windows. It felt strange to leave the bedroom when he wanted to climb in beside her and hold her safely against him. Keeping a professional distance sucked.
He left the bedroom door cracked open as fatigue settled into his bones. He checked the lock on the front door one last time before stripping down to his briefs and falling into bed.
***
STELLA AWOKE WITH a start. She thought she’d heard a noise, but she was so tired that she wasn’t sure if she really had or if it was part of the nightmare she’d been having about Kutcher. Her eyes darted around the dark, unfamiliar room. Her heart thundered in her chest, and the only thing she heard was the blood rushing through her ears. She took a few deep breaths, telling herself that it was just a dream.
She’d awoken a while ago feeling bound by her clothes, and she’d stripped down to her underwear, taken off her bra, and dug a T-shirt out of her bag. As her heartbeat calmed, she took stock of the positive things in her life. It was one of the ways she’d gotten through the long nights these past few months, because focusing on all she’d left behind or how scared she was would render her useless.
She was alive. That topped the list of blessings.
She was safe in Logan’s cabin. God, Logan. He’d looked like he was ready to pounce earlier in the evening—either on anyone who came near her, or on her; she’d had a hard time deciphering his desire from his protective instincts. He was a complex man, but she trusted him, and liked him way too much. Great. Now she was getting hot and bothered by just thinking about him.
Her eyes danced around the room to distract herself. There was a large wooden dresser on the far wall, and dark curtains covered the windows. The whole cabin felt masculine. Like Logan. She hated sucking him into her nightmare of a life, but at the same time, she was thankful he’d been there when she’d needed him. She heard a noise outside her window, and she clutched the blanket to her chest, holding her breath while she listened to a scratching noise on the deck. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she caught sight of a man filling the doorframe with a gun hanging from his right hand, and screamed.
“It’s me.” Logan pulled her against him as she fought to climb off the other side of the bed. “It’s Logan. You’re safe.”
“I heard a noise,” she panted out.
“Raccoons. They wandered onto the deck.”
Raccoons. Not Kutcher.
Her heart felt like it was going to explode. She clutched Logan’s arms.
“It’s okay. No one knows you’re here. You’re safe. I promise.”
“Then why do you have a gun?” she whispered, too afraid to speak louder.