Читать книгу Modern Romance June 2017 Books 5 - 8 - Jane Porter, Andie Brock - Страница 14
ОглавлениеTHE LUXURIOUS INTERIOR of Castle Ros hid its technology well. At first glance one didn’t see the modern amenities, just the sumptuous appointments. The scattered rugs and plush carpets. The rich paneling and decoratively papered walls. The glow of lights in intricate fixtures. The oil portraits and massive landscapes in ornate gold frames. But then as Logan settled into her suite of rooms, a suite that adjoined Rowan’s, she noticed the electrical outlets and USB ports tucked into every surface and corner.
There was a remote on the bedside table that controlled the temperature, and the blackout blinds at the windows, and an enormous painting over the fireplace that turned into a flat-screen TV. A refrigerator, sink and marble-topped counter had been tucked into one of the adjoining closets. On the white marble counter stood an espresso machine, and next to that was a lacquered box lined with pods of coffee. Milks and snacks filled the refrigerator. A small wine rack was stocked with bottles of red and white wine.
Apparently Rowan—or his estate manager—had thought of everything. There was no reason Logan couldn’t be comfortable in the lavish suite.
Now Jax was another matter.
The castle wasn’t child-friendly. There wasn’t a small bed or even a chair suitable for a two-year-old anywhere, never mind the massive fireplaces—with fires—missing screens, and the steep stone staircases without a gate or barrier to slow a curious toddler’s exploration.
But before Logan could voice her concerns, Rowan was already aware of the problem. “I recognize that the house poses a danger for Jax. While it’s impossible to make the entire castle child-safe, I can certainly ensure that she has rooms—or an entire floor—that have been made secure, free of hazards, giving her plenty of space to play and move about.”
And then he was gone, and Logan was alone with Jax in her huge suite with the high ceilings, crackling fire and tall, narrow windows.
Logan frowned at the fire. At least this one had a grate and screen, but the fire worried her.
But then, everything worried her. She’d lost control. Her carefully constructed world was in pieces, shattered by the appearance of Rowan Argyros.
He wasn’t supposed to be in her life. She didn’t want him in her life. She didn’t want him near Jax. And yet here they all were, locked down in his high-tech, high-security castle.
She needed to get away. She needed to get Jax away from here as soon as possible. Logan didn’t know how. She just knew it had to be done, and quickly. And while time was of the essence, strategy would be important as it wasn’t going to be easy leaving Rowan’s fortified home, nor would it be simple sneaking a two-year-old away.
After a bath and a light meal, Logan and Jax napped and then before Logan was ready to be awake, Jax was up and eager to play.
Logan’s head throbbed. She needed sleep. Her body seemed to think it was the middle of the night—and back in California it was—but Jax was adjusting to the time change far better and Logan allowed the busy toddler to take all the shimmering silk pillows to the huge empty walk-in closet to play.
Logan made coffee and sat down with a notebook to figure out the next steps to take, and she was still sitting with the notebook—pages perfectly blank—when a knock sounded at the door.
Opening the bedroom door, she discovered a fresh-faced young woman in the hall.
“I’m Orla.” The young woman introduced herself with a firm handshake and quick smile. “I’ve been a nanny for five years, but I’m not just a child minder, I’m a certified teacher, specializing in early education. So where is my lovely girl? I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
Logan drew a short, rough breath, as Orla stepped past, entering the bedroom suite. “I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly. “There must be a mistake. I haven’t hired anyone.”
“Your husband—”
“I don’t have a husband.”
Orla turned around and faced Logan. “Mr. Argyros—”
“Not my husband.”
“Your fiancé—”
“He’s not my fiancé.”
The young woman didn’t blink or flush or stammer. Her steady blue gaze met Logan’s and held. “Your daughter’s father.”
Logan bit down on her tongue. She had no reply for that.
“He hired my services,” Orla continued in the same calm, unflappable tone, her dark hair drawn back in a sleek, professional ponytail. Orla appeared to be a good five to ten years younger than Logan, and yet she was managing to making Logan feel as if she was a difficult child. “He said there’d been a recent death in the family,” she added, “and you had matters to attend to. I’m here to help make everything easier for you.”
Again, Logan couldn’t think of an appropriate response. Somehow Rowan was getting the best of her, and he wasn’t even here. “But I’m not working. I don’t need any help with my daughter.” She tensed as she heard her voice rise. She was sounding plaintive and that wouldn’t do. “I enjoy my daughter’s company very much, and right now I need her. She’s such a comfort.”
“But the wedding preparations will only tire her out. I can promise you she’ll have great fun with me. I’ve brought toys and games and dolls. Does Jax like playing with dolls? I have a set of little fairies—they’re a family and absolutely adorable—and most girls—”
“Fairies?” The connecting door to the massive walk-in closet flew open and Jax came running out, dragging one of the embroidered silk pillows behind her. She’d been happy in the closet, but apparently playing with fairies was far more appealing than tasseled silk pillows. “I love fairies!”
Orla was already on one knee, putting herself at eye level with Jax. “I have a whole family of fairies in my bag. Would you like to see?”
Jax nodded vigorously, and Logan held her breath, counted to five, and then ten, aware that her immediate presence was not needed here. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go have a word with Rowan.”
Jax ignored her and Orla just flashed a cheerful smile. “Of course, Ms. Copeland. We’ll be here, having a healthy snack and creating our fairy garden. We’ll show you our garden when you’re back.”
* * *
Rowan wasn’t surprised to see Logan at the door of his office. He rolled back from his desk where he’d been reading updates on situations he was monitoring and answering brief emails with even briefer replies.
He casually propped one foot on top of the other as she entered. “Everything all right?”
“No,” she said curtly, crossing the floor. She’d changed since they’d arrived, and was dressed now in black trousers and a black knit sweater that clung to her high full breasts and hugged her narrow waist. Her thick, honey hair was parted in the middle, and the long, straight silk strands framed her face, drawing attention to the arched brows and haunting blue of her eyes.
He’d remembered she was pretty, but had forgotten how her beauty was such a physical thing. She crackled with energy, and just looking at her made his blood heat. “What’s happened?” he asked, tamping down the desire. “Maybe I can help.”
“You’re the problem, and you know it.” She stood before him, a hand on one hip, drawing attention to her lean figure, made even longer by her black leather boots. The heels on her leather boots were high. And incredibly sexy.
“Me?” he drawled.
Her arched eyebrow lifted higher, her expression incredulous, and Rowan didn’t think she’d ever looked so fierce, or so desirable.
The fierceness was new, as was the crackling energy. She hadn’t been fierce three years ago. She hadn’t burned with this intensity, either. Becoming a mother had changed her.
He liked it. He liked her on fire. But then, he’d always loved a good fight, and she was itching for a fight now.
“Would you like to sit down?” He gestured to a chair not far from the desk. “We can talk—”
“You’re not my partner or spouse,” she said, cutting him short. “You will never be my partner or spouse, and you’ve no right to hire a nanny for my daughter without my permission.” Temper flashed in her eyes. “Are you listening, Rowan? You need to understand what I’m saying.”
His upper lip ached to curl. He wanted to smile but fought to hide his amusement, aware that she wouldn’t appreciate it. “I’m listening, Logan.”
“Good. Because you have an agenda—that’s clear enough—but it’s not my agenda, and I’m not going to be bulldozed into going along with your plan.”
He’d found her impossibly lovely three years ago, the night he’d spotted her at the auction. She had an intent gaze, focused and watchful, and in her delicate silver and periwinkle gown, she’d shimmered, her beauty mysterious...that of a remote, untouchable princess. The untouchable quality drew him in. He saw it as a challenge. He couldn’t resist a challenge.
Now there was an entirely different challenge before him. A different woman. And he understood why she’d changed. She’d had to be everything for Jax—mother and father, protector and nurturer—and she’d done it truly alone, cut off from family, mocked by society, and the pressure and pain had stripped Logan down and reshaped her, giving her an edge, giving her strength. This woman standing before him was no doormat. This new woman exuded power and resolve. This new woman was sexual, too, dressed head to toe in black, the light of battle blazing in her eyes, illuminating her stunning features.
“I don’t want to bulldoze you. That wouldn’t be fair to you or our daughter.”
He saw her tense when he said our daughter. “She is our daughter.”
“She’s not a bargaining chip.”
“I would never make her one.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe that for a second and neither should you. You are the most ruthless man I have ever met, Rowan, and that is saying a great deal considering my father is Daniel Copeland.”
“I spent ten years in the military as an officer. I have nothing in common with your father.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Nothing stopped him from taking what he wanted. And nothing will stop you, either. You take what you want, when you want, and discard—”
“I didn’t discard you.”
Her eyes burned overbright. She swallowed once, and then again, struggling to hold back words.
He sighed inwardly. “I treated you badly, yes. But it won’t be like that with Jax.”
“You’re right, it won’t be, because she is not part of this...she is not part of us. She is herself, and lovely and everything that is best in the world, and I will protect her from those who’d hurt her, and that includes you, Rowan Argyros.”
“You don’t need to protect her from me.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“I’m not a monster.”
Logan looked away, lips compressing, a sheen of tears in her eyes.
His chest tightened and it felt as if somewhere along the way he’d swallowed rocks. They made his stomach hurt. He’d hurt her badly because he’d intended to hurt her, and the unfairness of it made him sick. But it wouldn’t change the outcome of this conversation. He wasn’t going to lose Jax.
And he wasn’t going to lose Logan.
They’d be a family because it was the right thing. Because it was the best thing. Because it would keep both of them safe, and that was the world he knew best.
Safety. Security.
No one would get to them, no one could hurt them. He knew it, and in her heart, she had to know it, too.
Rowan rose and moved past her to drag the tapestry-covered armchair forward. “Sit, mo chroí. You’ll be more comfortable, I promise you.”
She shot him a derisive look. “You want me to sit because it will make me more passive. But I’m not interested in being passive or docile. I’m not interested in being managed or accommodating you in any way.”
She wouldn’t like it if she knew he found her so appealing right now.
She wouldn’t like it if she knew how much he wanted to touch her. How much he wanted to cover her mouth and drink her in, tasting her, taking her, making her melt.
He could make her melt.
He could.
He could do it now, too. Even when she crackled and burned. It’d be easier now, when she was on fire, her temper stirred, because anger and passion were so very close, anger flamed passion, anger made passion explode...
Logan straightened and stepped away from the club chair, closing the gap between them. It only took that one step and he saw the flicker in her eyes and the bite of teeth into her soft lower lip.
She was not so indifferent, this fierce woman of his.
She was not unaware of the crackle and fire in the room and the tension pulsing between them.
He gazed down into her upturned face, her eyes wide and blue, her breathing ragged. He could even see the erratic pulse beating at the base of her throat. They were so very close. If he drew a deep enough breath his chest would touch hers.
If he shifted, his knee would find her thighs. He’d be there between her thighs. He very much wanted to be between her thighs, too.
One touch and he’d have her.
One touch and she’d be his.
“I want you to sit,” he said quietly, gently, his blood humming in his veins, his body taut, hard. “Because I’m very, very close to stretching you across my desk and having my way with you.” He stared into her eyes, the faintest of smiles creasing the corners of his eyes, even as he let her see the challenge in his eyes, and allowed her to feel his leashed tension. She needed to know that things were getting serious. This wasn’t a game. “But somehow I think you’re not yet ready for us to pick up where we left off—”
“That’s not even a possibility.”
And then he did what he knew he shouldn’t do, not because she’d resist him, but because it wouldn’t help his position—that he was good for her and Jax, and that he was the right one to take care of them.
But there was something about Logan that made him throw caution to the wind and he was done with restraint. Clasping her face in his hands, he captured her mouth and kissed her deeply, kissing her with that heat and hunger he knew she responded to, and she did.
Her lips trembled beneath his and her mouth opened to him. His tongue stroked the inside of her lip and then in, finding her tongue and teasing her until he felt her hands on his arms, her grip tight. She leaned in, leaning against him, and she was so warm and soft and...his.
His, but not his. Because he still didn’t understand why he felt so possessive about this woman. He didn’t understand the attraction and wasn’t even sure he wanted to be attracted. The fact that she could even test his control, provoked him.
“I could make you come right now,” he murmured against her mouth, as aware of his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers as he was of the hot, honey taste of her on his tongue, “and you’d love it.”
She stiffened but didn’t pull away, her chest rising and falling against his own.
He’d offended her, and it’d been deliberate. Just like before, he lashed out at her when truthfully he was frustrated with himself.
So really, he was no different from three plus years ago.
God almighty.
Rowan let her go and stepped away. He hated himself just then.
What was he doing?
This wasn’t like him. His career had been built on defending and rescuing others. He was a protector.
Except when it came to Logan.
Rowan went to his desk, rifling through papers, pushing aside a stack of folders, needing time to calm down and clear his head.
He needed to be able to think. He needed her to think. They both needed to make the right decisions. Decisions about marriage and the future. Decisions about where they’d raise Jax together, protecting Jax.
This wasn’t about love, but responsibility.
And yet he’d fulfill his duty as a husband. He’d make sure Logan’s needs were met. He’d be sure she was satisfied.
“You can’t have me,” she whispered, drawing a rough breath and taking an unsteady step back. “And you can’t have Jax, either.” She retreated another couple of steps, arms folded tightly over her chest. “Just because you swept us out of the country and deposited us here in your Irish estate, doesn’t mean we’re yours. We’re not.”
“She is.”
“You didn’t want her. You didn’t want anything to do with us—”
“You never told me I was a father.”
“I phoned. You mocked me. Scorned me.”
“You keep talking about you. You never told me about her. What about her?”
A shadow crossed her face and Logan’s expression shuttered. He’d scored a direct hit. She knew he was right.
He shrugged impatiently. “In your heart you know you gave up too easily. If you truly love her as much as you say you do, you should have fought for her rights. Fought to do what was best for her.”
“You think you’re best?” Her chin notched up and yet her full lips quivered, the soft full lower lip swollen from the hard, hot kiss. “You think you’re father material?”
His jaw tightened. “It doesn’t matter what you think. What matters is the law. As her biological father, I have rights, and I intend to exert those rights, and you can be part of our family, or—”
“There is no or, Rowan. I am her family.”
“Just as I am her family, too.”
“You said you wouldn’t use her as a bargaining tool.”
“Correct. I will not bargain for her. I will not bargain with her. I am claiming my rights, and my right to parent my daughter, and we can either do this together, making these decisions together, or we can take it to the courts and let them decide.”
“You wouldn’t win custody.”
He gave her a long look. “Your late father is a crook...one of the greatest of this century. You’ve hidden my daughter from me—”
“You’re twisting everything.”
“But can’t you see how this will play out in court? Can’t you see that you’ve been duplicitous? Every bit as deceitful as your father?”
“No.”
“But yes, love, you have. Legally you have.” He fell silent, and the silence stretched, heavy, weighted, pointed. She needed to face the truth, and in this case, she was wrong. The court would take issue with her choices. The court would penalize her for those choices.
Silence stretched and Logan’s heart beat fast as she watched Rowan reach for another sheaf of papers, carelessly flipping through them.
She continued to hold her breath as he leaned over and scrawled a few words—his signature maybe?—at the bottom of one page, and then flipped to another page and scrawled something again.
She hated this so much.
She hated bickering and fighting, especially when it was about a child. Her child.
And yes, Rowan was her biological father but it was impossible to wrap her head around the fact that he wanted to be in Jax’s life. That he wanted to be a true father.
Or maybe she was misunderstanding. Maybe he didn’t want to be hands-on. Maybe this was about power...control.
“My father rarely spent time with his children,” Logan said flatly, trying to hide the thudding of her heart and the anxiety rippling through her. “He spent his life at the office. And then after the divorce, he saw Morgan, but not the rest of us. But that was because Morgan went to live with him, feeling sorry for him.”
Rowan lifted his head, his gaze locking with hers. “But you didn’t.”
“It was his choice not to see us. Mother never kept us from him. He didn’t care enough about us to maintain a relationship.”
“But you view him as your father.”
She struggled with the next words. “He paid our bills.”
“So you really couldn’t care less about him.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You want to attend his funeral.”
“He was my father.”
“Ah.” Rowan dropped into his chair, and studied her from across the office. “And you don’t think our daughter will care about her father? You assume she doesn’t need one?”
“I never said that.”
“But you’ve blocked me from her life. Kept her from knowing she has a father.”
Logan closed her eyes and drew a slow breath. “There’s a difference between paying for a child’s expenses, and being engaged...and loving.”
“And you assume I can only pay bills?”
Tension knotted her shoulders. Balls of ice filled her stomach. Logan flexed her fingers trying to ease the anxiety ricocheting inside her. After an endless moment she touched her tongue to her upper lip, dampening it. “You have assumed only the worst of me. You have judged me based on my name. You have treated me incredibly harshly, and it’s difficult, if not impossible, to believe that you would want to be a father, much less a loving one.”
“You were introduced to me as Logan Lane.”
“Lane is my mother’s name, and my preferred name. It is my name.”
“Are you telling me you dropped the Copeland from your name?”
“I was in the process of legally changing my name. Yes. Copeland is a distraction.”
He continued to study her, his expression impossible to read. He had such hard, chiseled features and his light eyes were shuttered. And then his mouth eased and his fierce expression softened. “No need to look so stricken. The good news is that we have the chance to fix things. You and I can sort this out without a judge...without the courts. It will be far less messy and painful if we manage our affairs privately. Surely you don’t want your distracting name bandied about in the press? I would imagine that by now you’ve had enough media attention to last a lifetime.”
Her stomach heaved. The very idea of being in the papers made her want to throw up. She couldn’t bear to be chased again. It had been awful when the reporters and photographers shadowed her every move several years ago. She’d felt hunted. Haunted. And that was before Jax. No, Jax’s picture could not be splashed about the tabloids. The reporters and photographers were merciless. They’d harass them, and terrify Jax by shouting at them, by pulling up in their cars, honking horns, creating chaos just to get a photo.
Logan exhaled slowly, clinging to her composure. “I have lived very quietly these past few years to stay out of the media.”
“A custody battle will just put you right back in the headlines.”
She stared at him, furious, frustrated, defiant.
His broad shoulders shifted. His gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. “The funeral has been set for a week from today. It will be held in Greenwich, Connecticut. Your sister Morgan is making the arrangements. Your mother and sisters will be there. It is hoped that you will be there, too.” He looked at her once more. For a long moment he was silent before adding, “I hope we will be, but that is up to you.”
“This is absurd.”
“The grand service for your father...or that we’d attend together?”
“We’re not a couple.”
“Yet. But we will be.”
“Many parents raise children in different homes—”
“Like mine,” he interrupted. “And it was hell. I won’t have my daughter—”
“Your daughter?” she interrupted bitterly.
“My daughter,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “being dragged back and forth. It’s unsettling for a young child. It’s upsetting for an older child. We need to do better than that for her.”
She hated that he was saying the very things that she believed to be true.
She hated that he was being the one who sounded responsible and mature.
Having grown up in a divorced family it wasn’t what she wanted for Jax, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine a peaceful home, not if she and Rowan were living together in it. “It is better for a child to have two homes than one that is fraught with tension,” she said tightly.
“That’s why we need to put aside our differences and focus on Jax.”
Logan looked away, a lump filling her throat. He made it sound so easy. He made it sound like a trip to an amusement park...but living with Rowan would be anything but fun. He’d hurt her so badly...he’d nearly broken her with his harsh rejection...
“I don’t trust you,” she whispered.
“Then I must win your trust back.”
“That will take forever.”
“We don’t have that much time. The funeral is in a week.”
She shot him a baffled glance. “I’m not sure I follow.”
He dropped the papers and sat down in his chair. “We need to marry before the funeral because, if we’re to go, we go united. You and me. A family.”
“What?”
“We go united,” he repeated firmly.
“There is no way...how could we possibly marry this week?”
“Not just this week, but tomorrow. That way we can slip away for a brief honeymoon before flying to Connecticut with Jax for the service.”
“And if I refuse?”
“We stay here.”
