Читать книгу Mr. Dangerously Sexy - Stefanie London - Страница 11

3

ADDISON’S HANDS TREMBLED so much that she struggled to open the door. The whole crazy event had happened in a blur. After the truck rammed her, the Audi had skidded off the road and hurtled down a small hill. Luckily, her brakes were in fine working order and she’d avoided crashing into the trees.

But being trapped in the car while some crazy person tried to wrench the door open was easily the most terrifying thing she’d ever experienced. He’d been hunting around for something to break the glass when Logan had showed up.

What if that lunatic had been able to get inside? How would you have defended yourself then?

The warm summer air filtered into the car as Addison finally got the door open. Then Logan’s hands were on her, helping her stand. He wrapped his arms around her so she could stay upright on her shaking legs. She melted against him, needing something solid and real to keep her from falling into a heap.

“Are you okay?” His hand brushed the hair from her forehead—but the gesture wasn’t tender. He was checking for injuries. His thumb snagged a sore spot and she winced.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” she said. “But I bumped my head.”

He checked her over as best he could in the dark. Her cheek throbbed and she was pretty sure there would be bruising on her chest from the seat belt. But she was in one piece, which was a whole lot better than what would have happened if her attacker had gotten inside her car.

“I should take you to the hospital,” Logan said, continuing to inspect her.

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? I’ll have to keep an eye on you in case there are signs of concussion.” He scanned her face. “If anything feels off, you have to tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” Her eyes darted to the dark patch of forest in front of her.

“He’s gone, Addi.”

That’s when she noticed the gun in his hand. “You didn’t shoot him?”

“I’m not going to open fire on the side of the road.” He looked down at her, less analytical this time. His rich brown eyes searched her face. “Not unless I need to. You know the rule.”

“Guns are the last resort,” she repeated her father’s words and pressed her hand to her head. Squeezing her eyes shut against the throbbing, her heart rate slowed. “But the bastard got away.”

“I wasn’t going to risk leaving you by yourself in the car in case you were hurt.” He pulled her to his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. “You come first, remember?”

Her stomach pitched. This was how he’d held her before all her boundaries turned to shit two years ago. That simple movement of tucking her head against the crook of his neck, cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the whole world, had obliterated her. Her hand came to his chest, her fingers curling into his soft cotton T-shirt.

For a moment they stood there, silent and unmoving. His hand cupped the back of her head, his warmth seeping into her. The furious beating of his heart vibrated under her fingertips. From the outside no one would know that he was worried—he hadn’t broken a sweat, hadn’t lost his cool. But she could feel his fear. His care.

“What the hell do we do now?” she asked, pushing away from him and bracing her hand against the damaged car. She couldn’t deal with Logan being kind to her, not knowing that soon she’d be leaving him. Distance was important right now. “I hit something pretty hard on the way down. I have no idea if I can drive this thing.”

Logan crouched and checked under the car. “It’s possible you’ve bent the axle. Let’s leave it here and I’ll call a tow truck when we get to the cottage.”

They grabbed her things and walked up to where Logan’s car sat on the side of the road. The red truck was still there, so he took a photo of the plate and tried the doors. Locked. Nothing helpful could be seen through the windows.

An hour later they were settled at the cottage. Logan had called a tow company for Addison’s car and had reported the incident to the police. Tomorrow they’d head to the local station and make a statement in person. But chances were, whoever had chased Addison off the road would go back to collect his vehicle. Logan couldn’t leave Addison alone at the cottage, however. And potentially putting her in harm’s way by taking her back to the scene wasn’t an option, either. So the pictures of the vehicle would have to do.

“He’ll probably clean it out and then dump it somewhere,” Logan said as they sat at the dining table eating her lasagna. He was in full-on work mode now. “It’ll turn up, but if he’s smart there won’t be much for the police to go on.”

“You really think it’s the guy who wrote me the email?” She poured them both another glass of wine, concentrating so that her hand didn’t shake.

“It would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t. I mean, road rage happens, but if you say you didn’t do anything to antagonize the guy—”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why would some stranger run you off the road for no reason?” He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No, it has to be him.”

“But how would he know that I was coming out to the cottage? That I’d be on that road?”

“How would he know your email address? He might be following you. He might have hacked into your laptop. It could be a number of things.” Logan forked a piece of lasagna into his mouth. “In any case, we’ll figure it out. No need to worry, we’re in this together.”

“I’m not worried,” she lied.

Maybe it was stupid, but she didn’t want Logan to suspect how much the incident had shaken her. Sometimes she wished she’d gone into the security side of the business like she’d wanted to—then she’d be better prepared for these kinds of incidents. Instead, she’d studied business because she had a natural talent for numbers and her father had said that’s what the company needed from her. What he needed from her. And she never could say no to him.

Still, she wondered if he’d only said that as another way of trying to protect her. In reality, all it had done was leave her without the respect of her staff.

She shoved the thoughts aside. The last thing she needed was to crumble now and prove to Logan that she couldn’t handle this situation.

“You have every right to be worried, Addi.” He looked up from his meal. “Most people would be in pieces after what you went through tonight.”

“I’m not most people. I’ve heard all of Dad’s stories and all of yours. I can deal with this.”

His eyes softened and a ghost of a smile passed over his full lips. “I am well aware of that.”

“I don’t want you to think that you need to be my bodyguard or anything.” She pushed her food around on her plate for a moment before abandoning it and reaching for her wine. “I’ll be okay.”

He looked like he was about to argue, but instead he rubbed the back of his neck. Whenever Logan was trying to figure something out, he kneaded that particular spot. It was the tell that’d allowed her to kick his butt in poker for years. For some reason, it made her belly flip watching his strong hands work at the muscle like that.

Her mind wouldn’t let her forget how it felt to have those hands on her. Caressing her. Holding her. Dragging her into position. He was the perfect blend of rough and smooth—hard and soft—and he walked the line between them with delicious ease.

“I made a promise and I intend to keep it.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes smoothing over her. Filling her with liquid heat.

“What if I don’t want you hanging around and being my shadow?” Or worse, what if she did want it?

“Worried it might upset the guys you date?” He raised a brow. “I can be discreet.”

It would have pleased her to no end to tell him that guys were lining up at her door, but the truth was far lonelier than that. Most of the men she met were terrified of Logan—he was like an overprotective big brother. Except he happened to be a crack shot and had a military background to boot.

When she started dating someone, he’d make a point to “drop in” and introduce himself to the guy. Not once had he outright told someone to stay away from her, but then again her dates didn’t usually stick around long enough for her to find out if Logan would take that next step.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she said drily.

“What? You won’t even know I’m there.”

“Are you going to sit in the corner and watch while I take a guy to bed?” It was clear from the way his jaw twitched that her words had made their mark. “What? You moved on after we slept together, so why shouldn’t I?”

“I told you I regretted what happened.” His voice was tight. Brittle.

“It’s too late for regrets.” She carved off a small piece of lasagna and forked it into her mouth. It tasted of nothing. “And you’re not my father, Logan. You don’t get to vet my dates.”

“I know that.”

“And you can’t keep watch over me twenty-four/seven.”

He folded his arms over his chest, the muscles curving outward. Defined and honed to perfection. “I will be until we figure out who’s after you.”

He wore a fitted black T-shirt—his uniform—and damn, it looked so good her mouth watered. Ugh, why couldn’t she be attracted to normal men who didn’t have hero complexes?

But as much as she was loath to admit it, he made her feel safer than anyone else on the face of the earth.

“You can’t have it both ways.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes flashed. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“By chasing off any chance I have of finding a decent man? Anyone who gets close to me is treated like a potential terrorist. Then they quickly decide I’m not worth the trouble.”

Frustration bubbled up within her; the argument was well-worn between them. Normally she was able to tell Logan to go to hell and get on with her day. But not now, not after he’d been proven right. Not after she’d almost been...

The reality of her situation suddenly crashed over her like a wave. Someone had run her off the road; they’d tried to get her out of her car. She’d been trapped like an animal in a cage of her own making, defenseless. Vulnerable.

If he hadn’t shown up, God only knew what might have happened to her.

“You are worth the trouble, Addi.” He raked a hand through his longish hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry that I’m such a thorn in your side. But I can’t not take care of you...”

For a moment she studied him. It was easy to see why women went crazy over Logan—the overlong, light brown hair, heavy brows and strong jaw made him look dangerous. Powerful. His hands were rough and calloused; his muscles were rock solid. There wasn’t anything polished about him. Not even running a successful company for two years had smoothed his sharp edges.

There was a rawness to him, a brutal honesty, and an unfiltered, unbridled passion for what he believed in.

“I guess I could assign one of my guys to look out for you. One of them might be a little less...” A crease formed between his brows. “Intense.”

“You wouldn’t trust someone else to do what you think is your job,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s the problem. You’re trying to take responsibility for me when I’m telling you that I’m a grown woman. I want to live my life.”

“But you never know what kind of shit people are hiding. All I’m saying is that you need to do some due diligence, especially now.” He paused. “You’re too trusting.”

She gulped the remainder of her wine, feeling a slight sense of relief as the alcohol wore down her nervous energy. “You’ve got to be kidding me. After the way you treated me, I don’t trust anyone.”

He stood suddenly, pushing the dining chair back so hard it almost toppled over. “I said I was sorry, Addison. Christ, what more can I do? I crossed a line, I realized my mistake, and I made a promise that it would never happen again.”

And by “crossed a line” of course he meant that he’d given her the greatest night in her very sheltered existence. The moment Logan had walked into her father’s office as a damaged, angry twenty-two-year-old, she’d been in love. Her sixteen-year-old self had fallen hard and fast.

But Logan had been Mr. Morals when it came to her—except for that one night. But then he’d moved on so quickly that she’d gotten whiplash from it.

“We had sex, Logan. You make it sound like you forced me.” She pushed her food away, her stomach twisting itself into knots. “I wanted it. God, how I wanted it—”

* * *

“STOP.” HE HELD up a hand like she was some misbehaving toddler and instantly regretted it.

But hearing her talk about how she’d wanted him was more than he could take. It was more than his resolve could take. Walking out of Addison’s apartment the morning after they’d been together had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Ignoring her hurt had damn near killed him. But it had been the right thing to do. Because he’d promised her father he would care for her.

Not fuck her.

Fire flashed in her dark eyes. “Am I that hideous that you can’t even stand being reminded of what we did?”

Hideous? “You’re out of your mind if you think I wasn’t right there with you.”

“Then why did you run out of there like a bat out of hell the next morning?” Her hands twisted in her lap.

The red lacquer on her nails glinted in the light. It was the only remaining sign of the hyperpolished image she presented at the office. She must have changed for the drive—gone were the sexy heels and stockings, gone were the pearl earrings and the tight skirt. Instead, she wore a pair of soft jeans that hugged her small hips and long legs. A loose white T-shirt revealed a hint of a pink bra beneath.

Addison had a thing for lingerie, and now so did he.

Before her, he’d been happy to have a girl as she’d been made—without a stitch of clothing. But Addison had taught him to appreciate lace and silk and those damn fiddly clasps that held her stockings up. All in one night, she’d changed him. Changed what he liked, what he craved.

What he wanted for his future.

“It was a mistake,” he said, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

It was the best mistake he’d ever made.

“Why?” she demanded. “We were two consenting adults. We used protection and we didn’t do it in public. Our having sex hardly threw the world off its axis.”

Except it did—his world, anyway. “You’re like family to me—”

“Oh, spare me.” She pushed up from her chair. “We’re not related, thank God.”

What the hell was he supposed to say? That he walked away because he was terrified of screwing things up? Or that something might happen to her and that he’d flip out and lose his grip on reality? Again.

Or that when he was with her he couldn’t seem to control himself and that scared the hell out of him?

“The reason I walked away had nothing to do with my attraction to you.” He rolled his shoulders back and tried to dispel the tension in his limbs. “That wasn’t a factor.”

“So you were attracted to me?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course I was.”

“It wasn’t a pity fuck? You know, because of...” She blinked and straightened her shoulders. “Because Dad had just died.”

He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his voice at an appropriate volume. “No.”

“Are you still attracted to me?” She stepped forward.

It was too much: her messy blond hair, the wine on her lips. The hungry look in her eyes.

“I’m not answering that.”

She stepped closer again and now he could smell the faint remains of perfume on her skin. Chanel No. 5. He’d bought her a bottle for her birthday. Damn expensive crap that smelled like old ladies in the bottle but transformed into heaven on her skin.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not why I’m here.”

“Right, I forgot. You’re playing bodyguard.” She rolled her eyes. “You know I always did have a thing for role-playing.”

Tension snapped in the air between them and she seemed about to say more, but she simply shook her head and turned back to the table. Plates clattered as she cleared up their abandoned meal.

“One day you’ll push me away hard enough that I won’t come back,” she said quietly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His stomach knotted as a sense of foreboding fell over him.

“I’m just saying that it won’t always be like this. Change happens and I might not always be around.”

Change. A dirty fucking word as far as he was concerned. Change always meant pain; it always meant loss. And loss meant destruction.

“I don’t want things to change.”

“We don’t always get what we want, now do we?” she said, not looking at him. “Anyway, you’ll need to make up the bed in one of the spare rooms. I was going to do that over the weekend. You remember where the sheets are?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

He’d been dismissed, apparently. By trying to do the right thing, he’d screwed up again. It seemed to be his lot in life.

“Probably for the best,” he muttered to himself.

He wasn’t cut out to care about people, because loss was inevitable and it turned him into a wild beast. Losing his mother had ended his military career, losing Daniel had sent him straight into Addison’s arms, and if he lost her...who the hell knew what he’d do.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want her. Far from it. He just knew that he couldn’t act on his desires.