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“Ya need anything?”

“I was planning to fix some hot cocoa,” she admitted, watching him move about in her living room. He laid some of her door snakes around the sills of her picture window, once she told him where she kept them. He went through her house, locking windows and her back door, and going out and doing the same for her car, turning on the alarm. She already felt safer.

He arrived just in time for Ali to leave; she was stubborn about wanting to meet him face to face.

Her greeting wasn’t as stiff as Ororo expected it to be when he showed up outside the door.

“I’m Ali,” she announced before he even said hello. “Come in.”

“I go by Logan.”

“What’s your name, then?” He looked puzzled and chastened.

“James Howlett. Logan’s my middle name, it’s on my driver’s license.” Ali looked like she was cataloguing that bit of information.

“How long are you planning to stay, Logan?” she inquired.

“Til ‘Ro throws me out. However long that she needs ta feel safe.” Ali’s face softened slightly.

“Expect me to call later tonight. Maybe more than once.” Her voice held a hint of warning.

“Good night.” Ororo stepped forward and kissed her cheek. Ali gave her one more dubious look before she took her leave.

“I don’t blame her, ya know,” Logan informed her as he shucked his coat. “After what happened, she doesn’t have any reason ta trust me from Adam.”

“Then should I?” Ororo took his coat and led him inside.

Her furnishings were cozy. He noticed a collection of seashells and beach glass, and a framed copy of the poem “Footprints” hanging up over the fireplace. Throw pillows and a thick afghan draped her couch. She also had the biggest bookcase he’d ever seen.

“I’m gonna leave that up ta you.” She glanced at him, looking him over.

He was tousled and rugged, just like he had looked before. He smelled faintly of the surf and sand around her property; she wondered if he’d been checking the beach before he came inside. Logan wore a thick, dove gray sweater over his usual plaid flannel, and he chose dark brown, widewale corduroy jeans to stay warm. At Ororo’s behest, he took off his boots and left them in the pantry.

“Meowr.” Giblet appeared and padded over to Ororo, leaping up to be held at the least convenient moment while she searched for her mug.

“Sneaky little critter.” Logan smelled the cat before she even entered the room.

“I hope you don’t hate cats? Are you allergic?” Panic gripped her; she didn’t want him to leave. Her shoulders unknotted themselves as he slowly reached out to let Giblet sniff him. He passed the test; she rubbed the corner of her mouth against his finger and nosed his hand up to encourage him to stroke her. Her purr sounded like a motor. He chuckled as he gave her a hearty scratch behind the ears. The cat’s purr and slow, steady pulse was soothing. “All right. You passed inspection with flying colors.”

“Ya said ya wanted cocoa?” He searched her cupboard. “Where do ya keep it?”

“That one. It’s a box of Hershey’s. I hate the packaged stuff.”

“So yer old-fashioned about yer drinks.”

“Guess I am.” Dutifully Logan retrieved milk and sugar and saw she already had a clean saucepan on the stove, waiting to be used. “Don’t forget the vanilla. Over there.” Then she put down the cat. “I can make it.”

“No. Sit yer butt down and relax.” He nodded toward the living room. “Out. Scram. I’m here ta help ya out, so go ahead and let me help ya out.”

“Yes, sir!” she saluted.

“And take the furball with ya. Let him be a watchcat.”

“Her.”

“Meowr,” Giblet agreed, nudging Logan’s leg. But she still came over and scooped her up. Logan caught the faint scent of Ororo’s hair and skin. He heard her heartbeat.

Slow and steady. It calmed him. Her sapphire eyes searched his face.

“Make yourself at home.” She looked comfy in a pair of homely, blue plaid pajama bottoms, a black, waffle knit henley and her stockingfeet. Her hair was bundled back into a loose ponytail that took a few years off her face. “And thank you.” Her full, luscious red lips twisted into a crooked smile. That look seemed to caress him before she glided back out.

She listened to him banging around in her kitchen, giggling under her breath as he cursed her pots and pans. Soon the scent of cocoa filled the room, along with odor delectable odors she didn’t expect. Soon Logan emerged with a huge bowl of popcorn and a slightly well done frozen pizza.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she tsked, but she was already digging into the popcorn. He hesitated a moment before she remembered herself. Ororo patted the spot beside her. “Sit.”

“Thanks, darlin’.” The couch sagged beneath his weight. Warmth seemed to seep off of him at this close proximity as he contemplated the snacks and reached for his own cup of cocoa. A hot flush swept over her skin and her mouth went dry.

It was strange and comforting, having him here in her home, having him so close. He smelled entirely male. A slightly woodsy cologne mingled with the natural scent of his skin and the detergent in his clothing. Their hands bumped as they each reached for the pizza. Electricity zipped through her limbs at the brief contact, and she swallowed roughly.

“I ain’t used ta seein’ ya like this.” His smile spread slowly across his face as he took in her PJ’s.

“It’s the latest style,” she quipped. “Just Rolled Out of Bed chic.”

“Ya look…cute.”

“I’m a mess,” she chuckled sheepishly.

“Uh-uh. This is just a different side of you. Not the woman on the book covers. Just natural and unspoiled. I like ya undecorated like this.” Pleasure curled in her stomach at the admiration in his dark brown eyes.

She looked vulnerable and sweet. For a moment, when she bent her head and reached for the popcorn, her face was in repose, and firelight flickered over her features.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Now tell me all of what happened.” Her eyes suddenly looked haunted, and she leaned back into the couch as though trying to burrow into it. He felt the fear drift back into her heart. Her whole scent changed, and her breathing sped up. The beast in him bristled and bared its teeth at an invisible threat encroaching upon the woman he wanted to protect.

“They took the card away, thank God. It was awful.”

“The bastard scared ya. Came ta yer house and gave ya something that unnerved ya and made feel invaded? Unsafe,” he concluded. She nodded, and a sheen of tears glazed her eyes.

“This is my home. Someone came here and threatened me in my own home. It’s like nothing’s sacred anymore.” He handed her the cocoa cup; she took it gratefully and downed it in large gulps. His eyes were drawn to her lips as she wiped them with her fingers. “They sent me covers from my books. All torn. And the card…it was disgusting. They drew blood on it.”

“Fuck,” Logan huffed, as though someone knocked the wind out of him. What twisted fuck would do something to ‘Ro like that? Rage welled up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. His hand reached out of its own volition and wrapped itself gently around hers. She squeezed it and bit her lip.

“Why would someone do that to me?”

“I don’t know, darlin’. They’ve gotta be out of their fuckin’ mind.”

“I’ve never done anything that I can remember to deserve that,” she whimpered. She hated how weak her voice sounded. “It was so violent. They mean to hurt me. They’re watching me.” Dread filled her and made her body tense. He felt desperation in her grip; her eyes pleaded with him to tell her it wasn’t true.

“I’m stayin’ with ya. They’ll hafta deal with me if they wanna get near ya. I’m not gonna…hey. Hey, it’s all right,” he crooned softly as she began to break down. Fat tears rolled endlessly down her cheeks and she collapsed, bowing her head all the way into her lap. She felt his meaty palm caress the long, smooth line of her back as she sobbed loud and hard. With only slight urging from his hands, she leaned over til she sprawled across his lap.

“I’m scared, Logan. So damned scared. This isn’t my life. This isn’t supposed to be my life.”

“I’m here, darlin’. I’m right here.” He reached over the side of the couch and dragged a throw blanket over her, snugly tucking her in to make her feel sheltered against him. The low thumps of his heart beat loomed over her as she cried. Her fingernails clutched his pants and twisted the fabric where it bunched in the knees.

Her hair was silky and lush; his fingers twined themselves in it as he rubbed the tension out of a spot behind her ear.

“Yer well known. Ya’ve been out in the open fer a while with yer new book. This is someone getting carried away. But this is yer life. Not that sick fucker’s. So we’re gonna keep ya safe til that guy’s caught. Then ya can take yer life back.” Her cries slowed down to mere gasps. Sadness and rage on her behalf engulfed him. She was huddled against him so tightly, like she couldn’t get close enough.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. All I ever wanted to do was write. I love it. I wanted to share stories with people. It wasn’t about being famous.”

“Not all yer fans are gonna be sending ya nasty stuff in the mail, darlin’.”

“Thank God!” Her tears left damp spots in his cords. He didn’t mind.

They sat and watched TV. She didn’t relinquish her place in his lap. Her cup of cocoa grew stone cold as the night wore on.

It was three hours later before she finally nodded off. When Logan nudged her, her hand fell limp and dangled over the side of the couch.

In the dim light Ororo’s face was innocent and guileless. He studied her profile as he continued to stroke her hair. She sighed and rearranged herself, rubbing against him as he retucked the blanket. Her warm weight lying over him nearly lulled him into sleep himself.

Outside, Logan heard the faint call of a foghorn in the mist. The moon was barely visible, lonely from the lack of stars in the sky.

The hairs on the nape of his neck bristled, standing stiffly as his senses went on full alert.

Someone was outside, lingering by the den. Too close. He suppressed a low whine in his throat. His nostrils flared as his lips drew back from his teeth. Logan clutched Ororo protectively and felt every muscle tense as he peered out through the large picture window.

Nothing. Yet.

He peered back down at her slumbering face. Her silhouette was peaceful, finally, despite her scare that evening, and he hated to move her…

A possessive, undeniable hunger seized him.

Mate.

He broke out into a cold sweat. Where had that thought come from?

“It’s all right, darlin’.” He moved with a purpose. He ever so gently lifted her enough to shift out from under her, lying her back down on the couch. She moaned and smacked her lips but didn’t wake. He watched her sigh and tuck her hand beneath her cheek. He bundled her back beneath the blanket and pulled it up to her chin. As if she wanted to tell him that she’d keep watch in his absence, Giblet hopped up and curled herself against Ororo’s flank. He felt the cat’s hearty purr as he gave it one last scratch behind the ears.

He strode quietly into the hall and turned out the light. He did the same with the kitchen and Ororo’s tiny spare room where she kept her desk.

Every detail in her house stood out sharply in the dark, despite the lack of starlight or porch lights outside. Logan heard the rustle of wind through the beach grass and another foghorn.

His apprehension grew as he turned the knob, not bothering with his coat. He didn’t anything to encumber him. A frisson of excitement filled him as his heavy footsteps echoed off the wooden steps.

He took inventory of all the scents around him and licked his lips. His whole body changed in increments; he moved more stealthily, walking lower to the ground, head bowed to pick out minute details and movements. His pupils dilated until they were nearly black, but they were still rimmed in otherworldly amber, flickering in the dark like beacons.

A low rumble roughly a meter away startled him, and he bit back a snarl. A motor. He sniffed. A vehicle that ran on diesel.

It was then that he homed in on another scent. This one was different, distinctive. And it seemed to track along the perimeter of the house. Fresh here, older there. Ororo said police officers had visited her home. He detected their scents, easily, in the confines of her house. But this scent was male. Not young enough to be a teenager. Scruffy. Hygiene wasn’t high on his priority list.

He began a slow jog that sped up to a loping trot through the trees until he came to the road. He was nearly invisible in his gray sweater and brown pants, and his dark coloring blended in with his surroundings. The wind ruffled through his hair, stirring the thickened layer of it that covered his hands, face and neck. Logan was made for the night, making his home among its creatures.

He spotted the car, actually a derelict red pickup truck with Maine plates and a bumper that was practically rusted off. Logan bared his teeth and gave a warning growl in his throat, choosing his moment. He was deathly silent as he watched. The scent was still there, easily leading across the road.

The driver turned on his light briefly and reached for something in his driver side seat. That gave Logan the moment he needed to see his face.

The man was older, and slightly craggy. He was wearing a baseball cap pulled over his eyes and appeared to be large.

He had a distinct scar on the back of his hand, long, angry and puckered. Logan growled in challenge…

As though the man sensed he was being watched, the truck’s high beams suddenly flicked on, and he put the car into drive, tearing down the road. Surprise mingled with disappointment for Logan, and he howled gutturally, starting to run. He’d never moved so fast. Tree branches lashed him, smarting against his face until he reached pavement and bolted down the road. He tasted wind and the scent of Ororo’s stalker, along with diesel fuel and salty spray. He ran and ran, panting, huffing, seething, burning…

He stayed less than a half a mile behind him until he moved his truck into second gear and sped off.

Logan saw all he needed. Some primitive urge, unbidden, gripped him and made him throw his head back and howl, long and low, warning the predator not to return to his den and threaten his mate.


~0~

He didn’t know how he ended up in the comfortably appointed bedroom. All he felt was someone stirring beside him, and he heard a soft, feminine moan.

The clock on the bedside table said eight AM. His legs felt…heavy. Almost as though he ran the night before, which made no sense. His feet were a different story; they were gritty, as though someone rubbed his soles with sandpaper.

“Shit,” he muttered. He rubbed sand and grit from his eyes and wiped his face with his sleeve. He’d slept in his clothes. In a bed with a handmade quilt and afghan. Fancy candles, books and figurines adorned half the empty space in the room. The sun was barely visible through the mist, but the glare from the beach was still bright, shining in through the window.

Beside him, Ororo smacked her lips. She was huddled beneath the blankets, but this time her hair was thoroughly tousled. She still held her hand tucked beneath her cheek. The stray one crept out and nudged him briefly, and if he guessed right, petted him.

“Mmmmph…Giblet, izzat you, baby? C’mere, kitty; Mommy’s got num-nums.” Logan suppressed a snort and grinned. She heard the sound escape him, and her eyes snapped open.

“Oh, my God!” she cried hoarsely. “Logan! What…wait, what are you doing here?” She stared at his rumpled clothing and hair. “How did you…how did I get…here?”

“Ya got me.”

“I don’t remember coming to bed.”

“Guess I carried ya.” He was still smiling, enjoying her consternation despite himself. She managed to still look cute, even disheveled. She licked dry lips; that act made them look slightly rosy and very inviting. He was glad when she didn’t shy away as he plucked a lock of hair aside that was stuck to the corner of her mouth. Her skin felt sleep-plumped and smooth.

“You guess?”

“It was a late night. I don’t even remember much about how I got in here, either.” Then he mentioned “How did ya sleep, ‘Ro?”

She cracked a sheepish smile. “Like a log. I think…it might have been because you were here. I felt…well, I felt…safe.” That touched a chord inside him, and warmth filled his chest.

“Ya did?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded earnestly, staring at him with hooded eyes. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

“I don’t feel awkward.”

“Oh. Um, do you want breakfast?”

“I could eat. But no rush.”

“It’s the least I can do. And, Logan? Thank you.” She studied his face intently. “Would you find it too weird if I added a kiss to that thank you?” Her eyes were liquid and endless.

Euphoria swept over him, and it took him a moment to process what she was asking him, followed by joy. Slowly he shook his head, and she lowered hers, dipping to brush his lips.

He tasted like sleep, and undeniably male. His lips were firm and succulent, yielding beneath hers. She teased him as he let her take the lead; gentle fingers traced his jaw and threaded through his thick black hair, savoring the soft, springy texture.

Excitement and mutual satisfaction wrapped them in a cocoon. Pleasure tingled in the tips of her breasts and pooled in her belly. Her heart pounded as hard and as fast as his own. Arousal enhanced her natural scent, rousing the beast from its slumber.

Mate. Mine. He sighed and gave in to the temptation to touch her, covering her hand that cupped his face and stroking the length of her arm. She shivered and moaned into his mouth.

“Mmph…” she murmured as she pushed him back, watching him with sultry eyes that were suddenly looking up at him, not down: She was lying on her back, and his broad frame was nearly covering her.

She looked, tasted and smelled good enough to eat. Ororo licked her lips, which pushed him closer to the edge. He wanted more. So much more…

Submit! Logan’s nostrils flared. Denial flooded through him. Take her. It’s your right.

No. It’s not. I won’t. It’s up to her.

You protected her. She’s your mate. You’re an alpha. This is your territory; you’ve shared a den with her. It’s your right.

That’s not how I want her. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.

Don’t be weak.

I ain’t weak!

He steeled himself and clenched his eyes shut, pained at the emotions overwhelming him. Disgust, even self-hatred for thinking about her this way. She was fragile, sensitive and innocent. Sacred.

“Logan? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, clearing his throat and gently releasing her, but not before tracing the curve of her lip with his fingertip. “We’re both up. Might as well get outta bed.” He saw it dawn on her how awkward the situation really was. She flushed and bit her lip. He wanted to groan. She was doing it again, damn it! “Hey, uh, ‘Ro?”

“Hmm?”

“Yer welcome. Really.” She sighed, and then she smiled at him. No harm, no foul.

Ororo leaned up and peeled back the covers, signaling to Logan to move aside. She stretched like a cat, straightening long, graceful limbs and exposing her taut stomach as the hem of her top rode up. She was killing him.

She wasn’t much better off. He was ridiculously sexy and still looked like he belonged in bed. Hers. Sans clothes.

“Coffee,” she announced. “And whatever I have in my refrigerator.”

He hazarded a request. “Ya got anything with some meat in it?” She grinned.

“I’m a sucker for a fattening brunch on days where I stay home. What’s your poison? Eggs? Bacon? Ham? Sausage?”

“Yes.”

“Which?”

“The whole list. All of the above.”

“No wonder Giblet likes you,” she chuckled, winking at him saucily. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to hang on you under the table in case you drop anything from your plate.”

“If I do, it’s fair game.” Logan and the beast within him observed one of the first laws of nature: Eat whenever you have the opportunity, and catch as catch can.

An hour later, they were both lazing at the table, chairs pushed back and thoroughly sated.

“It should be illegal to eat that much meat in one sitting,” Ororo murmured, smothering a belch. Logan feigned jumping back in his seat, looking appalled. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“My kinda woman,” he shot back. He pantomimed talking on the phone with his thumb and pinky. “Hello, Mom? I’ve just met the future mother of your grandchildren. Here, pull her finger!” She collapsed into giggles. “She can burp the alphabet. It’s a gift!”

“Stop!” she cried, peering up at him through her fingers. He shot her an innocent look that only made her howl, shoulders shaking until she thought she would choke. She finally sighed and stared at him, lips twitching.

“I like having you here,” she admitted.

“No complaints here.”

“You make me feel safe, Logan. Somehow,” she mused, toying with her depleted orange juice, “it feels like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re around.”

“And it won’t, unless I’m cold and dead in the ground, darlin’.” The longer she stared into his eyes, the more she lost herself. She sickened at the thought of anything happening to him.

“Don’t say that.”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Before she could say anything else, her eye was caught by the red flashing light on her answering machine from its perch on the kitchen counter.

“Uh-oh.”

“What’s up?”

“Ali. That’s what’s up. Or who’s up. Those voice mails have to be her.”

“Oh. Oops.”

“She’s going to kill me.”

“Ouch.”

“She might decide to kill you, too.”

“Then she’ll hafta kill me first. That rule I mentioned earlier still applies.”

“That’s noble of you, but you’re still a stinker.” She sighed and rose from her seat. “I’d better get that.”

“Then I’d better take off.” She pouted. He beamed, and then Logan rose as well, circling the table to wrap his arm around her waist just as Ororo hit play.

“Ro, it’s me. Just checking in with you. You know why. Pick up the phone.”

“Hey again. Why aren’t you or your bodyguard answering? Pick up! Wake up, then pick up! Bye.”

“Don’t put it past me to come back over there and to bring Remy with me…” Ororo cringed in embarrassment. Three messages and counting. She tingled when Logan’s embrace around her waist tightened and his lips grazed her shoulder. Her fizzy joy evaporated as the next message spilled forth.

“Ororo! Why aren’t you picking up? Please tell me nothing’s happened to you, please! Remy’s here with me! We can both come by…please pick up. I know you might be asleep by now… Ororo swallowed a thick lump in her throat when she noticed the timestamp of two-fifteen. “Call me in the morning. If you don’t by nine, I’m coming over there.”

“Shit,” Logan muttered, echoing the guilt that she felt. “That sounds bad. We did a number on yer friend, darlin’. She’ll wanna have my hide.”

“I’ll talk to her.” She wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable flaying and flailing, but she wouldn’t avoid it. From Ali or Remy.

The answering machine played another message from Ali, but this one was cut short by Remy’s voice in the background. “Call her in de mo’nin’, petit. Come ‘way from de phone.” Logan huffed in surprise.

“Wow. How does he rate where we don’t?”

“He’s Remy. No questions asked.”

“Eh. Fair enough.” He nuzzled her neck, and she arched back into him, longing for more of his touch. “I’m gonna go. Yer gonna be fine?”

“I think so. I’m calling Ali, so she’ll know where I am, which helps. No matter what happens,” and the chink in her armor showed, “at least more than one person will know where I was last.”

“I’m stayin’,” he said flatly, lips grim.

“No. I’ll call you. I have to go out today and talk to a travel agent.” He raised his brows.

“Why?”

“I want to book a cabin.”

“NOW?” He was incredulous.

“Yes. Now. I was planning a vacation before this happened. I need some time away from my house. And I need to feel as though I’m not this sick bastard’s hostage.”

His jaw worked in frustration. “Can I convince ya that this ain’t a swell idea?”

“Not right now.”

“Ali know about this?”

“We talked about it, sure, before the card came.”

“Then she might feel the same way I do about this little trip of yers.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Like yer stickin’ yer neck out when ya’ve already had a scare.”

“I’ll be fine.” Her voice was calm.

“Ororo…” He clenched his fists, brimming with denial and loaded for bear.

“Go home and pack.” That took the wind from his sails.

“Come again?”

“Come with me.”

“On vacation.”

“You’re retired. Why not?”

“A cabin.”

“For a few days.” She was nonplussed, but the notion appealed to her and made her warm.

“When?”

“As soon as I can book one.”

“How about on Friday?” It was two days away.

“Why Friday?”

“Cuz I have a cabin.” He couldn’t believe how things were unfolding, and was trying not to pinch himself.

His cabin. With Ororo.

“Ali’s gonna hunt us both down and hang my skin on the wall.”

“She’s more into bear skin rugs.”

“That ain’t comforting.”

“So we’re going.”

“Heck, yeah. Bring heavy socks and some sweaters. It’s got a fireplace, but it gets drafty, and this time of year, the nights are cold as a witch’s tit.”

He was gone after one more kiss by the front door. She waved from the porch, teeth chattering from the nippy morning before she went to call Ali.

She picked up on the third ring, which surprised her. Ali practically had the phone welded to her palm.

“I knew it was you,” Ali insisted triumphantly. “Now where the heck have you been?”

“Here with Logan. Al?”

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you asking me how the fuck dare I not answer the phone last night? Your last message practically made me cry!”

“Good. You deserve to shed a few tears after what you put me through. Doesn’t she, Rem?” Ororo scowled.

“Wait…” she looked at her clock. It was ten-thirty. “What’s he doing over there so early? And why aren’t you more pissed off at me?”

“He’s not here early.”

“Bullshit.”

“He’s not,” Ali argued. “He’s…staying late.”

Ororo screamed, then did a little Snoopy dance in the kitchen.

“Yessssss! I want details!”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do…well, scratch that. No I don’t. But Ali, HOW?”

“Tell her, Remy,” Ali urged, and she heard the rumble of his laughter in the background before he took the phone.

“Mo’nin’, petit.”

“You dirty dog.”

“Remy takes it ya slept all right, den. Gave Ali a fright an’ kept her up all night.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Worried me for a minute, too. De night o’ de party dat ya missed when ya got attacked, chere, Ali here was inconsolable. Cried an’ cried. Dere was no makin’ her feel better when ya got y’self hurt. Wuzn’t much consolin’ me, either, petit.” Ororo hugged herself but brightened. “So she called me over t’talk.”

“I guessed that much.”

“We both concluded that y’should’ve called back. We argued about it a bit. Den we talked about it a bit. Den we agreed t’disagree and sleep on it.”

“And did you?” Her voice was rife with innuendo.

“Not. Much.”

“Hah!” It was a triumphant, gloating “Hah!”

“So where’s Logan?” Ali came back on the phone.

“He just left. We had breakfast.”

“Really?”

“Just…breakfast. And we got some sleep. A lot of sleep, now that I think about it…I sawed logs.”

“Wow.”

“I know. I didn’t hear shit when the phone rang.”

“And you scared the shit out of me…again!” Ali made a long, loud noise of aggravation. Ororo sighed.

“Chill with Remy. I’ll call you later tonight.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Going shopping for socks.”

“Socks. Okaaaaaaay. Promise me, then, that you’ll come over tonight.”

“What, dinner?”

“Yes. Dinner. Bring Logan with you, I guess. I won’t stop worrying about you with him unless I get to know him any better.”

“You just want Remy to meet him so reach a consensus of whether to save me from him.”

“Bingo.”

“We’ll bring wine.” They rang off. At least they understood each other.


Ali settled back against Remy and snuggled back under the covers.

“Ya feel chilly, chere.” Her skin was chilled from exposing it when she grabbed the phone and brought it back to bed. Her bare foot nudged him and he sandwiched it between his ankles to warm her cold toes.

It was delicious, lying cradled there with him as though she were always meant to be there. He nibbled her temple and rumbled his contentment.

“Been a long time dat I’ve t’ought o’ dis, chere. Wi’ you. It wuz hard.”

“What was?”

“Wonderin’ whether t’push de envelope an’ end up wi’ less than what we had if t’ings went sour, or sent south.”

“So what’d you decide?”

“Dat de only way t’make sure was to be wi’ you. Couldn’t stay away when Remy knew y’needed him. Wanted t’be wi’ you, chere. Hate it when y’get scared. Don’ cry no mo’, Ali.” She turned turquoise blue eyes up to his handsome face, still stubbly and endearing, framed by thoroughly disheveled auburn hair. He kissed her upturned nose.

“Whatever you do, don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about when I say that I’m crazy about you, Remy. I’ve always been crazy about you.”

“Shit. Den why y’wait so long t’tell Remy dis?” She pinched him. He leaned down and bit her upper lip lightly, and he swallowed her yelp.

“Hello? Revolving door of hot women that never last more than a month.”

“Y’always acted like y’didn’ t’ink Remy wuz capable o’ a real relationship, so dat drove me ta de sidelines, just waitin’ fo’ a pass. Known ya fo’ a long time, chere.” He curled her body more snugly into the contours and slopes of his, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. “Didn’ know how t’convince ya dat Remy wanted mo’.”

“You think we could make this work? I just don’t know. If we screw this up, which we might have already done, Rem, this is it. Our friendship might not make it.”

“Ali. Listen t’Remy: Ya’ve been on Remy’s mind mo’ den a hard-on, square meal when he’s hungry, or a utility bill befo’ payday dese past couple years now. No otha woman makes Remy feel de way y’do, Alison.” It was perfect when he called her that.

She melted.

“I love you, chere.”

She died. She cried.


~0~

“Pietro? Call on line two,” Lorna chirped from his doorway. She was pretty and pert in an emerald green dress that, amusingly, matched her hair. She was formerly a hair show model, and her latest bob was the after result of an expo in Boston.

She looked at him with that familiar hunger in her eyes that had lately started to bore him. He had bigger fish to fry. He mulled his most recent lunch with Ororo.

He was wearing her down. All he had to do was press his advantage…she was a novelty. Pietro enjoyed novelties. He’d never slept with a bestselling novelist before. She had an active imagination.

That could make things interesting.

He nodded to Lorna. “I’ll take it in here. Just transfer it to my line.”

“Thank you, Pietro.”

“Bring me coffee?”

“Cream and sugar?”

“There’s my girl,” he cheered briefly before hitting the speaker on his phone. Lorna tossed him a look over her shoulder before she swept out.

“This is Pietro, how may I help you?”

“It’s Magnus,” a resonant voice boomed. Pietro grinned smugly, glad the old man couldn’t see him. “I wanted to know if we could impose on your busy schedule and set a meeting.”

“This is sudden, but I’ll see what Lorna can throw together.”

“See that she does, posthaste.” Pietro’s smile faltered a bit at his tone.

“Is there something urgent you need to bring up at the meeting?”

“My admin will send yours the agenda once it’s scheduled. It won’t be too arduous.”

“I look forward to seeing you and discussing whatever it is, sir.” He was deferential toward the old tycoon, himself a CEO of a firm nearly as prestigious as AlphLight.

He didn’t return the well wishes. Pietro’s hackles went up when he simply said “I’ll be in touch.” Lorna materialized in his doorway again.

“What did he want?” She noticed the look of consternation on his face. “What’s wrong, Pietro?”

“Nothing. Just business. Schedule a meeting,” he added as an afterthought.

Pietro was slightly unsettled for the rest of the afternoon. Something felt as though it was hovering over the horizon, looming ominously as a storm cloud.





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