"Enjoy the show?" Logan
asked, the sarcasm evident in his now cold voice.
"You know I did."
He crossed his arms across his
broad chest, one side of his mouth curling in a sardonic smile.
"Glad to be of...assistance, then."
"I want to see you again,"
Sophie blurted, knowing that if she didn't do it now, the
opportunity might be forever lost.
He arched a raven brow. "I
don't think so, cher."
"You don't understand. We
share a destiny."
She expected anger, not the loud
roar of laughter as he tipped his head back and howled into
the night. When he dropped his gaze back to hers, bitter cold
emanated from his icy blue eyes. "Did my mother send
you here?"
Before she could respond, he
held up his hand. "Don't answer that. I already know.
Look, I enjoyed your masturbation performance, and I'm glad
I could help get you off. But that's the end of it."
He didn't know. How could he?
Although, she'd always thought he would know about her, just
as she'd always known about him. Maybe he did, and was fighting
their connection. Sophie wasn't at all surprised. "You
will come see me." She pulled her card from the pocket
of her skirt and held it out to him.
Logan shook his head. "Not
a chance in hell, sweetheart. This game is over."
When he refused to take the card,
she dropped it on the ground, the wind flipping it toward
his shoe.
"You will come to me, Logan,"
she said, then turned and walked away, knowing that nothing
she could say or do at the moment would convince him. He'd
have to mull it over in his mind first. Then disregard the
pull he felt for as long as he could.
But it wouldn't do any good.
Soon enough, he'd show up on
her doorstep. He wouldn't be able to help himself.
* * * * *
The woman's sultry voice lingered
as Logan watched her walk away, admiring the soft sway of
her hips that was completely natural, rather than the affected
swivel Vivian presented him as she'd left.
You will come to me.
Bullshit. No one told him what
he would and wouldn't do. Even if that someone was a gorgeous
gypsy of a woman, with waist-length hair the color of a cloudless
night and eyes a vivid violet that seemed to sparkle like
flowers under a bright sun.
She was too young for him anyway.
Couldn't be more than her mid-twenties, about ten years younger
than him. Even so, her eyes belied her age.
An old soul, his mother would
say.
Speaking of his mother, Logan
would bet anything that his meddling parent had sent the woman
to him. If there was one thing Angelina Storm never tired
of talking about, it was the destiny of her children.
That supernatural crap might
have worked on Aidan and Shannon, but it held no appeal to
him. He had no destiny, no woman that he was ‘meant'
to be with. That was all magic, and he wanted nothing to do
with magic, especially not the kind that lived within him.
He'd controlled it for thirty-five
years and he'd damn well keep it at bay forever.
Whatever the mystery woman wanted
would have to remain a mystery.
The cool wind fluttered her card
against his shoe. He would not pick it up, no matter what.
But it called to him. Dared him
to take a look.
Ridiculous.
Okay, maybe just to see what
it said, then he'd tear it up.
The background of the business
card was the same color as the woman's violet eyes.
Her name was Sophie Breaux. He
snorted at the verbiage below her name.
Psychic Readings, Fortune Telling,
Tarot Cards and Mystical Spells.
A fucking fortune teller. A carnival
sideshow meant to bilk unwary travelers out of their money
with mind tricks and voodoo mumbo jumbo.
Did she think he'd run to her
so she could tell his future? What kind of idiot did she take
him for?
Obviously a big one, considering
she'd seemed so confident that he'd be showing up on her doorstep
soon.
When hell froze over. He ripped
the card up and tossed it into the wind, then shoved his hands
in his pockets and moved down the alley, forcing his thoughts
back to Vivian, the redheaded siren who'd tried her best to
fuck his brains out.
They'd been casual sex partners
for over a year. Suited them both fine to keep things impersonal.
Vivian was a divorcee' with a ton of alimony coming her way
each month. The last thing she wanted was her very rich ex-husband
getting wind of her having a relationship, since he was still
possessive as hell over her.
And if she pissed him off, he
might not be so generous with the money he tossed her way
each month. Vivian valued her ex-husband's money much more
than she craved a relationship. So they kept things physical
only. And occasionally, Vivian liked to be naughty and do
it in public, though she always pretended to be shocked by
it. Whatever. He played the game without getting involved.
Location didn't matter to him.
A fuck was a fuck. Alleviated the tension and allowed him
to focus on business the rest of the time without having to
worry about a woman's feelings. That's why he and Vivian got
along so well.
The last thing he wanted was
an emotional involvement with a woman. Not with what he carried
inside him. No way would he fall in love. It was fine for
the rest of the Storms, but love wasn't for Logan.
He'd been told before that he
was cold as ice. Unfeeling. Lacking emotion and warmth.
Exactly the way he wanted to
be. In control.
When he was younger, he'd struggled
against the magic, hating losing control over himself. It
took awhile, but he'd mastered it, pushed it deep within him.
As long as he remained cold, removed from anything emotional,
the magic stayed hidden.
He was no freak, no sideshow
spectacle for people to wonder about, to point and laugh at,
or even worse—to fear. He wanted to be a normal, human
male living his normal, human life.
Sophie Breaux was the exact opposite,
and he'd bet a million she was as fake as any illusionist.
A mistress of tricks and chicanery.
A con artist.
No way was he going to involve
himself with someone like her, even if she had made his blood
boil in ways he considered both good and bad.
Bad, in that for a moment there,
he'd felt the magic churning to life. Good, in that watching
Sophie bring herself to orgasm gave him the best sex he could
remember. When she touched herself, it was like he'd been
fucking her instead of Vivian.
Which was all his imagination,
brought about, no doubt, by the concept of having a ménage
a trois in the alley. Sure, he'd had his cock in Vivian, but
he'd also had the pleasure of enjoying a superb mind fuck
with Sophie. He'd been so in tune to her scent, the slight
sounds she made while she pleasured herself and the way her
body shuddered in climax.
Yeah, it had been good, for a
one time thing.
But it would never happen again.
Just like seeing Sophie Breaux.
Never again.
