Read Online Dark Knight: A Loveswept Romance Classic by Donna Kauffman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Donna Kauffman
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he—
He shut down. What in the hell was he doing? Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d somehow drawn the attention of another private government agency? Obviously Lucas was into something a lot deeper than selling daisies at airports. Even with the information he had access to, Logan had come up hard against an impenetrable wall when trying to dig into the Brethren. He knew next to nothing about them. He’d tracked Lucas to their door, so to speak, then poof! Nothing.
Scottie had information he needed, he’d bank on it. She was no lackey sent to guard the intruder. Instead of playing games and looking at her as a hormonal diversion while he waited for the snow to melt, he should be doing whatever was necessary to make her talk. If that meant hurting her or seducing her, so be it. After all, she hadn’t exactly been too concerned about his rights, civil or otherwise.
He continued to watch her. He didn’t want to hurt her. He did want to seduce her. Sarah’s face loomed before him again. Only this time she wasn’t smiling. Her face was frozen in an eternal mask of surprised pain, her eyes open but unseeing.
Logan closed his eyes.
Damn
. Too many ghosts in his life.
He opened his eyes. Scottie was systematically going through every inch of his bag, stacking up clothes onone side, hardware on the other. No, he didn’t want to hurt her. Which was precisely why he wouldn’t seduce her.
He would get the information out of her, though. One way or the other. To that end, his strategy of annoying her into talking to him had actually been fairly effective.
But even that path was denied him when she said, “It’s been a long day. You have ten minutes in the bathroom, then you can take the bed.”
“It’s barely seven o’clock.”
“Ten minutes,” she replied. She turned her attention to stowing his clothes back in his bag. She kept the hardware.
He started to balk, but recalling the urgency of how he’d spent his morning hours, Logan moved off the couch to the bathroom. When he emerged exactly ten minutes later, she was standing beside the couch.
He opened his mouth, intending to say something, anything, to goad her, but there was an almost hollow look around her eyes, a weary pull at the corners of her mouth. Now was the time to pummel away at her, wear her down, force her to make a mistake. Then he could make his move, though no matter the extent of her exhaustion, he knew it would never be an easy battle. There were a thousand questions to be answered.
Yet he found himself asking none of them. “I’ll take the couch,” he said.
She eyed him warily. Apparently fatigue hadn’t dulled her instincts. “I appreciate the gallant gesture,” she said dryly, “but the bed is yours.” She raised a hand to forestall his response. “I realize the couch might bemore comfortable in your present condition, but I can guard you more effectively if you take the bed.”
Logan spent several long seconds debating his own instincts, eventually quashing them before moving to the bedroom doorway. He would get his answers. First thing tomorrow morning.
He paused before going inside, several pointed comments rising to the tip of his tongue. At the last minute, he swallowed them and simply said, “Good night.”
As he settled himself on the bed, feeling her gaze on him every second, he told himself he’d called a truce because he knew it would drive her crazy, making her unable to rest for wondering why he’d given in so easily. He was surprised at the sleepiness that immediately tugged at him the moment his head nestled into the pillow. An image of Scottie, lines of fatigue etching her face, a slight slump to her broad shoulders, her spine overly stiff to compensate for it, swam before his closed eyes. And he knew why he’d really called a truce.
As sleep seduced him under her spell, he released a long sigh. She was watching over him. And for this once, he knew his dreams would be pleasant ones.
When he woke up, the
He shut down. What in the hell was he doing? Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d somehow drawn the attention of another private government agency? Obviously Lucas was into something a lot deeper than selling daisies at airports. Even with the information he had access to, Logan had come up hard against an impenetrable wall when trying to dig into the Brethren. He knew next to nothing about them. He’d tracked Lucas to their door, so to speak, then poof! Nothing.
Scottie had information he needed, he’d bank on it. She was no lackey sent to guard the intruder. Instead of playing games and looking at her as a hormonal diversion while he waited for the snow to melt, he should be doing whatever was necessary to make her talk. If that meant hurting her or seducing her, so be it. After all, she hadn’t exactly been too concerned about his rights, civil or otherwise.
He continued to watch her. He didn’t want to hurt her. He did want to seduce her. Sarah’s face loomed before him again. Only this time she wasn’t smiling. Her face was frozen in an eternal mask of surprised pain, her eyes open but unseeing.
Logan closed his eyes.
Damn
. Too many ghosts in his life.
He opened his eyes. Scottie was systematically going through every inch of his bag, stacking up clothes onone side, hardware on the other. No, he didn’t want to hurt her. Which was precisely why he wouldn’t seduce her.
He would get the information out of her, though. One way or the other. To that end, his strategy of annoying her into talking to him had actually been fairly effective.
But even that path was denied him when she said, “It’s been a long day. You have ten minutes in the bathroom, then you can take the bed.”
“It’s barely seven o’clock.”
“Ten minutes,” she replied. She turned her attention to stowing his clothes back in his bag. She kept the hardware.
He started to balk, but recalling the urgency of how he’d spent his morning hours, Logan moved off the couch to the bathroom. When he emerged exactly ten minutes later, she was standing beside the couch.
He opened his mouth, intending to say something, anything, to goad her, but there was an almost hollow look around her eyes, a weary pull at the corners of her mouth. Now was the time to pummel away at her, wear her down, force her to make a mistake. Then he could make his move, though no matter the extent of her exhaustion, he knew it would never be an easy battle. There were a thousand questions to be answered.
Yet he found himself asking none of them. “I’ll take the couch,” he said.
She eyed him warily. Apparently fatigue hadn’t dulled her instincts. “I appreciate the gallant gesture,” she said dryly, “but the bed is yours.” She raised a hand to forestall his response. “I realize the couch might bemore comfortable in your present condition, but I can guard you more effectively if you take the bed.”
Logan spent several long seconds debating his own instincts, eventually quashing them before moving to the bedroom doorway. He would get his answers. First thing tomorrow morning.
He paused before going inside, several pointed comments rising to the tip of his tongue. At the last minute, he swallowed them and simply said, “Good night.”
As he settled himself on the bed, feeling her gaze on him every second, he told himself he’d called a truce because he knew it would drive her crazy, making her unable to rest for wondering why he’d given in so easily. He was surprised at the sleepiness that immediately tugged at him the moment his head nestled into the pillow. An image of Scottie, lines of fatigue etching her face, a slight slump to her broad shoulders, her spine overly stiff to compensate for it, swam before his closed eyes. And he knew why he’d really called a truce.
As sleep seduced him under her spell, he released a long sigh. She was watching over him. And for this once, he knew his dreams would be pleasant ones.
When he woke up, the
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