work. Unless there’s somebody back home . . .”
Her gaze met his with an angry snap. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if there had been.”
“So why?”
“Because I don’t want to. It complicates things.” She used the scalpel to slice a fragment from the suspected meth crystal, then tapped it into a test tube. “I’m trying to learn my job, and I don’t need the distraction.”
“Fair enough.” Taking a deep breath, he fought down both the stab of disappointment and the desire to argue. “I’ll keep my distance.”
Giada looked up at him with a trace of suspicion. “Just like that?”
“Yeah.” He squared his shoulders. “I don’t believe in trying to pressure a woman into doing something she doesn’t want to do. Especially not when it comes to this particular topic.”
Gray eyes narrowed, studied him. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Good. Because an affair wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Who are you trying to convince? Logan wondered. Me—or yourself?
Then he gritted his teeth. Cut it out. If she doesn’t want to get involved, that’s the end of it.
As for that part of him that perversely found her resistance intriguing—he’d ignore that, too, just as he did his lingering frustration. As Arthur had taught him from the time he was twelve years old: “The lady always calls the shots, boy. Otherwise it’s too damned easy for the one who’s bigger and stronger to bully her into something she doesn’t want to do. And that’s dishonorable.”
Honor was everything. It might be old-fashioned to believe that, maybe even a little sexist, but he didn’t really care.
A Pendragon was honorable above all.
Guinevere settled into a seat at her favorite table out on the elegant stone patio of the Majae’s Club. Cherry blossoms scented the morning air, and a light breeze stirred the mounds of ferns that surrounded the wrought iron table. She sighed in contentment and sank back in her chair to look out across the city of Avalon. The trees were in full bloom, surrounding the magical mansions with great clouds of delicate pink and white blossoms.
Lifting her wineglass, Gwen sipped, savoring the light Zinfandel with its raspberry notes. Delicious. She picked up her fork and prepared to tuck into her Mediterranean chicken.
Morgana Le Fay, plate in hand, dropped into the chair across the table from her. “I see you and Arthur finally came to your senses about the boy.” She took a delicate bite of her club sandwich, her white teeth framed by violently red lips. The lipstick precisely matched the eye-popping scarlet of her tailored suit.
Gwen narrowed her eyes over her fork and drawled, “Have a seat, Morgana.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Morgana took another bite, a contemplative expression on her coolly beautiful face. The breeze stirred a black curl against the high, creamy angle of her cheek. “The girl isn’t who I’d have picked, but you obviously know Logan’s tastes better than I.”
Gwen set her jaw. “We did not send Giada to seduce Logan. Her job is strictly to protect him from whoever’s killing those Latents.”
Black brows drew low over brilliant blue eyes. Morgana straightened in her seat. “Whyever not? I told you, we need that boy. I have foreseen it.” Arthur’s half sister had always put great store in her visionary gifts.
Gwen leaned forward in her seat and used her best ferocious glare. “And I told you —Logan will decide when and if he becomes Magekind, not you. And not us. He will not be tricked, he will not be seduced. He will make the choice of his own free will.”
“And what if his dawdling costs Magekind lives, Guinevere?” Crimson lips peeled back from her teeth as she bit off every word like something bitter. “We have a responsibility to our people! And that includes making difficult decisions, like reminding a boy of his duty.”
“Logan is not a boy. He’s a thirty-one-year-old law enforcement officer who risks his life on a daily basis. He does his
Her gaze met his with an angry snap. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if there had been.”
“So why?”
“Because I don’t want to. It complicates things.” She used the scalpel to slice a fragment from the suspected meth crystal, then tapped it into a test tube. “I’m trying to learn my job, and I don’t need the distraction.”
“Fair enough.” Taking a deep breath, he fought down both the stab of disappointment and the desire to argue. “I’ll keep my distance.”
Giada looked up at him with a trace of suspicion. “Just like that?”
“Yeah.” He squared his shoulders. “I don’t believe in trying to pressure a woman into doing something she doesn’t want to do. Especially not when it comes to this particular topic.”
Gray eyes narrowed, studied him. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Good. Because an affair wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Who are you trying to convince? Logan wondered. Me—or yourself?
Then he gritted his teeth. Cut it out. If she doesn’t want to get involved, that’s the end of it.
As for that part of him that perversely found her resistance intriguing—he’d ignore that, too, just as he did his lingering frustration. As Arthur had taught him from the time he was twelve years old: “The lady always calls the shots, boy. Otherwise it’s too damned easy for the one who’s bigger and stronger to bully her into something she doesn’t want to do. And that’s dishonorable.”
Honor was everything. It might be old-fashioned to believe that, maybe even a little sexist, but he didn’t really care.
A Pendragon was honorable above all.
Guinevere settled into a seat at her favorite table out on the elegant stone patio of the Majae’s Club. Cherry blossoms scented the morning air, and a light breeze stirred the mounds of ferns that surrounded the wrought iron table. She sighed in contentment and sank back in her chair to look out across the city of Avalon. The trees were in full bloom, surrounding the magical mansions with great clouds of delicate pink and white blossoms.
Lifting her wineglass, Gwen sipped, savoring the light Zinfandel with its raspberry notes. Delicious. She picked up her fork and prepared to tuck into her Mediterranean chicken.
Morgana Le Fay, plate in hand, dropped into the chair across the table from her. “I see you and Arthur finally came to your senses about the boy.” She took a delicate bite of her club sandwich, her white teeth framed by violently red lips. The lipstick precisely matched the eye-popping scarlet of her tailored suit.
Gwen narrowed her eyes over her fork and drawled, “Have a seat, Morgana.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Morgana took another bite, a contemplative expression on her coolly beautiful face. The breeze stirred a black curl against the high, creamy angle of her cheek. “The girl isn’t who I’d have picked, but you obviously know Logan’s tastes better than I.”
Gwen set her jaw. “We did not send Giada to seduce Logan. Her job is strictly to protect him from whoever’s killing those Latents.”
Black brows drew low over brilliant blue eyes. Morgana straightened in her seat. “Whyever not? I told you, we need that boy. I have foreseen it.” Arthur’s half sister had always put great store in her visionary gifts.
Gwen leaned forward in her seat and used her best ferocious glare. “And I told you —Logan will decide when and if he becomes Magekind, not you. And not us. He will not be tricked, he will not be seduced. He will make the choice of his own free will.”
“And what if his dawdling costs Magekind lives, Guinevere?” Crimson lips peeled back from her teeth as she bit off every word like something bitter. “We have a responsibility to our people! And that includes making difficult decisions, like reminding a boy of his duty.”
“Logan is not a boy. He’s a thirty-one-year-old law enforcement officer who risks his life on a daily basis. He does his
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