on her shoulder, easing her back down. “Lay back. Don’t get riled.”
“Don’t rile me then.” Her head plopped down on the arm of the sofa again.
“You don’t like being wrong.”
“Why are you helping me?” She turned her head to face him.
“You don’t know my compassionate side.”
“Do you have one?”
“Are you feeling better yet?”
Sophia stopped arguing with Logan long enough to realize she was feeling better. Almost as quickly as her stomach had become unsettled, it began to feel remarkably normal again. “Yes, I am.” She glanced into his eyes. They were so intense and stubborn one minute, and then so kind and caring the next. “I do feel better.”
Logan nodded. “I don’t kick a person when they’re down.”
“You mean you want a level playing field for when you destroy me?”
“I never said I wanted to destroy you, Soph. ”
Soph?
And then it all became clear. Just when she’d thought Logan might have come around and wanted to be civil to her, just when she thought the past was forgiven and they could start anew, she caught on to what he was doing. She still owed him her thanks for helping her recover from her suffering tonight, but now she knew the reason why. “It’s because of Luke, isn’t it? You promised to see me home safely and you’re a man of your word. You’re doing this for Luke. Not for me.”
His eyebrows dented into his forehead. “You have a strange way of thanking a man.”
Sophia’s ire sparked. Logan ran hot and cold with her and she never knew where she stood with him. Her frustration echoed in a shrewish raised voice. “How would you like me to thank you?”
Instantly, his gaze swept over her as she lay on the couch. “Let me give you that bath and we can call it even.”
The idea of bathing with Logan brought a different kind of queasiness to her belly. Images danced in her head. But she was weak where Logan Slade was concerned. He didn’t deserve her passionate thoughts.
But then another thought entered her mind, an uncomfortable memory that had nothing to do with Logan at all. Don’t go there, Sophia, she reminded herself. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. But the image from her Las Vegas days wouldn’t leave her.
She had been sitting in front of her dressing-room mirror backstage before her performance when she discovered the first note tucked under her makeup case. Bone-chilling fear had traveled along her spine when she read the words.
You are too beautiful, Sophia. You will be mine one day.
She’d received five similar notes, all with the same strange sentiment. What had freaked her out the most was that the person sending the notes had known a lot about her. She’d found envelopes printed with her name on the front windshield of her car or left for her at the motel where her mother worked. The actual words weren’t threatening, so she’d never gone to the police, and she’d never worried her mother about them, either. But Sophia had been frightened on more than one occasion when she’d sensed that someone had been watching her.
After a while, Sophia started really looking at the faces of the men who would come to her shows. She began wondering if the note writer was among them, studying her.
“Thinking about it?” Logan asked, taunting her to answer.
Sophia returned her attention to the man who had rescued her this evening, the man who had invited himself to bathe with her. He had known what her answer would be before he suggested it. He wasn’t serious. Perhaps, if she had an inkling that he was, she might be persuaded to change her mind. Yes, join me in a bath, Logan.
But Sophia was through playing his games tonight. She had enough bad memories to battle and now a queasy stomach to deal with. He’d been kind earlier and she’d wanted to believe that they could get along. She’d relished being in his arms while he carried her inside. She’d appreciated him staying to make sure she would recover. But had she
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