Logan (7 page)

She’d done that once before and barely escaped with her soul intact. She could not do it again.
 

Pacing in front of her bed, she sorted through her feelings. She had been attracted to him from the beginning. Now though, she hurt with need. Actually felt sick because he wasn’t near her.
 

The air shifted around her and she sighed. “Come out of hiding.”
 

Rena appeared in front of her. “What happened?”
 

“Nothing.”
 

Rena crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I felt it. Something is wrong.”
 

She could keep lying, but that would get her nowhere. Rena would not give up. And Meg was tired. She was so very tired.
 

“Logan kissed me.”
 

“Ah,” she said, as she sat down on the floor.
 

“Just make yourself at home.”
 

Rena smiled. “I always do. Now, tell me, why you are out of sorts. It was only a kiss, correct?”
 

She nodded and walked away from her to look out the window. She needed distance, not an inquisition. If she put some space between her and Rena, Meg might gain some peace of mind.  Meg stood there, not really seeing anything.
 

“Wait, it wasn’t just a kiss, was it?”
 

She looked back at Rena. “You’re right. It wasn’t”
 

Rena had been lounging, but that had her sitting up. “The
one
.”
 

“No.”
 

“Yes. You said all the women in your family knew the man they were going to love forever the moment they kissed him.”
 

A fine edge of hysteria had her clenching her hands. Her head was spinning at the thought. She had always been attracted to Logan. All of the cousins were gorgeous, but something about him always called to her. Now, she understood.
 

She shook her head denying even what she knew to be true. “He can’t be, Rena.”
 

“Why not?”
 

“He hates what I am. I have been through that.”
 

“No. Morin hated you because he thought you lied to him.”
 

It wasn’t as if she had done it on purpose. There had been so much pain and nothing she did had helped. For the first time in her life, she had questioned her existence, wondered what kind of Maker would put an atrocity like herself on the planet. The power to bring men to their knees, but she had not been able to save the one man who meant more to her than anything, her father.
 

It hadn’t really been lying, but more of Meghan trying to forget who she was. “I refuse to pretend not to be me.”
 

Rena smiled. “Good for you. But, little sister, give the man a chance. I think you will be amazed what could happen.”
 

She sighed. “First, we get the sapphire. Then we deal with what just happened.”
 

Rena smiled. “Good. Now, I am going back to bed.”
 

And with that, she disappeared, leaving behind her a shimmer of sparkles.
 

Meg knew she should try to sleep, but she knew lying in bed would be useless. She would just think of the man she wanted there with her.
 

Instead, she sat down on the window seat and thought about Paris.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Pierre Morin took a long drag off his Cuban cigar and looked out over Paris. The sun would be rising soon, rising on a day he would do the bidding a man he had never met.
 

“Sir, you called,” Armand said.
 

“We are going to an auction today. The information is there on the table.”
 

He didn’t turn as he heard his servant pick up the paper and read over it.
 

“A jewel, sir? You don’t usually pay attention to auctions like this.”
 

“It is from our friend.”
 

Nothing more needed to be said. Armand understood just what that meant, knew that they had no choice.
 

“And we should expect someone to try to steal it?”
 

“Yes. By any means possible.”
 

Meg leaned back against the leather seat, closed her eyes, and sighed. She sunk into the sumptuous fabric, her body instantly relaxing. There was nothing like a good chair, especially when a person had to travel. She loved traveling in style. She might have been born poor, but she was a woman who needed luxury.
 

Opening her eyes, she looked around the McLennan’s private plane. This was definitely style. It was custom made, probably to Callum’s specifications.  He was definitely a man who had opinions, but this one she had to agree with. She’d taken a peek in the bedroom in the back, and could just imagine that most of the McLennan’s had taken advantage of that more than once. She had a nice private plane, but it hadn’t been styled just for her. Maybe after they were done, she could look into ordering one. Not that she really needed it that often, but Meg was a woman who liked nice things, and a private plane styled to her specifications would definitely be nice.
 

The flight attendant brought Meg the mimosa she had ordered, and Meg smiled as she accepted it. She had barely gotten her sip swallowed when Logan took the seat opposite of hers. Dammit. She had hoped he would avoid her, at least for a while. He did that morning, but now he seemed to have sought her out.
 

Pretending to ignore him, Meg studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was dressed as he always was: loose fitting chinos, casual shirt. He looked as if he’d arisen with eight hours of restful sleep and not a worry on his mind. Anyone outside of the clan could study him for hours and not know he was over two hundred years old.
 

“Morning,” he said, his burr dancing over the syllables. That accent would always get to her. She remembered the way his voice had sounded in the silent kitchen. It had been soft and intimate. She would dream about it for years to come. Even the memory of it had her blood heating. It was a voice she could happily wake up to hear next to her in bed.
 

 Dammit. She didn’t need to be thinking in those terms. She needed to keep her distance and get away. Kiss or not, he was not a man she could tie herself to. She might need to pretend to be his lover while they were in Paris, but it didn’t mean she had to be his lover in real life.
 

It would be very nice though.
 

Dammit!
 

When he continued to stare at her, she realized he was waiting for an answer.
 

“Good morning.”
 

For a few moments, he said nothing. It took all of her control not to fidget. And that was saying a lot. Her father had taught her how to stare down anyone, but right now, she couldn’t remember any of his instructions. It was something she had learned very early in life. Fidgeting could reveal a con artist’s tells, the signs of their weaknesses. That could mean death…and it had for her father.
 

“Meg, I think we need to talk.”
 

Of course. She couldn’t handle another apology. The one he had given her the night before had been enough. The embarrassment in his voice had told her that he was appalled by his attraction.
 

“I do not.”
 

He blinked. “What?”
 

“I don’t want anyone to know what went on. I hate to be the subject of gossip, even if just in the family.”
 

He frowned. “It’s not going to go away.”
 

She grabbed a magazine, not caring what it was. “What isn’t going to go away? I don’t remember a thing.”
 

“Don’t make me remind you exactly what did happen last night.”
 

There was enough warning in his voice to make her look up. Determination stamped his features as he leaned forward. Hell. There was no doubt about it; he wasn’t going to let it go. But, in the next instant, Maggie laughed as she stepped on the plane.
 

“This isn’t over,” he warned, as his brother and Maggie walked down the aisle toward them. He rose, and Maggie took his spot.
 

“So, what is going on here?” Maggie asked.
 

Meg looked at her. “What?”
 

“Why are you reading that magazine?”
 

Meg finally really looked at the magazine, and realized it had something to do with the mechanics of aviation. She shook her head. “Just picked something up to keep myself busy.”
 

Maggie studied her for a second or two. “I guess you don’t want to talk about it.”
 

She shook her head.
 

“Make sure you come to me when you do.” Maggie waited for her nod.
 

 “Now, what are we going to do first when we get to Paris?”
 

“We are going to go to the apartment and get ready for our assignment,” Angus said.
 

Maggie rolled her eyes, and then shared a grin with Meg. “We need to look like tourists, so I assumed we should act like it.”
 

Meg caught on right away. “And we definitely need some good champagne.”
 

“Oh, yes. Definitely.”
 

Angus said something beneath his breath, which made both of them laugh. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t nice. And with her worries stored away for now, Meg started telling Maggie about all the places they needed to visit while they were there.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Logan shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable. The fabric of his pants rubbed against sensitive areas making his frustration worse. They had only been flying for ten minutes and he was ready to scream. He shifted again and groaned.
 

“Seriously, you’re moving around so much, it’s like Fletch is with us,” Angus said.
 

Their cousin had no patience and was legendary for it. Time on a trip with him was everyone’s worst nightmare.
 

“I just can’t get comfortable.”
 

Angus let one eyebrow raise up in question. Of course. If Fletcher was known for being impatient, Logan was known for being easy going. Anice always complained that he could sleep just about anywhere. Until now. Until he had kissed a goddess in the kitchen.
 

“You might feel better if you would give in and take the woman to bed.”
 

If he had done that, he would still be in bed with the witch. With that thought, images of what could have happened last night filtered through his mind.  The sounds of it, the
feel of it, the kaleidoscope of colors that always came to him when he thought of her washed over him.
 

Angus chuckled. “And that look told me all I need to know. You still haven’t bedded the woman. Take it from someone who learned the hard way, brother. Take her to bed soon. You’ll both be better off afterwards.”
 

Sexual frustration morphed into irritation. “Why, haven’t you become an expert on all things female?”
 

Logan didn’t even try to hide the sneer in his voice.
 

Angus shook his head. “I just know a little something about being deprived. Learn now, brother. In the end, you will understand that all of this did not matter. What matters is that woman.”
 

He scoffed at the seriousness of Angus’ tone. “Tisn’t as if I’m falling for my one true love.”
 

Angus stretched out on his seat. “No comment. Now, I need a little nap. So if you are still irritated, go somewhere else and fidget.”
 

And with that, Angus promptly fell asleep—or did a good job pretending to. Logan glanced over at the women, who were still talking about Paris. Meg spoke with her body. It was almost poetic the way her body moved when she talked of a little bistro and the music they played at night. He could see her there, swaying to the music, laughing at the sheer joy of the experience.
 

She must have felt his stare, because she glanced over at him. And in that few seconds when their gazes locked, everything around them faded away. His entire body responded, and he had to curl his fingers into the palms of his hands to keep from getting up and grabbing her.
 

Then, she broke the eye contact. He blinked, as his head started to spin. He felt as if the entire plane was spinning around. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
 

They were definitely going to talk about it at some point, or he was sure he would die from lack of blood to his brain.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Anice tapped her foot and tried to contain her excitement. She bid her cousins and their ladies goodbye just a couple hours earlier, and she was already anxious for their return. Curious to see who was next to go on the quest. She wanted it to be her. So badly she wanted it to be her.
 

 “Are you in line?” a deep male voice asked. Anice looked up and for the first time in a long time, she lost her ability to speak. Deep blue eyes studied her. His thick, dark, wavy hair looked windblown in the way models looked on the covers of magazines. Then, he smiled. Oh, my. He had deep set dimples.
 

“Y-yes,” she said turning around. She didn’t need to get all silly over a man. Not one that looked like that. She was smart enough to know that men didn’t get all crazy over a woman like her.
 

“You’re Anice Lennon, correct?” he asked.
 

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Yes.”
 

“I’m Gavin McWalton.”