Stud for Hire (8 page)

This was what it was like making love to a real man.

Hanna leaned against the rail watching the girls prance around the paddock on tame horses—led by Cody's
actual
ranch hands—squealing with fear. A smile curled her lips.

She wasn't smiling at how ridiculous they looked, on horseback in tiny denim cutoffs and spindly heels. It was the memories of last night wafting through her mind that caused her doe-eyed muddle.

Logan had been magnificent, bringing her to the peak of pleasure again and again.

After that first time, they'd rested in each other's arms, and then drifted into a sweet sleep. But then he'd awoken her, and loved her again, his mouth, his hands, his body creating indescribable pleasure. He'd taken her against the wall at one point, which still sent a mind-numbing thrill through her to think of it.

Against the wall.

It had been hard waking up as dawn traced her fingers into the tiny room in the back of a dusty barn. But she had. She'd eased herself from his hold, dressed—with only a mooning glance, or twelve—and slipped away.

She couldn't wait to see him again today, although with the itinerary Cody had planned, she doubted there would be time for a dalliance.

She sighed.

Maybe tonight.

“Where have you been?”

Hanna winced as Tibby's sharp question lanced her. She didn't need to turn to know that Tibby had sidled up next to her—her perfume preceded her. She also didn't need to look to feel the heat in her glare.

“Hmm?”

“I went by your room. I knocked.” The words were threaded with accusation.

“When?”

“Last night.”

Oh. Hell.
Bile rose in Hanna's throat. She swallowed against it.

Sidney's carefree laugh from behind her was a relief. Hanna felt as though the cavalry had just ridden in, blaring trumpets and all. “My sis has always been a heavy sleeper,” she said, wrapping an arm around Hanna's shoulders.

For all that Sidney did as she liked, as a rule, Hanna appreciated that she could always count on her sister to come to her defense. And she appreciated the lie. Hanna never slept well. The smallest sound could wake her. Although she had slept soundly last night . . . when she'd been sleeping.

Tibby sniffed. “I knocked and knocked.”

Sidney shrugged. She glanced at Hanna. “Did you take a sleeping pill? Yeah, I totally get it. That party went on for hours. I couldn't sleep at all until it quieted down. Must have been, oh, two or three in the morning. Did you have fun last night, Tibbs?” Tibby winced. She hated being called Tibbs. “I noticed you and Mr. Gray cuddling up in the corner.”

Tibby wrinkled her nose. “He was all right. But I really wanted Purple. But he disappeared.” Her gaze narrowed in on Hanna. Tension sizzled and spat between them. “About the same time you left . . .”

Sidney laughed. “Oh, Purple was hot all right.” She forced a shudder. “I enjoyed myself with him.”

Hanna's gaze snapped to her sister's face. Sidney winked. “All right. I admit it. I was naughty.” She waggled a finger at Hanna. “And you should be naughty too. It's your party.”

Tibby's face puckered. She sputtered as though she was about to say something, something like,
“Hanna doesn't get to have any fun, she's marrying my brother.”
But before she could, Sidney hooked her arm in Hanna's and tugged her away.

“Come on,” she said. “There's a wonderful spread in the dining hall. Have you eaten?”

Hanna wasn't hungry, but she followed her sister anyway. Thank God Tibby didn't tag along. She'd had only a few moments with her today and had already hit her limit.

“I don't know how I am going to stand being related to her,” she muttered.

Sidney's jovial expression faded, replaced with fierce displeasure. “I don't know how
I'm
going to stand being related to her. How could you do that to me?” A wail. And, of course, it was all about Sidney. “I'll tell you one thing, I'm not attending any freaking Thanksgiving dinners with them. That's for sure.”

Hanna couldn't help but snort a laugh, even though, deep in her heart, misery reigned.

She'd agreed to marry Zack, to save her father, to make sure her mom had the care she needed. Somewhere in her mind she'd known what marriage would entail. But she hadn't given much thought to what it would be like to give herself to him physically.

She'd been deluding herself.

Locking the thought away in the hopes it would never come to pass.

She had a tendency to do that, lock unpleasant thoughts away. But they didn't stay locked away. Not forever. More and more, lately, she'd been thinking about that night back in high school with Zack. What had really happened. She was haunted by the unpleasant suspicion that she'd whitewashed the memory, edited out the more unpleasant bits as the years had passed. It was all a blur, of course, but she couldn't ignore the pinch in her gut when she thought of it. It got worse when she thought about sharing a bed, sharing intimacy, with Zack.

So she'd tried not to think about it.

But now, the wedding was almost upon her. The reality was staring her in the face.

When she was Zack's wife, he would, naturally, expect her to sleep with him.

The thought revolted her. Especially now . . .

Now she couldn't bear the prospect of letting him touch her.

They entered the dining hall, which was nearly deserted. The long table against the wall was covered with chafing dishes. Scents of bacon and fried toast wafted around her.

Sidney handed her a plate. Hanna pushed it back. “I'm not hungry.”

“Hanna. You need to eat.” Sidney piled some scrambled eggs and bacon onto the plates, then added some toast and potatoes.

Hanna's stomach churned. All she could think about was Zack, covering her. Pushing in. Taking what she didn't want to give. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

Sidney shot her a panicked look, then set down the plates and led her to the table. “Sit. I'll get you some water.”

“I don't want water.” Water wouldn't solve her problem. Tequila couldn't solve her problem. Nothing short of winning the lottery could solve her problem.

Sidney, of course, ignored her, heading off to the kitchen to refill the empty pitcher.

Hanna barely noticed, so sunk was she in her despair. She wished she'd never spoken to Logan. Wished she'd never hired him. Wished she'd never . . .

Never done any of it.

She'd intended to have one last fling, one wild taste of crazy passion. She expected that would be enough to last her a lifetime.

What a moron.

The result was the exact opposite.

Even now, after a night of love, an unbelievable fulfillment, she wanted more.

And she didn't just want more sex. The sex hardly factored in at all.

She wanted more
Logan
.

She wanted Logan's laughter, his soft murmurs, his crazy, misplaced desire to be gentle with her . . . She wanted his arms around her. She wanted to wake up smelling his scent. She wanted the right to touch him whenever she wanted.

She wanted everything.

Which was nuts.

Because he was a stripper. Possibly a guy who slept with women for money.

Even if she could get past that, which she couldn't, even if what they had was real in any way, which it wasn't—tossing Zack over for a man who had no visible means of support was ridiculous.

She needed Zack's cash infusion.
They
needed it. Zack could put her father back on firm footing. He could assure that Mom could remain in a familiar home. Zack's money would insure that, as her mother declined, she could continue to have the care she desperately needed. Surrounded by love.

Hanna had to marry Zack. But the thought of his hands on her, touching her the way Logan had, kissing her and stroking her . . . Well, it made her soul howl.

The bald, painful fact was, she didn't love Zack. She didn't
want
Zack. An agonizing epiphany burned through her.

She was marrying him only for his money.

There was nothing else there. No love. Certainly no passion.

She could no longer pretend it was anything other than what it was.

Mortification snaked through her bowels. She wasn't that kind of woman.

Was she?

“Good morning.”

A shiver walked through her at the low rumble; heat embraced her as Logan slipped into the seat by her side with a mug in his hand. She shot a look at him. He was rumpled and sleepy. There was a pillow crease across his face. His morning beard bristled.

Her heart pinged.

She longed to stroke his cheek, to thumb his lips. Taste him. God, he was beautiful. A beautiful addiction. Her fists clenched. “Good morning.”

“Where'd you go?” He took a sip of his coffee and glanced at her over the rim of the mug. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“I had to get back. As it was, Tibby was looking for me.”

His nose wrinkled.

“What?” she asked.

“She smells like a French whore.”

Hanna snorted a laugh. “Does she?”

He nodded.

“And you know how a French whore would smell?” She winced as the quip slipped out. Damn. It sounded like a dig at his profession. She hadn't intended that.

But he just chuckled. “I have a very good imagination.”

Yes. Yes, he did. Her cheeks pinkened at the memory.

“Why was Tibby looking for you?”

Hanna blew out a breath. How humiliating was this to admit? “Zack sent her along to keep an eye on me this weekend.”

Logan frowned and made a little noise in the back of his throat.

“By the way, I think you spent the night with Sidney . . . If she asks.”

His eyes twinkled at that. “Did I?”

Hanna nodded.

“Was she good?”

She nibbled her lip. “I don't know . . . was she?”

“I'm pretty sure she was. Damn good.”

“Hmm . . . ” She tipped her head to the side and surveyed him, her dark mood somehow inexplicably lifted, dashed to bits by his presence. Funny how one small smile could do that. “Was she a naughty girl?”

He winked. “Not naughty enough.”

Hanna laughed and his gaze stalled on her face. The moment hung, suspended between them on a tangle of memory. Heat sizzled through her as his expression darkened. “God, Hanna—”

“Well, hello there, Purple.”

In tandem, they winced.

Tibby took the seat across from them on the long, low table. Her gaze flicked from one to the other, then narrowed. “Well, isn't this an interesting tête-à-tête?”

Logan wrinkled his brow. “Tet a what?”

“Tête-à-tête,” Tibby sniffed. “Intimate meeting. It's French.”

“Like your perfume?” Logan's lips quirked at that.

Tibby fluttered her lashes. “Do you like my perfume?”

“It smells very, ah . . . French. And this is hardly an intimate meeting.” He glanced around the hall. “We're just having coffee.”

Sidney emerged from the kitchen in a rush with a full pitcher of ice water and Cody on her heels. There was a red stain on her cheeks. She saw Tibby at the table and her eyes widened. She hurried over. “Here you are, Hanna,” she said, filling a glass.

Hanna took a sip and then downed the glass. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was. Sidney refilled her glass.

“Hi there, honey,” Logan murmured.

Hanna winced at the low thrum of his tone. Then she gaped in astonishment when Logan stood, pulled her sister into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth.

Surely that wasn't jealousy coiling through her bowels, that acidic, snarling boil?

Sidney stiffened, and then wrapped her arms around Logan's shoulders, raking her fingers in his hair. Hanna's gorge rose. She glanced over at Cody and was surprised to find him glowering—
glowering
—at Logan and Sidney. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and growled.

Still, the kiss did not end.

Not until Tibby rose with a gusty huff and muttered, “Really?” before storming off.

And even then, it took Cody nudging Logan, not so subtly, to break the two apart.

Sidney stepped back and gazed up at Logan, her lashes batting as though she had something in her eye. “Well, that was yummy.”

“Glad to oblige, ma'am.” Logan shot a look at Cody and grinned. “All part of the service.”

The noise emanating from Cody wasn't pleasant in the least. It sounded like a snarl. “That's not what you're here for,” he snapped.

“Really?” Logan tipped his head to the side. “I'm pretty sure that's what I'm here for.”

“Not
her
.” He thrust a thumb at Sidney, who continued batting her lashes like a llama having a seizure.

And suddenly, Hanna noticed it. The sizzle.

Oh, not the sizzle between Sidney and Logan.

The sizzle between Sidney and
Cody
.

“Excuse me, Mr. Double Stud.” Her sister fisted her hands on her hips and glared at their host. “I am a paying customer here, just like
all the other women
.” The way she said those words sent a heat wave through the room. Judging from Cody's pained expression, he knew exactly to what she referred. Hanna was stunned to realize there was something going on between them. And that something was not going well. “If I want to kiss a hot and hunky guy,” she patted Logan on the chest, “I shall kiss a hot and hunky guy. Maybe I'll kiss all of them. I am a free agent, remember?”

“Goddamn it, Sidney . . .”

“Pfft.” She wiggled her fingers dismissively in his face. “Come on, Hanna. Let's take our breakfast to our rooms and eat in private. And you . . .” She turned to Logan, who was still grinning like a loon. “Thank you for the kiss. It was very pleasant.”

“You're welcome, ma'am.”