Diamonds & Desire: The Priceless Collection (16 page)

“Logan, darling!”

She only called him “darling” in public or when she had too much to drink. He smiled at his mother, ever the refined lady in her blue-colored sequined dress and long gold necklace. “Mom, you look like a million bucks,” he greeted, bending down to brush a cheek to hers.

“Thank you, thank you. I can’t believe it took you this long to find me. I haven’t moved from this spot all night,” she spoke with underlying skepticism. “Did you just arrive?”

“No, we’ve been here a while.”

“We?”

“Yes, Jordana and I. She stepped away to the powder room, but I want to introduce you to her when she comes back. She used to watch the show and she’s eager to meet you.”

His mother flipped a hand with a dismissive expression. “Some other time, darling. Come, I want you to meet someone.”

All of a sudden his mother didn’t care to know who Jordana was? Had she not grilled him to the nth degree when she thought he’d married the woman? She hooked her arm around his shoulders and tried to lead him away, but he kept his feet planted. “I’d rather go back and wait.”

“It will only take a second.”

He cast a glance behind him, not seeing Jordana. “Fine.”

Halfway across the room, and the instant his mother called the name Rachel, he realized he’d been duped into a blatant set-up. Rachel was a fair, statuesque, strawberry-blond, maybe in her late twenties, with flawless skin and light brown eyes. No wedding band on her finger. Of course.

“Sweetheart, this is my son, Logan, the genius philanthropist of the family,” his mother said, presenting him as if he were veal on a silver plate. “Logan, this Rachel Garner. A bright, shiny star on Heart’s Horizon. She plays my granddaughter on the show, reading my character’s diary and finding out everyone’s secrets now that I’m gone. I just love her storyline.”

Rachel apparently knew the game his mother played, too. She gave an amused, hesitant laugh at the obvious introduction. “Nice to finally meet you, Logan. Your mom talks about you all the time.”

Funny, she’s never mentioned a word about you, he had to check himself from retorting. Meanwhile, his mother wrapped an arm around Rachel’s shoulders, grinning, with a secretive glint in her eye. “I’ve been mentoring Rachel. Isn’t she lovely? We’ve been having a ball! We’re practically twins. She so reminds me of myself when I first started on television.”

“Oh, Deidre, you’re so sweet,” said Rachel, patting his mother’s hand.

Conniving is more accurate. Only his mother would try to fix him up while his date freshened up. He didn’t buy a word of the twins comment either. Knowing his mother very well, she was likely trying to live vicariously through yet another actress. She’d done this several times over the years, claiming the role as mentor to seize familiar glimpses of her former glory days. No doubt his mother envied Rachel’s youth, her whole acting career ahead of her. Perhaps, before he was born, his mother had once been resembled a girl like Rachel, but that was a long, long time ago. “Lovely to meet you, Rachel. My mother wouldn’t spend one minute giving you advice if she wasn’t sincere to see you succeed. I wish you the best with the show.”

The girl beamed. “Thank you.”

“Now if you’ll pardon—”

His mother’s brows shot down in disapproval. “Don’t be rude, Logan. Dance with Rachel. She didn’t come with a date, you know.”

“If you’ll recall, I came with one.”

“Your Jordana won’t mind an innocent little dance, will she? Don’t tell me she’s immature.”

He kept himself from openly expressing his annoyance. A stupid turn on the dance floor with Rachel, then he was taking Jordana out of here. If he didn’t amuse his mother with this dance, she’d only become acrimonious. And if he attempted to introduce her to Jordana when she was displeased, who knew what condescending comment she would give, so he’d do it some other time. She’d sense Jordana’s sweet nature like a hound smelled blood and would find some way to make Jordana feel uncomfortable, as retaliation for not getting her way. Unfortunately, he’d been playing this game with his mother all his life.

“That’s okay,” Rachel said, freeing him from the obligation. “I’m not much of a dancer, anyway.”

“Let Logan lead then. Now go,” his mother ordered.

Burying his reluctance, Logan crooked his arm and, feeling sorry for the actress, gave a disarming smile. “Come on, Rachel, let’s bust a rug.”

With a laugh, and an appreciative smile, she took his arm. “I think you meant bust a move or cut a rug.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re right.”

“Oh you make a beautiful couple!” He heard his mother’s parting voice as he took Rachel to the middle of the floor and held her as he would his grandmother.

A nice girl, and attractive too, but Logan bore no interest at all. A dread came over him, knowing how this would look to Jordana, dancing with another woman when he said he’d wait for her.

***

Jordana lifted the hem of her gown with a smile as she re-entered the gala. Shifting her gaze around, she finally spotted Logan. Slow dancing with a beautiful redhead.

Oh. Well, no big deal. They were just dancing. And not very closely.

He certainly didn’t embrace the woman the way he’d done with her the night they met. Struggling ever so slightly with indifference, she moved her gaze around the room, blindly admiring the decorations, the costumed band members, the dripping ice sculptures, but like a magnet, eventually her gaze returned to Logan.

She couldn’t help it.

Logan met her stare over the pretty woman’s shoulder. He sent a sensual wink along with his heart-fluttering crooked smile, and her stomach dipped.

The nameless woman would get a couple of minutes to dance with him; Jordana would have him in her arms all night.

***

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Rachel asked him as they swayed to the music.

Caught off guard, he tore his gaze from Jordana. “Pardon?”

“The woman you came with. The one you can’t stop looking at behind me. You’re caught,” she teased. “I’d pay to have a man look at me like that. What’s her name?”

“Jordana,” he said, clearing his throat.

“No wonder you didn’t want to dance with me,” she added, a hint of tease in her tone. “Here your mom is trying to play matchmaker when you’re clearly in love. You should bring her up to speed!”

Love. There was that word again. He contained the urge to roll his eyes. Actresses. Always so dramatic. Why else would she say something like that? She didn’t know him. He had a firm grip on his emotions, and knew whatever way he looked at Jordana, it wasn’t love. More like pure, insuppressible, needful, cell-sucking lust. It never failed to amaze him how women had such a hard time distinguishing the two. “I’m not in love,” he uttered, more to himself than in response to her.

She still heard him. “Oh? Well, either you’re falling in it or you give the best impression of someone who is. Especially for a guy who’s known for lovin’ and leavin’ them with short notice. Even your mother can’t gloss over that reputation.” She flinched. “No offense. Things just come out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. I didn’t mean to sound like such a witch. Living in Hollywood makes you crass after a while.”

Now he understood why his mom saw herself in Rachel. She had spunk. “No offense taken. My mostly inflated reputation doesn’t bother me at all. Never has.”

“Good,” she laughed, “Because although it doesn’t bother you, it definitely precedes you.”

Nothing ever bothered him except lately, people’s uncensored observations of him when it came to Jordana. First Neil, then Mr. Redgrave, now Rachel.

This pattern annoyed him.

The song ended, and he politely disengaged from Rachel. “I appreciate the honesty. Thanks for the dance.”

“She’s a lucky girl, Logan,” she smiled as he strode away. “I’ll be sure to remind your mother you’re very, very taken.”

Chapter Fourteen

As they sped down the highway after leaving the executive airport, Jordana flicked another questionable, disconcerting glance at Logan.

He’d been very quiet since they left the party, but not in an impolite or cold manner, more…distracted. As she watched the glow of the streetlights stream over his profile again and again, his sharp, impassive features were almost statuesque. When he set his hand on her knee and squeezed, she concluded he wasn’t mad or upset, but he without a doubt had something on his mind. She wished he would share it with her.

They pulled in the drive. “I was thinking,” he said as the garage door lifted, “Your car could probably use a tune-up.”

“With a new engine.” She bumped his elbow playfully.

He cast her a wan smile. “It doesn’t sound safe, especially for the long commutes you do every day between home, work, and here.” He pulled in the garage and parked. “Borrow one of mine in the meantime. As long as you need.”

“What?”

“I’ve got three cars. Take the Jaguar or the Mercedes. It’s up to you. Or take this one. It’ll cost you nothing in gas.”

Uh, yeah. It was a Tesla Model S, at minimum, an eighty-thousand dollar all-electric car. She almost choked on the idea. “I couldn’t. I’d have nowhere to plug it in,” she joked.

“Take the Jag then. I hardly ever drive it.”

She looked at him, agape. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Think about it.” He climbed out without another word.

No way would take one of his cars, even if they sat in his garage most days. “My car’s just needs a new muffler. I’ll be fine. I plan to trade it in soon anyway. I have no business driving around a Jaguar.”

He sighed. “It’s only a car. And that it was only a suggestion.”

Inside the house, Logan was quiet again, the silence strained. Jordana felt desperate to lighten the mood, even though she didn’t want to ask if something was wrong. If he wanted to discuss it, he would. Whenever she probed, he pulled away. Keeping her voice soft, she said, “I had a wonderful time.”

He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, and tugged at his bow tie. “Good.” Then shrugged out of his jacket.

Maybe he was simply tired and she mistook fatigue for something else. After all, he’d worked long hours all week, and had only left the office early tonight because they had to fly to Los Angeles. Though she yearned to make love, the mood had shifted completely, and she didn’t know how to restore it.

At the start of the party, she imagined their evening would unfold with him marching after her to the bedroom with the impatient passion he’d displayed earlier.

Now, nothing about him gave the impression he wanted to tear her dress off.

He rubbed the back of his neck and squeezed his eyes shut a few times as he checked the messages on his phone, and her selfishness melted away to compassion.

How narrow-minded and greedy of her. Only thinking of her desires and what she wanted from him. I’ll fix this. She discarded her shoes and removed her earrings. He didn’t once look up, frowning into his missed messages.

It wasn’t until she lowered the lights and switched on the fireplace that she’d caught his attention. Squinting in the semi-darkness, he set down his phone. “What are you doing?”

Reaching her hand out, she silently asked him to join her. His expression unreadable, he came toward her, and took her hand.

“Come here,” she said sitting in the corner of the leather sofa, her back to the arm, and tugged him down. She patted her lap, and he looked at her as if she was acting strange. To her surprise, he relented. Stretching out on the sofa, he lay down on his back, the back of his head on her lap. When she began massaging his shoulders, he caught her hand. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Feels amazing, but you don’t have to.”

“Something tells me I do.”

He didn’t stop her a second time. She rubbed his muscles until her fingers ached. There were so many knots, even a professional massage therapist would have a hard time. She then started running her fingers through his silken, wavy hair, and gently rubbing his temples. His soft moan said he approved.

“I should really get up,” he spoke in a tiresome voice, but didn’t make a move, and sighed long. “I have things to do.”

Leaning over, she started unbuttoning a few buttons of his shirt, and sensually slid her palms over his warm, muscled chest. His breathing went shallow as she lightly massaged his pecs, her breasts grazing the top his head. She smiled, tenderly kneading his chest muscles with her fingertips, moving lower to his abdomen, and sliding her hands back to his shoulders. “Then get up already.”

His hand came up and cupped the nape of her neck. Her lips kissed his once, then again, and when she kissed his chin, he nuzzled his face between her breasts. She laughed softly, sat back, and resumed her massage, but it seemed she’d awaken the desire in him as well.

Logan got up and faced her, bracing one hand on the back of the couch. With his handsome features cast in half-shadow, he never looked more arresting, or more dangerous. There was no tiredness in his eyes now. She grazed the sides of his face with her fingertips, traced down his jaw, and drew him in. With a sexy half-smile, he moved forward and brushed her lips.

Electric heat ignited inside and she whimpered, lost in his sensual spell. He drew back an inch, dropped his gaze, as if he were about to say something. Maybe now he would tell her what was on his mind, what weighed him down—?

He kissed her, hard, and her thoughts vanished like powder in a breeze.

His hands took hold of her arms and pulled her up to her knees on the sofa, and she succumbed to the forceful domination of his kiss. He grazed his mouth down her neck with a slow slide on her skin. A shock wave ran through her body as she clung to his arms for support. The straps of her dress were pried down, and with a little rotation of her shoulders, she helped him pull the dress to her waist. She leaned back on the arm of the sofa, lifting her bottom so he could pull the garment off.

She watched as he stood up and carefully laid the white gown on a chair, then undressed in front of the fireplace. All that toned perfection, sinew muscle, and masculine athletic limbs absolutely sang to her femininity. From his legs, up to his…yeah, that perfect cock, and her heart pounded with excitement. With a quick lift of her lashes, she met his eyes, and a tremor rippled through her. She unhooked her strapless bra and dropped it, opening her arms to him.

He came down and took her waist to set her on her back.

A quiver surged through her veins.

Now that’s more like the Logan from earlier tonight.

The sensual aggression had returned, and she knew he’d demand nothing but her complete surrender. Probing his tongue in her mouth, he gently squeezed her breast, he jutted his knee her legs, making her spread. His hand snaked down her body, the caress a command, his touch controlled. Sliding in down inside her panties, his fingers parted her slick center. Her heart seemed to rush to that spot and she inhaled sharply at the contact. A loan moan escaped her while he tenderly stroked her clit, teasing the nub with slow precision before circling and circling the hard bud.

“Logan, please.”

“I know what you like, don’t I?”

“Y-yes. Oh yes.”

He pulled off her underwear and dove down to her breasts. Arching, she moaned as his tongue caressed her sensitive, swollen nipples, moving down one kiss here, another there. She was heaven, hearing the crackling of the fire as her lover kissed and nipped at her body attentively, taking his time. No other man doted and lingered on her body like Logan did, rubbing his mouth over hips, licking at her inner thighs.

With a growl, he grasped her hands and pulled her up. “Come here.” He moved to a sitting position, bringing her with him. She spread legs to straddle him, passion and hunger colliding. Their mouths met again, hungrily, and he raked his hands through her hair, unclipped her faux diamond hair piece and flicked it behind him. Her pussy was soaked and more than ready to receive him.

They’d stopped using condoms after they both got tested last week, and since she was on the pill, it was safe to go without them. Jordana liked how they could make love at whim, trusting he only shared his body with her, and vice versa.

Grinding her hips, lost in sea of passion, Jordana tipped her head back as he pumped his hips. While she panted with wild arousal, he explored the soft lines of her waist, hips, and butt. “You are…” he spoke huskily, “by far the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”

The sexiest? She almost laughed breathlessly, feeling a smile tug at her mouth.

If he thought so, then who was she to argue?

“So soft,” he uttered, tracing a sensuous path up her neck. “So mine.” He spoke the last word in a whisper, she almost didn’t hear him over the blood roaring in her ears.

His? The sweet possessiveness of that barely understood word stole her breath. Unable to take anymore foreplay, she fisted the back his head, poised herself on the tip of him, and slowly lowered as he filled her. The size of him made her gasp, and her tightness made him groan. Panting, the heat of the fireplace at her back, she pumped on his cock, up and down with the wet heat of her pussy enveloping his cock.

Logan groaned, gripping her hips, his jaw clenched. He closed his eyes. “Fuck. You own me,” he said, encouraging her to ride him faster, lightly giving her butt a tap.

She panted, a bright flare of inner fire consuming her every cell. She was unable to discern reality from fantasy. “Logan, I’m coming…” And as the orgasm splintered her soul, she opened her mouth and cried out long, grinding her hips on him.

Holding her waist, he kissed between her breasts, and lifted her from his cock. Turning her to all fours on the sofa, he entered her from behind, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he thrust deep and hard. He leaned down to cup her breast, pumping in her body, murmuring words she couldn’t hear. She dropped her head, closed her eyes and arched her back, digging her nails in the couch.

His pace increased, hips slapping against her ass, grunts of pleasure from the both of them filling the quiet living room air.

Faster he moved, softly calling her name, as she bumped against his rhythm.

“Yes, baby. You know…what I need,” he panted. And then with a loud curse, he came, slowing down, still hard inside her.

So tired, shaky, barely able to move or make a complete thought, Jordana became a rag doll in his hands, as he pulled out and pulled her back in his arms. With her body tucked close to his, her eyelids heavy, she barely registered the brush of his hand as he moved the damp tendrils of her hair clinging to her neck. He kissed her shoulder and her lips moved in drowsy smile. The man had thoroughly taken her body to new heights, and while he may not know it, he’d just stolen another piece of her heart.

***

Hours later, it was nearly dawn when his hands roused her from dead sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to see the last moments of night give way to the first glow of sunrise. The living room was cast in a dark orange hue, soothing and peaceful, mesmeric.

“Wake up, Jordana,” she thought she heard Logan whisper, his hand rousing her wet.

Caught between the last vestiges of slumber and pulse-awakening desire, she moaned as Logan stroked skillfully strummed and teased her sex.

Panting between parted lips, Jordana’s ache for him bloomed hot and bright, seizing her every cell. She lifted her leg and spread her lips, feeling the head of his cock. Slowly, he pushed inside inch by inch until he was deep as he could go, thrusting in and out. His fingers dug in her hip, as he breathed heavily on her neck, burying his nose in her hair. Interlacing her fingers through his, she bit her lip at the intimate, sensual joining of their bodies.

He pulled out, moved on top of her, spread her legs, and plunged inside, his manner shockingly desperate all of a sudden. The intimacy faded as he moved, head low, thrusting hard. She tried to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t look at her, coming down to bury his face in her neck. Her heart lurched with his withdrawal, the disconnection.

Stay with me. Clinging to his shoulders, she met his pumps and closed her eyes, the rush powerful, unstoppable. Her body paid no mind to her reeling thoughts, burning for her climax, as an inexplicable tinge of fear caught hold of her. Tears threatening behind her eyes, she held on to him, as he slid his hand from her knee to thigh, and back up. He guided her leg wider, and thrust deeper, faster. She bit her lip. His name tore out of her throat as a half-sob, half-plea.

With a guttural moan, he climaxed only moments after she did, his body stiffening, every corded muscle tight.

The turbulence of his passion robbed her of speech.

It wasn’t until she belatedly kissed his jaw, and pressed her cheek on his shoulder, that he stiffened to slip away and get up. Leaving her cold and a little confused.

Crossing an arm over her breasts, she sat up, wiped her cheeks, then ran a hand through her tangled hair, and gasped at the giant knots she found.

Last night she hadn’t even washed the makeup off or combed her hair. She was afraid to see what her morning-after looked like.

A blanket was thrown around her. Over her shoulder, she smiled in thanks.

“It’s early,” he said. “Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep in some more?”

She got the impression he wouldn’t be joining her, already dressed.

“Coming with me?” she asked with hope in her eyes.

“I have a lot of work to do,” he replied. “I’m usually up at this time, even on the weekends.”

“You slept in when we were in Vegas,” she pointed out standing up. “Remember?”

He gave her a warm smile. “Of course I do. I wish we were there right now so I could pretend I didn’t have a care in the world.”

“But you do.” Now that he just had her heart pounding and her lungs screaming minutes ago, she didn’t think she could go back to sleep, but felt slightly dismissed by his work mode. Which, while she didn’t like it, she understood. He cast her a grateful smile as she made her way to his bedroom, picking up her weekender bag on the way. At least she brought one of her books to work on.