The Summer Cottage (2 page)

It was possible Logan had devoted quite a bit of time to gathering information on
his assistant.

Only because she’s a mystery,
he consoled himself as he laced his fingers together behind his head.
She’s the one puzzle I haven’t been able to solve. And once I get the answers to some
burning questions, I’ll never be distracted by her again.

Downstairs, the cottage door swung open, letting in the scent of roses on the warm
evening breeze. Jessica was back from her exploration of the island, and from the
rustle of plastic bags, Logan surmised she’d also stopped in to whatever quaint general
store this island boasted, to secure provisions.

He tracked her progress from the cottage door, across the bare hardwood floor of the
miniscule living room to set the grocery bags down on the kitchenette’s tiny table.
She spent some time unloading whatever she’d bought, cupboards opening and closing,
the refrigerator making a soft whir as it clicked on. It was oddly relaxing. Logan
felt his muscles soften against the mattress as some unnamed tension flowed out of
him.

Until he heard the light click of Jessica’s heels on the stepladder leading up to
the loft above the living room, where Logan was supposed to be sleeping.

Before her head cleared the top of the ladder, he’d turned onto his side and shut
his eyes, evening out his breathing into a slow, deep rhythm. Jessica paused for long
enough to get Logan’s heart pounding with the possibility that she’d call him out
for faking it and refuse to answer a question later.

But finally, he heard the soft tread of her retreat down the stepladder, followed
by the quiet snick of the downstairs bedroom door closing. Excellent, he’d fooled
her. Smiling to himself, Logan settled in to wait a reasonable amount of time before
coming back downstairs to demand his daily Q & A session.

The next time he opened his eyes, bright morning sunlight suffused the loft, along
with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee.

Hauling himself up off the mattress was surprisingly difficult. He’d slept straight
through the night for the first time in he didn’t even know how long, but he didn’t
feel nearly as rested as he would have hoped. Instead, his body ached as if it had
been tied in place for the past nine hours, his limbs weighted down with stones.

He managed to get down the stepladder without falling and breaking his neck, but it
wasn’t easy. When he finally felt the cold hardwood floor under his bare feet, he
exhaled a grateful sigh.

“I told you I should be the one sleeping up there.” Jessica’s no-nonsense voice from
behind him sent a pleasant shiver up Logan’s spine.

“Tonight,” she declared, “we’re switching. You can take the bedroom, I’ll take the
loft.”

Logan shrugged, not wanting to start the day with an argument. He’d be sleeping in
that loft, though. Just because he hadn’t reliably slept through the night since his
parents died, that didn’t make Logan a child to be coddled and ordered around.

Dropping into the nearest kitchen chair, Logan dredged up a winning smile. “You made
coffee. That’s why you’re my favorite, Tink.”

“I’m your favorite because your brother pays me well to make sure your needs are met,”
Jessica corrected absently. Most of her attention was focused on the frowning scrutiny
of Logan’s face.

He rubbed a hand over his whiskery jaw, hiding a wince at the thought of how rough
he probably looked. Meanwhile, he realized sourly, Jessica was pressed, perky perfection
in her fitted cobalt-blue fleece sweatshirt and a pair of black spandex workout pants.

Hoping to induce her to turn around so he could get a peek at the hind view, Logan
picked up the coffee cup set out with the plates and silverware in the center of the
table. He waggled it beseechingly, making his best puppy dog eyes.

But instead of filling the mug with the sweet nectar of life while bending over the
kitchen counter in those tight black pants, Jessica said, “You actually slept last
night. I checked on you.”

“Yeah, so?” It wasn’t a lie, Logan reasoned, since he had actually dropped off.

“So why don’t you seem refreshed and rested?”

Logan shrugged. “When I go through long periods of having trouble sleeping, I kind
of acclimate to not sleeping. Then when I do finally manage a full night, my body
doesn’t know how to handle it. I wind up groggy, still tired.”

“That’s awful! Is that normal?” Worry created an adorable crease between her brows.
It probably didn’t say anything great about him that he loved that look on her face.

“Might not be normal, but normal is boring.” Logan shrugged. “Anyway, it’s been happening
since I was a teenager. It used to bother me, but I’ve lived through it every other
time. I’ll live through it this time, and next time, too. No need to call out the
National Guard.”

Jessica whirled, finally giving him a view of her delectable backside, but she didn’t
move to grab the coffeepot. Instead, she filled a teakettle with water, set it on
the four-burner range and turned up the heat under it.

Logan cocked his head, intrigued. “You’re having tea? You always drink coffee.”

She gave him a strange look. “No, you’re having tea. Herbal, in fact.”

He snorted. “The hell I am.”

Jessica ignored him, the way she always did when she’d made up her mind to drive him
completely insane. “Until I research the do’s and don’ts of chronic insomnia, you’re
not having any caffeine.”

Dismay turned his voice into a low growl. “Now wait a damned minute.”

Twirling to face him, Jessica braced her hands on the counter behind her. “You agreed
to follow my instructions regarding your health,” she said tensely, eyes flashing.
“Are you going back on our deal already, over something as small as a cup of coffee?”

That shut Logan up for a second, long enough to weigh the cost-to-benefit ratio of
pushing this. Yeah, he loved his morning espresso, but did he want it more than he
wanted to know Jessica’s secrets?

“Fine,” he snarled, slamming away from the table. Hey, nothing in the deal said he
had to be a good sport about any of this. “But I’m not drinking tea. Tea is just water
boiled with sticks and leaves. I’d rather drink out of the toilet.”

“If that’s what you prefer, be my guest,” Jessica said calmly. “Just so long as it’s
not caffeinated toilet water.”

Damn it, now he was biting down on a grin. She was uncomfortably good at shaking his
bad moods loose. “Got it. So what else are you prescribing for me today, Nurse Jessica?”

Her green eyes took on a glittery sheen of satisfaction. “A healthy breakfast. Do
you think you can deal?”

Logan nodded. “Speaking of deals, I think we should count yesterday as the first day
of our agreement. In which I held up my end of the bargain by sleeping straight through
the night—and that means you owe me.”

Pausing in the act of opening a carton of eggs, Jessica swallowed audibly. Staring
down at the fragile white shells, she said, “Fine, but you’re coming with me for a
walk around the island. You can ask your question while we get a little light exercise.”

Logan was so cheered by the prospect of delving into the locked box of Jessica’s past,
he didn’t even want to argue about the exercise. “Sounds great. I assume you packed
me a pair of sneakers.”

He only said it to elicit his favorite Jessica look—the single arched brow and silent
lip curl that carried a strong subtext of
bitch, please.

“Obviously,” she muttered, turning back to the stove.

Oh yes, the cracks are already starting to show,
Logan mused, almost whistling as he sauntered through the cottage in search of his
packing case. The unflappable Jessica Bell was more than a little flapped.

Curiosity, the burning fire that guided Logan’s life, the best distraction and comfort
he’d ever found, crested in his chest. When he finally got to peer behind the opaque
curtain of Jessica’s professional distance, what would he find?

And the question of why he cared so much, why Jessica stirred his insatiable curiosity
in a way no other woman ever had? Well. That was easy enough to ignore.

Chapter 3

Jessica’s brain obsessively ticked over the list of information she’d compiled about
sleep disorders. The instant she had breakfast under control, she started Googling
like a madwoman. There was far less research available than she would have expected
for such a basic human need, but Jessica was confident in her problem-solving skills.
She was determined to figure this out.

She made a mental note to look into whether trauma affected sleep patterns. He’d said
he first started experiencing insomnia as a teenager—was that around the time of Phillip
and Marilyn Harrington’s tragic car accident?

The resignation in every weary line of Logan’s face as he’d revealed the extent of
his insomnia had torn at Jessica’s heart. More than anything, she wanted to be able
to promise him that he didn’t have to live like that, in a constant cycle of exhaustion
and frustration. She had more research to do, but she was cautiously optimistic enough
to make up for the niggling worry over the question Logan was about to pose.

Glancing down at the route she’d mapped on her smartphone, Jessica said, “Turn left
up ahead, at … yes, at Main Street.”

“Of freaking course, this place has a Main Street. And my grandparents’ house is on
what, Island Road? Very creative, this town’s founders were.”

Normally Jessica, a New Yorker by choice if not by birth, would wholeheartedly join
in the sophisticated eye rolling at small-town cutesiness. But as they skirted the
lush green lawn of the town square and shared friendly greetings with an elderly couple
walking a tiny poodle, Jessica couldn’t find it in herself to look down her nose at
Sanctuary Island.

“You’d prefer something more fanciful?” She blinked at him innocently. “I would have
thought you’d like the simple directness of Island Road.”

“I prefer my avenues numbered, orderly and logical, thank you very much.” Logan tucked
his hands in the pockets of the brand new track pants Jessica had bought him, sharp
gaze taking in every detail of their surroundings.

He sauntered down the sidewalk, broad shoulders brushing hers on every other step.
It was another glorious summer day, early enough to be warm rather than hot, and the
constant gentle breeze cut the humidity nicely. Logan tipped his head back as they
walked, and Jessica caught her breath silently as an expression she’d never seen crossed
his handsome face.

With the sun beating down and an ocean wind ruffling his brown hair, Logan Harrington
looked content.

The clench of her heart convinced her once and for all that she’d done the right thing
in bringing him to Sanctuary. She’d always enjoyed her monthly check-in call with
Penny Little, the caretaker of the Harringtons’ vacation home, and getting the news
of the slow-paced, friendly island.

When Logan collapsed in that board meeting, his older brother had decreed an enforced
vacation was in order. At once, Jessica had felt a tug on her heart telling her to
whisk Logan away to Sanctuary Island.

He could heal here. That was worth the discomfort of answering a few probing questions.

With that in mind, she led them left on Main Street, away from the town square. The
clusters of houses grew sparser the farther they walked, the quality of the road deteriorating
from smooth pavement to rough gravel over the next mile. She kept an eye on Logan,
whose main form of exercise was generally accomplished naked and horizontal, but he
didn’t appear to be struggling as their walk stretched longer. In fact, a healthy
color bloomed in his pale cheeks for the first time in weeks.

And still he didn’t ask his question.

Relaxing a bit, Jessica thumbed in the changes to her GPS map that would take them
on the longer route past the stretch of public-access beach along the eastern edge
of the island. Her advance prep on this place had turned up an interesting tidbit
about why it was called Sanctuary Island, and she wanted to check it out firsthand.

In strangely companionable silence, they crested a small hill lined with loblolly
pines. At the top, they paused to get their breath back and stared out over the vista
spread at their feet.

From the break in the trees atop their hill, the ground sloped down in a tangle of
wax myrtle and sorrel to the edge of a wide salt marsh. Dark green patches of tall
cordgrass waved in the breeze and the scent of salt hung heavy in the air.

Jessica’s heart leaped as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Grabbing
Logan’s elbow in a reflexive gesture of excitement, she couldn’t stop herself from
pointing and bouncing like a giddy child.

“Look,” she whispered. “Can you believe it?”

Logan followed the angle of her arm, eyes widening as he saw what she was pointing
at. “Huh. Looks like some farmer’s ponies got out of the barn.”

Jessica shook her head, gaze locked on the small band of rangy, shaggy horses grazing
lazily among the cordgrass. “They’re wild. The entire island is a wild horse sanctuary—there
are no fences anywhere, and all the residents look out for them.”

“That’s insane.” Logan stared down at the horses with a perplexed smile. “Huh. I don’t
think I’ve ever seen a horse that didn’t have a mounted police officer on its back,
or a carriage for tourists strapped to it.”

“They’re beautiful.” Jessica sighed, caught by the indefinable air of freedom the
feral animals exuded. These were no tame pets, taught to take sugar cubes from a little
girl’s open palm. These horses lived in the open, survived the harsh winds of winter
and the tearing storms of spring, foraging for food along the island’s shores.

“You’re beautiful.”

Logan’s quiet voice startled Jessica from her reverie. She glanced up to find him
staring at her, rather than the view. The open appreciation in his dark blue eyes
sent a wash of pleasure drenching through her body.