"Enjoy the show?" Logan asked,
the sarcasm evident in his now cold voice.
"You know I did."
He crossed his arms across his broad
chest, one side of his mouth curling in a sardonic smile. "Glad
to be of...assistance, then."
"I want to see you again," Sophie
blurted, knowing that if she didn't do it now, the opportunity
might be forever
lost.
He arched a raven brow. "I don't
think so, cher."
"You don't understand. We share
a destiny."
She expected anger, not the loud roar
of laughter as he tipped his head back and howled into the
night. When he dropped his
gaze back to hers, bitter cold emanated from his icy blue eyes. "Did
my mother send you here?"
Before she could respond, he held up
his hand. "Don't
answer that. I already know. Look, I enjoyed your masturbation
performance, and I'm glad I could help get you off. But that's
the end of it."
He didn't know. How could he? Although,
she'd always thought he would know about her, just as she'd
always known about him.
Maybe he did, and was fighting their connection. Sophie wasn't
at all surprised. "You will come see me." She pulled
her card from the pocket of her skirt and held it out to him.
Logan shook his head. "Not a chance
in hell, sweetheart. This game is over."
When he refused to take the card, she dropped it on the ground,
the wind flipping it toward his shoe.
"You will come to me, Logan," she
said, then turned and walked away, knowing that nothing she
could say or do at
the moment would convince him. He'd have to mull it over in
his mind first. Then disregard the pull he felt for as long
as he could.
But it wouldn't do any good.
Soon enough, he'd show up on her doorstep. He wouldn't be
able to help himself.
* * * * *
The woman's sultry voice lingered as Logan watched her walk
away, admiring the soft sway of her hips that was completely
natural, rather than the affected swivel Vivian presented him
as she'd left.
You will come to me.
Bullshit. No one told him what he would and wouldn't do. Even
if that someone was a gorgeous gypsy of a woman, with waist-length
hair the color of a cloudless night and eyes a vivid violet
that seemed to sparkle like flowers under a bright sun.
She was too young for him anyway. Couldn't be more than her
mid-twenties, about ten years younger than him. Even so, her
eyes belied her age.
An old soul, his mother would say.
Speaking of his mother, Logan would bet anything that his
meddling parent had sent the woman to him. If there was one
thing Angelina Storm never tired of talking about, it was the
destiny of her children.
That supernatural crap might have worked
on Aidan and Shannon, but it held no appeal to him. He had
no destiny, no woman that
he was ‘meant' to be with. That was all magic, and he
wanted nothing to do with magic, especially not the kind that
lived within him.
He'd controlled it for thirty-five years and he'd damn well
keep it at bay forever.
Whatever the mystery woman wanted would have to remain a mystery.
The cool wind fluttered her card against his shoe. He would
not pick it up, no matter what.
But it called to him. Dared him to take a look.
Ridiculous.
Okay, maybe just to see what it said, then he'd tear it up.
The background of the business card was the same color as
the woman's violet eyes.
Her name was Sophie Breaux. He snorted at the verbiage below
her name.
Psychic Readings, Fortune Telling, Tarot Cards and Mystical
Spells.
A fucking fortune teller. A carnival sideshow meant to bilk
unwary travelers out of their money with mind tricks and voodoo
mumbo jumbo.
Did she think he'd run to her so she could tell his future?
What kind of idiot did she take him for?
Obviously a big one, considering she'd seemed so confident
that he'd be showing up on her doorstep soon.
When hell froze over. He ripped the card up and tossed it
into the wind, then shoved his hands in his pockets and moved
down the alley, forcing his thoughts back to Vivian, the redheaded
siren who'd tried her best to fuck his brains out.
They'd been casual sex partners for over a year. Suited them
both fine to keep things impersonal. Vivian was a divorcee'
with a ton of alimony coming her way each month. The last thing
she wanted was her very rich ex-husband getting wind of her
having a relationship, since he was still possessive as hell
over her.
And if she pissed him off, he might not be so generous with
the money he tossed her way each month. Vivian valued her ex-husband's
money much more than she craved a relationship. So they kept
things physical only. And occasionally, Vivian liked to be
naughty and do it in public, though she always pretended to
be shocked by it. Whatever. He played the game without getting
involved.
Location didn't matter to him. A fuck was a fuck. Alleviated
the tension and allowed him to focus on business the rest of
the time without having to worry about a woman's feelings.
That's why he and Vivian got along so well.
The last thing he wanted was an emotional involvement with
a woman. Not with what he carried inside him. No way would
he fall in love. It was fine for the rest of the Storms, but
love wasn't for Logan.
He'd been told before that he was cold as ice. Unfeeling.
Lacking emotion and warmth.
Exactly the way he wanted to be. In control.
When he was younger, he'd struggled against the magic, hating
losing control over himself. It took awhile, but he'd mastered
it, pushed it deep within him. As long as he remained cold,
removed from anything emotional, the magic stayed hidden.
He was no freak, no sideshow spectacle
for people to wonder about, to point and laugh at, or even
worse—to fear.
He wanted to be a normal, human male living his normal, human
life.
Sophie Breaux was the exact opposite, and he'd bet a million
she was as fake as any illusionist. A mistress of tricks and
chicanery.
A con artist.
No way was he going to involve himself with someone like her,
even if she had made his blood boil in ways he considered both
good and bad.
Bad, in that for a moment there, he'd felt the magic churning
to life. Good, in that watching Sophie bring herself to orgasm
gave him the best sex he could remember. When she touched herself,
it was like he'd been fucking her instead of Vivian.
Which was all his imagination, brought
about, no doubt, by the concept of having a ménage
a trois in the alley. Sure, he'd had his cock in Vivian,
but he'd also had the pleasure
of enjoying a superb mind fuck with Sophie. He'd been so in
tune to her scent, the slight sounds she made while she pleasured
herself and the way her body shuddered in climax.
Yeah, it had been good, for a one time thing.
But it would never happen again.
Just like seeing Sophie Breaux. Never again.
