through the puffy layers of her quilted jacket and into her skin.
“What makes you think she was running?”
“She moved around a lot. Never slept in the same place two nights in a row. Most people develop patterns. She had none that I could tell.”
“How long have you known her?”
“About a year.”
“That’s a long time for someone like that to stay in one place.”
“Yeah. I thought so, too. I asked her about it once and she said she was looking for someone. She wouldn’t say who.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Did she happen to have a ring-shaped birthmark that you’re aware of?”
Hope was taken aback by the odd question. “No. Why?”
“Do you?”
“What?”
His gaze grew intense, brightening a bit in the gloom of the stairwell. “Do you have a ring-shaped birthmark?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“It would explain a lot.”
“How? All you’re doing is confusing me.”
His hand slid down her arm until he grasped her fingers. Her leather gloves warmed to his touch, and she wished she hadn’t put them on now. The need to feel his skin on hers was suddenly an overwhelming, consuming thing.
He took a small step toward her, closing the space between them. “I would very much like it if you’d answer my question.”
“Tell me why first.”
“That mark is important. It’s proof of a certain . . . genetic predisposition that identifies its bearer as a rare treasure.”
“Like some kind of blood donor or something?”
A small smile stretched his mouth, making him heartstoppingly beautiful. “Indeed. Do you wear it?”
Hope shook her head, feeling a stab of disappointment. The way he said it—that rare treasure bit—made it sound romantic and special.
What she wouldn’t give to be a good kind of special, instead of a brain-damaged, head-case kind of special.
“No. Sorry.”
He squeezed her hand before letting it go. “No worries. It simply means we still have a mystery to solve.”
“Mystery?”
“The location of your missing friend, of course,” he said, though she was certain that he’d meant something else entirely.
“Right. We should get moving. I don’t like being here. Gives me the willies.”
“We can’t have that, now, can we?” He turned and headed up the stairs, exiting the door onto the third floor. “I don’t suppose you have anything with Rory’s blood on it, do you?”
“Her blood?”
He nodded as he scanned the large open area sprinkled with wooden platforms she guessed were workbenches.
“If I had some, I’d be able to locate her easily.”
“How?” asked Hope.
He ignored her question and headed toward the far end of the room where several bare mattresses sat. “This looks like a place one would sleep, does it not?”
“How could you find her with her blood?”
Logan gave her a panty-melting grin. “There are some things even your sweet face cannot coax out of me.”
The veiled compliment slid through her, warming her down to her toes. Staring at that smile, she forgot what she wanted to know or why it mattered. His male beauty filled her head and made a pool of longing swell deep in her belly.
She stood there, staring, watching his pale eyes slide over her body. That sunshine-warm feeling he gave off blasted her front, making her nipples bead up against a shiver of need.
He pulled in a deep breath through his nose and his hands fisted at his sides. “When you look at me like that, I forget who I am.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me. Like you wouldn’t care if I tossed you down on one of those dirty mattresses and took my pleasure with you.”
Would she care? If it meant she could get his hands on her bare skin, sliding over her. Or maybe even get his mouth on her neck again and feel that hot tugging at her throat.
The memory of what he’d done to her bloomed in her mind, only this time, there was no fear, only that languid pleasure of his mouth on her, his tongue swirling over her skin.
Her
“What makes you think she was running?”
“She moved around a lot. Never slept in the same place two nights in a row. Most people develop patterns. She had none that I could tell.”
“How long have you known her?”
“About a year.”
“That’s a long time for someone like that to stay in one place.”
“Yeah. I thought so, too. I asked her about it once and she said she was looking for someone. She wouldn’t say who.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Did she happen to have a ring-shaped birthmark that you’re aware of?”
Hope was taken aback by the odd question. “No. Why?”
“Do you?”
“What?”
His gaze grew intense, brightening a bit in the gloom of the stairwell. “Do you have a ring-shaped birthmark?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“It would explain a lot.”
“How? All you’re doing is confusing me.”
His hand slid down her arm until he grasped her fingers. Her leather gloves warmed to his touch, and she wished she hadn’t put them on now. The need to feel his skin on hers was suddenly an overwhelming, consuming thing.
He took a small step toward her, closing the space between them. “I would very much like it if you’d answer my question.”
“Tell me why first.”
“That mark is important. It’s proof of a certain . . . genetic predisposition that identifies its bearer as a rare treasure.”
“Like some kind of blood donor or something?”
A small smile stretched his mouth, making him heartstoppingly beautiful. “Indeed. Do you wear it?”
Hope shook her head, feeling a stab of disappointment. The way he said it—that rare treasure bit—made it sound romantic and special.
What she wouldn’t give to be a good kind of special, instead of a brain-damaged, head-case kind of special.
“No. Sorry.”
He squeezed her hand before letting it go. “No worries. It simply means we still have a mystery to solve.”
“Mystery?”
“The location of your missing friend, of course,” he said, though she was certain that he’d meant something else entirely.
“Right. We should get moving. I don’t like being here. Gives me the willies.”
“We can’t have that, now, can we?” He turned and headed up the stairs, exiting the door onto the third floor. “I don’t suppose you have anything with Rory’s blood on it, do you?”
“Her blood?”
He nodded as he scanned the large open area sprinkled with wooden platforms she guessed were workbenches.
“If I had some, I’d be able to locate her easily.”
“How?” asked Hope.
He ignored her question and headed toward the far end of the room where several bare mattresses sat. “This looks like a place one would sleep, does it not?”
“How could you find her with her blood?”
Logan gave her a panty-melting grin. “There are some things even your sweet face cannot coax out of me.”
The veiled compliment slid through her, warming her down to her toes. Staring at that smile, she forgot what she wanted to know or why it mattered. His male beauty filled her head and made a pool of longing swell deep in her belly.
She stood there, staring, watching his pale eyes slide over her body. That sunshine-warm feeling he gave off blasted her front, making her nipples bead up against a shiver of need.
He pulled in a deep breath through his nose and his hands fisted at his sides. “When you look at me like that, I forget who I am.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me. Like you wouldn’t care if I tossed you down on one of those dirty mattresses and took my pleasure with you.”
Would she care? If it meant she could get his hands on her bare skin, sliding over her. Or maybe even get his mouth on her neck again and feel that hot tugging at her throat.
The memory of what he’d done to her bloomed in her mind, only this time, there was no fear, only that languid pleasure of his mouth on her, his tongue swirling over her skin.
Her
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