personal assistant to the CEO of a chain of luxury boutique hotels.
Then there were the details he’d observed over time: long naturally red hair with a slight wave to it, green eyes in a fair-skinned, oval face. High, clear forehead, straight nose, pink mouth shaped for smiling. His gaze frequently caught on her pert chin with the tiny indentation in the center—a genetic trait inherited from one or both of her parents.
Which was the sum total of what he knew about her family. He didn’t even know where she’d grown up—her deliberate, thoughtful speech patterns contained no discernible accent.
Jessica didn’t cake on the makeup like some women Logan knew, but she wasn’t a bare-faced natural girl, either. She favored classic, sophisticated fashion, preferring to fill her wardrobe with little black dresses and well-fitted pantsuits in jewel tones rather than chasing the latest trend, and since she was tall and slender as a model, everything looked good on her.
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
Then there were the details he’d observed over time: long naturally red hair with a slight wave to it, green eyes in a fair-skinned, oval face. High, clear forehead, straight nose, pink mouth shaped for smiling. His gaze frequently caught on her pert chin with the tiny indentation in the center—a genetic trait inherited from one or both of her parents.
Which was the sum total of what he knew about her family. He didn’t even know where she’d grown up—her deliberate, thoughtful speech patterns contained no discernible accent.
Jessica didn’t cake on the makeup like some women Logan knew, but she wasn’t a bare-faced natural girl, either. She favored classic, sophisticated fashion, preferring to fill her wardrobe with little black dresses and well-fitted pantsuits in jewel tones rather than chasing the latest trend, and since she was tall and slender as a model, everything looked good on her.
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
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