She squared around to face him, coolly composed and serious. “Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I tend to be too impulsive and quick-tempered, traits that I have worked hard to control. But recent events have shown that I haven’t succeeded all that well,” she said. “The things I said to you the other night at my uncle’s—I was out of line. What you do or don’t do, who you see or don’t see, is really none of my concern. I had no business talking to you the way I did.”
“You don’t apologize very often, do you?” A whisper of
her perfume reached him, emanating from the smooth curve of her neck and conjuring up unsettling images of sultry nights and satin sheets.
“Probably not as often as I should,” she admitted, then asked, slightly defensive, “Why?”
“Because you don’t do it very well.” Logan turned a sidelong glance on her and felt the instant play of electricity between them. “It’s all that pride you wrap yourself in, like armor.”
“And you don’t, I suppose,” she murmured with some heat.
Something that passed for amusement slanted the line of his mouth. “We weren’t talking about me.”
Cat chose to ignore that. “I should explain that I never expected to see you again. In fact, I hoped I never would. That night in Fort Worth was a mistake, one that I have tried very hard to forget—”
“It seems you were no better at it than I was,” he observed.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “As far as my family is concerned, they think you are a complete stranger. I prefer that they never find out otherwise. Unfortunately, I can no longer control that.”
“Am I supposed to take an oath of silence now?” he mocked, then turned serious. “If I did, would you believe me?”
Cat hesitated, stung by how vulnerable she was. “I would want to,” she said at last, lifting her chin a notch.
“It goes against your grain for someone else to hold your reputation in their hands, doesn’t it?” Logan observed and watched her eyes turn stormy. He didn’t fault her for that. Pride and honor were two things he understood. Sometimes they were all a man had, especially when he lost his faith in things like the goodness of his fellow man.
“Naturally, it does,” she replied, very cool and controlled again.
He could feel the invisible barriers she threw up to keep him at a distance. It rankled. Logan had little respect for barriers; he had battered in too many of them in his job. The impulse was there to do it again.
“I’m curious about something.” Almost leisurely Logan swung toward her, his glance skimming the bareness of her shoulders and the shadowed hollow of her throat before rising to the green of her eyes. “Are you still mourning your dead boyfriend?”
Resentment flared, turning her voice frigid. “That is none of your business.”
“I never said it was.” His mouth crooked. “I thought it was supposed to be ‘until death do you part,’ and here you are still sleeping with a ghost.”
“I happen to love him,” she insisted stiffly.
“He’s dead, Cat. That’s why you were so eager to crawl into bed with me. Remember?” he taunted.
“I told you that was a mistake I would like to forget.”
“It’s impossible, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea how impossible it is.” She looked away, pain thickening her voice and bringing the bright sheen of tears to her eyes.
Angered by the sight of them, Logan cupped a hand to her face, his thumb capturing her chin and turning it back toward him. “Who are you crying for, Cat? You or him?” he challenged.
“Certainly not for you,” she lashed out in sudden anger. “Never for you.”
Logan had known that, but hearing it snapped the last thin thread of control. Roughly he hauled her to him, his fingers twisting into her hair and forcing her head back. His mouth came down hard to crush her lips. This time he took what she wouldn’t willingly give him, and liked the fight she gave him, finding it offered its own kind of stimulation.
He kept up the pressure until her struggles lessened and her body softened against him. Lifting his head, he looked with savage satisfaction at the aching need that darkened the green of her eyes. In the very next instant, Logan understood the emptiness of his victory. The moistness of tears shimmered at the edges of her eyes. He hadn’t driven out the memory of her lost love. It was a bitter discovery that stopped him cold.
“You can stop worrying, Cat.” Anger tightened his voice, giving it a raw and husky edge. “A lot of men might brag about bedding you, but I’m not one of them.”
She gave him a startled look that revealed her surprise and told him, more clearly than words, the low opinion she had of him. Swinging away, he went down the steps at a swift pace, more irritable than before.
From his favorite watchpost, hunkered down in a small pocket of ground some distance from The Homestead, Culley saw it all. Although he had been too far away to hear their talk, it had been impossible to mistake the charged tension between them when they faced each other, their bodies taut and motionless like a stag and a doe during mating season.