Winter Ice (Storm for All Seasons 3)
The woman was too goddamned insightful for his liking. "I don't need to protect myself from a little sprite like you, Sophie. But I do need to get upstairs and do some work before a big meeting tomorrow. So, if you don't mind..."
She gathered her box and hefted it into her arms, shaking her head. "I know the way out. Thanks."
Finally. He was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. The stupid, emotional part of him wanted to apologize for acting like a prick. No way was he going to let that part out.
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Winter Ice
She started toward the double doors leading to the lobby, but stopped and turned, her skirt swishing around her ankles, bells jingling at her wrists and ankles.
"Logan?"
He was ready to accept her anger at his treatment of her. Hell, he deserved at least that much. "Yeah?"
"Don't forget to pick me up on Sunday for dinner at your parents."
She grinned, turned around and headed out the doors.
"Well, I'll be goddamned," he said aloud, his voice echoing in the now empty ballroom.
What the hell was it going to take to drive her away? He'd fucked her, then he'd insulted her, basically treating her no better than a one-night stand, and still she smiled at him, seemingly eager to see him again.
On Sunday. When he had to pick her up and take her to dinner at his family's home.
Maybe she wasn't going to be as easy to get rid of as the other women in his life had been.
Time for him to develop a battle plan, because it sure as hell appeared that dumping Sophie was going to be one hell of a battle.
*
Instead of heading straight home, Sophie stopped at Samantha's house, knowing that her friend would be up doing what she loved to do most.
Cooking.
She knocked on the door to the tiny house Sam had inherited from her parents, stepped back and inhaled.
Cookies. Her mouth watered and she laughed when Sam opened the door.
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Jaci Burton
White flour clung to the center of Sam's tiny nose.
"What?" she asked, brandishing a wooden spatula like a weapon.
"Flour. Nose. You busy?"
Rolling her eyes, Sam scrubbed her palm over her face and motioned Sophie inside.
"Very funny. You know me, Soph. I'm never busy."
"In other words, you're cooking up some magic potions. Eye of newt, wing of bat?"
"You're just full of jokes tonight, aren't you?" Sam said over her shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen. Sophie followed, snatching a freshly baked cinnamon cookie and slipping onto one of the barstools in front of Sam's baking island.
Sophie took a bite, her lips curling in a satisfied smile as the flavors overwhelmed her senses, making her think of home, family, and utter contentment.
"What brings you here so late?" Sam asked.
"Logan Storm," Sophie managed, her mouth full of cookie.
"Ah. That's right. You worked their Mardi Gras party tonight. What happened?"
"We had sex in the ballroom of the Rising Storm."
Arching a brow, Sam asked, "Really? In front of all those people?"
"No! It was later, after the ball was over and everyone left."
"Hot! Okay, so now what?"
Sophie grabbed milk from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass and snagged another cookie on her way back to the barstool. "I don't know what happens now. He seemed to be really into it, you know? Not just physically, either. There was a definite emotional connection. But after, it was like a wall slammed down between us and he was his normal, cold and remote self again."
"You know he's just trying to protect himself from you, right?"
"That's what I think, too."
Sam slipped the next batch of cookie dough into the oven and grabbed a chair.
"You got to him, Soph. Big time."
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Winter Ice
"You think so?"
"I know so. That was easy enough to tell when he followed you to the shop. And you know something else, he got to you, too."
"Not really. I mean I enjoyed the sex, of course, but I'm mainly concerned about the visions and dreams. I just want to help."
"You want a lot more than just to help his family, honey. You want Logan."
"That's not it at all."
"You're lying to yourself."
"Am not."
"This is like being kids again and arguing over Barbie dolls."
"We didn't argue over Barbie. We argued over Ken," Sophie said, remembering their childhood fondly.
Sam grinned. "True. But I still think there's more to your feelings for Logan than just a need to figure out what danger his family is in. Allow your heart to open, Soph.
You'll see."
"Think you know everything, don't you?" she teased.
"You know I do," Sam answered with a wink.
"Witch."
"There you go, stating the obvious again"
By the time Sophie had slipped into the driver's seat of her car and headed home, she felt much better. Talking to Sam always helped.
Sam had insights as keen as Sophie's. Only Sophie couldn't see as far as her own heart. So she had to rely on Sam to point out what she couldn't see by herself.
Was she more involved with Logan than she thought? There was no doubt she'd felt the connection between the two of them, but she assumed it was because of her visions.
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&
nbsp; Jaci Burton
The fact he was attractive and desirable didn't hurt, either. Despite the fact she didn't engage in casual intimate encounters with near strangers, she'd done it with Logan.
Okay, so what? She was a grown woman now. What was wrong with a little sex between two consenting adults?
But was there more to it?
She'd been so focused on getting Logan to listen to her pleas about the danger his family was in that she hadn't taken the time to assess her own feelings about him.
The way he'd made love to her--fast, furious, almost in anger--had touched her in ways she hadn't expected. She'd fought through both his anger and his magic and had reached him on an even plane where both of them had felt the reality of the experience.
Even now she could still feel him inside her, a part of her in ways that had nothing to do with her visions, and everything to do with her heart.
A heart she'd have to guard very carefully around Logan Storm.
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Winter Ice
Chapter Six
Logan headed up the long gravel driveway leading to Sophie's place. He quickly scanned the directions she'd given him, shaking his head as he stopped in front of a dilapidated old trailer. It looked to be at least twenty years old.
And tiny.
Jerking the car into park, he threw open the door and walked toward the front step.
Two cracked cement steps led to the yellow aluminum door. The screen was lying half open, having obviously been ripped.
Nice place. Maybe she was hoping to land a rich guy and move up in the world.
He rapped twice on the thin metal door and waited.
He didn't have to wait long. She opened the door and stood aside for him to come in.
"You're right on time. Welcome to my home."
The inside was nothing like the outside. Candles were lit everywhere, giving off the same sensual patchouli and cinnamon scent as her shop. Bright colors from throw pillows and blankets lifted the mood of the place. Shades were open, sunlight streaming into each and every room. It was bright, colorful and homey.
Flowers bloomed healthy and vibrant in various pots throughout the house. Sophie led him from the small living room into the equally tiny kitchen. It was clean and smelled like citrus. Her bedroom was very small, including the bed, but a colorful quilt and a row of colorful plants along the windowsill brightened up the room.
"It's small, but it's home and I love it to death. I know that's silly since it's not much..."
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Jaci Burton
"You have a beautiful home, Sophie." Surprisingly, he meant that. The place was a dump on the outside, but welcoming on the inside. And she wasn't apologetic about it at all. For some reason that meant something to him.