Stud for Hire (10 page)

Hanna stared at her sister. Try as she might, she couldn't answer. Her mind was awhirl. Her heart was heavy and the scorch of embarrassment singed her soul.

She couldn't see Logan again. Hell, she couldn't bear to face him again. It was humiliating enough that she'd told him her deepest, darkest secrets, thinking he was a lover-for-hire. But to find out he actually knew who she was? That he'd had a crush on her in high school and still played along with her games?

Oh God. Memory swamped her. His hand on her ass. The feel of his cock working inside her. His moans. Her groans. A different kind of heat rose.

Heat scorched her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands.

Yes, this was her last desperate gasp of freedom. But she couldn't see him again. Not now that she knew the truth about him. She'd hole up in her room for the rest of the weekend. Hole up here and hide. And maybe finish that bottle of tequila. Surely that would help her forget this ignominy.

“Well, are you?” Sidney asked, picking up the toast and taking a big bite. “Are you interested in him?”

“Hmm?”

“Because if you're not . . .” She grinned. “I may make a play for him myself . . .”

***

“What the hell was that all about?” Cody snarled, following Logan from the bunkhouse out to the barn.

“What was what about?”

“You. Kissing my . . . kissing Sidney. For God's sake, Logan. That was not why I brought you here.”

“Right.” Logan stopped and Cody, who wasn't paying attention, plowed into him. “You brought me here to work on your ranch for the weekend. Your stripper ranch.”

“It's not a stripper ranch—”

“It kind of is.”

“That's only to bring in extra revenue.” Cody slashed his hand through the air. “Besides, that is all beside the point. Why did you kiss Sidney?”

“She's cute?” She was cute. Not Logan's type by far. He preferred steamy redheads with emerald eyes and a warble in her voice when she came.

He'd kissed Sidney simply to throw Tibby off the scent. That it had annoyed Cody was an added bonus. And it was too tempting to needle Cody. After what he'd pulled on Logan this weekend, he deserved it.

And, indeed, it was amusing watching him sputter. “B-but she's . . . not why I brought you here.”

“Why exactly did you bring me here, Cody?”

Cody wrinkled his brow and glared at him. “You know why.”

Right. Hanna. “You knew she was the bride-to-be. You knew she was getting married.” A cold, angry wind blew through him. His muscles bunched.

“Of course I knew.”

“And why the fuck didn't you didn't tell me?”

Cody flushed. “Sidney thought—”

“
Sidney?
What's she got to do with this?”

“Can't you figure that out?” Cody crossed his arms. “She's scared to death.”

“Why?”

“Her sister is planning to marry Zack Pucey. Can you think of a better reason to panic? She hoped that, well, she hoped if Hanna met some other man—”

“Me?”

“She didn't care who it was. Sidney just hoped Hanna might meet someone and change her mind about marrying Zack.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“I was the one who thought of you.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“It worked . . . didn't it? The two of you were out all night. Did you—”

“That is none of your fucking business.”

“Are you going to see her again tonight?”

Was he. And then some. Tonight. All night, if he had anything to say about it. He'd had a taste of her, and it wasn't enough. By far. “Again, none of your business.”

“Well, if you can convince her to dump Pucey, I'd consider our bet paid in full.”

“Our bet is already paid in full. I came to your stupid party.” Although, he had to admit, the prospect of convincing Hanna to dump Zack had its merits. He understood her reasons for agreeing to marry the prick, but he didn't agree with them. No woman in this day and age should have to marry a man because of money.

Hanna deserved to make a momentous decision like marriage by following her heart, not because she was railroaded into it.

He wished he could just offer her the money she needed, but he couldn't. What they had was so new and so untried, he didn't dare make such an offer out of the blue. Besides, she had no idea who he really was. She thought he was a stripper, a man who pleased women for a living. He itched to tell her the truth about him—all of it.

If she got to know him a little better, she might be open to a suggestion . . .

An idea bubbled in his brain.

Maybe there was a way.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Logan forced a glower and pinned it on Cody.

“I know that look, Logan. What are you thinking?”

Logan snorted. “None of your beeswax,” he muttered.

Cody stared at him for a long moment, with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, whatever you do,” he grumbled, “stay away from Sidney.”

Deep in the night, a noise roused her. Hanna cracked open a lid and froze. A shadow loomed. Someone was in her room. She jerked up.

The clouds parted and moonlight splashed through the window, illuminating a broad, familiar face. Her heart hiccupped as she recognized him. “Logan,” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm kidnapping you.”

“What?”

“Hush now. You don't want to wake the others.”

“Did you say you're kidnapping me?” Her pulse kicked up. Excitement, tinged with trepidation, scudded through her.

“Yes.”

“Oh no you're not.”

“I am. You hid in your room all day and I need to see you. This house is too crowded for what I have in mind.” He began to bundle her up in the blankets.

“Logan! Stop.”

He froze. Met her eye. Intent glimmered in his azure depths. “If you want to me stop, really want me to stop, you know what to say. Do you remember?”

She did.
Whoa.

An easy word to say. She opened her mouth to say it, but it wouldn't come out. His gaze bore into hers for a long moment and then he grunted with satisfaction, hefted her into his arms, and carried her from the room.

The house was quiet, but for the thrumming of her pulse in her ears. “Where are you taking me?” she whispered. It seemed to resonate off the walls.

“Hush. Wait till we get outside.”

He carried her down the stairs and through the foyer, shifted her weight, and opened the door. But he didn't head for the barn as she expected. Instead, he bundled her into an old truck parked on the long gravel drive.

He settled her gently but as he backed out of the cab, she grabbed his shirt and tugged him back. “Where are we going?” she hissed, although there was no reason to keep her voice down. Not out here. No one would hear them.

Crickets sang to the night and the wind whistled in the leaves of the trees, but the house, the bunkhouse, and the barn were dark.

His eyes glittered in the moonlight. “I told you. I'm kidnapping you.” He tucked up her nightgown and closed the door quietly and then came around to the driver's side. She could run now. Just leave. He probably wouldn't stop her.

Oh, he might, but she could kick up a fuss.

Trouble was, she didn't want to leave.

She'd spent the entire day locked in her room, pretending to read, but really thinking over everything in her head, running through their conversations, their interactions. Remembering every stroke and every kiss.

She'd come to one glaring conclusion.

Sure, he wasn't what he pretended to be—she couldn't help but admit relief that he wasn't a stripper. And he had kept things from her, such as the fact he'd known her in high school.

But he intrigued her.

He'd shown her more passion in one night than she'd known in her entire life.

She wanted him.

Her weekend was almost over, and as it ended, so did her freedom. Any chance for an adventure like this. She owed it to herself to take whatever she could get.

And even though he hadn't been totally forthcoming, for some reason she still trusted him. It was something in his eyes, a sincerity, a depth she couldn't deny.

He opened the driver's door and slid in. His scent enrobed her, filling her consciousness with a humming awareness of his body, big and warm, next to her on the bench seat.

He glanced at her and grinned, and then started the engine.

The roar seemed tremendous in the stillness. She glanced at the house, certain everyone would hear and come running into the yard, but not so much as a light flickered. There had been a skinny dipping party at the swimmin' hole tonight. No doubt there had been alcohol. Everyone was probably dead asleep at this hour.

Logan deftly put the truck in gear and turned the wheel, heading away from the ranch house. The lights of the dash played over his features, limning them in stark contrast. He looked like a man possessed. Determined.

That he was determined to kidnap
her
sent a thrill through her solar plexus.

“Where are we going?” she asked again, because the silence made her uncomfortable.

He grunted a laugh. “Are you going to ask that all night?”

She nibbled her lip. “I'll probably stop asking when we get there.”

He shot her a grin. “Cody has a cabin just off the main road. We used to camp out there as kids.” At her look of horror, he added, “He's kept it up. Besides, I stopped by this afternoon while you were hiding and made some . . . comfort adjustments.”

“Comfort adjustments?” And then, “I wasn't hiding.”

“Weren't you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window, watching the moon chase them across the range. “I was reading.”

“All day?” When she didn't answer, he added, “I looked for you. I wanted to see you again.”

“You wanted to
see
me?”

“All right. Kiss you, then. I wanted to find you and pull you back into the pantry, into the shed, the barn, anywhere, and have my evil way with you.” He glanced at her. “I missed you, Hanna.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I thought about you all day.”

“Then why did you kiss Sidney?”

He snorted. “Is that what that was about?”

“What?”

“Your hiding?” He slowed the truck to a stop and slid his arm over the back of the seat, pinning her with his gaze. “I only kissed Sidney because Tibby was prying. And I knew you didn't want her to suspect anything. I thought you knew that. Sweetheart . . .”

Her heart stuttered at the endearment. She had to remind herself it was just that.

“There's no one I would rather kiss . . . than you.”

He leaned in and took her lips, softly, sweetly. When he lifted his head, his expression scorched her. “Your sister is cute, don't get me wrong. But no one kisses quite like you.”

“No one?”

“No one.”

She blew out a sigh and shrugged. “If you say so. After all, a gigolo would know.” Even in the dark cab, she could see the flush rising on his cheeks. And she was watching for it. She didn't want to come right out and spear him with her accusations. It was much more fun to let him roast for a while on the spit.

In her ruminations that afternoon, her anger over his duplicity had faded when she realized he'd never actually told her he was a
man whore
. She'd assumed it. He simply hadn't disabused her of the notion. While he hadn't lied, per se, he did deserve a poke or two for playing along. “How much do you make, by the way, Logan, for a wild weekend with a horny woman?”

“Hanna . . .”

“A thousand? Ten? Just curious.”

“Hanna. I'm not a gigolo.”

“Really?” It was all she could do to hold back her smile and gape at him in pretend shock. “Then why did you agree to my . . . proposition?”

“Because,” he said, shifting the truck back into gear and gunning the engine. Gravel spattered in their wake. “I couldn't say no.”

***

God, she was beautiful, all tumbled and soft and warm from sleep. Dressed in a ridiculously old-fashioned nightgown with her hair in riots around her head.

He'd watched her for a long time before she'd awakened, nearly paralyzed with need. He'd planned to sneak in, wake her, and spirit her away. Not stare in awe.

But he couldn't help himself.

He'd never seen a more tantalizing sight.

And as he'd watched her sleep, snuffling a little, pursing her lips and stretching against the pillow, something had hardened, solidified.

And not simple lust.

Oh, he wanted her.

He wanted her beneath him and around him . . . but he wanted her beside him as well. He wanted her in his bed. Snoring delicately. Every night.

Forever.

What firmed within him was determination. Determination to use this time, however little he had, to show her how good they could be together, to convince her she didn't have to marry Zack—she couldn't marry Zack.

He pressed harder on the accelerator, consumed with sudden desire to begin his wooing.

Well, that was a lie. There was nothing sudden about this desire. It had simmered since high school.

They pulled up to the cabin and he levered out of the cab, coming around to take her in his arms again. In his rush to kidnap her, they'd forgotten her shoes, or even slippers, and the ground was rough and filled with stones.

“You don't need to carry me,” she said on a laugh.

“I do, ma'am. I believe it's good form when one is kidnapping a wench.” Besides, he liked the weight of her in his arms. Liked the scent of her hair, the warmth of her arm as she wrapped it around his neck.

“I'm hardly a wench.” He loved this playful side of her. He'd been sure, when she learned he'd been less than truthful about being a career stripper, she'd be annoyed that he'd deceived her. In fact, she'd taken it in stride.

Of course, it stood to reason a woman would be relieved to discover the man she'd engaged to debauch her wasn't expecting to be paid. When she learned the rest of his secrets, her response might not be so amiable.

She might, in fact, be furious.

It might be a good idea to soften her up first, before he dropped the bomb and told her the whole sordid truth.

Holding her as he was certainly did little to deter him from that tack. Hell, with this bundle of heaven in his arms, he could think about little else, other than laying her down on the soft feather bed in the corner of the cabin and making her scream his name.

They'd been together on a cot. And once up against the wall of the stable. But never on a bed.

And by all that was holy, he was damn tired of trying to be quiet. He was ready to make as much noise as he pleased.

He pushed open the door and she wiggled, so he set her on the floor and switched on the light. He thought he'd done a credible job of turning an old cabin into a romantic hideaway. Mrs. Billings, Cody's housekeeper, had squawked when Logan had cornered her and made his requests, but when he'd winked at her and told her it was for something very special, she'd blushed and helped him collect everything he needed.

A feather tick and a fresh duvet draped over the old slat bed built into the wall; a gingham check tablecloth disguised the rough and rickety table; and a picnic basket on the sideboard awaited their attention. He'd even stocked the tiny bathroom under the eaves in the back of the house with soft, scented toilet paper.

Hanna sucked in a breath. “Oh my.”

“Do you like it?”

Wrapping the blanket around her, she surveyed his creation. “It's . . . charming.”

“There's food. I assumed you'd be hungry, since I didn't see you at the dining hall for dinner.”

She set a hand to her tummy and padded, barefoot, to the basket, rummaging through.

He couldn't help but follow. “There's cheese and crackers and some sliced chicken and cranberries. And a couple of Mrs. Billings' chocolate chip cookies.”

She pulled out a bottle of Chianti. “Mmm.” She flicked a playful glance at him. “Do you treat all your kidnap victims so well?”

“I am sure I would, but, Hanna . . . I have a confession to make.”

Her breath caught. Her eyes widened at his tone. “W-what is it, Logan?”

“You're my first.”

She blanched, looked him up and down. Shook her head. “Your . . . first?”

“Yes. The very first wench I've ever kidnapped.” He took the bottle from her and set it on the counter, and then swung her up into his arms. She laughed as he spun her around. He ended his twirl exactly where he planned.

On the bed.

He settled her gently and loomed over her. “You will tell me if I get anything wrong, won't you?”

Her lips quirked. Her tongue peeped out. A delightful glimmer danced in her eye. “Are you asking me . . . to be gentle?”

“Yes. Yes, darling. Please be gentle.”

And then something shifted between them. Their playful demeanor dissipated as a tighter energy wound around them.

She was here, sunk into the soft bed with Logan braced over her. Close enough to see the amber flecks in her green eyes, smell the waft of her perfume, tangled as it was with an essence of Hanna. Close enough to feel her heat, knowing it soaked through nothing more than a thin cotton shield . . .

His cock, never quiescent, reminded him of his quest.

He needed to have her again, take her, possess her. He needed, with everything in him, to wipe all thoughts of Zack from her brain.

He needed to seduce her, soften her, please her.

And then, when she was sated, he would pull her into his arms and tell her the truth.

Tell her the truth . . . and make his offer.

She might tell him no.

But he hoped she would not.

He hoped to God he would be convincing enough.