The Winter Wedding Read online

  Logan reluctantly pulled his mouth away from hers.

  “Shower. Dinner. Bed. How does that sound?”

  She smiled. A smile that lifted her cheekbones, brightened her eyes and put a chokehold on his heart.

  “That sounds perfect,” she told him. “Absolutely perfect.”

  * * *

  Three hours, a shower, Chinese food that had been delivered, sex in a bed finally, and another soul-shattering release for both of them later, Cheyna lay with her head on Logan’s chest, one of her legs draped over his.

  “I think somebody is following me or watching me.”

  The sluggish sated feeling that Logan had been basking in dissipated in an instant.

  “What makes you say that? Did something else happen today?”

  She told him about a flower arrangement she hadn’t ordered and could not figure out who had sent to her. A mysterious rose in that arrangement and another rose in the back seat of her car this morning after he’d dropped her off. Logan wanted to curse because he’d known he should have stayed with her and waited until she was safely in her office with her co-workers before he went to Connecticut. He’d just been so eager to get Sam started on this case.

  “When I got to work Evan came in with a bouquet of red roses and I totally freaked out on him. I thought he’d been the one to put the rose in my car and then I realized how silly that sounded. Why would Evan be leaving me roses? I don’t even like roses. I mean, it’s not like it’s my favorite flower. It has no significance in my life so I can’t figure it out.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “I called my lawyer. After the police came to my office to tell me about Liam’s murder, I was advised not to speak to them without my lawyer present again.”

  “That was good advice.” But Logan was definitely going to call Sam first thing tomorrow morning to let him know what was going on. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone. I’ll drive you to work and pick you up. You can stay here with me at night.”

  She moved, so that she was now facing him. “No. My life is my own. It’s not Zeke Volker’s or whoever is doing all of this to me. I’m not going to change the way I live to give them some sordid pleasure of seeing me afraid.”

  But she was afraid. Logan could hear it in her voice and he hated it.

  “Your life is your own to protect. So be smart and really listen to what I’m saying. Let’s take some precautions. Let’s be smarter than whoever is trying to frame you.” Because as he’d discussed with Sam and his staff this morning, Cheyna was definitely being framed. Now they just needed to prove by whom and why.

  She bent her head and kissed his chest lightly.

  “Let’s get some sleep. I have meetings in the morning and I didn’t bring a change of clothes so I’ll have to leave early.”

  Thanks to his absence at the office this morning, Logan’s schedule for tomorrow was in a similar state. He reached over to the night stand and turned off the lamp.

  “We’ll sleep and in the morning we’ll discuss our game plan.”

  “I had a game plan before,” Cheyna told him as she cuddled closer in his embrace. “Things aren’t working according to the blueprint I sketched out for my life.”

  “That’s why you always have to be ready to think on your feet. To adjust to any shifts from your opponent so that you’ll be ready to block any sneaky punches.”

  Logan knew he sounded just like Jack as he talked. He didn’t care, Cheyna needed to hear it. She needed to know that she was still in control, regardless of whatever maniac was out there trying to prove differently. Just as Logan was in control of the rage that was now burning in the pit of his stomach threatening to break free. He knew he couldn’t let that happen. Jack had taught him how to hold it down tight and to work off that frustration and anger in more productive ways. Well, Logan couldn’t get out of this bed and head for the gym to box his way out of this situation. He had to trust that Sam and his team would do their job.

  He had to trust that for the first time in his life the feelings he’d started to have for someone other than his family were real and that he could protect her and those feelings. He could find his bit of happiness. He just had to catch a killer first.

  Chapter 11

  Cheyna had been up since five a.m. organizing boxes of notepads. The ones with designs she really liked and had not written in, she put into one plastic bin. Those she thought were different and had colored pages went into another bin. The few with tabs or that had actually been daily planners instead of notepads, but she’d liked the colors or designs anyway, went into a different bin.

  After she finished with the notepads, Cheyna turned her attention to the dance portraits. Most of them that she hadn’t decided where to hang yet, were propped against a wall in the living room area of her apartment. She put them in order based on size. She left one portrait out of the bunch. A 24x36 copy of the February 1931 print of Josephine Baker Wearing a Feathered Cape by George Hoyningen-Huene. Her fingers shook lightly as she rubbed them over the outside of the frame and then the print itself. Her smile spread slowly as she decided this one would hang over her bed.

  Half an hour later after she’d measured the portion on the wall meticulously the print was hanging in just the right spot. Cheyna jumped down off her bed and twirled in circles. She danced to music playing only in her head, holding her arms up and stopping to pose as if she were the beautiful and talented Josephine Baker. She was in the midst of another twirl when the loud buzzing sound of someone at her front door scared the hell out of her.

  Cheyna stopped abruptly, a hand instantly going to her chest where her heart now beat rampantly. She glanced over to the clock on the wall in the kitchen and noted that it was only seven-thirty in the morning. In seconds her happy and carefree mood was overshadowed by a sense of dread that loomed in the not too distant parts of her mind. Sure it had been two weeks since she’d received the last rose and Lt. Sinclair hadn’t contacted her attorney about finding any more evidence against her. She hadn’t seen Zeke or Fiona and had tried her best not to think of either of them. But the moment that doorbell buzzed fear eased into her mind, pushing aside the giddiness she’d been feeling since waking up this morning.

  The buzzer sounded again and she cursed. Standing in the middle of her living room floor with her hand clutching her chest wasn’t stopping anything that was meant to happen from happening. Shaking her head Cheyna walked to the door. She looked through the peep hole and received her second shock for the day.

  Undoing the locks and yanking the door open she could not contain her surprise. “Logan? What are you doing here?”

  “Jogging.” His reply was simple but he still looked down at his clothes—the light gray sweatpants and hoodie, black gloves, tennis shoes and ear muffs over his ears.

  “You jogged all the way from the city to my apartment?”

  He reached forward and tweaked her nose. “You’re funny first thing in the morning. No, I drove over here so we could go jogging together.”

  “I’m not dressed for jogging.” It was her turn to look down at what she was wearing—brown capri leggings that she’d slept in and a tan tank top that was doing nothing to hide the effect the cold breeze from the hallway was having on her unbound breasts.

  When she looked back at him it was to see that he was appreciating everything he saw, namely her puckered nipples as his gaze had settled there a few seconds longer than anywhere else.

  “Are you sure you came to jog? Or was there something else on your mind when you woke up this morning?”

  He grinned at her questions, not in the least bit apologetic for being caught ogling her.

  “You were on my mind. That’s why I’m here. But I gotta say I’m starting to feel a certain way about the fact that you haven’t invited me in yet.”

  She hadn’t. And she wasn’t so sure she should now. Who was she kidding? Logan was the reason she’d awakened in such an exuberant mood this morning. Cheyna stepped to
the side and extended an arm in invitation. He walked in, pausing to lean over and drop a loud kiss on her lips before he continued. Cheyna was smiling as she closed the door, but felt a spark of alarm when she turned to see him surveying her apartment.

  Cheyna hadn’t thought to cover any part of her body when Logan was so openly gazing at her, but now that he was moving through her personal space looking around at the things she considered private, she felt exposed. Her arms immediately wrapped around her chest and she went to stand behind the caramel-colored recliner that she’d bought because it looked like a seat that a grandfather would sit in.

  “You don’t require a lot of space but you seem to collect a lot of things.” Logan paused at the stand where she kept the different vases that she collected.

  Her next task of the morning was to dust the stand and each vase before putting together the shelf she’d ordered from QVC two weeks ago. There were several new vases she was looking to purchase, including one she’d seen while at the gallery during the photo shoot, so she needed to have the new stand ready.

  “I didn’t have things growing up. Some of the foster parents used a merit system and I never seemed to earn enough points to get anything besides an occasional day off from the name-calling and Cinderella treatment.” Cheyna cleared her throat after the words tumbled free. “I told myself that when I grew up and was able to make my own money I would buy whatever I wanted.”

  Logan looked over his shoulder at her. It was a soft look on the border of pity, but he knew better. He would never pity her because he knew that was the last thing she wanted from anyone. In the two weeks she’d been spending more time with Logan they’d talked here and there about her past and his. They were two people with baggage trying to be productive adults who mastered carrying it all.

  “You like vases, I see.”

  Cheyna nodded. “I do.”

  He walked closer to where her bedroom area was. “And dancing. I knew this already but it looks like you’ve got quite a collection of pictures here.”

  “I like photographs more than paintings. I can feel the rhythm better when looking at an actual shot that was taken. Sometimes an artist doesn’t do it justice in a painting.”

  “No one could do you justice.” He stood up from looking at the portraits and stared at her. “When I saw you dancing in your office I knew I’d never seen anything like that before.”

  She shrugged. “A crazy woman dancing around her office after hours.”

  “No. That’s not what I saw.” He walked back to where she stood, stopping on the other side of the recliner. “I saw a woman who was happy and confident in the world she’d created for herself. There was excitement and passion in every move you made. As I stood there watching you I felt like it was reaching out to me, begging me to see and welcoming me to take.”

  “You didn’t take anything. I gave you what I wanted you to have.” It was important that she make that distinction.

  “And I am forever grateful that you thought enough of me to give a part of yourself. Now, with that said, why don’t you change into some heavier clothes and we get out there and go for a brisk run before breakfast.”

  His smile was big and genuine and did that thing he always managed to do—break down the barriers years of living in the foster care system and being disappointed by everyone she met had constructed.

  “It’s thirty degrees outside and they’re calling for snow flurries later this afternoon. If I’m gonna go outside and freeze my ass off for you I want pancakes, bacon, eggs and a huge cup of hot chocolate for breakfast.”

  Logan leaned over the chair to cup her cheek in his hand. “You have such a pretty ass, Cheyna. I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

  And just like that her chest tightened, and her heart melted slowly at Logan’s feet. She turned slightly and kissed his palm. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “I’ll give you the world,” he countered.

  Cheyna hurried away before the emotions swirling around inside of her burst free.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later Cheyna and Logan jogged slowly back toward the front stoop of her apartment building.

  “Okay, you can keep up. That just means we’ll be jogging partners more often.”

  Cheyna was not about to let him know she’d been feeling winded for the last two blocks. “I’m fine with jogging. Not so keen on these frigid temps so maybe we can limit our winter workouts to the gym.”

  Logan chuckled. “Oh come on, the fresh air puts color in your cheeks.”

  “Yeah. The red that comes just before my face is completely frostbitten from this cutting wind.”

  Even without seeing it Cheyna knew her nose was as red as any fictional reindeer. She’d worn ear muffs and her favorite New York Yankees wool hat but nothing was keeping her face warm.

  “Alright. I hear you. Next weekend we’ll hit the gym. We can stop for a minute now.”

  “Of course we can stop now, we’re back.” She glanced at him with a shake of her head as she began to run in place, her arms and legs moving in a much slower motion than they had been before.

  Logan did the same. “You’ll thank me later.”

  “I may punch you later,” she quipped and was rewarded by the sound of his laughter once more.

  The sound was becoming more and more familiar to her. In the last two weeks Cheyna had spent the majority of her nights in Logan’s bed. They had come to an agreement on a plan to keep her safe, but at the same time not uproot her way of living. It entailed Logan meeting her at her office in the evenings. The two of them then took separate cars but ended up at his apartment where three nights she’d cooked, one night they’d cooked a meal together and the other nights they’d ordered in. In the mornings they once again climbed into their separate cars heading to Cheyna’s office. Logan would then go back to the city where he worked. While at the office either Evan or Sarah went out on business meetings with Cheyna.

  A part of Cheyna felt all the extra precautions were a bit silly, but another part of her knew it was better to be smarter, instead of braver.

  “I like being outside with you.” Logan had stopped jogging in place and was now doing very slow squats.

  Cheyna had also stopped the jog and had begun a squat, but in a revolt, her legs had not yet brought her back up to a standing position.

  “We’re outside every day.”

  “We travel together every day,” he corrected. “We never go anywhere together or do anything outside in public together.”

  “Is that what this was about? I thought you wanted a morning workout.”

  Logan ceased his movement. He came to stand in front of her and squatted again so that they were now eye-to-eye. “I came by this morning for a couple of reasons. One, because I realized I’d never seen the inside of your apartment while you actually have a toothbrush in my bathroom. Two, because I wanted to run and I noticed that we never do anything together outside of my apartment.” He paused, as if to let those reasons sink in, before touching his gloved finger to the tip of her nose. “And three, because I woke up this morning missing you in bed beside me.”

  Cheyna went completely still at that moment, but not because of Logan’s words. She’d also noticed the weekend mornings when she awakened in her bed alone, how much she actually enjoyed rolling over in bed and feeling the warmth of Logan’s body right there. Her stillness came for a different reason, one she didn’t readily want to acknowledge, but at the same time could not ignore.

  She immediately looked across the street. There were parked cars and another row of brownstones and duplexes. She stared over Logan’s shoulder where there was an older woman slipping her key into the front door two buildings down from Cheyna’s. Then she looked back over her shoulder and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Yet she knew someone was there. She could feel it.

  “Hey? What is it?” Logan asked. He looked around in the same directions she just had while waiting for her to respond.
r />   “I don’t know,” she replied. “I just feel...I feel like…”

  “Like someone is out here watching you.” Logan finished her sentence.

  He took her by the arm and pulled her up to stand. “Look at me, Cheyna.”

  She did while commanding her body not to shiver with the fear that was circling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Volker can’t touch you. He won’t touch you. Not here, not now. So we act like we don’t give a damn that he’s watching.”

  Cheyna nodded. “What makes you so sure it’s him?” she asked lowering her voice.

  “You sued him, embarrassed him as well as took a chunk out of his personal and business holdings. He’s not a man that likes to lose. And neither am I.”

  The kiss was a surprise. It was warm and successfully stilled the fear as Cheyna melted into his embrace. She could hear cars drive by and knew that it was still freezing outside, but the connection of Logan’s lips to hers formed a cocoon of warmth around them, an invisible cloak that held her in protection and desire. Cheyna went with it because it was comfortable and it was good. In the past couple of weeks she’d been determined to focus on the good.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Logan whispered against her lips.

  Cheyna let him take her hand and lead her up the front steps. When he reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her keys she did not protest, but smiled at him instead. Logan unlocked the door and they walked inside. Once they were in her apartment, Logan locked and bolted her front door. Cheyna took off her hat, gloves, ear muffs and coat, while Logan removed his too. For a few minutes afterwards they just stood there looking at each other, wondering what to do next. Logan made the first move. He stepped closer to her and grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt. When she realized he was pulling it upward, she lifted her arms and let him take it off.