Page 7 of Winter’s Fire

Logan dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, grimaced at the foul taste left behind. At the basin, he splashed water over his face, but kept his head bowed. If he looked in the mirror, he’d see not his eyes but hers, dead and sightless, staring up at him through water tainted red with her blood. He’d stuffed it all into a mental box, only to have it busted wide open by a freak set of circumstances.

Deal with it, Simmonds. You did it before, you can do it again.

Except… he hadn’t dealt with it then, and it wasn’t going to happen now either—he had other priorities. He needed to extract his head from his arse and get ahead of the game. That meant presenting a concrete plan of action to Sir Guy and getting his buy-in before Lucy arrived for their meeting the next morning. With the boss on board, if Lucy was still minded to go through with this, there was a better chance of her complying with whatever instructions Logan gave her.

As he emerged from the bathroom, his thoughts became less amorphous. There was only one way he could see this working. Much though he detested the idea, he’d have to bring her here, to his home, his safe place, and immerse her in an alternative lifestyle. It was the only workable solution if he had any hope of teaching her enough to withstand any scrutiny. A couple of hours here and there wouldn’t pass muster.

Logan pulled his laptop out of a drawer. By tomorrow, he’d have a plan to put before Sir Guy. With his CO’s agreement, he could then present it to Lucy as an acceptable approach to meet the requirements of the assignment.

He switched the laptop on, and began to type.

Chapter 4

The next morning, Lucy arrived ahead of schedule for her meeting with Sir Guy. Seeing the middle-aged temp seated at her desk was a little odd. Odder still was being on the receiving end of the invitation to go through—Sir Guy and Mr. Simmonds were waiting for her.

Drat the man. Certain an early arrival would give her the tactical advantage, she’d hoped to get there first. Never mind. She wouldn’t let that dissuade her from her decision. The man was an arsehole—a hot arsehole, granted, but still an arsehole. Besides, she brought something to the table that no man in the unit ever could.

Strike that. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say there was a certain something she didn’t bring to the table.

Lucy knocked on the door and entered Sir Guy’s office. Her bright, confident smile, still riding the crest of humour, dissolved at the sight that met her. Both Sir Guy and Logan stood facing her—Sir Guy was in his usual three-piece suit, as smart and debonair as ever, but Logan… he took her breath away. His appearance delivered a wake-up call to her lady parts that she had no hope of blocking.

How had he never looked this forbiddingly attractive before? On the face of it, he wasn’t dressed that differently from the previous day. Unbelievable though it was, the seismic effect on her hormones was all down to him wearing a black dress shirt, rather than a white one.

Or was it how he was wearing the garment, and the different kind of confidence oozing from him with all the treacherous, calorie-laden deliciousness of maple syrup? She’d always found something crazy-sexy about a man with his cuffs turned up, and in Logan’s case, it revealed strong, masculine wrists and forearms that now tempted her to explore them with her fingertips. The open neck drew her eye to the strong column of his throat, and all those intriguing anatomical details, the dips and ridges of a fit male body. For some strange and doubtless idiotic reason, she found it difficult to meet his eyes. Her gaze glued itself to his Adam’s apple.

“Good morning, Lucy.” Sir Guy’s warm greeting went a long way towards steadying her nerves. “Won’t you sit down and join us?”

Grateful for the diversion, she switched her attention to her boss. “Thank you, sir.”

She took the other chair in front of the large desk and deposited her bag on the floor beside her. Out of habit, she tucked her feet under the seat, legs crossed at the ankles, and clasped her hands on her lap. Her boss and the bane of her life resumed their seats.

Remembering her manners, she turned her gaze on Logan and took a calming breath before forcing her mouth into a rigid, jaw-cracking smile. “Good morning, Mr. Simmonds.”

“Lucy.” The acknowledgement gave nothing away.

“How did you sleep last night?”

“Very well, thank you, Sir Guy.” The nervous knot in her stomach loosened a little when her boss took control of the conversation. “I did the research you recommended—”

“It didn’t give you nightmares, then?”

This time, the question came from Logan. A snarky retort hovered on her lips, but it was stayed by the note of genuine concern in the question. She sat up a little straighter—her response would be a matter of pride. “Of course not. I found it quite fascinating, although some of the practices… I have to admit, the attraction escaped me.”

That was an understatement and a half. Once she’d taken a few minutes to grasp that the opportunity she’d sought was within her grasp, she’d thrown herself into her research. The delights of Nenufar, in most of their glory, had been eye-opening. Had they been on display in all their glory, Lucy was sure her computer would have melted a hole in her desk.

Then reality had sunk in. If she went there with Logan, she’d have to behave like one of those submissives. And oh lord, he’d be the Dom in their own version of a certain well-known book and film while they tracked down the cabinet minister’s errant daughter. Several groan-inducing puns involving the words “bond” and “bondage” had popped into her mind.

“What about the ones where it didn’t escape you?”

The question suggested something that painted intense heat into her cheeks. “I-I didn’t say that—”

“You implied it.”

Her face burned like a furnace rigged for tungsten. “That’s not—I don’t believe what you’re alluding to is a suitable subject for discussion here, Mr. Simmonds.”

To her surprise, the corner of his mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Depending on your decision, we may need to discuss it somewhere, princess.”

Lucy’s eyes widened at the nickname. She looked to Sir Guy, who was observing their exchange with an expression that looked suspiciously like veiled amusement. She arched an eyebrow. If they were expecting her to back down, they’d be sorely disappointed. “Shall we cut to the chase, gentlemen? You mentioned my decision. When I made the offer… you might have thought it a little rash, and perhaps it was, but it still stands.”