Playing Love's Odds (A Classic Sexy Romantic Suspense) by Alison Kent Page B

mouth. "As bizarre as this sounds, I don't have many close friends and Lynn, the only one I'd consider asking, is out of town for the weekend."
    "No family?"
    "Only my mother."
    "Does she have an extra bedroom?"
    "Not any more. She's been in a nursing home the past six months. And as my bad luck would have it, we finally closed on her house three weeks ago." She shook her head at the irony. Just when she finally could've used that rambling old monstrosity. "I swear it had been on the market for two years."
    "Neighbors?"
    "Well," she began with a chuckle, "There's always Miss Tiny next door."
    "Miss Tiny?" Logan repeated with a disbelieving snort. "What? She a female mud-wrestler or something?"
    "She's ninety if she's a day and keeps her TV going around the clock. I doubt I'd get much sleep."
    "Who else?"
    "Andre and Dirk upstairs."
    His cocked brow said it all. Hannah laughed. "Guess that leaves a hotel."
    "No," he said as if coming to a sudden decision. "I'll take you someplace safe." His expression, deadly serious, left no room for argument; his assessment, frankly honest, chilled her inside. "I don't know if this break-in is connected to the car following you or the trouble at ViOPet but if they get desperate you may be next."
    "Okay," she solemnly agreed, realizing he was right. And realizing, for the first time she could remember, she didn't want to be alone. "You still have my keys?"
    Fifteen minutes later, clad in loosely woven plum-colored slacks and a low-cut berry-blue jacket, Hannah fastened her seatbelt and glanced up to find Logan studying her face.
    "You okay?"
    Feeling suddenly drained, she offered him a weak smile. "Ask me that tomorrow."
    "I'm taking you home."
    "Your home?"
    "Does that bother you?"
    "For some reason, no," she answered candidly, not having the strength or the energy to dissect the reason why or the implications behind it.
    His understanding smile softened the harsh planes of his face. "If you'd rather stay here, I'll camp out on your couch."
    "No!" She stiffened in her seat then forced herself to lean back. "Tomorrow will be soon enough to face this mess. Aren't things supposed to look better in the morning light?"
    "Brighter, anyway," Logan replied, as he backed out of her space and put the car in motion. "Try to relax."
    "Easy for you to say," Hannah mumbled, sure she'd never relax again in this lifetime.
    But the next time she opened her eyes, the Gulf of Mexico loomed wide before her. Dropping her bag to the carport floor, she slammed her door and stretched her road-weary muscles.
    They skirted Logan's tarp covered T-bird and climbed the beach house stairs in silence. Once across the deck, she followed him through the darkened interior to a bedroom—her only clue being the bed where he dropped her bag before walking out and pulling the door shut behind him.
    Hannah stared at the closed door and shrugged. "Good night to you, too," she said, as she kicked first her sandals then her slacks across the room. Exhaling a deep, bone-tired breath, she fished in her bag for her gauzy cotton nightshirt and pulled it on.
    Her jacket and top joined the pile of clothes in the corner. Amazed that she didn't have the strength to straighten out her things, even more amazed that she didn't feel a bit guilty, she smiled irreverently. Must be the company she was keeping.
    The sheets smelled of sun and sea air and she thought not of the mess waiting at home, nor of the mess in her life, but only of the mess of a man somewhere under the same roof. A man who made her feel safe, secure, and protected—things she didn't want to feel too deeply lest they be taken away too soon.
     
     
    The dream woke Logan again. The vivid splashes of color, blood red and orange blaze. The intense decibel of sound, roaring flames and exploding metal. The acrid smell of burning rubber. The taste of thick black smoke and gasoline.
    And the screams.
    He lay in his bed for long quiet minutes, his eyes searching the darkness for the