BRAVE, Episode Three - the Color of Danger Read Free Page B

is not Chloe. “You plan on taking up with me?”
    The sorcerer’s green eyes cast their spell, crinkling with mischief. “Oh, lady, I—yeah, Chloe. I definitely plan on takin’ up with you. Any objections?”
    “No, I can’t—think of any.” She continued with hesitance, “Logan, once again I’ve done the talking. And you’ve told me absolutely nothing about yourself. Can’t it be your turn now?”
    He raised their joined hands and touched the inside of her wrist against his lips, long and deep, as if quaffing from a well of purest water. Chloe, quivered like a butterfly’s wing, and closed her eyes in delight. She drowned under the sweet assault. Who knew a simple kiss could be velvety and do this much damage to her self-restraint. She wanted him. Understatement of the century.
    At last, he released her and stood up, pulling the loose robe more tightly about his middle. “Another time, Bella Mia, I promise. Right now I gotta shower and head off to work. Would you mind pourin’ me another cup of coffee, to get me on my way?”
    She managed to a dazed nod.
    Then he paused, looking down at her with an unidentifiable emotion. His words had almost the sound of a final farewell. “Chloe? Thanks. This mornin’—our bein’ together like this—has meant a lot to me.”

    * * * *

CHAPTER TWO

    “Okay, so here’s my cell number.” Logan peeled a sticky note off the pad and stuck it next to the land line phone. “And an extra set of house keys, in case you need ’em for some reason.” Jingle jingle as a key ring landed beside the note. “And another bottle of ibuprofen.” That dropped anchor on the coffee table.
    Chloe, snuggled into the couch with an extra pillow and the afghan, glanced up. “What, no Uzi or jungle machete?”
    He gave an impatient snort. “Just tryin’ to get you set up here before I leave. You’ve got the ice pack, the TV remote, the full coffeepot, and a mug. Don’t let anybody in. Don’t do anything strenuous. Sleep. Rest. Take it easy. There’s food in the fridge—I don’t know, sandwich stuff, whatever… I won’t be back till late this afternoon, but you can call if you need anything. And, how about you make up a list of things you need, and I’ll pick ’em up for you? Just don’t—”
    “Logan.”
    His eyes were clouded by a mental list of instructions, but they focused laser-bright on her when she prompted him. “Huh?”
    “It’s all right, I’ll be fine. Just go already.”
    “Oh. Yeah. Got it. Listen, I mean this, call me if anything comes up. I can be back here in—”
    “Logan.” She giggled. He was too cute.  
    “Huh?”
    “Go on. You don’t want to be late for work.”
    “Oh. No, you’re right. Gotta head out.” He turned away, grabbed his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair and slithered into its sleeves.
    “Logan.”
    “Huh?”
    “Come here.” She dropped the tone of her voice into a seductive low range, furry with promise. He retraced his steps to the couch. She reached up, took hold of his coat pocket and pulled him down towards her. She kissed the corner of his mouth and part of his smooth-shaven cheek. “I’m sorry you have to go out in such awful weather, Logan,” she whispered.
    Little Irish leprechauns danced a jig in his eyes. “What awful weather?” he whispered back. “The sun is shinin’ and the skies are blue.”

    Chloe spent a lazy day lounging on the couch, watching television, dozing, perusing the morning newspaper, idly putting together the list he’d requested. She moved to reach for whatever supplies he’d provided for her on the coffee table and that was basically it.
    Random thoughts skittered in and out like fairy lights, regardless of her sleepy subconscious. Utter relief that she had finally been able to open up to someone about her past. Deep appreciation she’d opened up to Logan – and that he’d understood. Overwhelming gratitude that some Supreme Being had seen fit to cross her path with this