Page 12 of Trick or Trouble
It must have been a slow night since Darcy spotted two other officers sitting in the bull pen as he escorted her to another room.The glaring neon bulbs were harsh overhead, making her eyes water.She filled out her paperwork and answered Officer Bentley’s questions, dodging the ones she didn’t want to explain.
The entire time she was in the police station, she was on tenterhooks, fearing Logan might come back to the room and realize she was gone.Her mind raced as she tried to figure out how to get home.She didn’t want to sleep in a cell bed until morning—who knew how well they cleaned those plastic cots?The thought sent a full-body shiver through her.Officer Bentley interrupted her thoughts.
“When you’re finished with your paperwork, Brother Patrick from the local Baptist church has paid for a cab from theirtravelers in needfund to take you home.”He smiled encouragingly at her.
Darcy nearly fainted from relief.“Thank you,” she replied, “you can’t know how much I appreciate it.”
He shot her a sympathetic look.“I think I can.And remember what I told you about getting a restraining order.”
Guilt flooded her—only for a few seconds, though.“Thanks, but I don’t need one.I won’t be seeing him again.”Her words were confident to her ear, but her heart sighed.
It was 3:30 in the morning by the time Darcy finally tumbled into her bed, sighing with pleasure.Pamela hadn’t been too happy when she’d barged in on her love-fest on the sofa.Yuck.That couch would need a thorough cleaning—or burned—before anyone sat on it again.
Yawning widely, Darcy snuggled into her pillow, exhaustion drawing her down quickly.
Her last thoughts were of Logan, his megawatt smile and teasing eyes, admiring her behind her closed eyelids.What a shame he was a ‘mindjerk.’Amy had come up with that description,and it was accurate as far as she was concerned.She’d liked him until she found out his occupation.Okay—more than liked him.She’d been in danger of falling for him.Maybe she already had.
The spanking thing...that was different, but not exactly a turn-off.Playful swats were supposed to be erotic—and yeah, she could see that—but Logan hadn’t been playing.His dominance, his command—it had been absolute, and directed at her.And instead of scaring her, she had leaned into it.But if he had been playing?
Something warm curled in her abdomen.If the heat in his eyes had been about pleasure instead of punishment, she feared that she would have responded.She shivered at the thought.
Yeah.It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it before, but having the courage to suggest such a thing would give a man way too much control.She’d been down that road before.
Control.
The word alone made her chest tighten with apprehension.She’d already lived that nightmare with a man who claimed he knew her better than she knew herself.Conrad hadn’t just broken her heart—he’d nearly broken hermind.So, no.She couldn’t hand that kind of power to anyone again.And yet...
The way Logan had commanded her attention, the steel in his voice—it hadn’t felt like suffocating manipulation.It had been physical, protective, almost grounding.Physical wasn’t the same as mental, right?Was it a game of sensation and trust...instead of a prison of cognitive control?
Darcy buried her face in her pillow, groaning at herself.She wasnotgoing down that road.Better to let sleeping dogs—and sleeping fantasies—lie.
***
SUNDAY MORNING DAWNED.
Darcy DeAngelo invaded Logan’s thoughts immediately.It was the first time in a long time that he felt eager to see a girl again.He yawned, stretched, and then practically jumped out of bed.Lucky for him, she was just across the hall.He headed for the bathroom.
The lonely feeling he was used to waking up with lately wasn’t there this morning.Okay, so he was a licensed therapist, successful, he supposed, not too hard on the female eye, judging from the admiring glances women gave him, but just the same, he felt lonely much of the time.
Being a therapist had its disadvantages.He usually knew what women were thinking just by recognizing the human emotional patterns with little effort.He knew which ones came to see him because of their interest in him, and which ones sincerely wanted his help.He quickly discouraged the fakes and tried to help the others.
He would be thirty next year, and he had yet to find anyone who inspired that crazy, lusty,mad-for-youpassion he wanted to feel.He wanted someone who needed him to take care of them and protect them, yet not be clinging and dependent.
Someone like Darcy.
Jumping into a hot shower, he ran his mind’s eye up and down her figure from her beautiful, clear skin, dark eyes, and long wavy hair to her lovely bottom globes peeking up at him through the underwear.Attraction reared its hot head, his male member saluted the faucets, and he rushed through his shower so he could prepare breakfast for her.
A frown creased his smooth brow as he toweled off and considered her reaction last night when she realized he was a therapist.What in the world was that all about?There was some serious hurt behind her actions and words.The sooner he could find out what happened, the quicker he could help her deal with it.
Dressing quickly in his jeans and a Chiefs sweatshirt, he headed for the kitchen and rummaged around in the refrigerator for some bacon and eggs.Or should he prepare pancakes?Did Darcy like pancakes better than bacon and eggs?
Girls were so worried about their figures and how much they ate these days that it was impossible to tell.Was she someone who ate what she liked and had a lean metabolism?Or did she put on weight easily?These were very real concerns of some of his female patients, and he stood there with the fridge door open, analyzing the problem.
Finally realizing he was being completely indecisive, he muttered to himself.“I’ll just make both.”
“You know, they say talking to yourself is a sign of old age, Uncle Logan.”
He turned around to see Holly standing there with a smirky grin on her face.
