It would have been easy to imagine that he cared for her when he’d loved her so completely...

But he hadn’t loved her. He’d pleasured her because she’d paid him to, giving her a twenty-thousand-dollar lay.

She swallowed around the lump filling her throat. Her eyes felt hot and gritty as she focused on the distant flight tower. She didn’t want to remember. She hated remembering, and she might have been able to forget if it hadn’t been for the one complication...

Not a small complication, either.

So she regretted the sex but not the mistake. Jax wasn’t a mistake. Jax was her world and her heart and the reason Logan could battle through the constant public scrutiny and shame. Twice she’d had to close her Twitter account due to Twitter trolls. She’d refused to shut down her Instagram, forcing herself to ignore the daily onslaught of scorn and hate.

She’d get through this. Eventually. The haters of the world didn’t matter. Jax mattered, and only Jax.

“So which home are we going to?” she asked, trying to match his careless, casual tone, trying to hide her concern and growing panic. Jax’s sitter left between five and six every day. Even if Joe went to the house to relieve the sitter, he was merely buying Logan a couple of hours. Joe had never babysat Jax for more than an hour or two before. Joe was a good guy, but he couldn’t care for the two-year-old overnight. Knowing Joe, he’d try, too, but Logan was a mama bear. No one came between her and her little girl.

“Does it matter?” he asked, pulling sunglasses from the pocket of his jacket.

So very James Bond. Her lip curled. He noticed.

“What’s wrong now?” he asked.

She glanced away from him and crossed her legs, aware that she could feel the weight of his inspection even from behind his sunglasses. “Morgan told me how much you love your little games.” She looked back at him, eyebrow arching. “You must be feeling very powerful now, what with the daring helicopter rescue and clandestine moves.”

“I do like your sister,” he answered. “She’s good for Drakon. And he for her.”

Logan couldn’t argue with that. Her sister had nearly lost her mind when separated from her husband. Thank God they’d worked it out.

“Hard to believe you and Morgan are twins,” he added. “You’re nothing alike.”

“Morgan chose to live with Dad. I didn’t.”

“And your baby sister, Jemma, she just chose to move out, even though she was still a teenager.”

Logan swung her leg, the gold buckle on her strappy wedge sandal catching the light. “You’re not a fan of my family, so I’m not entirely sure why we’re having this conversation.”

“Fine. Let’s not talk about your family.” His voice dropped, deepening, going almost velvet soft.