“Even when I told you that Drakon had given it to me because it was important, you were hateful. You mocked me, saying you’d given me all you could.”

Her voice was no longer quiet and calm. It vibrated with emotion, coloring the air between them. “After you hung up, I cried myself sick, and then eventually I pulled myself together and was glad. Glad you wanted nothing to do with me, glad you wanted nothing to do with us, glad that my daughter wouldn’t have to grow up as I did, with a selfish, uncaring father.”

For a long moment Rowan said nothing. He just studied her from his seat, his big, lean, powerful body relaxed, his expression thoughtful. He seemed as if he didn’t have a care in the world, which put her on high alert. This was Rowan at his most dangerous, and she suspected what made him so dangerous was that he cared.

He cared a great deal.

Finally he shifted and sighed. “There are so many things I could say.”

Logan’s heart raced and her stomach rolled and heaved. “Why don’t you say them?”

“Because we are still hours away from Galway—”

“Galway?” she interrupted.

“—and I don’t feel like arguing all the way to Ireland.”

She blinked at him, taken aback. “We can’t leave the US. I don’t have a passport with me, and Jax doesn’t even have one yet.”

Rowan shrugged, unconcerned. “We’re landing on a private airstrip. There won’t be any customs or immigration officers on our arrival.”

“And what about when we return? Don’t you think it will be problematic then?”

“Could be. But Joe packed your passport when he packed for you, and he sent along Jax’s birth certificate, so we do have that.”

That’s how Rowan knew Jax’s birth date. That’s how he knew what he knew. But how did Joe know where to find her legal documents? She’d never told him...

Logan watched the slow drumming of Rowan’s fingers on his hard thigh, mesmerized by the bronze of his skin and the tantalizing movement of strong fingers, the drumming steady, rhythmic.

The man had good hands. They’d felt so good on her. His touch had a sensitivity and expertise that was so different from his reputation as an elite fighter...warrior...

He’d made her feel things she didn’t think she could feel, but no more. Hope and beauty—

No. Couldn’t go there again, couldn’t remember, couldn’t let herself fantasize that what had been was anything but sex. He’d made it clear she was just a lay. Sweat and release...exercise.

Her eyes burned and she swallowed hard, disgusted with herself for still letting his callous words upset her, hurt her. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t.

And yet she did.

Maybe if the sex hadn’t been so good she could play this game. Maybe if she hadn’t felt hope and joy, and maybe if he hadn’t made her feel beautiful...Things she hadn’t felt in so long. So many people had been hateful about her father. The world had become ugly and hostile, and then Rowan had been the opposite. He’d been light and heat and emotion and she couldn’t help feeling connected to him. Bonded.

And then he discovered the Copeland part of her name, having missed that the night before...

Logan exhaled slowly, head light and spinning, dizzy from holding her breath too long. “I can’t do this with you,” she said lowly, her hand reaching up to adjust Jax on her chest.