Jane Porter

Her Sinful Secret


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a disapproving look. “I hope he wasn’t rude to you,” she said to Joe. “If he was, don’t take it personally. He’s that way with everyone.”

      Joe smiled and shrugged. “I’ve met worse.”

      Logan gave him a look.

      His smile broadened. “He doesn’t bother me. And he was actually pretty sweet with Jax—”

      “Don’t say it. Don’t want to hear it.” Logan cut him short. “So is he going to send you back in the helicopter or are you having to grab a cab back? If you need a cab, just put it on my account. I won’t have you paying for something like that. It’ll be ridiculously expensive.”

      “I’ll grab a rental car and drop it off at LAX.” Joe hesitated a moment. “Are you going to be okay?”

      Logan kissed the top of Jax’s head and nodded. “Need tomorrow’s event to go off without a hitch—”

      “It will. The fund-raiser will be huge, and the fashion show will be wonderful. But you’re the one I’m worried about.”

      “Don’t. I’m fine. And my company...it’s everything. It’s my reputation. My livelihood. It’s how I provide for Jax—” She broke off, overwhelmed by stress and the weight of her reality. Her reality was harsh. People didn’t give her the same benefit of the doubt they gave others. She didn’t get second chances or opportunities...no, she had to fight tooth and nail for every job, forced to prove herself over and over again.

      “I’ll handle it,” Joe said quietly, his deep voice firm.

      “Thank you.”

      And then he kissed Jax on the top of her head and he left.

      Rowan didn’t seem to even notice that Joe had gone and it burned Logan up, how arrogant and callous Rowan was. Joe had been a huge help and Rowan didn’t thank him or care.

      Why couldn’t Logan fall for someone like Joe...someone smart and kind and caring? Someone with emotions?

      And then as if able to read Logan’s mind, Rowan was returning. “We need to go.” He nodded at the toddler. “Are you going to hold her for takeoff, or do you want me to buckle her car seat into a chair next to you?”

      “Which is safer?” Logan asked.

      “Car seat,” he answered promptly.

      “Then let’s do that.”

      “Has she ever been on a plane before?”

      Logan shook her head. “We don’t...go out...much.” And seeing his expression she added, “We don’t need the attention.”

      “Have things been that difficult?”

      “You’ve no idea.” And then she laughed because it was all she could do. The haters and shamers would not win. They wouldn’t. She’d make sure of that, just as she’d make sure her daughter would grow up with a spine and become a woman with courage and strength.

      * * *

      Rowan glanced at his watch. They’d been flying four hours but still had a good four to five hours to go. He was glad that the toddler finally slept, though. Earlier she’d cried for nearly an hour when she couldn’t have her blanket. Joe had brought the blanket when they met up at the Santa Monica airport. The blanket was either in a seat or on the floor of the helicopter or perhaps it got dropped on the tarmac during the transfer to the plane. Either way, the baby was inconsolable and Logan walked with Jax, up and down the short aisle, patting her little girl’s back until Jax had finally cried herself to sleep on Logan’s shoulder.

      Now Logan herself was asleep in one of the leather chairs in a reclined position, the little girl still on her chest, the child’s two miniature ponytails brushing Logan’s chin.

      Seeing Logan with the child made him uncomfortable.

      He didn’t like the ambivalence, either. He didn’t like any ambivalence, preferring life tidy, organized, categorized into boxes that could be graded and stacked.

      He’d put Logan into a box. He’d graded the box and labeled it, stacking it in the corner of his mind with other bad and difficult memories. After he’d left her, after their night together, he’d been troubled for weeks...months. It had angered him that he couldn’t forget her, angered him that he didn’t have more control over his emotions. He shouldn’t care about her. He shouldn’t worry about her. And yet he did.

      He worried constantly.

      He worried that someone, somewhere would hurt her.

      He worried about her physical safety. He worried about her emotional well-being. He’d been so hard on her. He’d been ruthless, just the way he was with his men, and in his world. But she wasn’t a man, and she wasn’t conditioned to handle what he’d dished out.

      He’d come so close, so many times to apologizing.

      He’d come so close to saying he was wrong.

      But he didn’t. He feared opening a door that couldn’t be shut. There was no point bonding with a woman who wasn’t to be trusted. Trust was everything in his world, and she’d lied to him once—Logan Lane, indeed—so why wouldn’t she lie again?

      Maybe the trust issue would be less crucial if he had a different job. Maybe if his work wasn’t so sensitive he could be less vigilant...but his work was sensitive, and countless people depended on him to keep them safe, and alive.

      Just as Jax depended on her mother to keep her safe.

      He wanted to hate Logan. Wanted to despise her. But watching her sleep with Jax stirred his protective instinct.

      At two years old, Jax was still more baby than girl, her wispy blond hair a shade lighter than her mother’s. They both had long dark eyelashes and the same mouth, full and pink with a rosebud for an upper lip.

      Sleeping, Jax was a vision of innocence.

      Sleeping, Logan was a picture of maternal devotion.

      Together they made his chest ache.

      Rowan didn’t want his chest to ache. He didn’t want to care in any way, but it was difficult to separate himself when he kept running numbers in his head.

      March 31 plus forty weeks meant a December birthday. Jax had a December birthday. December 22 to be precise. He knew because Joe had located Jax’s birth certificate at the house and put it in a file for Rowan. You couldn’t just whisk a baby out of a country without any legal documentation. If they were flying on a commercial plane, he’d have to go through government channels, which would have required a passport.

      But since they weren’t flying on a private plane, his pilot had submitted a manifest—which had included Logan Copeland. The manifest had not included the baby as he hadn’t known there was a baby until just hours ago.

      The baby could potentially be an issue, but as Rowan had diplomatic immunity, he wasn’t too worried for himself.

      Logan was another matter. She could definitely find herself in hot water should various governments discover she’d smuggled a baby out of one country and into another.

      Fortunately they would be landing on Rowan’s private airstrip on his private property, so there shouldn’t be guards or officers inspecting his jet, or interrogating his guests.

      But if they did...what would he say about Jax?

      The child born exactly forty weeks after March 31.

      * * *

      Aware that she was being studied, Logan opened her eyes. Rowan sat watching her in a leather chair opposite hers.

      He wasn’t smiling.

      She just held his cool green gaze, her heart sinking. She didn’t want to panic and yet there was something very quiet, and very thoughtful, in his expression and it made her imagine that he could see things he couldn’t