Praise for Kate Hoffmann’s Mighty Quinns

“This truly delightful tale packs in the heat and a lot of heart at the same time.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

“This is a fast read that is hard to tear the eyes from. Once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down.”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

“A story that not only pulled me in, but left me weak in the knees.”

—Seriously Reviewed on The Mighty Quinns: Riley

“Sexy, heartwarming and romantic, this is a story to settle down with and enjoy—and then reread.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Teague

“Sexy Irish folklore and intrigue weave throughout this steamy tale.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan

“The only drawback to this story is that it’s far too short!”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan

“Strong, imperfect but lovable characters, an interesting setting and great sensuality.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Brody

Dear Reader,

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing for Mills & Boon for nearly twenty years. It seems like only yesterday that I completed my first novel and sent it in, hoping that it would be good enough to publish. Now, many books later, people sometimes ask if I ever run out of ideas. Fortunately, I don’t. There always seems to be a line of characters just waiting to have their story written.

This month I kick off another set of Mighty Quinns. Only, this time I’m doing something a little different—I’m setting the stories in four different countries! This first book, The Mighty Quinns: Logan, takes place in Australia, and the next book, The Mighty Quinns: Jack, will bring you back to the US. The last two books are still in progress, so I won’t give out any spoilers just yet. But you might want to watch out for a couple of hot Irish guys named Rourke and Dex…:)

As always, without you I wouldn’t have the chance to continue to tell my stories. Whether you’ve been with me from the start or you’ve just discovered my books, thank you for reading! Be sure to check out my page on Facebook for all the latest news.

All my best,

Kate Hoffmann

About the Author

KATE HOFFMANN has written more than seventy books for Mills & Boon, most of them for the Blaze® line. She spent time as a music teacher, a retail assistant buyer and an advertising exec before she settled into a career as a full-time writer. She continues to pursue her interests in music, theater and musical theater, working with local schools in various productions. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, Chloe.

The Mighty
Quinns:
Logan
Kate Hoffmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

For Michelle. Never stop believing.

It can happen for you, too!

Prologue

DROPLETS OF RAIN spattered against the wavy glass in the manor-house windows. Aileen Quinn stared out into the lush green of her garden, her gaze fixed on a niche in the tall stone wall. A small statue of an angel was nestled into the ivy, the rain dripping off the outspread wings as if it wept.

“Are you certain?” she asked.

“I know this is a lot to handle, Miss Quinn. Perhaps we should continue later?”

She gripped the head of her cane and turned back to the genealogist. “No,” she said. “I’m ninety-six years old. There will be no more secrets in my life. That’s why I chose to write my autobiography. I want it all out there so I can leave this world in peace.”

“You realize the chances that your older siblings are still alive are virtually zero.”

Aileen moved to a wing chair near the fireplace and sat down, turning toward the warmth. “Of course. But I would like to know if they had children and grandchildren. I have a family and I’d like to know at least a little bit about them before I die.”

She stared into the flickering flames, her thoughts carrying her back to her childhood. She only had the thinnest of details, facts that the nuns at the orphanage had relinquished after years of persistent questions. Her father had died in the Easter Rising of 1916, shot through the heart by a British soldier. Her mother, left pregnant and desperate to provide for her newborn daughter, grew sick with consumption and brought Aileen to the orphanage a few weeks before she died.

The story had been told so many times in the media, the rags-to-riches tale of an Irish orphan girl who became one of the world’s most popular novelists. Aileen’s stories had been a reflection of her life, tales of struggle and triumph, of heartache and great happiness, and all set in the land of her birth, her beautiful Ireland.

“Tell me again,” she said. “Their names. What were my brothers’ names?”

“The eldest was Diarmuid. He was twelve when he was sent off to work as an apprentice to a shipbuilder in Belfast in 1917. Then there was Conal. He was nine and Lochlan was six when you were born. And Tomas was five. There were three other children who didn’t survive. A baby girl between Diarmuid and Conal who died at birth. And a daughter named Mary and a son named Orin between Tomas and you. They both died of scarlet fever the year before you were born.”

“So there were seven, not four.”

The young man nodded. “Yes.”

“I need to know where they went,” Aileen said, leaning forward in her chair. “How they lived. You need to find everything you can about them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He riffled through his papers. “I was able to learn that the youngest, Tomas, was sent to Australia. He traveled with a missionary and his wife on a ship called the Cambria, which sailed from Cork and landed in Sydney in December of 1916.”

“Then that’s where you’ll begin,” Aileen said. “In Australia. I don’t care how many people you need to hire to help you or how much it costs. I’m giving you unlimited funds to do whatever is needed, Mr. Stephens. And I want a weekly report of any progress you’ve made, no matter how inconsequential.”

“Yes, Miss Quinn.”

“That’s all for now,” she said.

He nodded and walked out of the solarium, his research tucked under his arm. Aileen watched him leave, then drew a deep breath. She’d spent her whole life believing she was alone in the world, a victim of circumstances beyond her control. But now, in a single instant, she had a family, siblings who had once held her and kissed her…and loved her.

The housekeeper walked into the room, her footsteps silent on the ornate rug. Sally set the tray down on the tea table. “I’ve baked some lovely scones,” she said. “Will you not have one?”

Aileen shook her head. “Just the tea, Sally.”

“Did your Mr. Stephens have anything interesting to share?”

“Not at the present,” she replied. The news about her family was so startling that she wanted to keep it a secret just a bit longer. It wasn’t a good thing to hope. She’d learned that as a child, every Sunday, when visiting day at Our Lady of Mercy orphanage arrived. Just over a hundred girls, dressed in their very best, would stand in proper rows, hoping that someone would come, would choose to take one of them home.

But she’d been a sickly child, smaller than the others and plagued with respiratory infections, and often pushed into the background. After a time, she’d decided to stop trying. She was safe with the nuns and had dreams of joining the Sisters of St. Clare herself.

The orphanage provided a harsh type of life. Punishments were meted out regularly for the girls who refused to conform. Those that were considered chronically impure—the illegitimate, the criminal, the intractable—bore the brunt of the nuns’ disdain. But Aileen was pious and penitent for even the slightest sin.

When Sister Mary gave her a coveted job in the school library, shelving books and reading to the younger girls, she’d quietly been marked as a favorite and was spared the worst of chores.

By the time she was eleven, she’d run out of books to read in the school library and was allowed to accompany the lively young teacher, Sister Bernadette, to the Kinsale library, where she’d been handed a copy of Jane Eyre and told to hide it from the older nuns.

The book had opened a whole new world for her. The story of the plain orphan girl, snatched from her cruel fate and whisked into a life as a governess, had been a revelation. How was it possible to put words in such an order that they could create a truth in her mind?

From that moment on, Aileen had begun to write her own stories, at first just weak copies of what she read. But as her methodical march through the town library shelves continued, she learned more about how to craft a plot and develop a character.

In the evenings, she’d offered to empty the rubbish bins at school, just for the chance to gather spare paper for her work. And then, when she was in the seventh form, Sister Bernadette became her teacher. The sweet-tempered nun recognized Aileen’s talent for writing. From that moment on, Aileen always had pencils and tablets to spare, and someone to read her stories.

Though the girls at the orphanage were trained toward industrial employment, Aileen had been encouraged in her plans to devote her life to God and join the order as a novitiate. But the closer she got to the decision, the more Aileen knew that the life she wanted, and the stories swimming around in her head, couldn’t be contained within the walls of the convent. She’d have to go out in the world and make her own way, to live the life that she so desperately wanted to write about.

And so she did what Jane Eyre had done. She became a governess for a wealthy family in Dublin, moving from the orphanage into a grand home situated on a posh street. She cared for three boys by the name of Riley while their father ran a bank and their mother busied herself with charitable works.

And at night, after the boys had been tucked into bed, she wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote. She saved her meager salary and bought a secondhand typewriter for her twenty-first birthday, then spent what she had left on paper and inked ribbon.

At night, she’d sneak up to a far corner of the attic, lantern in hand, so that the family wouldn’t hear the tap-tap-tap of the keys. She sold her first novel five years later, the story of an orphaned Irish girl who falls in love with the son of her employer, only to be cast aside and left to rebuild a life for herself. Set between the two world wars, the novel sold well enough for her to leave the Rileys and rent a tiny flat in a run-down section of Dublin.

Now, seventy years later, Aileen Quinn had become the grande dame of Irish women writers, the one they all referenced when they talked of their greatest influences. She’d won every award and accolade available to her and had enjoyed her life and her success.

Her only regret had been that the love her characters always struggled to find had never found her. She’d always thought there would be time for a husband and a family. But the years between thirty and fifty had seemed to fly by in a blur. Then, she’d still hoped a man might come into her life. And then another blur between fifty and seventy. By then it was too late for hope. Too late to have a family of her own.

But all that had changed now. She did have a family, people who were related to her by blood. And she was going to find every last one of them.

1

LOGAN QUINN STARED down the long, tree-lined driveway. He’d expected Willimston Farm would be upmarket, but he hadn’t expected a feckin’ estate. He turned the campervan off the main road and felt a sense of unease come over him.

When he’d made plans to stop along his weeklong route to Perth, all Logan had wanted was a spare stable, fresh water and a place to park. His old mate Ed Perkins had been working as a stable manager at Willimston for the past few years and had offered a place to overnight. Logan wondered how Ed’s boss man might feel about the raggedy campervan and trailer ruining the perfectly groomed landscape.

If the sprawling house didn’t give visitors a clue to the wealth of the owners, the outbuildings did. The low-slung buildings were painted white with green doors and shingles, a clear indication of the bottomless bank account that funded the place. Logan couldn’t help but think of his own ranch on the fringes of the outback, the ramshackle house, the rough stables.

He’d worked for years to put together the cash needed to buy his own operation, sometimes juggling his job as an investment banker with one or two other jobs. And though the ranch was far from perfect, it was the first home he’d ever known.

After a childhood spent watching his father bounce from place to place, sheep station to cattle ranch, all the family’s belongings contained in the back of a pickup truck, Logan needed a place to put down roots.

Every time he drove up the dusty road and saw the weathered stable and tiny house, he felt a measure of pride. He was building something for the future. And maybe someday, he’d have a family and they’d know a real home, a place where they could feel safe and secure.

A kid couldn’t help but feel that way on Willimston Farm, he thought to himself. “Someday, my place will look like this,” he murmured. Logan chuckled to himself. “Yeah, right. And someday, pigs will fly.”

He slowly pulled the campervan to a stop and turned off the ignition. They’d been on the road for eight hours. It was time for the both of them to stretch their legs. He watched as a tall, lanky figure approached, then recognized his old friend Ed beneath the brim of the faded hat.

Logan stepped out of the camper and pulled off his sunglasses. “Ed! Hey, mate. Good to see you.”

Ed yanked off his leather gloves and shook Logan’s hand. “Logan Quinn. How was your drive?”

“Long. It feels good to stand instead of sit.” He glanced around. “This is quite the place. You landed yourself a nice spot.”

“It’s good. The owner isn’t around much. He has a mansion in Brisbane, too. But when he is here, he’s a decent chap. Simon Grant. He’s big in energy. Appreciates fine horses, too. So, who’s watching your place while you’re on the road?”

“I’ve got Billy Brantley working for me. Remember him? He worked with us that summer out on the Weaver ranch.”

“He’s a good guy. Hard worker.” Ed nodded in the direction of the trailer. “Enough of this chatter. Are you going to show me?”

“Sure. Let’s get her out.” Logan walked to the back of the trailer, dropped the ramp and opened the doors. He smoothed his hand over the flank of the filly as he moved to take her halter.

“Come on, darlin’,” he murmured. “Let’s get you out of this trailer and into a paddock. You need some exercise.” The filly slowly backed down the ramp and, when all four hooves were on firm ground, Logan circled her around Ed, letting him observe the horse.

He’d never been more proud of something that he’d accomplished as he had been of breeding and raising Tally. And though he knew not to get too attached to one of his horses, Logan was forced to admit that he loved everything about the pretty filly.

“Jaysus, Logan, she’s a beauty.” Ed stepped forward and examined the filly with a keen eye. He ran his palms over her, peered into her eyes and patted her neck. “You say she’s sold?”

“Why? Do you want to buy her?”

“Hell, I’d be crazy not to show her to my boss. He’s always looking for new stock.”

Logan shrugged. “Yeah, she’s sold. To a guy over in Perth. He’s got a nice breeding operation.”

“No. How much?”

Logan told him the price and Ed shrugged. “It’s a fair price. I probably could have gotten you more. I would have liked to breed her with a stallion we have. They would have made some beautiful babies together.” He paused. “Why didn’t you keep her for yourself?”

A sliver of regret shot through him at the question. “I would have loved to. But I need the money.”

“Things are tough?”

Logan chuckled. “Define tough.”

“Why didn’t you give me a call? I could have helped you out.”

“You’re helping me out now. Letting me stay here for the night. Now, do you have a paddock for my lady? I think she could use a good run.”

“Come on, then. I saved the best for you.”

They walked toward one of the low barns and when they reached the paddock, Ed opened the gate. Logan rubbed the filly’s neck then sent her inside. She trotted around the perimeter, her ears up, her nostrils sniffing the air.

“What’s her name?”

“I call her Tally,” he said. “Her official name is Quinn’s Tally-Ho Wallaroo. But maybe the new owners will give her a different name.”

“She is a beauty.”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. She’s the first colt born on the farm, the first I raised from a baby. Hell, I feel like she’s my kid and I’m sending her off into the world.”

Ed patted him on the shoulder. “I expect letting the first one go is always the hardest. I’ve set up a stall in this barn here,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “You can pull your campervan around to the back. Just inside the door there’s a loo and a shower.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“Yeah. I picked up something along the way. Once I have Tally bedded down, I’m going to turn in, too. I’m knackered.”

“Well, I’m up at sunrise. I’ll bring you some breakfast before you leave.”

Logan nodded. “Thanks. For everything. I really appreciate it.”

“No worries,” Ed said.

As Ed walked back to the stable, Logan turned his gaze out to the chestnut filly in the paddock. He’d always thought that Tally would be the center of his breeding program at the farm. He’d never imagined that he’d have to give her up. Just the thought of turning her over into someone else’s care caused an ache deep in his gut. But horse breeding was like roulette. Sometimes you hit the jackpot and other times you walked away with nothing.

He braced his arms on the top of the gate and rested his chin on his hands. He’d had a choice. Keep the horse or keep the ranch. Without the filly, the ranch would survive. Without the ranch, he had no place to keep his horses.

Hell, maybe another filly like Tally would come along. Though her sire and dam had produced two males in the past two years, the odds were good that he was due a filly. But what were the chances that she’d be as perfect as Tally? He’d hate to think that his one-in-a-million horse had come at a time when he couldn’t keep her for himself.

A quiet curse slipped from his lips. This trip wouldn’t be any easier if he continued to drown in sentimentality.

“Nice horse.”

The sound of her voice startled him. Logan turned to find a woman standing beside him on the lowest rail of the gate. The sun was behind her and he had a hard time making out her features, so he stepped back from the gate and pulled down his sunglasses.

The beauty of her profile, outlined by the setting sun, hit him like a ton of bricks. Flaxen hair gleamed in the golden light, the strands falling around her face in delicate curls. She looked as if she’d just crawled out of bed.

Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. She wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and the bottoms to a hot-pink bikini that barely covered her backside. The soft curves of her breasts were outlined by the thin cotton, and he could almost imagine the body beneath the shirt. His gaze drifted back up to her face and he took in her lush lips.

A tiny smile twitched at the corners of that sensuous mouth. “What’s next? Are you going to want to check my teeth? Maybe run your hands over my withers? I can take a turn around the paddock if you like.”

He hadn’t realized his stare was so obvious. He turned away and fixed his gaze on Tally. “You—you startled me.”

“Good,” she said. “I always like making a memorable first impression.”

He laughed softly. She was teasing him and wasn’t trying to hide it. But to what end? “Well done, then,” he said. “I’m impressed.” Logan glanced over at her. “Who are you?”

She held out her hand. “Lucinda Grant. My father owns this place.”

He took her hand and gave it a quick shake. Her fingers were long and slender and tipped with shiny red polish. His mind flashed an image of those hands, skimming over his naked body, touching him in places he hadn’t been touched for a while. Logan swallowed hard. Yeah, right. No chance a pretty little rich girl was going to waste her time on guy without a penny in his pocket.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Grant,” Logan said.

“Oh, please. You stared at my arse. I think we’re beyond Miss Grant. You can call me Sunny.”

“I thought your name was Lucinda.”

“It is, but everyone calls me Sunny. With a u. Actually, it really should be an o. My father always wanted a boy so he called me Sonny with an o until I was five. My mother changed it to Sunny with a u.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sunny with a u.”

She pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head and turned her green-eyed gaze his way. “It’s usually customary for you to tell me your name. You really do have the worst manners.”

“Are you always such a smart-ass?” he asked, starting to enjoy the little game they were playing.

That brought a laugh. “I developed the talent in my teenage years and have perfected it since then. It’s one of my best qualities.”

He saw the glint in her gaze and Logan shook his head. He’d known girls like her, girls who weren’t afraid to push the boundaries, girls who would say anything that came into their heads just to get a reaction. He usually made it a point to stay away from that type. They were impossible to figure out.

But there was something about Sunny, something more than just a quick wit and a sharp tongue. He saw something more…vulnerable behind that bold facade. He could see it in those eyes, those incredibly beautiful green eyes.

Logan rubbed his hand on his faded jeans before holding it out to her. “Logan Quinn.”

She stared down at his hand for a long moment and Logan wondered if she didn’t want to touch him. But then, she reached out and ran her finger along the length of his forearm. The feel of her nail scraping his skin sent a shiver through his body. She glanced up at him and smiled coyly. “You have nice hands, Logan Quinn.” Her gaze turned toward the filly, who was now watching them both with a suspicious eye. “Is she yours?”

“For now,” Logan said.

With that, she crawled over the gate and dropped down on the other side, her bare feet causing a soft thud in the dirt. As she walked toward Tally, Sunny turned back to him. “Come on,” she said. “I want to hear what you have to say about her.”

Logan followed her over the gate and hurried to catch up. As he walked beside her, he risked a glance at her face again. God, she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. And the oddest, as well. She didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that she was wandering around in a T-shirt that was just thin enough to reveal what was underneath. Maybe she’d spent the day sunbathing…topless… . He swallowed hard as a vivid image flashed in his mind.

When they got within ten feet of the filly, Sunny stopped and held out her hand. “What’s her name?”

“Tally,” he said.

“Hey, there, Tally,” she murmured.

Logan reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a biscuit, then handed it to her. “She likes these.”

“Anzac biscuits? Me, too.” She took a bite from the biscuit, then held the treat out to Tally. The horse immediately walked over and snatched the biscuit from Sunny’s fingers.

Gently, she grabbed her halter and led the horse in a wide circle. Logan watched Sunny, his attention completely captivated by her long, slender legs and her lithe body. He felt a current of desire skitter through him and he drew a long breath.

Sunny carefully examined the horse, smoothing her palms over Tally, slowly taking in her conformation. And when she was finished, she motioned him over.

“Give me a knee up,” she said.

“You’re going to ride her?”

“Why not?”

Logan linked his fingers together and she slipped her knee into the cradle. He boosted her up and Sunny gracefully straddled the horse. Tangling her fingers in Tally’s mane, she gave the filly a gentle nudge, and Tally moved forward.

The sight of them both, a beautiful woman and an equally beautiful horse, was enough to take Logan’s breath away. His pulse quickened and he found himself searching for his next breath. As she urged Tally into a gallop, he groaned, trying to keep his mind off the images running around in his head.

It had been months since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman in his bed. Hell, in any bed. Life on the ranch was filled with plenty of time for self-reflection. When it came to women, he didn’t have much of anything to offer besides a really good time in the sack. After buying feed for his horses, he usually didn’t have much left for himself, so even a dinner out or a movie would be out of the question. But the sale of Tally would keep him solvent for another year and perhaps available for dating.

He fixed his attention on Sunny. There was no way a woman like her would want a bloke like him. No way. But that wouldn’t stop him from using her as fantasy material. His fingers clenched as he thought about touching her—her hair, her face, her beautiful body.

Sunny brought the horse to a stop in front of him and slid off. “Whatever Daddy offers you, ask for 50 percent more. And don’t back down. He admires a man who sticks to his principles.” She started toward the gate. “I’ll see you later, Logan Quinn.”

“Wait!” he called. He took off after her and caught up with Sunny after she’d crawled over the gate. “She’s not for sale. Tally isn’t for sale—at least, not to you—or your father.”

Sunny gave him an odd look, her forehead furrowed. “Then what are you doing here?”

He drew a deep breath. “Just…passing through.”

Silence spun out around them, and his gaze drifted to her lips. He wanted to kiss her, just once, just to see how her mouth felt on his, how she tasted and how she reacted. It took every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from pulling her into his arms. But the gate stood between them, as great a barrier as anything else that separated them.

She sucked in a sharp breath and, suddenly, the silence was broken, along with the spell that had overcome them both. “She’s still a beautiful horse,” Sunny murmured.

Logan watched her walk away, her hips swaying provocatively. He’d never met a woman quite like her. So tantalizing, so sexy. “Forget it, mate,” he muttered to himself. “That’s the first and last time a woman like that is ever giving you a second look.”

SUNNY STARED UP at the ceiling above her bed. She measured her breathing, trying to fight back the surge of tears that had been threatening for the past hour. Grabbing her pillow, she hugged it to her body, but nothing seemed to ease the emptiness inside of her.

Her thoughts wandered back to the argument she’d had with her father earlier that evening. He’d phoned from Sydney to check up on her plans to participate in an equestrian event that weekend in Brisbane. When she told him she had no intention of riding, the call escalated into a cold recitation of all of her flaws as both a daughter and a human being.

She pinched her eyes shut, cutting off the source of her tears. Nighttime was the worst. Her mind just wouldn’t shut down. The same things replayed over and over in her head, and though she tried to make sense of it all, she couldn’t.

She’d worked for years to get to London, to be a part of the Olympics and to show her father that she could be just as good as the son he’d always wanted. All the training, all the travel, competing in equestrian events all over Australia.

Three years ago, she’d stepped up to international competition, all with an eye to the Olympics and her crowning achievement, a gold medal in show jumping. When she made the world team two years ago, her father had been delighted but reserved. When she made the Olympic team, her father had been proud, ecstatic even. And that’s all she’d ever wanted from him. Just a simple recognition that she was someone worth loving.

But what had come next had been so unexpected. She’d landed in London with a strange sense of foreboding, a dark cloud hanging over her. The pressure to succeed just seemed overwhelming at times and she found herself fighting off panic attacks.

One stumble in the qualifying rounds had led to another and by the time the preliminary competition was over, Sunny’s confidence was in shreds and her hopes for a medal were gone. She had hesitated when she should have been aggressive; she had tried to make up for her mistakes by taking silly risks. And her sweet horse, Padma, didn’t understand what she was supposed to do, the unfamiliar signals causing the mare to react nervously and refuse gates that she’d always nimbly jumped over.

A tear streaked down Sunny’s cheek and she brushed it away. Who was she if she wasn’t an equestrian? Where was she supposed to go from here? She wasn’t prepared to do anything but ride. Her life was a total car wreck with no one there to help her fix it.

With a long sigh, she closed her eyes. The image of Logan Quinn drifted through her thoughts and she groaned softly. She’d been thinking about him all night long. If he knew who she was, he didn’t mention it. And if he didn’t, then he must have been living on another continent for the past six months. The media had been brutal right after the games, with all sorts of rumors about partying and drugs and men.

None of it had been true, but that didn’t make it any less painful. She smiled to herself. It had felt good to talk to Logan, to tease and laugh again, as if nothing had happened. Part of the attraction was his body, lean and muscled, hidden beneath faded, comfortable clothes. And he had that rugged, self-assured look about him, as though he could survive for a month in the outback with just a paper clip and a piece of string. He had a quiet confidence that was reassuring.

For the first time in months, Sunny found herself interested in something other than her own troubles. And though seducing a handsome stranger probably wouldn’t change her situation all that much, it would be nice to feel close to someone. It would give her something else to think about at night other than all her failures.

Sunny rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face into the pillow. What if he wasn’t interested? What if he didn’t want anything to do with her? Leave it to Sunny Grant to fail on both a worldwide and a personal scale.

Sunny sat up in bed and tossed the pillow aside. She had to stop doing this to herself. It was time to move on. She’d made mistakes and hadn’t been prepared to handle the pressure, but there was no going back and fixing it. If she ever expected to be happy again, she needed to—

“I need to get out of this house,” she muttered, raking her hair away from her face.

Scrambling out of bed, Sunny grabbed a robe and shrugged into it. Silently, she slipped out of her room and hurried down the hall. The house was dark and only the dogs, Wendy and Whip, noticed her passing, their heads rising as she opened the kitchen door.

She drew a deep breath of the warm night air, then ran across the damp lawn to the stables. A yellow bulb on each end of the building offered a faint light and she hurried to Padma’s stall and pulled open the door.

The horse turned and looked at her with her big brown eyes. Sunny hadn’t ridden her in the three months since she’d returned from London, knowing how she’d failed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so sorry. You’re the only one who has ever loved me, unconditionally and without any expectations. And I let you down. I embarrassed us both.”

Her father had talked about selling Padma after Sunny had vowed never to ride again. The horse was well trained, an experienced competitor in the prime of her jumping career. But she was still here, in her usual stable. Though her father could be cold, he wasn’t entirely heartless.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she murmured, stroking the white blaze on Padma’s forehead. “I need to take a little more time away and then I’ll be back and we’ll start all over again. I promise. We’ll get back to the top and get our gold medal.” She pressed her face against the soft muzzle of the horse, then gave her a kiss. “And this time, I won’t mess it up. You’ll be proud of me.”

She stepped out of the stall and pulled the door closed. When she turned, she saw a figure standing in the shadows. A gasp slipped from her throat, but when he stepped into the light, she recognized Logan Quinn.

“You scared me,” she said.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just checking on Tally and heard you talking.”

He was dressed in just his jeans, the top button undone. Like her, his feet were bare. He’d shoved his hands in his front pockets and he watched her warily. “It’s late,” she murmured.

“I couldn’t sleep. It was too stuffy in the campervan.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“It is kind of warm tonight. I thought maybe we’d get some rain.”

She smiled to herself. He looked so sweet standing there, his dark hair rumpled, his chest bare. Though he looked as if he were in his late twenties, he had a boyish quality she found undeniably attractive. “Are we really talking about the weather?”

“No,” he said.

Sunny held out her hand. “Come with me.”

He tucked his hand into hers and walked with her toward the house. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she said.

There was a formal garden in the rear of the house, surrounded by a tall iron fence. She unlatched the gate and then stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. They walked along a narrow brick path and, suddenly, the lush greenery disappeared and he found himself staring at a huge swimming pool.

“Oh, hell. Now, that’s a nice-looking pool.”

“Come on. Take your jeans off and jump in.”

“Ah, I don’t have anything underneath,” he said.

She reached for the tie of her silk robe. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” Sunny spun around in front of him. “And I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before.”

With a laugh, she dove into the pool, slicing neatly into the water and swimming beneath the surface to the other end. When she came up for air, he was no longer standing on the deck. She glanced around and then, a moment later, he popped up in front of her.

“What are your parents going to say if they catch us out here?” he asked.

“My father is in Sydney, visiting his mistress and their two children. My mother went to the Paris fashion shows last year and never came back.” She reached out and brushed the wet hair out of his eyes. “Except for the housekeeper, we’re alone.”

“Okay, then.”

“You don’t talk very much, do you?”

He grinned. “Actually, I do. You just leave me a little speechless.”

She bobbed in front of him, her gaze taking in the details of his face. Droplets clung to his dark lashes, and when he blinked, they tumbled onto his cheeks. He was a beautiful man, the kind of man who didn’t realize the effect his looks had on a woman. She liked that. Sunny didn’t know very many regular guys.

His body was finely muscled, long limbed and lean, and made that way by hard work. The attraction was undeniable, but could she act on it? She’d felt so alone for such a long time, trapped in a life that had no direction or purpose. Touching him, kissing him, was all she could think about.

And what harm could it do? She’d enjoyed one-night stands in the past. The man was leaving in the morning and she’d never see him again. Why not take advantage? The thought of losing herself for just a short time with this beautiful man was more than she could resist.

Sunny placed her hands on his shoulders, her gaze fixed on his lips. She leaned forward ever so slightly and he took the cue, slipping his fingers through the wet hair at her nape and pulling her into his kiss. A wave of desire coursed through her body, and the intensity of her reaction startled her.

He knew how to kiss, that much was clear. And Sunny had kissed enough men to make a valid comparison. He began softly, his lips teasing at hers until they were both ready to taste. And then, he used his tongue to test her further, to tempt her into surrender. She parted her lips and they were suddenly lost in a whirlwind of sensation.

Had there ever been a kiss that affected her so completely? She felt her limbs go weak and her mind begin to falter. When his hands moved to her face, she moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Logan reached down for her legs, pulling them around his waist until their bodies were locked together in an unbreakable embrace.

He was already hard, and she moved against him, resisting the urge to simply sink down on top of him. She knew they ought to find a condom before they went any further, but if she brought up the realities of protection, he might have a chance to reconsider what they were about to do.

Drawing a deep breath, she unlocked her legs and pushed away, swimming to the far end of the pool. “I could get in a lot of trouble with a boy like you,” she said, sinking down until her chin touched the surface.

She’d always maintained control in her casual encounters. There was never anything beyond the physical satisfaction of being with a beautiful man. But she felt something different with Logan, something that made her want him even more. It was as if they already knew each other, and yet she knew nothing about him.

Sunny brushed the water out of her face. She wanted to be with him, to experience the sensation of his body moving inside of her. “Do you want me?” she asked softly.

Logan nodded. “I’d be a fool not to.”

“It’s only about the sex,” she said. “Nothing else. Are you all right with that?”

He nodded again as he slowly approached. “Here?”

She shook her head. “We need protection.”

“I have some in the campervan.”

Sunny swam over to the ladder and then slowly climbed it to the pool deck. She grabbed a towel from a nearby bin and wrapped it around her body, then handed one to Logan. He hurried after her, and when he reached her side, he took her hand. They walked back to the stable, Logan picking up his jeans and her robe along the way.

A cool breeze rustled the trees, and goose pimples prickled Sunny’s damp skin. For the first time since London, she knew exactly what she wanted. And there was no shame in it. The need to feel close to another person was a basic part of human nature, wasn’t it? And since Logan was just passing through, it made the choice even easier. There would be no messy entanglements after the fact.

Raindrops were beginning to fall by the time they reached the campervan. Logan opened the door and helped her up the steps. All the windows were open, and the sound of the rain on the roof provided a relaxing soundtrack. A tiny light near the sink provided the only illumination, casting the interior in a soft glow.

When he closed the door behind him, Sunny turned and stepped into his embrace. There was no hesitation between them, no doubt of what they both wanted, no time wasted. The towels were tossed aside, and his hands moved over her body, his touch gentle yet assured. Sunny closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting the wonderful sensations wash over her.

When his lips finally found hers, Sunny opened to the determined assault. He was warm and his mouth tasted sweet and when he pulled her body against his, she surrendered completely. It had been months since she’d felt any kind of connection to a man. But now that he had dropped into her life, Sunny felt desperate to experience the power and the passion, the complete and utter satisfaction.

Though there was no reason to rush, Sunny had never been one to deny herself anything she wanted. And she wanted to experience the ultimate intimacy with this man. She pulled him over to the bed that spanned the back end of the campervan.

Logan sat down on the edge and smoothed his hands around her waist. “Are you certain about this?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her belly.

Sunny ran her fingers through his sun-streaked hair and turned his face up until his gaze met hers. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know what I wanted,” she murmured.

He smiled and she reached down and ran her thumb across his lower lip. He was so beautiful, his hair damp from their swim, his skin smooth and deeply tanned. Falling back onto the bed, he reached into a nearby cubby and pulled out a box of condoms, setting them beside a pillow.

Sunny held out her hand, wiggling her fingers, and he pulled a package from the box and handed it to her. He held his breath as she slowly stroked his hard shaft. A low groan slipped from his throat, and he leaned back and braced himself on his elbows, his gaze fixed on her caress.

With a deft touch, she smoothed the latex over him, then crawled onto the bed, her legs straddling his hips. She couldn’t wait any longer, she craved that exquisite sensation of a man moving inside her.

Sunny closed her eyes as she slowly lowered herself on top of him. When he filled her completely, she let out a soft breath. There was nothing more perfect than this, she thought to herself. As his fingers splayed over her hips, she began to move. When Logan cupped her face in his hand, she turned into his touch and looked at him.

Their gazes locked, and Sunny watched as every reaction was reflected in his eyes. A smile curled the corners of his mouth, and she felt a tremor course through her, setting every nerve on edge. There was something about him, something sweet and warm and slightly vulnerable, that made it impossible to separate herself from the emotion bubbling up inside of her.

Another tremor assailed her body, but this time it wasn’t pleasure but fear. This connection wasn’t normal. She’d always been able to maintain a careful distance with the men she took as lovers. But for the first time in her life, she wanted to surrender everything, to let the walls fall and experience this man as if there were something more than just desire between them.

Logan pushed up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his lips to a spot just above her breast. Sunny could feel her heart pounding, and the sudden shift in position bought a fresh rush of desire.

She pulled him closer, her fingers tangled in his hair. The rhythm became like a pulse between them, driving them on, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge. It was nothing she’d ever experienced before, and she fought the instinct to stop and regain her composure.

Sunny didn’t realize it until she was teetering on the brink between pleasure and release. It usually didn’t happen this way, but when the first spasm hit her, she cried out. Logan held her close as he drove into her one last time. And then they both dissolved into their climaxes, the shudders and sighs blending until she felt as if they were one body and one mind.

When they were both completely spent, Logan pulled her down beside him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. They didn’t speak, just looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. There was something about this man that was different, something about him that touched her soul.

“I should go,” she murmured.

“You don’t have to. Stay. I’m not tired.”

She always left, she never stayed. And yet, the rules she’d set down for herself so long ago didn’t really matter now. It felt good to lie here with this man and to share something beyond the physical.

“Are you really going to sell your horse?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. I’m taking her to Perth.”

“That’s a long drive. At least a week on the road. Why not put her on a plane?”

Logan was silent for a long time. “I guess I needed the time to get used to the fact I have to sell her. Plus, I’m saving some money.”

“Maybe you should stay here for a few days and let me try to change your mind,” she said. “I’d take good care of her.”

He chuckled softly. “That’s an interesting proposition.”

“Is it one you’d consider?”

Logan reached out and smoothed a strand of hair from her eyes. “I can’t. I’m kind of pressed for time. And I’ve already spent the down payment. The sooner I get this over with, the better.”

“I can give you the down payment,” she said. “You can give it back to him. I have money, or my father does. And Ed can buy anything he likes. Anything I like.”

He shook his head. “That’s a lovely offer, but I made a deal. I can’t go back on it. And I really need to be on my way.” He paused. “I could always stop by on the return trip.”

She smiled and snuggled closer. “I suppose that will have to do.” Sunny closed her eyes and let her body relax. For the first time in weeks, she felt content. And for now, that was enough. As for what would happen in the morning, she’d deal with that when the sun came up.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.