Author's Note: I'm sorry this took so long to get posted. On top of ff.net being down for weeks, it was a multitude of crap going on in the real world that had to be dealt with, and as a result, the fic suffered. C'est la vie, I guess. As always, thanks to my betas. Without you two, this fic wouldn't be nearly as much fun.
Meg : Thanks for taking the time to give me your quick
comments and first impressions, especially since you have other stuff
overwhelming you right now. Keep your chin
up and try not to let everything get to you.
Heather: I can't say how much I enjoy
getting an edited chapter back from you. If I could get away with leaving your comments in, this fic would be
really strange, but hilarious. Thanks
for our wonderful (long!) conversations and your fresh perspective on just
about everything (with or without the soapbox).
~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter
6 – St. Pat's
Logan sighed
deeply and smiled to himself as a pair of hands kneaded the sore muscles in his
shoulders. "Mmmmm, that feels
wonderful."
The fire in
front of him merrily crackled and popped as he sank further into her
embrace. He could feel her snuggle up
next to him on the loveseat they shared. Absently, he slid one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"You were
wonderful up there on stage," she said, one finger idly stroking along his jaw.
He caught her
hand and kissed the palm, pleased at her sharp intake of breath. A groan escaped his lips as she leaned in
and kissed him just under his ear, and began to slowly work her way towards his
mouth.
"You should've
been an actor instead of an author, Cale," she whispered.
Logan smiled
as she kissed the corner of his mouth, then froze as her words sank in. Cale? Why'd Max call me 'Cale'? I'm
not an author. I'm a journalist.
With a gasp,
Logan sat up in his bed, one hand fumbling for the small light that sat on the
nightstand. As the dim glow slowly
pushed back the darkness, he looked at the woman reclined against him. It wasn't Max, it was Crystal. Quickly, he released her and pushed himself
away. A glance at the clock told him
that it was a little after six in the morning. It was a dream. It was all a
dream.
"Where's Ma-
Nicole?" Logan asked. "What are you
doing here, in my bedroom?"
Crystal slowly
pushed herself up from her sprawled position on his bed. "Your little assistant has been leaving your
cabin every morning at about five a.m., only to return a couple of hours
later. It's my guess that she's hooked
up with Alan and has been …visiting him… all this week. As for what I'm doing here, I think you can
figure that part out." She smiled
seductively at him and slowly lay back on the bed, her gaze boring into his
Logan's mind
raced at the implication of Crystal's words. Just the fact that Max hadn't stormed into his room and bodily thrown
Crystal out gave proof to the other woman's claim that Max was not in the cabin
at all. As to where she actually was,
Logan hadn't the faintest idea. Max
wouldn't do that, would she? I mean, I
know I don't have any claims on her, but she wouldn't see someone behind my
back. She knows I'm interested in her,
right? She gave me a hickey yesterday,
for godssake. That has to mean that
there's something between us. Sure,
neither one of us has actually come out and said anything, but we've been in
enough situations where we've come close enough that-
"Cale, don't
worry about her," Crystal's voice cut through his mental rambling. "If she were interested in you, she wouldn't
be disappearing every morning without telling you, would she?" Crystal smiled to herself as Logan closed
his eyes and sighed deeply. She could
see that she had scored a direct hit; now all she had to do was give him one
more shove. "Alan's been interested in
her since the day she arrived, and she hasn't exactly been pushing him away,
has she?"
Logan didn't
look at her. His mind was a cloud of
whirling thoughts and suspicions. "I think you should leave now," he said
quietly, his words measured.
Crystal
studied him for a moment. "All right,
I'll leave. But keep in mind what I
said, Cale. I'm sure you'll see the
truth of my words soon enough." She
paused. "And you know where to find
me." Crystal slowly pushed herself into
a sitting position and stood up. She
reached out and caressed Logan's cheek. "I'll see you later."
Logan rubbed
his eyes as Crystal left his room. He
sighed deeply to himself as he heard the front door open and close again,
signaling her exit. The clock showed
him that it was six-fifteen; forty-five minutes before he usually got up. With another sigh, he shut off the alarm and
donned his sweatpants and a robe. Might as well get the coffee started, he thought to himself as he
made his way to the kitchen. He didn't
want to think about Crystal's words. He
was sure that there was a perfectly good reason why Max was out. He knew she only slept a few hours each
night, so it made sense that she would be up and about this early in the
morning. Once the coffee had been
started, Logan turned to head back towards his room. As he passed through the living room, he looked out the front
window. The sight stopped him dead in
his tracks. Highlighted by a street
lamp, Max stood in the road, talking to someone. Logan inched closer to the window and peered out into the
darkness, trying to identify the other figure.
Alan. She was standing
there talking to Alan. 'It's my guess that she's hooked up with Alan and has
been …visiting him… all this week' Crystal's words came back to him in a
rush. Dazed, Logan sank down into the
loveseat, his thoughts spiraling down an ever-darkening tunnel as anger at
Max's apparent betrayal started to fester.
Max opened the
door to the cabin quietly, unaware of Logan's presence in the living room. An unfamiliar smell teased her senses, but
was quickly overpowered by the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. She absently dismissed the first odor when
she noticed Logan sitting motionless on the loveseat. She smiled at him, even though she knew he couldn't see her
expression in the darkness. "Hey, I
wasn't expecting you to be up for a while."
"Couldn't
sleep," was his terse reply.
Max frowned
slightly, immediately aware of the flat tone of his voice, but unsure as to its
cause. "Been up long?"
"Since about
six."
"Wish I
would've known. You could have come on
my morning jog with me."
"Is that where
you were?" he asked, finally glancing in her direction, his gaze impassive.
Max slowly
made her way to the loveseat and perched on the edge, facing him. She could feel his anger, but couldn't, for
the life of her, figure out where it was coming from. What did it have to do with her early morning forays? "Yeah, that's where I was. That and the gym," she replied.
"Really," he
said sarcastically. He was openly glaring at her now.
"Yes, really,"
she repeated. "What's the matter with
you, Logan?"
"I'm just
trying to figure out why you're out jogging in the middle of the night."
"I
wasn't. I was jogging in the very early
morning."
"Right. For over an hour and a half? What else have you been doing besides
jogging, Max?" The words were dripping
with suspicion as he eyed her accusingly.
Max could feel her own anger rising to the
surface. "I already told you," she
replied icily. "I was working out at
the gym."
"Oh, is that
what it's called?" he asked.
"What the hell
are you hinting at, Logan? Is there
something else you think I was doing?" Her voice had dropped to a dangerous
pitch as she glared crossly at him.
He matched her
angry stare with his own. "Why don't
you tell me. You're the one who's been sneaking around."
"I have not
been 'sneaking around', as you call it. And besides, who the hell do you think you are to demand an accounting
of my actives?"
"Something
I've been questioning for the last half hour while you were out doing whatever
the hell it is that you've been doing every morning," Logan replied. His voice was filled with a rage that easily
matched the coldness of his eyes.
"Last time I
checked, I wasn't required to ask your permission to do anything. I didn't even do that for Zack, and he was
my c.o."
"Well, maybe
that's one of the reasons he considers you to be unreliable."
Max slowly got
to her feet. She was nearly shaking
with a cold fury as she glared at the man sitting in front of her. It took everything in her
genetically-enhanced power to keep from sending him flying across the
room. "Go to hell, Logan," she
spat. Turning on her heel, she stormed
up the stairs and down the hall to her room.
"We're
supposed to meet Davis at eight-thirty for breakfast," he called after her,
knowing that she would hear him. His only
response was the slamming of her bedroom door. Scowling to himself, Logan returned to his room to get ready for the
day.
*******
"Well,
apparently no one had bothered to tell this poor guy how to do a stage kiss, so
when he goes to kiss his leading lady, it's obvious to everyone backstage that
he's giving her a tonsillectomy," Davis paused to take a sip of coffee. He studied the couple sitting with him at
the small round table. He hadn't missed
the fact that they had barely spoken two words to each other throughout the
entire breakfast, nor the way that they intentionally avoided even looking at
each other. Max, at least, was
attempting to be social to Davis, but she was coldly ignoring Logan with a practiced
ease.
Damn, I
can't even tease them about Logan's hickey, he thought. You'd think that
after yesterday, they'd be finally over this 'just friends' bullshit, but now
it looks like we're back at square one.
He
frowned at Logan, who was methodically pulverizing his barely touched breakfast
with a fork, then turned his attention to Max. She, at least, hadn't let her semi-bad mood stand in the way of her
meal. As he watched her, she mopped up
the last of her egg yolk with a corner of her toast and popped it into her
mouth. She glanced up at him, waiting
for him to finish the rest of his story. Davis sighed to himself quietly and picked up the tale from where he had
left off.
"Now Amanda
has been doing theatre ever since she was a child," he continued. "And she has an incredible sense of
humor. So instead of getting angry and
biting his tongue or something, she starts to blow air into his mouth as he's
kissing her."
"From where I was standing in the wings, I could see his cheeks puffing in and out like a blowfish. He started laughing to the point where his shoulders were shaking and, without missing a beat, Amanda released him and immediately launched into her next line. He wasn't able to look directly at her until after the intermission."
Max chuckled
appreciatively as Davis finished his story, but it was without her usual
vitality. She took a long swig of her
milk and leaned slightly forward on the table. Her attention was focused on Davis, effectively cutting Logan out of the
conversation.
"So, are you
free today, or are you going to be stuck in the theatre?" she asked.
Davis glanced
over at Logan, wondering what had caused such a schism between the couple, then
turned his attention back to Max. "I'm
actually free. I'd noticed that there
was going to be a parade through town today, so I was wondering if you two
would be interested in going."
Max was
nodding her head as Davis spoke. "I saw
the posters. I was going to ask you the
same thing. The parade starts at one,
so maybe we could meet for lunch somewhere in town first, then find one of
those Celtic bars I keep hearing about, and go there after the parade." She glanced briefly at Logan, but her eyes
lacked their usual warmth as she regarded him.
Knowing that
an answer was expected of him as well, Logan looked up from his mangled
breakfast. "Actually, I have some work
to do, so don't bother to include me in your plans today." He didn't look at Max as he spoke, but he
could feel her tense up as her anger returned.
Max's eyes
narrowed as she glared at him. "We
wouldn't dream of it." The words dropped coldly from her lips. She turned to Davis. "Thank you very much for breakfast,
Davis. I'll be at your cabin at about a
quarter 'till twelve and we can ride into town together. Gotta blaze." She spared a single, withering glance at Logan, then turned on
her heel and walked out of the small café. Logan smiled grimly to himself as he heard her leave.
"All right,
what the hell's going on between you two? Davis asked exasperatedly
"What are you, my mother?"
"No, I'm one
of your oldest friends. One that
doesn't want to see you throw away a good thing."
Logan
snorted. "Yeah, right. A good thing. It's such a good thing, that she's been going out every morning,
to who knows where, then coming back right before I wake up."
"Did you ask
her why she'd been going out each morning?"
"She said that
she's been going jogging and to the gym, but I saw her standing on the street
talking to Alan this morning."
"So you
automatically assumed the worst." Davis
shook his head in amazement. "Cale, it is
entirely possible that she just ran into him."
"Uh-huh. You don't just happen to 'run into' someone
at six-thirty in the morning. Crystal
told me that she's been 'visiting' Alan all week."
Davis sat back
in his chair and looked at his friend, as the picture immediately became
clear. "You know, for a really
intelligent man, sometimes you can be a complete idiot. Let me tell you about Alan and Crystal. Alan is one of the best, most reliable,
actors it's ever been my pleasure to work with. He's a very good-looking young man and he knows it. He's a flirt. But he isn't stupid or blind. Even though you and Max have been playing your little 'secret identity,
we're just friends' game, he was the first one to ask me why you two are
pretending that you're not involved with each other. Alan will probably continue to flirt with Max until you both
leave, but I can guarantee that he would never take it beyond that."
"Crystal, on
the other hand, started making a play for you the minute you arrived. She is a talented actress. Unfortunately, one of her biggest talents is
her ability to sleep her way into roles. Amazingly enough, she didn't sleep her way into this one, but that's not
the point I'm trying to make. Crystal
is also aware of the attraction between you and Max, but she isn't going to let
it stand in her way of getting into your bed."
"Now, given
that you've known Max for a bit longer than Crystal, which would you be more
inclined to trust?"
"Max," Logan
answered, without hesitation. "But that
doesn't change the fact that I saw her on the street talking to Alan this
morning."
"No, it
doesn't. So why don't you ask her about
it instead of acting like such an ass? You're a journalist, Cale. You
need to verify your facts before making any conclusions." Davis stood up and dropped enough money on
the table to cover their breakfast and a generous tip for the waitress. "One more thing to think about, Logan. Alan wasn't released from the hospital until
Wednesday afternoon. Kinda pokes a few
holes in Crystal's story about Max visiting him every morning, doesn't it?" Davis nodded to his friend and walked out of
the café, leaving Logan with an entirely new set of thoughts to consider.
*******
The crowd
roared its appreciation as yet another bagpipe band strutted their way down the
thoroughfare. Max cheered along with the
rest of the parade-goers, nearly upsetting the green beer that Davis was trying
to press into her hands. Since it was
St. Patrick's Day, Max had dressed accordingly. She was wearing a soft emerald-green sweater that gave her dusky
skin a warm glow. Black boots with gold
tips peeked out from under the cuffs of a pair of black jeans. A black belt, also tipped with gold and
obviously a match to the boots, encircled her small waist. As she absently took the beer from Davis,
she motioned towards the band with her free hand. "What are they doing with their sticks?" Max shouted the question
in Davis' ear, hoping that he could hear her above the noise of the crowd.
"They're tenor
drummers," he shouted back. "They are
the flashy part of the band. The sticks
are called 'mallets' and are on a string that the drummer holds on to. They twirl the mallets as they play and
their rhythm compliments what the snare and bass drummers are playing." Davis motioned towards the other drummers as
he spoke. "Since we're next to the
reviewing stand, they'll probably stop and play for a bit, so we might get to
see more."
Max grinned in
delight as she watched the front line of the band do a u-turn and march back
between the ranks that followed them. As each line turned, they started to form a large circle, leaving the
bass drummer and the two tenor drummers in the middle. The group finished their tune to loud
applause and cheering. The head bagpipe
guy, the "Pipe Major" Davis had called him, shouted out instructions to his
band and, after a loud beat from the bass, led them into another fast-paced
tune. Max was enthralled at the speed
that the pipers' fingers flew over the wooden chanter and equally amazed at the
precision of the snare drummers. The
two girls playing tenor were facing each other, their actions perfectly
mirrored as they whipped their mallets through the air in perfect counterpoint
to the bass. The cheering redoubled in
intensity as the tune suddenly became "Scotland the Brave", the band formed up
ranks again, and then began to march away.
Max finally
noticed that she was holding a beer and took a drink. "I've never seen a bagpipe band before," she informed Davis as
they strolled to a relatively quieter area, leaving the boisterous crowd and
parade behind them.
"Never?" Davis
was incredulous. "What, do you lock
yourself away every St. Pats or something?"
Max
laughed. "No, I just… I don't
know. I just have never had the
opportunity, I guess."
Davis grinned
at her. "If you ever have the chance to
meet Cale's brother, make sure to have him play his pipes for you."
A brief frown
flickered across her face at the mention of Logan's name, almost too quickly to
notice. "Uh… Gideon?" Max asked.
Davis
nodded. "Yeah. He and Cale were part of a two man band for
a long time." He snorted in
remembrance. "It was the only way a
stranger could tell them apart, actually. Gideon played the pipes and Logan played snare."
Max's jaw
dropped in surprise, all anger momentarily forgotten. "Logan plays the snare drum?"
"Actually, I
think he can play just about any percussion instrument there is. He also plays the guitar, writes music, and
sings. He's a man of many hidden
talents, our Cale is."
Max looked
down into her green beer. "I guess I
wouldn't know," she said so softly that Davis barely heard her. Her eyes flashed angrily as she looked back
up at him. "The only talent I've seen
lately is his ability to make groundless assumptions and accusations." Her voice caught in her throat as she
chuckled humorlessly. "With the
exception of the dress, I thought he knew that I've curbed my nocturnal
activities."
Davis raised a
single eyebrow at her. "Nocturnal
activities? Is this something I should
be hearing?"
A slight smile crossed her face. "It, uh, has to do with the way Logan and I
met," she started.
"I really
don't think I want to hear this."
Max's eyes
widened as she realized what Davis was thinking. "No! No, nothing like
that!" Max blushed. "I was … I was attempting to relieve him of
a piece of art that he owned."
"He said that
he had a statue that you-" Davis broke off his sentence as a delighted smile
split his features. "You were trying to
rob him, weren't you?"
"I was trying
to procure an item that he had no use for." Max corrected him. "And I had a use for the money it would
bring me."
"But you left
without it."
Max
nodded. "Yeah, Logan caught me, but I
escaped. He managed to track me
down. Made me dinner and a business
offer. We've been working together ever
since." She swirled her beer around in
her cup, absently watching the foam rings that were formed slide back into the
liquid. "Once we started working
together, though, I started to curtail my independent jaunts. I was usually too busy doing something for
him to have the time to do a professional job." Or what I was doing for him was the professional job, she
silently added. "He knows that the last
article I acquired was the dress I wore to his cousin's wedding…" Max trailed
off as she continued to gaze into her drink.
Davis
sighed. He knew he shouldn't get in the
middle of their disagreement, but even though he had known her less than a
week, he considered Max to be a friend. And God knew there were enough times that Kelli had gone to Logan in the
hope that Logan would knock some sense into him. He owed Max his help, even though she didn't
know it. He briefly considered the best
place to start. Nothing like
beginning at the beginning, he reasoned. "From what I was able to get out of him earlier, he's upset about your
morning excursions."
Max nodded. "That much I knew. But when he asked, I told him what I've been doing. I leave the cabin at about five a.m., jog to the gym that's just down the road, work out there for about an hour or so, then jog back to the cabin in time for him to wake up." She snorted. "I told him that," she repeated. "Not," she continued, "that it's any of his business in the first place."
Davis sighed. "Part of being in a relationship means sharing your private time with each other, even if it is nothing more than telling him what you've been doing."
Max shook her head. "But we're not in a relationship."
Davis crossed his arms and gave her a look. "Uh-huh."
"He's just never gone so control-freakish on me before," she continued, ignoring Davis' response.
"But I'm guessing that you've never been together twenty-four hours a day for nearly a week, either."
"True." Max frowned. "But he accused me of lying about what I'd been doing. Not outright, but he's nothing if not a master of implying more than he's actually saying."
"He saw you
outside with Alan." Davis offered her
another piece of the puzzle.
Max
shrugged. "I ran into him as I was
heading back-" She broke off suddenly
as she looked at Davis, realization dawning in her eyes. "Logan and I weren't talking about the same
kind of nocturnal activities, were we?" Her eyes narrowed as Davis nodded. "He saw Alan and I together, so he immediately assumed …." Max trailed
off. "Of all the insufferable,
arrogant, stupid… He's a dead man. I'm gonna kill him."
"What was Alan
doing in front of your cabin at six-thirty in the morning?" Davis asked.
Still intent on
planning Logan's demise, Max answered him absently. "He was on the way back to his cabin. Apparently, his ribs don't hurt so much that he wasn't able to
warm Leslie's bed last night."
Davis chuckled
softly at the unexpected news. "I had
wondered why Leslie volunteered to take care of him when he was released from
the hospital," he muttered to himself.
Max shook her
head and looked up at the man who was so like Logan, yet so different. "I still don't understand, though. I thought he knew me well enough to know
that I wouldn't cheat- That I wouldn't
lie to him."
Davis smiled
slightly as he heard Max correct herself; switching quickly to slightly safer
semantics. For an instant, he debated
as to what to say next, then decided to answer the statement she hadn't
made. "Well, sometimes when a man's in
love, he does really stupid things."
Max started at
his words. She stared down into her
beer and laughed nervously. "Yeah,
right."
"I may joke about a lot of things, but I'm perfectly serious about this. You two can dance around the truth all you want, but that won't make it go away."
Max crossed
her arms and stared out at the parade that was still going by as she considered
his words. "He owes me one helluva good
apology," she stated absently. She
turned her attention back to Davis and took a swig of her beer. "Well, I'm not going to let him ruin my
day. If he wants to sit in the cabin
and sulk about things that are only true in his head, that's his problem. He'll just have to find me to apologize."
"Thata girl!"
Davis grinned at her. She reminded him
so much of his own wife, Kelli; full of spit and fire and stubborn as all get
out. It was like reliving his own
courtship, although much more amusing. She was a good match for Cale. Now that he knew the whole story, Davis had faith that he could pound
the truth into Logan's stubborn head. Hopefully, he would get to Logan before Max did, because he had a
sneaking suspicion that she would do the same truth-pounding … only literally.
*******
The play was
going well, despite the fact that Logan had stumbled slightly over his first
line. Max had been correct, though; no
one in the audience had noticed the error. The knowledge was encouraging, and Logan found that the play began to
flow even easier once he had gotten over his initial stage fright.
It was obvious
that the audience was caught up in the spell woven by Logan and Crystal. Laughs of pleasure and gasps of shock all
fell at their predefined moments, giving the play an extra intensity that had
been missing at the rehearsals. When
Logan had questioned it during the intermission, Davis had told him that it was
a normal phenomenon; a live audience was always going to add an extra
dimension, no matter how many times the actors had already performed the show.
Logan had
taken a moment to peek out the backstage door during the intermission and was
astounded at the number of people that filled the auditorium. He had become used to it being nearly empty
during rehearsals, but now it looked like one immense living being. Jewels winked in the muted lighting,
accenting almost all the colorful gowns worn by the women and some of the
darker suits worn by the men. Logan
hadn't seen such a display of wealth since the last gala he had attended as a
representative of Cale Industries. And
the noise! It was a low rumble, pierced
by occasional laughter, which ebbed and swelled as the people moved between the
auditorium and the lobby. It was a
heady feeling, knowing that all these people had come to see his play brought
to life.
The only disappointment to the entire evening was that Max
hadn't shown up. He couldn't blame her,
really, not after the way they had fought. He had considered Davis' words to him at breakfast earlier and had fully
intended to ask Max why he had seen her with Alan, but when he caught up with
her later that day, she was in his company. Granted, Leslie and several of the other actors were with them as
well, but it seemed to Logan that her hand lingered a little too long on Alan's
when he handed her a drink and that she inclined her head a little too close to
Alan's when he spoke. Jealously and
anger clawed at Logan's heart as he watched her and he left without speaking a
single word.
Now, as he stood on the stage sweating
slightly under the hot lights, he looked at Crystal as she pressed her back
against the rough wooden wall of the alcove that sheltered them both. He hadn't seen her since she tried to climb
into his bed earlier, but all traces of the seductive temptress had vanished
the minute she walked onto the stage as Jessica. He had to admit, she was putting on a superb show. Her Jessica had turned out to be strong
enough to make one believe that she was a cold-hearted soldier yet, at the same
time, sensitive enough to bring out the passionate woman behind the mask. They were nearing the culmination of the
play, and the tension in the theatre was almost palatable.
Logan glanced
up as voices shouted right outside of their hiding place.
"Michael!"
Crystal looked up at him as her shoulders started to visibly shake.
Logan looked
down at her and paled. "Oh, God, Jess,
don't go into arrest. Not now!" he
pleaded with her.
In response,
Crystal slumped back, her head lolling to one side. Logan pulled her close, rocking her back and forth slowly, as his
shoulders shook with his quiet sobbing.
On the other
side of the building, one of the soldiers opened the door and quickly stepped
back as a foul odor flooded over him.
"Damn. No one could hide in there," he said as he
covered his nose with his free hand.
"Search it,
anyway," the officer in charge instructed.
"Yes, Sir,"
the guard responded.
Slowly, he and
the other flashligted guard crept in, shining their lights all over the
interior of the building. The moved
around methodically and carefully, coming closer and closer to the small alcove
that Logan and Crystal hid in. One of
the guards passed his light directly over Logan's head, but didn't send up a
shout that they had been found.
Finally, the
first guard nudged the second. "C'mon. They aren't here. And if I have to stay much longer, I may
lose my dinner because of this stench."
The second
guard nodded and together, they left the building.
Just before he
started to say his final lines, Logan glanced up and into the wings. There, veiled in the shadowy recess of the
stage, stood Max. Her expression was
stoic as she watched him clasp Crystal tightly to his body. A sudden anger bubbled up within Logan once
more as he watched Alan appear behind Max. Tearing his gaze away, Logan looked down at the woman in his arms. His eyes filled with a fierce determination
as he slowly bent his head towards her. His mind was whirling with thoughts of hurting Max as much as she'd hurt
him. As he pressed his mouth to
Crystal's, he traced her lips with his tongue. He felt her mouth open beneath his with a soft sigh. Reaching up with his free hand, he brushed
her soft, strawberry blond curls away from her face as he thrust his tongue
into the warm recesses of her mouth. She responded by leaning into him, allowing him to deepen the kiss even
farther. After several long moments,
Logan broke the kiss and glanced up at Max. It had worked. She was still
watching him, but now her expression was one of heartwrenching sadness. The pain in her eyes tore at him, driving
out all previous thoughts of anger and jealousy. Helplessly, he could only watch as she turned away and slipped
into the darkness and somehow, he was certain, out of his life forever. "Max, no!" he whispered to himself. Frantic, he started to get up, but Crystal
held on to him tightly.
"She's not
worth it," she whispered fiercely.
"No!" He shook
his head in denial, wishing he could take it all back. "MAX! NO!"
With a start,
Logan sat upright on the couch where he had fallen asleep. His heart was pounding in his chest with the
aftereffect of the powerful dream. Shakily, he swung his feet to the floor and rested his head in his
hands. God, I've been such an ass. I have no reason to doubt her. I didn't even ask her about Alan. I just assumed the worst and it went
downhill from there. I've got to
apologize to her. God, I hope she'll
forgive me. Unsteadily, Logan
reached for his cane and levered himself to his feet. The specifics of the nightmare were beginning to fade from his
mind, but the sense of urgency that the dream imparted was enough to push him
quickly out the door and on his way to find the woman who had stolen his heart.
~*~*~*~*~*~
