Stealing Gold (The Logan Series Book 4) by Sally Clements Read Free Book Online Page A

babe, that’s all.”
    “So
what are we going to do about it?” She crossed her arms, willing away hurt
feelings.
    “I
suggest we forget it. You have a job to do, and so do I. It was one kiss. One
lousy kiss. Don’t worry, I won’t be following it with a proposal.”
    *****
    Adam
sat on his grandmother’s rocking chair on the back deck of the cottage that
faced the sea, nursing a cup of coffee. He’d been rougher with Stacy than he
intended last night. He’d hurt her with that crack about not following his kiss
with a proposal. She’d turned her head away and stared into the darkness, and
after a while her body relaxed, her head rested against the door jamb, and her
breathing altered as sleep claimed her.
    Kissing
her had been stupid. Unavoidable, inevitable, but stupid. Now the specter of
that kiss danced between them, teasing them both with what once was, what could
have been.
    What should have been.
    He’d
woken her when they arrived at the cottage, accompanied her to the bedroom next
door to his, and left her. Knowing Stacy, she’d been asleep the moment her head
hit the pillow. He’d always envied her the ability to fall asleep anywhere,
anytime. She’d once said it was because she’d spent so much time on the road—that
she had to snatch sleep when she could.
    He
envied her that. Last night he’d prowled around the cottage for hours, unable
to settle. The cottage had always been small, but now it felt tiny, as though
the mere fact that she was within its walls changed it somehow. He imagined her
curled in the old four poster, lying on her left side with her hands folded
under her cheek. She’d always slept the same way, apart from the times when she’d
curled around him, her hand on his stomach, or on his…
    “Hey.”
    He
turned.
    She
stood in the doorway, looking at the sky and untroubled sea. “This is so
beautiful. Can I join you?”
    He
gestured at the empty chair next to his. “Sure.”
    She
wore an oversized T-shirt that brushed against her knees. Her legs were bare,
and she wore no makeup. Her hair was mussed in the morning way he remembered.
    “What
is this place?” She curled her legs up under her, completely at ease in his
presence. “I presumed it was somewhere you were renting, but there’s so much
personal stuff—it feels like a home rather than a rental.”
    “It
belonged to my grandmother. She died six months ago, and left it to me in her
will. She always wanted me to come back to Ireland. I think this was her way of
making sure that happened. I initially planned to sell it, but then the
opportunity to work with Sean on the film in Clifden came up, and so I decided
to relocate.”
    “You
said you sold your company?”
    “Yes.
The new owners wanted me to stay on, but I was ready to move on.”
    She
took a sip from the cup of coffee cradled between her palms. “If I owned this
cottage I don’t think I’d ever be able to bear selling it.” She gazed left and
right. “There doesn’t seem to be another house for miles.”
    “Not
quite miles, but far enough.” He grinned. “It’s basic. There’s no spa, no room
service, no chef.”
    “But
you’re going to cook for me, right?” Her eyebrow rose. “You do remember my
attempts at cooking?”
    “How
could I forget.”
    She
smiled. “I did try.”
    “You
did. And that steak wasn’t too bad—I like meat well-done. There are a few
restaurants in the area, and if we don’t want to go out we can make something
easy. You were pretty good at tuna sandwiches, from what I remember.”
    “I
like being here. I’ve lived most of the past year in hotels.”
    Her
eyes clouded, and something about the way she sat, quietly unmoving, had a hint
of loneliness about it. It was crazy, since she always travelled with her band,
a tight-knit, friendly group who always seemed to take good care of her. “I was
so looking forward to coming home. To not having to change out of my pj’s if I
didn’t want to. To just…” She cast him a