Logan has lived his dream of being an artist for hundreds of years. He’s painted some of the most beautiful women in the world, but none of them compare to Meghan Campbell. When they are paired up to go after the next jewel, resisting her becomes almost impossible, but he knows he must. The witch is hiding something and until he knows what that is, he cannot fully trust her.
A woman who can lure any man.
As a witch with siren abilities, Meg has never had a problem with the opposite sex. That is, until she met Logan. The irritating man seems to be the one person in the world who doesn’t succumb to her spell. Unfortunately, he is the one man she really wants. No matter how hard she tries, he resists her.
As they embark on their quest for the next jewel, tempers flare and passion ignites. But when a new layer of the curse is revealed, they discover their failure could put lives in danger. The two must work together to fight the rising power against them and hope that those who support the Clan survive the fight.
Logan rolled over trying to get comfortable in his bed, but he knew it was useless. His brain wouldn’t shut off. The trip ahead, not to mention his companion, had him antsy. He couldn’t seem to quit thinking about the way she had looked tonight, the way she had smiled at him, and the sound of her voice. He had been truthful when he said that he hadn’t been lured by it. But…now he couldn’t get it out of his head.
He slipped out of bed. After stretching the kinks out of his back, he pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and decided to have some tea and biscuits. As he made his way to the kitchen, he started to make a mental list of places he wanted to visit while they were in Paris. It had been a few years since he’d been there. He knew they were there for the quest, but there was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the art. It would be more convincing for their cover story. He might even take Meg to a place or two.
Thinking back to his last trip, he wondered if they had been there at the same time. The timing was pretty close so they would have to compare notes. There is one thing he knew without a doubt. If they had come into contact with each other, he would have remembered her.
It was hard to ignore Meghan. With the riot of honey brown curls that spilled down her back, those amazing whiskey brown eyes, and the curvy body she showcased proudly, most men took notice. But, there was another quality, something beneath the surface that he could not seem to comprehend. That is, if she wasn’t irritating him.
He shook his head as he stepped into the kitchen.
He was not alone.
Standing at the stove, dressed all in red, was Meg. There was only the light above the stove to light the room.
Logan watched her for a few seconds. She seemed so alone there, so quiet. Even in a silk robe that screamed seduction, there was a quietness about her Logan had never seen before.
He must have moved because she jumped and spilled some of the boiling water on her hand.
“Damn,” she said and dropped the kettle. It crashed against the burner, but he paid no attention to it as he rushed forward.
“Did you get burned?” he asked, as he grabbed her hand.
She tried to wiggle free of his hold. “Well, it was boiling water, so yeah.”
He slipped his hand up to her wrist and tugged her over to the sink. After turning on the cold water, he stuck her hand under it.
“I know how to take care of a burn. I am not an infant.”
He heard the annoyance in her voice, and it rubbed against him the wrong way. He did nothing but come down to the kitchen, and she acted as if he had done something horrible.
“Feel better?” he asked, but he said it from behind clenched teeth.
Logan noticed she didn’t say thank you. He turned off the water and handed her a towel.
“Mind sharing your water?”
She glanced back over to the pot, then offered him a small smile. “Since you tended my injury, I must be gracious.”
He chuckled. “Were you going to have some tea?”
She nodded. “Mine always sucks though.”
Logan snorted. “American.”
“Yes and proud of it.”
He grabbed some tea and measured it out for two cups.
“But you spend all your time here.”
She sighed. “I have a soft spot for Scotland. And Ireland, oh and Paris.”
The way she said Paris made him think that it made her sad. “But you’ve never been back to Paris since you lived there before.”
No other explanation. Of course not. The woman was filled with secrets, but then, he could not accuse her of that. His family was steeped in them.
“Is there any chance that Morin would have people looking for you?”
“No. Well, okay, maybe. I know he keeps someone on the apartment. Last time Rena was there she saw them.”
“And they’re still alive.”
She smiled. “Yes, I told her killing them would only cause me more problems, so she abstained. She was very sad though.”
The half-fae was definitely deadly.
“I know you don’t like me, Logan.”
“I don’t trust you.”
She sighed. “And you don’t trust, which I don’t blame you. You don’t know me.”
Logan didn’t like the sadness in her voice or the way it made him feel. There was something about it that resonated within his soul. He pushed those thoughts aside.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”
She stilled, then swallowed. When she spoke, she didn’t look at him. “So, you like me?”
Her southern accent deepened. It danced over his nerve endings, sunk into his soul. It did more to him than her singing the night before. Right now, he would fight dragons to the death to make her his.
She shook her head. “Never mind.”
He had been keeping the feelings at bay for weeks. It had taken a lot of his control not to act on the need he had for her. Now, in the dark kitchen, with the silent house around them, he couldn’t resist her. He stepped closer.
“More than is good for me,” he said.
She looked up at him, her mouth half opened. He could smell the spicy scent of her, the one he dreamed about. It lured him unlike anything else before. It was so quiet around them, the peaceful night cloaking them from the rest of the house.
“Then…” she broke off. He held back a groan as he watched her tongue dart out to lick her bottom lip.
“What?” Even he heard the arousal vibrating in his voice.
“Then why do you treat me the way you do? You always look at me as if I disgust you.”
He shook his head. “You doona disgust me. You tempt me when I shouldn’t be tempted. We have no time for being muddle-headed right now.”
“Aye, lass, but,” he said, as he slid his hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She fit him perfectly—too perfectly. “I’m tired of resisting.”
He damned them both as he bent his head and kissed her.
From an early age, USA Today Bestselling Author Melissa loved to read. First, it was the books her mother read to her including her two favorites, Winnie the Pooh and the Beatrix Potter books. She cut her preteen teeth on Trixie Belden and read and reviewed To Kill a Mockingbird in middle school. It wasn’t until she was in college that she tried to write her first stories, which were full of angst and pain, and really not that fun to read or write. After trying several different genres, she found romance in a Linda Howard book.
Since the publication of her first book in 2004, Melissa has had close to fifty romances published. She writes in genres from historical suspense to modern day erotic romance to futuristics and paranormals. Included in those releases is the bestselling Harmless series. In 2011, Melissa branched out into self-publishing with A Little Harmless Submission and the popular military spinoff, Infatuation: A Little Harmless Military Romance. Along the way she has garnered an epic nomination, a multitude of reviewer’s recommended reads, over five Capa nods from TRS, three nominations for AAD Bookies and regularly tops the best seller lists on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Since she spent her childhood as a military brat, Melissa swore never to marry military. But, as we all know, Fate has her way with mortals. She is married to now retired AF major and is raising her own brats, both human and canine. She spends her days giving in to her addiction to Twitter and spends her days thankful for their new home and the short trip to Wegmans.
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