“It doesn’t take me long.” His dark eyes blazed with something hot. “You did something different with your hair.”
“I don’t ever wear it down to work, but I’m out of options.” Without meeting his gaze, Veronica tossed her purse over her shoulder and snatched the bag with the favors. She made it into the heart of her living room, and caught sight of a tiny black velvet box situated in the center of her coffee table. “What’s that?”
Logan picked it up and spun it in his palm. “It’s not yours?”
Feeling the blood drain from her face, she shook her head. “Tell me you brought me a gift.” Though she knew from the look on his face that he didn’t.
“Stay here.” His jaw clenched tight. “Don’t move.”
He swept through her house, checking every room, slamming open doors.
The stalker had come in. When? While she was in the shower? No, that wasn’t possible because Logan had just been out there mowing the lawn. He would’ve seen something. Her hands shook when she realized it had to be last night…while she was sleeping. Someone had been in her house, had let himself right in. Had he watched her when she slept? Veronica’s body chilled at the thought.
“Nothing looks touched or disturbed,” Logan said. When had he returned to the living room? “I’m going to open it.”
His words were spoken in a fog. Veronica nodded, and watched as he yanked back the top of the box. His face twisted into a disgusted scowl.
“What is it?” Did she even want to know? “Logan?”
He swallowed hard and spun the box around so she could see. Two emerald earrings sat in the center of a silky white pillow. They were larger than any emeralds she’d ever seen on earrings, but they were surrounded by what looked like sticky pieces of dog hair.
“Is that—”
“Bloody wolf hair.” Logan’s voice was so low, he nearly growled the words. “Son of a bitch got into your house.”
She covered her mouth with her hand and began to back away from the box, from Logan. “The notes were creepy, and the blood and pictures, but this—he broke into my house!” Her voice cracked and she spun around, looking at her home in a completely different light. He’d been here. Watching her. Walking through her living room. God, he could’ve done anything in here. He could’ve helped himself to her food or slept on her couch. She shivered as her thoughts raced out of control. “But he didn’t break in—he walked in! I left my front door wide open! What am I going to do?”
Logan snapped the box closed and shoved it into his coat pocket. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen him. On edge. As though he was barely keeping a rein on his composure. “If he really wanted to hurt you, he would’ve done it last night. He would’ve hurt you while you were sleeping.”
She tugged at the ends of her hair, frantic for some sort of security. “And that’s supposed to help? How am I going to sleep here now?”
“He doesn’t want to hurt you,” Logan said almost to himself. His gaze was focused far off, and his words were clipped. Mumbled and harsh. “He wants you for himself. He wants to romance you into being his mate.”
“His
“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” Logan caught her by the arm and pulled her against him. He smelled good. Strong and fresh, with a musky, manly scent. It roused something inside her—the desire to lean her head against his chest and let him care for her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight from now on. You’ll stay with me if you have to.”
She buried her head in his chest and nodded.
“Okay, we’re going to lock up and go to the Sanchez reception. You’re going to call Heather and have her take care of the ceremony.” Logan stroked his hands over her back and rested his head on hers, soothing away her worries little by little. “After the wedding, we’ll figure out the safest place for you to stay, even if that means checking in to a hotel for a while.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe he was here.”
Logan’s body tightened. “Seems like he’s everywhere, and getting closer. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it happen again.”
Veronica didn’t know how he would keep his word, since the stalker seemed to be two steps ahead of him thus far, but she believed him. This time, when Logan held her against him and spoke tenderly against her hair, his words felt like an oath. A promise. The way a lover tells his partner that there’ll never be another.
Veronica wished he’d make those promises to her, too.
But as he’d said, time and again, it wasn’t meant to be…
Chapter Ten
Veronica stood near the back of the Nightshade hotel’s ballroom and took in the glitz and glamour that had become the Sanchez reception.
Ice-blue linens were draped over the tables, and large floral centerpieces were perfectly centered over the tops. Accenting ribbons were tied around each chair. The chandelier hung in the center of the dance floor and picked up the DJ’s lights, reflecting them into the room beautifully. Glittery swags of tulle swooped from the chandelier and into the corners of the ballroom.
It was reception perfection. Bridal orgasm.
Heather filled Veronica in on all the Sanchez wedding details. The ceremony went wonderfully, even without Veronica there to oversee every detail. The bride had cried during the vows, and hadn’t really looked like the crying type. Her dress was exquisite: strapless, floral petals decorating the bottom, a short train, and a long veil that brushed against her eyelashes when she looked up at her groom. And in her hands were flowers that spelled her groom’s name.
“This is the last one,” Logan said, striding from the hallway branching off the main hall. He’d been such a huge help with the last-minute details; she probably wouldn’t have been able to finish before the wedding party arrived if it hadn’t been for his willingness to assist wherever was needed. His hands were wrapped around an oversize crystal vase, and his head was buried in a gathering of bushy flowers. The only reason Veronica knew it was him was from the stimulating rumble in his voice. “Thanks for the help,” he added.
“It was my pleasure,” Susan Reinhart, the event planner for the hotel, said from behind him. She hadn’t left his side since they arrived at the hotel. Not that Veronica noticed or anything. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
As Logan set down the vase on a nearby table, he caught Veronica’s eye.
“How’s your sniffer?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Your nose,” she said, pointing to the flowers over his shoulder. “How are your allergies holding up?”
“I’m good to go.” Logan patted his coat pocket—the one opposite where the stalker’s box was placed. God, her thoughts swarmed around that box. “Non-drowsy Benadryl.”
As the DJ played a John Mellencamp song, Veronica forced the thoughts of the stalker behind her and backed away to get an overall vision of the room. It was precisely how it should’ve been. Workers were moving around the room at a much slower and more controlled pace, putting final touches on the flowers and lighting candles in the center of the tables. The tulle arrangement centered over the dance floor was to die for. Logan had scaled the ladder and balanced on the top rung no problem—as if he was used to the height and had hung decorations sky-high a dozen times before.
He folded his arms over his chest and bumped against her. “So what do you think?”
“I think we did a damn fine job under the circumstances. It’s all we can—hey, excuse me!” she shouted, as a group of rugged-looking men walked in from a side door leading to the lobby. They weren’t wedding guests—she
