Free Crazy for Her by Sandra Owens Page A

hours. Laughter bubbled up and escaped.
    Logan reached back and squeezed her knee. “Having fun?” he yelled over the roar of the bike and wind.
    Yes. Yes, she was having fun. She nodded, bumped his helmet with hers, and realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes!”
    He gave her knee one more squeeze, then put his hand back on the handlebar. At the next curve, she leaned with him, growing more confident and no longer resisting by trying to keep her body upright.
    “There you go, you got it now,” he said.
    Dani grinned big and wide. She was a certified biker chick.
    Logan slowed the bike and pointed. A mother deer and her spotted fawn stood at the edge of the tree line staring back at them. Could this day get any better?

    Her happiness with the day had been stolen. The pan-fried trout Dani had thought delicious an hour ago now set heavy in her stomach. After lunch, they’d sat in the rocking chairs on the deck behind the Pisgah Inn, at five-thousand-feet elevation, sipping coffee and marveling over the view of the vista spread before them. From the moment she’d thrown a leg over the bike and wrapped her arms around Logan’s waist, the day had been perfect.
    Now it wasn’t.
    Logan stared at the motorcycle, his hands fisted at his sides. Dani looked away from the two slashed tires and surveyed the parking lot. Her stalker was there, or had been. He must have followed them, must have watched them go into the restaurant. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a shiver passing through her.
    Logan pulled her next to him. “He’s gone now.”
    She willingly went. “How can you be sure?”
    “He wouldn’t stay after doing this, wouldn’t risk getting caught.” Logan did his own survey of the area, and her gaze followed his.
    No menacing black trucks in sight, but what if he had a different truck or car? Something they weren’t aware of? She glanced at Logan. His eyes had the cold, deadly look of one aching to get his hands on the man who dared to do this to his bike.
    “So, what now?” she asked.
    “I’ll call the Harley shop and arrange for my bike to get picked up. Call your friends and see if they can come get us.” He unzipped his jacket and pulled out his cell phone.
    She caught a glimpse of the handle of his gun, a grim reminder of his reason for being here and something she’d wanted to put aside for a few hours. Not a wise thing to do for many reasons. As soon as this was over, he would go back to his life. A pain arrowed its way through her heart. She would miss him. Better to stop this deepening affection before it grew into something unmanageable.
    Unzipping one of the leather jacket’s pockets, she removed her cell and punched in Jared’s number. Scott answered, and after she finished talking to him, she waited for Logan to finish his conversation.
    “Why do you think he slashed your tires?” she asked after he ended his call.
    “He wants you, and I’m in the way. The question is, why? Why does he refer to you as his wife?”
    “I. Am. Not. His. Wife. He’s not Evan.”
    Logan reached out an arm, then pulled it back and slid both hands into his back pockets. He seemed focused on her ear, as if he didn’t want to meet her gaze. His eyes had the look of a brooding man, a man who perhaps regretted his offer of help.
    She was half-tempted to send him home and deal with her stalker herself. She would have, too, if she wasn’t frightened out of her mind, not just for her safety, but more important, that of her daughter’s.
    No more wishing he would kiss her again. It would be best to consider his presence strictly business. He was here to do a job, and when it was successfully completed, he would return to his life with the magnificent Maria. Or perhaps the ice princess, Suzanne. Whichever, it wouldn’t be Dani Prescott.
    Suddenly, his gaze left her ear and focused on her, so intently that she grew uncomfortable under his stare. Why was he looking at her as if she were someone he’d never seen