LOGAN (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 5) (28 page)

Brianne handed each woman her personal access key, saying, "I believe it would be wisest for everyone to get some rest and use this first day to get acquainted with your new environment. Tomorrow I will come by and show you the workroom we've prepared for you. As mentioned, I am the official liaison for the group and will be continuously available to provide assistance or guidance. But I will request one favor."

She handed Tarla a small red box with one black button on top. "I would prefer you be my primary contact. If everyone else would go through you, it would be much more efficient. And if I'm not present when you need me, just press this button and we'll be able to speak to each other."

As soon as Tarla agreed, they all bid each other good night and went their separate ways.

Tarla had avoided thinking too deeply about the new arrangements, but once the door to her apartment closed and she and Logan were alone in a relatively small space, she could no longer avoid it.

While she stood in the middle of the main room trying to decide how to begin, Logan went about rearranging the furnishings to create a bed for himself.

"We should probably talk about this," she said as he moved around her.

"Are you giving me permission to speak?" he asked without looking at her.

"Don't you dare pull an attitude with me! I didn't make the rules here."

"No, you didn't make them, but you have to abide by them, same as me. The way I figure it, our best bet is to follow their laws to the letter, even when we're in here alone. That way it becomes habit and we're less apt to make a mistake in public. I intend to give that order to all the men."

"
You
intend to give the order?" she asked with a challenging air. "The first habit you'd better adopt is that
you
don't give orders to anyone anymore."

He glared at her for several seconds then turned away. "You're absolutely right. From here on, you're the chief of this operation."

She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. As he walked past her to get another cube, she touched his arm to stop him. "Logan, please—"

"No touching," he said sharply, jerking away. "It's against the law."

Despite the fact that the excuse for his attitude sounded logical, Tarla knew he was purposely being more of an ass than necessary. She was positive he resented the role reversal and planned to take his bad mood out on her, even though he knew it wasn't her fault. Well, two could play that game.

"Fine," she said, sticking her nose up in the air. "As of right now, we are no longer Captain Tarla Yan and Sergeant Logan McKay of Earth.
I
am Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of Heart, and
you
are my lowly houseman." She snapped her fingers at him. "Run me a bath, turn down my bed and make me a cup of herbal tea to help me sleep."

Logan gnashed his teeth but he nodded and headed for the bathroom. Insisting they obey Heart's laws when they were alone had been the only thing he could think of to keep a rein on his sanity. The mere thought of her taking a bath and going to bed a few feet away from him made his skin itch.

As long as she abided by the arm's-length rule and remained annoyed with him, he figured he could hold the ache in his chest to a dull throbbing. If she insisted on touching him and being nice, there was no telling how long it would be before he was making a fool of himself again.

Tarla frowned as she followed him into the bedroom. The fact that the only access to the bathroom was through there would present problems between any two people who weren't naturally close. She and Logan were going to have to sit down and work things out very soon, but she was probably going to have to tweak his nose a few more times before he'd start being reasonable.

The bathroom was only one obstacle. They were facing as much as a year of cohabitation and it would go a lot easier if they didn't try to do it as enemies. They both needed to ignore their previous incidents of intimacy and behave like roommates who happen to be sharing living space through necessity. They didn't need to become best friends, but they did need to be able to get along with each other.

While he was in the bathroom, she inspected the contents of the clothes closet and bureau drawers. Brianne had said the apartments would be stocked with a few items. The key word had been
few
. There were four plain caftans hanging on the rack—two aqua and two pink. The pink were considerably wider and longer. She took out a smaller one and laid it on the bed. Most of the drawers were empty, but one had two pairs of large pink boxer shorts in it, and another had two sets of aqua chemises and tap-style underpants. Obviously, the first order of business upon awakening was going to be a shopping spree with the manager.

The scowl on Logan's face when he came out of the bathroom and she showed him the clothing selection was more explicit than a thousand curse words, but he still managed to hold his tongue.

"I'll have my tea while I bathe," she said in a regal tone, then went to keep an eye on the water level in the tub while he marched off to the kitchen. She was pleasantly surprised to discover that he had added perfumed bubbles to the water, set out a fluffy towel and washcloth, and formed a head rest with another towel rolled like a log. Perhaps having him as a personal servant wasn't going to be all that hard.

When he brought in her tea and set it on the ledge of the tub, she was firmly set in her queenly mode. "That will be all for now. But I'm sure I'll be famished when I wake up, so plan on preparing a full meal."

On his way out, he mumbled, "You sure you don't want me to scrub the scales off your back,
madam
?"

Tarla smiled. He couldn't possibly keep up the subservient act for long. She estimated that he'd either explode or be ready to negotiate a truce within twenty-four hours.

Chapter 15

A quarter of the time Tarla had set for Logan to detonate flew by while she slept more soundly than she had in a very long time. The unmistakable smell of sautéing onions and garlic seduced her out of a pleasant dream that dissolved without a trace of recollection.

She slipped out of bed, made a quick visit to the bathroom and put on the aqua caftan. Thinking Logan might need to use the bathroom while she was asleep, she had tried sleeping in the caftan for modesty's sake, but her legs had immediately gotten twisted in the yards of material. The satiny chemise and pants were not as prudish, but they were much more comfortable.

Following her nose, she found Logan at the stove with his back to her, stirring something in a frying pan. He was wearing only the loose-fitting slacks from the farm, obviously having decided against the pink caftan. The pants were hanging dangerously low on his hips and she had the most wicked urge to give them a yank the rest of the way.

There was probably some law in this culture against a man going shirtless, especially a man built like Logan. She thought it best not to mention it though, lest he think she was bothered by his display of muscles.

"Something smells wonderful," she said mainly to alert him to her presence. When he didn't turn around, she tried again. "I see you didn't waste any time learning your way around the kitchen." Still no response. "Logan! Do I really have to order you to talk to me?"

He turned to get a jar out of the cabinet and was momentarily surprised to see her standing in the doorway. Removing two small discs from his ears, he asked, "Did you say something?"

She came closer to look at the little circles of plastic he had set on the counter.

"They're sound remotes for the entertainment center. I was listening to the news." He went back to stirring a strange-looking green concoction in the pan.

"What are you making that smells so good?" She couldn't help but notice that each time she came near, he took a step away. He really was carrying this a bit too far, she thought.

"Breakfast. You requested a full meal but you weren't specific. I hope this will do. I think it's supposed to be like an omelet."

"You think?"

He almost smiled. "They don't eat eggs here, or animal meat either. They seem to be strict vegans."

"How did you figure that out?"

"I just did what any new houseman on the block would do. I went next door and met our neighbor."

"Logan, you didn't! We were told to limit our contact with the natives."

He shrugged. "It was a choice between asking one of those natives for help or starving to death. Don't worry. Vance, the houseman, was the only one home and he took pity on me. Showed me how to dig recipes out of the manager and gave me some basic instructions. You'd like him—Oh, I almost forgot. No fraternizing between sexes." He scooped the hot, fluffy mixture onto two plates and placed one on the table where there was already a glass of juice, napkin and flatware.

She sat down and waited for him to bring the other plate to the table. Instead he began eating at the counter. That's when she realized he had set only one place at the table. "This is ridiculous. Come over here and sit down."

"A man is not supposed to sit at the same table with—"

"Stop it!"

"—a woman." He ate another forkful of food.

"All right. But a houseman has to obey his mistress's orders, and I order you to sit here and eat with me... at every meal."

With exaggerated slowness he carried his breakfast to the opposite side of the table from where she was sitting.

"Now what are you doing?" she demanded.

"Practicing. Remember, we men are supposed to look drugged. That was the other reason I wanted to make friends with Vance. I'm studying him."

At least that made sense, she thought. "That reminds me, you don't have to worry about what you eat or drink here. Men are given their antidote in a concentrated dosage once a month." She took a taste of her food. "This is very good... whatever it is. Sort of a quiche-omelet-soufflé. It's hard to believe there are no eggs in it though."

As they both ate, she tried to keep her eyes downcast as he was doing, but her gaze kept creeping across the table. Again she was uncomfortably aware of how her familiarity with the male physique did not immunize her against the effect Logan's body had on her senses. "Did you, uh, spill something on your shirt?"

He glanced down at his chest, as though he'd forgotten it was bare. "No. I just hand washed it and it hasn't dried yet."

"You could have put on the pink caftan. I bet you'd be darling in it." She was satisfied to get a sneering glance from him. At least he'd looked her in the eye for a second. "We both need clothing. Let's go see what the manager has to offer."

When she tried to clear her place, he growled at her, so she left him alone to clean up the kitchen. Surely by the end of the day he'd stop being so unreasonable about strictly obeying the laws when they were alone. She would simply have to push a little harder to make him see the silliness of it.

While she waited for him to join her in the main room, she decided to let some sunlight in. As Brianne had instructed, she said, "Shutters open."

Instantly what had appeared to be a solid wall folded back, accordion-style, to reveal the city outside. Tarla had to touch the wall of clear glass to assure herself that a barrier was actually there. One side of the floor-to-ceiling window opened onto a balcony that ran the entire length of the apartment.

"
Logan!
Come here, quick!"

He was at her side on the balcony in a flash, the urgency in her voice overriding his intentions to keep his movements at a snail's pace.

"Look. There's still no second sun today. Why do you think that is?"

Relief that she was fine rushed through him. Fortunately, she was too intent on the view to notice his concern or relief. "I thought Geoffrey's idea about it being an orbiting moon sounded reasonable."

"Remind me to ask Brianne."

"Yes, ma'am."

She ignored his sarcastic tone and took a deep breath as she continued to admire the view of the city. "After the conditions on the farm, would you have ever thought this was on the other side of the wall? I thought it looked incredible at night, but now it's... it's... I can't even think of a good word. I hadn't realized how badly I missed home."

"Home? Since when did Baltimore ever look like this?" He wondered at the dot of dark pink that appeared on her cheekbones.