Read BRAVE, Episode Three - the Color of Danger for Free Online

because it was Logan.
    Business proceeded around her, sights and sounds and scents emphasizing the real appeal of this place, with a clink of cutlery, a subdued thrum of conversation, a framework of classical music. She checked around her again —just in case— and tasted the sauce, then worked her way through the rest. Nirvana. She scooped up every morsel.
    Logan reappeared carrying a small white tray. Upon it sat a custard dish of dessert drizzled with a bit of glaze, powdered sugar, and fruit. The preparation. “Strawberry crème brulee, my lady.” The presentation. “Please enjoy.” The bow.
    “Logan!” she wailed her disappointment.
    He gave a hint of a grin, and a tiny salute. No explanation, just the disappearing act again.
    Chloe looked at what he’d served. Red. Favorite color—red. Why favorite? The color of passion. The color of intensity. The color of danger. No. No, she wouldn’t think of that now. She wouldn’t let David intrude.
    She was employing her spoon with enthusiasm and expertise when the familiar, free-and-easy man of her acquaintance reappeared, wearing his off-work uniform of jeans and tee. Smiling, he put down his full entrée plate and seated himself across from her.
    Chloe greeted him with delight. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re finally able to join me! Logan, this has been marvelous. Everything is delectable and I really made a pig of myself.”
    “Glad to hear it,” he said with smug satisfaction.
    “If you wanted to show me how talented you are, you’ve succeeded. Thank you so much—not only for the meal and the service, but for the night out. I’ve loved this whole experience.”
    He looked at her with his whole heart in his eyes. “That’s it, then. That’s all I hoped for.”
    “Oh, Logan,” she whispered. Who could resist a man like this? She touched the brawny wrist lying atop the stiff white tablecloth with reverence. “You are the most…”
    He put down his fork and regarded her in the ambient light. She straightened her semi-dressy leopard-print top (under which resided the sassy leopard-print lingerie) and smacked her lips – she’d glammed them up with her favorite red lipstick. He swallowed and said, “Yeah? Go on.”
    “…amazing, remarkable, awe-inspiring, outstanding, superlative..”
    “Hmmmph. You forgot attractive. And sexy. Damned sexy.”
    “…attractive, sexy, damned sexy… Now what’s this ‘my lady’ stuff?”
    Logan laughed loudly. “Oh, I dunno. It just seemed to fit in with the role. And I wanted to cook for you, Chloe. I wanted to show off a little, show you what I could do. Did you really like it?”
    “Logan. I loved it. And I lo —” No. Still too soon. Still too many problems to deal with. She bit off what she’d been about to say and replaced it with a question as to how he’d learned to cook.
    “Oh. Well.” He took a sip of water, mopped up the tasty Marsala sauce with a small chunk of bread, and considered. “That’s part of my life story you wanted to hear. I thought maybe we could get into that tonight.”
    “I’d be glad to listen. But,” she paused and glanced around at the contained activity, “don’t you have to get back to work?”
    “Work? Nope. Off tonight. Free just to sit here and let somebody else run things.”
    “But this?” The small sweep of her hand indicated the tabletop, and the remains of her dessert. “Oh. Logan. You came in tonight, just to do this for me?”
    “Well, sure,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?”
    Chloe struggled gulping down a lump in her throat the size of a Staten Island ferry. “Being you, Logan Farrow, of course you couldn’t do anything else. Now, let’s hear this life story of yours. I want to know all about you, from the time you appeared on this earth until a week ago when you rescued me from the streets.”
    Logan grinned. “Oh, hell, the streets were too high class. No, I picked you up right outa the