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without Lucas. Okay, so three kids, ten months apart—”
    “Whoa!” She slapped his shoulder and laughed. “I didn’t mean that close together.”
    “I guess we can figure all that out later.”
    Lizbeth cleared her throat and wiped away a rogue tear as the memory died a slow, painful death. At the time, neither of them knew Logan was already on his way to having those three kids with someone else.
    She refocused on the scene playing out before her as Mathew stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork, then leaned over and tapped it against the woman’s lips. She opened her mouth like a baby bird waiting for food from its mother, but rather than feeding the woman, he grinned and said something that made her blush and drop her head bashfully. Lizbeth had no way of knowing what he’d said, but the lopsided tilt of his mouth and the glimmer in his eyes told her he enjoyed this woman’s company, and he also liked teasing her. Much the way Logan had been with her.
    She ran her hand over her forehead and drew in a deep breath. Being here, in this crazy club, was torture. It brought up too many memories, and while she appreciate Lucas’s efforts to get her out of her hotel room, her heart couldn’t take any more. She took a step back from the window and turned toward the bar as a harsh exhale, like someone had been punched in the stomach, caught her attention and an all-too-familiar raspy voice said, “My God, Lizbeth… you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Chapter Four

    L izbeth threw her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream as she jumped back and crashed into the door of Mathew’s room. She cringed as the loud thud echoed through the hallway, but her concern over breaking the only rule that really mattered was eviscerated by the wave of shock crashing over her. When Lucas opened Kevin’s door at Christmas, she’d had to take a couple of seconds to discern which twin stood before her. But now, with both men standing side by side, there was no denying she stood less than five feet from Logan.
    Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head while muttering something about slow and easy assholes, but Logan stood statue still, blazing eyes locked on her.
    Everything about the men’s physical appearance was identical except for the length of their hair and the scars on Logan’s face. But their inner fire and spirits were very different, and Logan’s intense passion was the thing that always drew her to him like the proverbial moth to a flame. As he stared at her now, with a possessiveness similar to that of years ago, an invisible fist wrapped around her throat, constricting her air.
    She batted her eyes to blink away the flashing black spots, pressed her hand to her forehead, and gripped the casing of the door she was still plastered against. When Logan’s expression filled with concern—no doubt afraid she was about to go down like a wilting flower—she removed her hand from her forehead and threw it out like a crossing guard holding a bright-red stop sign.
    “No. I… I just need a minute to breathe.”
    She also needed a little space, so doing the only thing that seemed logical in the moment, she turned and practically ran to her new safe place. Catching Jason’s eye as she approached, she said, “I need a drink. I don’t care what it is as long as it’s strong.”
    He cut his eyes to the hallway, probably searching for whatever monster sent her running, then returned his attention to her, nodded, and set a prefilled shot glass on the bar. She stared at the red liquid, then looked at him questioningly.
    She couldn’t see a blush on his cheeks in the dim light, but he smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Master Lucas told me to have it ready for you.”
    Weakened with disbelief and exasperation, she flopped onto a barstool and muttered, “Bastard,” before tossing back the shot. She licked her lips as the warm cinnamon concoction slid down her throat, and her nerves scaled down