Written in Scars(2)

He leaned one arm against the pane and quietly took it in. There was an influx of traffic in and out of the city, as people left work and headed home, while others came inwards to enjoy the theatres, cinemas, restaurants and bars Newcastle was famous for. He’d been guilty in the past of saying one big city was much like any other. He knew that wasn’t true. Each place had its own spirit. Newcastle especially so. He had a fondness for this city. Growing up in Durham, Newcastle was the top destination when it came to family days out, or shopping trips. And for a while, in his late teens, the night-life was a major draw. Not so much now. At thirty-nine, Logan’s nightclubbing days were all behind him. A good thing too.

His quiet musing was interrupted by voices from the hall. He turned as Amy lead another two guests into the green room. A man in his fifties and a younger guy, late twenties. Logan tried not to stare but the young man was exceptionally good-looking. He had brown wavy hair, thick on top with a full, but tidy beard. His face was perfectly handsome with high cheekbones, level eyes and a straight, broad nose. Dressed in jeans and a well-fitting brown leather jacket, he moved with confidence.

Instinctively Logan straightened his shoulders and tightened his core muscles. He forced himself to look at the older man, who wore a police uniform. He was dashing enough in his own way, but faded in comparison to his companion, despite the uniform.

Amy gave them her spiel about refreshments and collecting them five minutes before they were due on air and left without making introductions.

Never shy, Logan walked confidently towards them, hand outstretched. “Hello,” he said, addressing the police officer first. “I’m Logan Crawford.”

“Inspector John Watt,” the man answered, taking Logan’s hand in a firm grip. He had a broad, clean shaven face, with rough looking skin and thick lips. He regarded Logan with steady grey eyes. His breath and uniform smelled of cigarettes.

“Pleased to meet you.” Logan withdrew his hand to address the real object of interest.

“Hi. I’m Sam. Sam Radcliffe,” the younger man said, taking his hand.

Beneath naturally arched brows, his eyes were large, predominantly brown in colour with flashes of amber and copper. Unlike the Inspector his skin was smooth and blemish free. There wasn’t a fleck of grey in that beard. Logan guessed his age as twenty-seven, twenty-eight. No older. Under the open leather jacket, he wore a dark cotton T-shirt and a few curls of chest hair peaked above the neck.

Logan was six-foot-one, and Sam a couple of inches shorter than him, no more than that.

He’s gorgeous. Logan, dangerously close to losing composure, released Sam’s hand and stepped away.

“Are you guys appearing on the show?” he directed his question to Inspector Watt.

The older man gave a curt nod. “We are.”

“We’re promoting an amnesty on knives that’s currently running in the area,” Sam explained when the Inspector fell silent. “I represent the charity Supporting Victims; Inspector Watt is here to give the police’s response. We hope to encourage as many people as possible to hand in their weapons.”

Sam’s eyes considered Logan’s when he spoke, and it was impossible not to give them his full attention. He tried to focus on his words, but Sam’s beauty was overpowering. Get a grip of yourself.

“Knife crime. Sorry if I sound ignorant, but is that a big problem in this area? I know it’s an issue in London, Birmingham, and those huge cosmopolitan cities, but I didn’t think it was such a crisis in the north. The gang culture and all that.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sam answered.

“It’s an issue everywhere,” Watt exclaimed. “Newcastle isn’t some little North-East backwater. We’ve got our own problems. As big as London or anywhere else.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Logan said placatingly. “I guess it doesn’t get as much press coverage as those other places. What I mean is, you don’t hear about it as often.”

“That’s our problem,” Sam said, looking at Logan with soft eyes. “Raising awareness is never easy. Hopefully we’ll make an inroad into that tonight.”

“I hope you do?”

“And why are you here?” Watt asked.

He posed the question like a cop grilling a suspect, Logan thought with amusement. “I’m just here to plug a book,” he said with a self-depreciating smile.

The expression on Watt’s face couldn’t have been worse if Logan let off a huge fart. “A book. Well, good luck with that.”

“Wow, that’s exciting,” Sam said, stepping closer. His aftershave was zesty and fresh. The coppery tones in his eyes glistened in the florescent lights. “What’s it about?”

Before he could answer Amy was back in the room. “You’re up Logan. Quick.”

Reluctantly he grabbed his jacket and put it on. He wanted to spend time with Sam and find out about him. Their eyes connected one more time as Logan headed for the door. Was it wishful thinking or did he see a flash of mutual attraction in the chocolaty depths?

“I’ll leave you a copy,” he shouted back as Amy hurried him from the room. The pull of leaving him was instant. His heart, his guts, his entire insides seemed to tighten. Anxious with the fear he might not see this handsome stranger again.

What the hell just happened to me?