A/N: This is my Christmas in July present for Lisa.

Her wishes:

1) Max gets trapped on an Eyes Only mission and Logan has to rescue her

2) Kendra and Max go on a double date

3) Logan goes to Sketchy's house

4) Max and Logan actually eat somewhere other than his kitchen

5) somebody has to have their shirt off (preferable Logan in a smutty context)

I'm so sorry, Lisa. But I've warned you, right? Two months should have been enough to write this story. :-( But I fulfilled only one of your wishes in this chapter. SORRY! I hope to get the next part ready asap. MERRY CHRISTMAS IN JULY!

Hope you enjoy.



Max's and Kendra's apartment, 7:30 A.M.

"You won't believe what I've dreamt tonight," Kendra announced in a sing-song voice that was completely uncharacteristic for her this early in the morning. She took a seat on the worn out chair across the kitchen area and cradled a cup of coffee in both hands. Normally Max's roommate wasn't exactly a morning person, and her weird behavior caused Max to scrutinize her critically.

Kendra's flushed cheeks and brightly shining eyes let Max's eyebrows shoot together in confusion. No … honestly … she was kinda sure she didn't want to hear what her friend's dream had been about.

Kendra looked up at her over her cup of strong, steaming "almost real" coffee, still wearing a light-blue sleeping shirt and shorts, her eyes challenging and even a bit teasing.

"Nope," Max decided not to raise to the bait and shrugged, leaning her back against the fridge. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to tell her friend that she should keep her exciting dreams to herself and instead covered her sarcasm with a half smile as she continued: "But I'm sure you're gonna let me in on this mystery."

And as expected Kendra decided to ignore her friend's lack of interest and said: "I've dreamt of hot boy." She paused a moment to let the statement sink in and added in a throaty whisper: "And damn, he was hot."

Max almost choked on the sip of coffee that ran down her throat and uneasily shifted her weight from one foot to the other, pictures of Logan floating through her mind …

Logan lying on his exercise table, wearing only shorts, doing a series of sit-ups, smooth, strong muscles carved into his abdomen …

Logan exciting his bathroom, a cloud of hot steam following him, the soft hair curling on his chest, a big drop of water wandering downward from the disheveled hair and over his neck … his eyes dark and a slightly embarrassed look on his face …


She took another gulp of hot coffee before she finally asked innocently, putting just the right amount of boredom into her voice: "Which hot boy?" Deciding she'd been right all along. She really didn't want to know.

Kendra rolled her eyes: "Your hot boy … roller boy … sugar-daddy," she verified exasperated, tilting her head to one side and looking at Max as if she was dumb … or blind … or both, knowing perfectly well that her beautiful, dark haired roommate hid a razor sharp brain behind her cool smart-ass façade. The only problem seemed to be that the same very clever brain didn't seem to work when men were involved.

"Logan is neither my hot boy nor a sugar daddy," Max snapped hotly but instantly regretted her reaction as she saw the amused grin on Kendra's lips.

"Yeah, right," the blonde shrugged, still smiling. "But sugar daddy or not, the man's definitely hot."

Kendra's smile faded slowly as she started to speak about her dream, her voice not much more than a breathless whisper.

Max watched in horror as her roommate's eyes got a distant, faraway look, the soft touch of a smile still hanging around the edges of Kendra's mouth. Max wasn't even sure why, but suddenly the skin on the back of her neck began to prickle. She had to suppress the urge to growl, her left hand clenching and unclenching, the right hand furiously clutching the coffee pot.

"… and then he took his glasses off, his hair still damp and disheveled." The smile on Kendra's lips deepened and she let out a throaty laugh that caused Max's muscles to vibrate. "He looked up at me … and it felt as if he could see straight into my soul. Wow …" the blonde breathed. And somehow Max was sure it wouldn't take much before Kendra started to lick her lips.

Hot, all consuming anger rose inside her.

Max wasn't jealous, NO, just angry about Kendra's girlish, over-romantic fantasies. This was Logan they were talking about … focused, mission-oriented, save the world and protect the downtrodden – Logan … not some well-built, perfectly tanned poster-guy to dream about … but still …

Max's dark eyes shot daggers at her oblivious friend and finally she snarled: "Kendra … just cut it out!"


Fogle Tower, 07:20 P.M.

Max climbed up the stairs to Logan's penthouse almost twelve hours later, trying to burn up some spare energy. Somehow she'd been itching for action all day long, always driving a bit too fast on her bike and therefore getting done at work earlier than anticipated.

Normal hadn't even dared to send her on another run as she'd probably delivered more packages than two of the others put together. So Normal had just clapped her shoulder, murmuring an embarrassing "good work, Max" and had sent her home.

After getting changed at home, Max had killed some time, roaming the streets around "Fogle Towers", using the possibility for one of her weekly security check-ups. She'd even made bigger circles than usually but was still a bit early when she expertly let herself into the dimly lit apartment which towered above the broken city.

Kendra's vivid pictures of half-naked Logan had followed her through the day, and Max had planned to get in and out of "Logan's" as fast as possible. Her whole body screamed for this B & E mission, they'd scheduled for tonight, and she just wanted to grab the blueprints of the building and the coms, Logan had insisted on using to stay in touch after the fiasco at Furrow Airfield a few weeks ago.

Max still felt a tiny bit of this burning anger simmering within her when she thought about this particular evening. What had Kendra said? "Trust me. After Logan tastes this tricolore sauce I whipped up, he will be your sex slave."

PAH … AS IF. This was focused, mission-oriented Logan they were talking about. The guy was obsessed about saving the world. Remember?

Max had never before invited a guy for dinner, had never before tried to cook for a man, had never before decorated the table with folded table napkins and polished silverware.

She'd been sentimental, somehow thinking this evening might be special and … caboom … she'd paid the price. Instantly.

Sad as it was, she'd never before felt so ignored, disappointed, embarrassed …


Never let your defenses down … emotions are nothing but a weakness … don't let anyone else get close to you. …

Bla, bla, bla.

The evening's infuriating climax had been a poorly calculated jump over a fence which caused herself to land in a mud puddle … HEAD FIRST. And by the time they'd reached Logan's penthouse, she had been frantic – angry about Logan for ruining the evening, angry at herself for letting Logan's behavior get under her skin, angry at life in general for being such a bitch.

Not even a hot shower had been able to calm her. And then she'd said those final words: "You know what Logan? How about a new quid pro quo? Don't call me. I won't call you."

The door that had banged shut behind her retreating form had only emphasized the finality of her decision.

She should have felt relieved, knowing that she was doing the right thing. Working for Eyes Only put her at risk, and looking for her siblings had brought her nothing but trouble. Time was overdue for a change.

But still, it had felt as if a part of her had died, as if a piece of her soul had been crashed into a million tiny pieces.

Max stepped further into the penthouse apartment, trying to ignore the voices inside of her head, a bit of her anger and sudden sadness dissipating as she closed the door softly behind her. There was something about this apartment that always calmed her down, made her feel safe … at home.

The computers hummed softly in Logan's secret office and the scent of fresh soap mingled with the smell of antiques and recently cooked meals. The whole atmosphere seemed so incredibly warm and inviting.

See, everything's fine, Max calmed herself. And you're outta here in a few secs.

She'd already planned every move she was going to make in order to be out of the penthouse as fast as possible, had already outlined the things she'd say, anticipating Logan's answers, although Logan's reactions were never easy to forecast.

Max silently crossed the hall, heading for Logan's office, a clear picture of Logan's unmoving form already in her mind, imagining him how he stared intently at one of his monitors, one hand lifting to unconsciously rub over the back of his head, lips pressed together in concentration. His green eyes would be glued to the screen and every thought would be focused on his newest mission …

Seattle's savior.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she approached her target area, wondering for a split second about the absence of noise.

But suddenly the door at the end of the hall opened, and Logan wheeled out of the bathroom, a cloud of hot steam following him. He'd put on a pair of jeans but the upper part of his body was still undressed, a mass of tiny, sparkling waterdrops gleaming on his bare chest and shoulders, a small fluffy towel wrapped around his neck.

A soft tinge of read instantly covered Logan's cheeks and his right hand moved quickly upwards to rub the back of his head while he uttered a disbelieving: "MAX?"



I know, it's way too short and it's un-betaed. SORRY again.

Feedback greatly appreciated.