“You do a lot of fast food, too, huh?”
“During the summer I usually grill dinner. You know that. But
at night, after it gets quiet, sometimes I…” She shrugged.
“You can’t sleep?”
“I enjoy the peace,” she corrected. “I don’t have a set
schedule, so when I want to watch an old movie, or catch up on the news, I do. I
think I’m a natural night owl.”
“So you curl up on the couch with some fast food?” It was a
cute picture. What type of pajamas did she wear? A granny gown? T-shirt and
panties? Somehow he couldn’t picture her in lingerie. “Maybe you can share the
numbers of the local restaurants with me.”
“All right.” Though she hung back in the kitchen doorway, she
asked, “Can I do anything?”
Oh, hell yeah. She could do all sorts of things. He gave her a
smile but said, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just grab some plates and napkins
when it gets here.” He handed her drink to her. “Want to watch TV now, or sit on
the balcony?”
She looked toward his balcony but again hesitated, so he took
the decision away from her.
“Let’s see what’s on TV.” Taking her hand, he led her to the
sofa. He sat down and pulled her down beside him, probably closer than she
liked, but not as close as he wanted.
She sat stiff, silent and wary. After setting her drink on the
coffee table, she clasped her hands together in her lap, pressed her knees and
ankles together, kept her back military straight.
All because he sat beside her? “Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” she said too fast.
After a long look, he grinned at her and shook his head. “I
think I’ll have to teach you how to loosen up.”
Her eyes flared, especially when he put aside his beer and
reached for her shoulders.
But he only pressed her back against the couch, and began
kneading her tensed muscles. “C’mon, Sue. Take out the starch. Inhale a big
breath…that’s it. Now let it out nice and slow.”
She tried, but she was still far too rigid.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get there eventually.” He settled back
beside her. “That’s a promise, by the way.” Using the remote, he turned on the
set and flipped through the channels until he found a movie in the middle of a
love scene.
“There you go.” He took a swig of his beer. “Better than
suffering more of that broiling sun.”
For a minute or two she watched the movie, her breathing deep
and even, until the sex scene faded to dark. When the commercial came on, he
flipped channels again, finding a sports update.
She half turned toward him, and, tension mounting, Logan waited
to see what she’d do.
Using one hand, she touched his jaw. It was so unexpected, that
spontaneous contact from her, that it rendered him mute, immobile and
combustible.
“Men do seem to enjoy controlling the remote, don’t they?”
What did she know of men and their preferences on control? He
found his voice to say, “You want me to go back to the movie?”
“I don’t care what we watch, but I’m glad you chose to stay
inside.” She brushed her fingertips down to the side of his neck. “You’ve
already gotten a little too much sun.”
Jesus, how could one simple touch do that to him? “On my
shoulders, too,” he said huskily. “Hazard of the job, I guess. Half the time we
work shirtless.”
Her gaze drifted to his shoulders, followed by her hand.
“Construction is why you’re so tanned?”
“That, and I like the outdoors.” Blindly, he set aside his
beer. “Swimming, boating, just being outside. I enjoy nature.” His brother had a
very secret retreat on a lake. They’d each used it when they wanted to get away,
when even female companionship didn’t appeal.
The log cabin was so rustic that anything more than a
five-minute shower used all the hot water. Dishes had to be washed by hand—and
so did clothing. The all-wood panel interior boasted three sparsely furnished
bedrooms, a tiny kitchen with the barest essentials and a bathroom barely big
enough to turn around in. The massive front deck, flanked by towering trees,
overlooked the small secluded lake that was big enough for fishing, swimming and
a rowboat or small trolling motor.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly, teasing the skin of his
shoulders.
“What?” He ached with lust, but he didn’t think she meant
that.
“The sunburn.” She drifted her hand up to his nape, around to
his collarbone.
It was such a bold move for her, so unexpected, that he forgot
his plan. He caught her wrist, kissed her palm and then flattened her hand
against his chest. “Sue?”
She stared at his mouth with yearning. “Your skin is so
hot.”
Fuck it. She begged for a kiss, and God knew he wasn’t a saint.
In the end, what did it matter if he made his move now or later? One way or the
other, she’d be his.
His to enjoy.
And then his to use.
He put his hand around her nape and pulled her in as he leaned
forward. At the first touch of his mouth on hers, she made a sound of pleasure,
and Logan knew he was a goner.
CHAPTER THREE
C
OULD
ANY
MAN
TASTE
BETTER
, smell better, or be more tempting?
Heat poured off him, and Pepper wanted to feel it all over her
body. She pictured him working outside, all macho in jeans and heavy boots, the
sun on his bare shoulders and chest, and her pulse raced. As his mouth moved
over hers, his chest hair drew her fingers again and again. Using care not to
exacerbate his sun-kissed skin, she stroked him, carefully, over his shoulders,
his chest—and down to his taut abdomen.
Oh, God, she wanted to feel every inch of him.
He made a sound of approval and somehow, at the same time,
lowered her to her back on the couch. The plush cushions gave way to their
combined weight, and she sank into them.
Having a man’s solid body over her, pressing into her—she’d
missed it. So damn much.
Each kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until they were both breathing
hard. He had his tongue in her mouth, exploring, and she just naturally twined
her own with his.
He ran a hand down her side to her hip, his spread fingers
covering a wide path, touching so much of her. He squeezed at her hip with
appreciation, and even through her long skirt and underwear, it electrified her
senses.
He moved his hand down her thigh until she stiffened, ready to
stop him if he took things too far.
Instead, he brought that seeking hand back up her body, up, up,
to her left breast.
Before she could think better of it, she arched her back,
pressing into his palm, alive with sensation.
He cuddled her, but his movements slowed, became more of a
search than a caress.
Lifting his head but staying very close, he said with a touch
of confusion, “What kind of bra is that?”
No, she didn’t want reality to intrude. Not yet. Not now.
“Sports bra,” she breathed, and took his mouth again.
A very tight, very restrictive sports
bra.
Hoping he might not think too much of it, she caught his wrist
and tugged his hand away.
Please let me have a little
more.
“I want to touch you,” he murmured, and his hand went back to
her waist, this time slipping up under her loose shirt.
Sexual frustration mounted, warring against desperation,
against common sense. She knew she had to be strong, but then she felt his rough
palm at her waist, at her ribs, and her resistance began crumbling—until a knock
sounded on his door.
She jumped, at first alarmed, and then, reluctantly…relieved
for the jolt back to sanity.
The pizza delivery boy had saved her, because she hadn’t been
strong enough to save herself. She’d take the interruption as a warning—to show
more care.
Logan pressed his forehead to hers. His heartbeat rapped
against her breasts, and the tension in his shoulders amplified.
“Rotten timing.” Using both hands, he held her face, his thumbs
stroking her jaw, his breath hot. “I don’t suppose you’d want to put off
dinner?”
She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d cave. Staring at
his left shoulder, she shook her head.
His sigh teased her lips. “All right then. Pizza it is.” As he
sat up, he pulled her up, too.
She closed her eyes with stark regret, and when she opened them
again, she encountered his intense scrutiny.
His smile went crooked as he tweaked a long hank of her hair.
“You are so sweet.” And with that, he left the couch.
Sweet? What was that about? Pepper checked her hair and felt
the way her ponytail had come undone. Worse, her top was all displaced, her
skirt hiked up on one side all the way to her knee, and she’d lost one slip-on
canvas shoe.
While Logan answered the door, she decided to make a hasty exit
to right herself. “Excuse me.” She snatched up her shoe and rushed down the
short hall into his bathroom. She closed and locked the door.
Get a grip,
she ordered herself.
But it was oh-so-difficult after those scorching kisses and exciting
touches.
A few deep breaths helped a little. She stepped into her shoe,
tugged her shirt into place, and moved away from the door. One glance in the
mirror over the sink and she winced. Her hair was more out of the ponytail than
in it. Hastily, she pulled the band free and finger-combed her long hair back,
then resecured it.
She straightened her clothes again, but could do nothing about
her aroused flush. Blast her fair skin.
A tap sounded at the door. “Everything okay, Sue?”
“Yes.” Other than unfulfilled lust, she was just peachy. Head
down, Pepper opened the door and walked around him, up the hallway and into the
kitchen.
He’d already put slices of pizza on plates, set out napkins,
and moved their drinks to the table. Surprising her, he pulled out her
chair.
Why, oh, why couldn’t he be wearing a shirt instead of
flaunting that awesome body? As to that, why couldn’t he be out of shape instead
of so ripped? Or unattractive instead of so appealing? Or—
“It’s just pizza, Sue.” He tipped his head. “I won’t pounce on
you while you’re eating, I promise.”
She didn’t want to get that close to him again, but she didn’t
want to look overly foolish, either. “Thank you.” She brushed past him and
sat.
After trailing the backs of his fingers over her cheek, he took
his own seat. “Dig in.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
He thoughtfully watched her as he ate. “You know, I just had my
tongue in your mouth, so you don’t have to be so formal.”
Pepper gasped—and choked on her pizza. What was he thinking,
saying something like that over dinner? Did he have no sense of propriety at
all?
After a bout of wheezing, she caught her breath, looked at him,
saw he was still eating while studying her reaction, and decided that no, he did
not have any sense of decorum.
“It bothers you?” he asked. “Kissing me, I mean? Is that why
you’re over there strangling yourself?”
“No—”
“Sure looked bothered to me.”
“I didn’t expect to discuss it over dinner!”
He ignored that. “I’m wondering,” he said, “if I mentioned how
bad I want to get you naked, would you keel right over?”
Throwing the slice of pizza at him seemed like a good idea.
Instead she put it back on her plate. Should she leave? Show disdain?
Embarrassment?
She decided on a dose of honesty instead. “You’ll never see me
naked.”
“No?” As if only mildly curious, he asked, “Why not?”
“Because I won’t allow it.”
His eyes narrowed—and his gaze went to her chest. “Too shy,
huh?”
She sat back in her seat. “You don’t talk like a man who ever
hopes to be successful. You’re so mocking, it’s almost an insult.”
“Don’t mean to be.” He put another gigantic slice of pizza onto
his plate. “Truth is, Sue, you confound me.”
“Confound you?”
She had to wait while he devoured half the pizza. After he
wiped his mouth with a napkin, he crossed his arms over the table. “You’re as
interested as I am. I wasn’t the only one on the couch who wanted more.”
Since he waited, she said, “No.” She’d probably been far
needier than he was. For certain, she’d been celibate longer.
“So why are you so skittish? Why the mixed messages?”
Shoot. She had been pretty inconsistent. But how could she
possibly explain the past that held her back, the fears that dictated she show
discretion in all things?
He saved her by reaching for her hand. “You can tell me, you
know.”
No, she most definitely could not. She eyed him warily. “Tell
you what?”
“If someone hurt you. If you’re just inexperienced. If you’re
modest or afraid or…whatever the problem might be.”
All that? What exactly did he think? That she’d lived in a
convent? That she’d been a victim of abuse? For certain she couldn’t tell him
any part of the truth. Even with the passing of time, even with Morton Andrews’s
club, Checkers, being in another county—distant enough that they wouldn’t run
into him, close enough that Rowdy could keep tabs on him—the truth would be
risky.
But she had to say
something,
so
she looked at his big hand holding hers. “I am shy. And I am modest.” A really
good liar, too.
“But you want me.”
Did she ever. Whether she should or not, whether it was wise or
not.
“Sue? Whatever you tell me, it’s okay. I’m not going to start
rushing you.”
Baloney. That’s all he’d done so far. She met his gaze.
“Yes.”
It took several heartbeats before he repeated, “Yes…what?”
“I want you.” Let him deal with that. “Your interest has been
flattering,” she added, trying to sound a little more uncertain. “But I’m not
comfortable with anyone seeing me.”
His sharpened attention moved over her. “Naked, you mean?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
A heated stillness fell over him. “You don’t have anything I
haven’t already seen, right?”
She almost choked again. He had no idea the surprises she kept
hidden. “I’m not disfigured, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No, I wasn’t. Just making a point, that’s all. And if modesty
is the only problem—”
“It’s not.” No, there were a million reasons why she shouldn’t
get too involved with him, physically or otherwise.
And yet, here she sat. Having pizza. Talking.
After allowing him to kiss her into oblivion and grope her on
the sofa. She put her head in her hands and fought off a groan.
Pushing his chair back from the table, his dinner forgotten, he
concentrated on her. “What else?”
Because it felt as if he might pounce on her at any moment
despite his promise not to rush her, Pepper left her chair and stood behind it.
Judging by the look on his face, he saw it as a defensive move. She knew it was
more a matter of control: around him, she had none.
Slowly, he stood.
Before he took a step toward her—and before she pounced on
him—she said, “I barely know you.”
“Okay.” He held out his arms. “I’m an open book. What do you
want to know?”
Why do you want me so badly?
No,
she couldn’t ask him anything that blunt. “Everything, I guess.”
“Will you sit down and finish eating while I give you a verbal
resume?”
Why not? She was still hungry, the pizza still hot. “Okay.” Not
looking at him, she took her seat and again bit into her pizza.
“Long or short version?”
Everything, in minute detail. She shook her head. “I don’t mean
to pry exactly—”
“Long it is.” He smiled, waited until she got a mouthful, then
said, “Never been married, but was engaged once. Have a degree in business, but
haven’t used it because I enjoy the freedom of construction more. I’ve been all
over the country, but prefer the Midwest. I’m thirty-two, love watching all
sports and enjoy playing softball or football. I detest shopping of any kind,
even for groceries, but I’m a fair cook when forced to it. I really like
animals, but don’t have any because, well, living in a place like this, it
wouldn’t be fair to the animal, right? Dogs especially deserve a big backyard.
In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t really trust anyone who doesn’t
like animals, so do you?”
It took Pepper a moment to realize he’d slipped a question in
there. She swallowed down her bite and nodded. “Yes, but for the same reasons
you just gave—”
and many more
“—I don’t have any
pets, either.” Someday, in her fantasy future, she’d love to have pets, lots of
them. Kids, too…no, she wouldn’t, couldn’t think that way.
It’d only depress her.
“So we have that in common,” Logan said. “My folks have an
ancient German shepherd that loves to swim. I think it’s easier for him than
running, less stress on his hips.”
Slipping in her own question, she asked, “Why didn’t you
marry?”
“Haven’t met the right woman, I guess. I want to someday.” He
gestured. “You know, home, hearth, holidays with two kids, a cat and a dog. All
that.”
“You were engaged?” she prompted.
“Yeah, for over a year.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It
was all good until she decided I had to take a job with her daddy, and her daddy
was a grade-A prick, so…” He shrugged. “Couldn’t work it out.”
That sounded like the absolute truth, but could that really be
the whole story? “You don’t sound particularly heartbroken over it.”
His expression warmed. Belatedly, she decided that prim and
proper Sue Meeks should have reacted some to his language. But, oh, well. Too
late now.
“Funny thing, that. I never was.” Done eating, he slouched back
in his chair and cradled his beer on his midsection. “I mean, I was pissed.
Maybe even a little…” He searched for a word and settled on, “Disappointed. But
I guess I never really loved her, not the way you should love someone if you’re
going to spend a lifetime together.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Few years.” He gave her a searching look. “What about you?
Ever been serious about anyone?”
“No.”
Because she’d answered so quickly, he laughed. “Okay.” He
nodded at her empty plate. “All done?”
Thrown by the change in topic, she looked at her plate and was
surprised that she’d eaten so much. “Yes, thank you.”
“So.” He stood and carried the dishes to the sink. “What
now?”
Bemused, she watched as he rinsed each plate, loaded them in
the dishwasher and did a general cleaning of their dinner mess.
By the time he finished, no sign of dinner remained. “You’re a
lot tidier than I am.”
“No offense, but I’m thinking a lot of people are probably
tidier than you.”
“It’s true.” She didn’t really get into the whole domestic
routine. She let out a sigh. “My place isn’t really dirty or anything, but it is
cluttered.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like to fuss.”