Authors: Rochelle Alers
She pressed a button and listened as Marcia’s laughing voice come through the speaker:
“Hi, Caryn. I tried calling you, but you must have either gone out or you’d already left for Marble Island. My brother’s friend needs a place to chill out for a few weeks. His name is Logan. He had a confrontation with his fiancée a week before they were to be married and the wedding was called off. He’s gotten a lot of flack from her family, so I offered the house because there are not too many places he can go where people won’t recognize him. His photograph and the story made all the major dailies. I hope you won’t mind putting up with him until he’s back to normal. He’s a great guy. I know you’ll love him. Bye!”
“No,” Caryn whispered as the tape stopped then rewound itself.
She was not going to love him, or any man, and she intended to establish from the onset what she would put up with and not put up with.
He could
not
bring women into the house!
He could
not
have any parties!
And he could
not
invade her personal space!
If he adhered to her demands, then she would find the magical summer she was searching for. If not, then he could leave because she had arrived first; after all, he was the interloper.
Caryn returned to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, she groaned. Her damp hair hung around her face and shoulders like streamers of curling ribbon. She swore softly under her breath. She still had to find a comb.
Logan’s arrival had turned her plans upside down. She had wanted to take her time settling in. She no longer had three days because now she had to scramble to get dressed, comb her hair, and meet with Logan to outline the limits of their sharing the house.
Retreating to the bathroom, she found a large-tooth comb and pulled it through the long black curly strands before braiding it quickly in a thick plait.
Her face was flushed with high color by the time she left the bedroom and made her way down the staircase. She met Logan as he walked through the front door, two bags cradled under each arm.
Folding her hands on her hips, she glared up at him. “I’ve checked the machine and I’m dressed. Now we talk.”
Logan blinked slowly, his black eyes examining her critically.
What Caryn Edwards did not realize was that he did not want to share the house with her any more than she wanted to share it with him, but he wasn’t given much of a choice.
It wasn’t as if he couldn’t fly out to the West Coast or down to the Caribbean for several weeks where he could forget about the fiasco that ensued after he’d called off his marriage to Nina Smith. What he wanted was to get away from people—lots of people who wanted to know the “real reason” he decided not to marry one of the most sought-after African-American women in the South. The Smiths were wealthy, powerful,
and
vindictive; his own family had fostered their own sphere of influence within the state of North Carolina, but he had promised himself that he would not tell anyone what he saw when he opened the door to Nina’s bedroom a week before they were scheduled to exchange marriage vows.
The elder Smiths had been in Chapel Hill for a NAACP fund-raising event, leaving Nina alone with only the domestic staff when Logan decided to return to Raleigh a day earlier than expected; he wanted to surprise his bride-to-be with a bracelet she had tried on during a trip they had taken to New York City earlier in the year.
It was Nina who would have been surprised if she had known that he had opened the door to her bedroom and found her in the throes of passion with the man who was to be his best man. Neither Nina nor Wayne realized he witnessed their acrobatic encounter when he closed the door and left as quietly as he had arrived.
He waited until the following morning to contact Nina. He telephoned her, saying,
“I can’t marry you.”
Four words and all of the promises they had made for their futures ended abruptly.
After that one telephone call, all hell broke loose. The elder Smiths returned to Raleigh after Nina’s frantic summons and descended on the Prescott household like blood-crazed sharks. They demanded to know why their daughter had been treated like a piece of paid goods. No man was
going to use their princess then discard her because he deemed it. How could their Nina hold up her head?
Logan had sat quietly, wanting to inform the Smiths that Nina had no trouble keeping her legs up, but didn’t because his parents were present.
He’d listened silently, waiting until the Smiths ended their tirade, then rose to his feet and politely asked that they leave his parents’ home or he would call the sheriff and have them forcibly removed for trespassing.
An hour later he called all of his groomsmen and told them to meet him at his Raleigh apartment where he informed them that he had canceled the wedding. All were surprised by the announcement and visibly disappointed, including the man who had cuckolded him. It had pained Logan to even sit in the same room with the man who had been his friend since childhood.
The Smith-Prescott marriage had been billed as the African-American wedding of the year, and everyone who had received an invitation flaunted the coveted engraved parchment as if it had been a treasured relic.
Only Michael, Marcia’s brother, remained behind after the other five left and suggested that he go away for a while. Logan shrugged off his suggestion but was forced to reconsider it a week later when the Smiths gave a conflicting story to the local newspapers, and to spare his family any further humiliation he accepted the offer to leave Raleigh for Marble Island.
Miss Caryn Edwards would not have to worry about him bothering her because what he wanted for the next few weeks was to be left completely
alone.
“Let me take my bags upstairs, then we’ll talk,” Logan said, his midnight gaze burning her face with its fierce intensity.
Watching his retreat, Caryn shivered slightly in spite of the heat. There was something about the man that was dangerous and lethal. His height; lean, muscled body; black hair and eyes; smooth ebony-hued face; and the masculine voice which could soothe or cut without warning
was unsettling. He was a little too attractive for her to ignore, and she had successfully ignored most men since her divorce. But what she did not want was the constant reminder of how sterile her life had become. She had recovered from the breakup of her marriage, and now at twenty-eight she needed to know what she wanted for the next ten years of her life.
Did she want to remarry? Did she want children? Would she continue teaching? Would she relocate?
These were the questions she wanted answers to; answers she hoped she would find before the end of the summer.
A soft whining came from the direction of the screen door, and Caryn glanced over her shoulder. Standing on the porch, his tiny black nose pressed against the screen, thin white tail wagging uncontrollably, was a Dalmatian puppy. Strategically placed black spots around its eyes made it look as if he were wearing a mask.
She opened the door, and the black and white puppy sniffed at her bare feet. Going to her knees, she smiled at the tiny dog. “Who do you belong to?”
“He belongs to me. His name is Domino,” came Logan’s voice behind her.
Caryn pushed to her feet, but before she could regain her balance Logan reached out and helped her to a standing position. For several seconds their gazes met and held, then dropped as his hand fell away from her elbow.
She inhaled deeply, her sensitive nostrils taking in the scent of Logan’s sensual aftershave and the natural masculine fragrance of his warm body.
Arching a delicate black eyebrow, she tilted her chin. “So, I get to share this house with you, your dog, and who or what else?”
Logan crossed muscular arms over his white T-shirt as a slight smile played at the corners of his strong mouth. “There’s only the two of us.”
Caryn pushed her hands into the large patch pockets of her sundress. “I think we should establish a few rules—”
“Oh, I agree,” he interrupted. “No loud music, and I
don’t want a troop of guys coming and going as if this were a sports bar.”
She couldn’t believe his arrogance. Where did he get off thinking she slept around? What had or hadn’t Marcia told him?
“I’ll see what I can do about curtailing the number of men I pick up this summer, if you agree to the same with women.” Her words were dripping honey while her eyes had lost all of their gold color, leaving them a frosty, brilliant green.
“I don’t want any loud parties or strangers traipsing through here and invading my personal space. And there still is a matter of cleaning and cooking,” she continued, not giving him an opportunity to respond. “I will not clean up after you, so make certain you don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink.”
“Anything else, Miss Edwards?”
Caryn decided to ignore his facetiousness. “Make certain you clean up after your pet.”
Logan glanced down at Domino, who had flopped down on his sneakered feet and tucked his head against his ribs. The two-month-old puppy had fallen asleep. Leaning over, he picked up the dog and cradled him to his chest.
A bright smile transformed his stern features, making his face so attractive that her breath caught in her chest. She stared, stunned, as Logan’s dark looks became a sensual feast. What had appeared dangerous was now seductive. He tilted his head at a slight angle, seemingly studying her in one swift glance.
“What you propose isn’t unreasonable,” he said quietly. “I will take my meals outside so you don’t have to worry about dishes in the sink, and I’ll make certain to clean up after myself and Domino. I don’t plan to host any parties or have any female guests.” His smile faded. “Is there anything else?”
She stared at the sleeping puppy rather than his master. “I think that’s all.”
“Good. I’m going to need the key for the house. I want
to have a duplicate made because it would make our living arrangement a lot easier if we both had a key.”
It was only now that Caryn realized that she hadn’t locked the door. She was lucky it was Logan who walked in and not someone else.
“I have to go into town to pick up a few things. I’ll see if I can get it duplicated while I’m there,” she volunteered.
“Why don’t we go together?” he suggested. “It will save time.”
She wanted to refuse his offer, but couldn’t. He was right. Going into town together would save time for both of them.
“Okay.”
Logan flashed his sensual smile, revealing a mouth filled with large, white teeth. “Give me about fifteen minutes to shower and change my clothes.”
She returned his smile. “You’ve got it.”
He opened the screen door and placed Domino gently on the porch before he went up the stairs to the bedroom he had claimed as his own.
Meanwhile, Caryn returned to her bedroom and used the time to unpack her bags. She put away her underwear, shorts, T-shirts, dresses, skirts, and shoes. She hadn’t known why, but at the last moment she packed a few pieces that were more than casual. Marcia and Terrence both praised the island’s only restaurant as one of the best along the North Carolina east coast, and she thought perhaps she would eat dinner there a couple of times before she returned to Asheville.
Slipping her bare feet into a pair of sandals, she picked up a lightweight leather-trimmed woven shoulder bag and her sunglasses. She glanced at the travel clock on the bedside table. She had given Logan more than fifteen minutes.
She walked out of her bedroom at the same time Logan left his. He had shaved, showered, and changed into a pair of white laundered jeans, a navy-blue golf shirt, and had exchanged his running shoes for a pair of imported Italian loafers. His close-cut coarse black hair shimmered with a
light layer of hair dressing. His blatant masculinity was shocking, and Caryn wondered about the woman who had let him get away.
The poor woman probably got tired of his tyrannical manner
, she thought. It was good she got out of the union before it was too late. Unlike me, she mused. It had taken two years before she knew she could not continue in her own marriage, and another two before it was legally over. Thomas had not given up without a long, drawn-out legal battle.
She walked past Logan and made her way down the staircase, feeling the heat of his large body as he followed her. Seeing him, inhaling his sensual cologne and knowing they would share the house for at least a month created a feeling of uneasiness. She did not want a man—an attractive man—so close as to remind her of what she once had.
She had enjoyed being married and in love. Becoming Thomas’s wife was the closest thing to being a complete woman. She had felt adored and protected. But in the end it was as if they were two strangers who happened to share a house. And that was what she and Logan were—two strangers who were sharing a house.
Caryn handed him the keys, and he closed and locked the front door. Leaning over, she picked up the sleeping puppy and cradled it to her breasts.
Logan pocketed the house keys and extended his arms. “I’ll take him.”
She tightened her hold on Domino. “I don’t mind holding him.”
“I don’t want him spoiled.”
A slight frown furrowed her smooth forehead. It had nothing to do with her spoiling Domino. How could she spoil the dog when he didn’t know who she was? And in that instant Logan had just unwittingly revealed a lot about himself. He was selfish
and
possessive.
Wordlessly, she handed him the dog and turned on her heel. The boundaries had been drawn. There would be
no connection, no communication as long as both occupied the house.
“We’ll take my vehicle,” Logan said, following her down the porch and around to the rear of the house where he had parked his black Jeep Wrangler.
Not waiting for him to help her up, Caryn opened the passenger side door and pulled herself up to the seat. He had removed the soft top from the two-door, four-wheel-drive vehicle, and the sun beat mercilessly down on her bared head. Reaching into her purse, she took out her sunglasses and perched them on her nose, while Logan attached a leash to Domino’s collar and looped the end around the Wrangler’s roll bar.
Logan swung his long frame up into the car in a smooth, graceful motion. He reached his sunglasses off the dash and put them on before shifting gears and turning on the ignition. The engine caught and seconds later he maneuvered the Jeep along Watermelon Patch Lane then out onto the main road.
A warm breeze lifted tendrils of hair about Caryn’s face as they escaped the single braid resting between her shoulder blades. The searing sun beat down on her bare shoulders, and she berated herself for not applying a layer of sunscreen to protect her delicate skin.
Logan drove slowly, seemingly in no hurry to get to the hub of Marble Island’s business community. He had lingered along the two square blocks of business establishments on the ride from Raleigh, cataloging the number of stores and what they offered the vacationers who swelled the normal population of twenty-six to a burgeoning seventy-five.
One building claimed the local post office, shoe repair, and locksmith. Another doubled as a Laundromat and dry cleaner. There was a candy store which sold everything from soda, newspapers, and magazines to video rentals, and a small supermarket. There was only one restaurant which served three meals a day, seven days a week, a nondenominational church, a service station offering gas and
auto repairs, and a small pharmacy. The residents of Marble Island were adamant about not permitting a fast-food establishment on their island. They claimed it would destroy the ambiance of their laid-back ocean retreat community.