Chapter Three #2
Logan crossed the yard between the houses, puzzled with the events of the morning.
Something was definitely different about his pretty neighbor.
She hadn’t acted a bit like herself—and it had nothing to do with coming down with a cold.
But she could keep her secrets for the time being.
He grinned. He had all day to find out what game she was playing.
She’d once called him a hot-shot businessman, more interested in deals than the special effects he peddled.
Maybe he’d demonstrate for the lady how he could use some of those business techniques to find out what she was up to.
And if that didn’t work, he’d ply her with margaritas at dinner. She loved them and after only a few drinks became very loquacious. Shaking his head, he let himself back into his house.
A good thing she didn’t have to work. She’d never make it in business, she was usually totally predictable. Maybe that’s why her actions this morning puzzled him. She seemed like a totally different woman.
Stepping beneath a hot shower a few minutes later, Logan continued worrying the puzzle Lily presented.
He’d known her for a couple of years, ever since she’d bought the house next door.
Both of them were young, single, and comfortably established financially—he from his special effects, she from a rich ex-husband.
As neighbors do, they’d exchanged pleasantries, gradually forming a kind of casual friendship.
Enough to exchange keys, keep an eye on each other’s place when one of them traveled.
Enough to borrow coffee or milk from time to time.
They usually invited each other to parties they gave.
Lily proved to be a lot of fun and a knockout when she took the time and made the effort.
But he’d made it clear in the beginning that his only interest was in neighborly friendship.
Burned by his marriage and divorce, he’d sworn off long term relationships with women.
Especially trusting one enough for marriage.
She said she felt the same, so they had slowly become friends of a sort.
For the most part he liked her, found her intriguing and occasionally sweet in a way that she tried to cover up. Not always, however. Not when she reminded him of his ex-wife, Crystal. Then, he wanted nothing to do with Lily Rambeau, or any woman more concerned with having a good time than loyalty.
Twice over the past couple of years she’d asked him to listen to her reading for small parts in movies.
When he suggested she should try for bigger roles, she had laughed merrily, shrugged and commented that the throwaway roles suited her.
She didn’t want to put up with the grind of building a career in the movies.
Stepping from the shower, he dried off and wrapped the damp towel around his waist. Peering into the mirror, he considered shaving.
Might as well, no sense looking as scruffy as a stray dog.
He needed his hair cut and made a mental note to find time.
Lathering his face, he paused in mid-swipe, staring at himself, still puzzled by the change in his neighbor.
There had been something different—or at least, in his own mind.
For one thing he’d wanted to kiss her. He never wanted to get involved with another woman like Crystal, but he’d been tempted to carry out his invitation for a welcome home kiss.
And he’d never felt so inclined before with Lily. Must be jet lag.
He frowned. She’d worn a terry-cloth robe and hadn’t even combed her hair. Instead it had been tousled around her cheeks. Her eyes, wide and solemn, had intrigued him. Was that how she looked first thing each morning? He felt another stir of interest.
Maybe he should skip the beach and head straight for bed. The last thing he wanted was to imagine any attraction for his neighbor. They’d developed a friendship that suited him perfectly. No sense getting sex mixed up in it.
Burned once years ago, Logan had no intentions of falling into that trap again. And especially not with a flighty, spendthrift neighbor who craved attention wherever she went.
Yet he couldn’t explain the strange setup this morning—a terry-cloth bathrobe that covered her like a vestal virgin, a sultry voice with a hint of a Southern accent, and the delicious home-cooked breakfast from a woman who usually had difficulty boiling water. Was it an act? Which?
The sophisticated divorcée or the vestal virgin?
Emma cleaned the kitchen in less than five minutes.
Hurrying up to Lily’s room, she paused in the doorway.
Where would her sister stash bathing suits?
Emma had worn her own suit yesterday, but curious to see the “crochet thingy,” she wanted to find her sister’s—if only to see what it looked like.
Crossing to the huge dresser, Emma began to open drawers. No bathing suits.
Entering the large walk-in closet, she pulled open the built-in drawers to the left.
“Bingo.”
The white tangle of yarn had to be the suit. Holding it up, Emma frowned. She had handkerchiefs that covered more. Balling it up, she tossed it back into the drawer. No way would she wear something that revealing. It was her own or nothing.
She pulled on her one-piece dark blue suit, slipped into a cover up, brushed her hair and reached for her sun screen. Pausing as she caught a glimpse of herself in the huge wall of mirrors, she glanced at her reflection.
Her cheeks flushed in anticipation and excitement. Her eyes sparkled. For a moment she actually looked like her sister. It wasn’t just features, those were identical. It was more attitude. This was without a doubt the wildest thing she’d ever done—and she felt so alive.
Pure fantasy, she couldn’t keep up this pretense for more than a little while. But if she could get through the morning, she’d have succeeded. For once in her life she planned to experience the adventures her sister took for granted.
No one would be hurt. As long as she kept it firmly in mind that this was only a fantasy, she couldn’t be seduced into planning a life like Lily’s. When her vacation ended, she’d return to the library, to Charlottesville, and make up her mind about David.
But that day was weeks away. For now she was free, on vacation and about to spend the day at the beach with the sexiest man she’d ever met.
Snatching up a towel, sunglasses and a floppy hat, Emma slid her feet into sandals and headed out.
Making her way down the stone steps carved into the cliff that rose above the crescent-shaped sandy strip of beach, she saw Logan Beckett already sitting on a colorful towel, watching the waves. Thank goodness, she’d finally remembered his name.
Feeling confident with that bit of knowledge, she hurried down the rest of the steps and walked onto the cool white sand.
Part of the small beach still lay in the shadow of the cliff.
Even though early, the sun felt warm when she stepped out of the shade.
The soft air blowing from the sea caressed her skin.
She must have made a noise because Logan turned to watch her walk toward him.
“Less than a half hour,” she said, suddenly shy as she felt his gaze on her.
Conscious of her long bare legs and the clinging suit beneath the cover up, her heart raced when his eyes scanned every inch of her.
Emma quickly spread her towel next to his and dropped to her knees.
She had never felt like this before. Flustered, her mind went blank as she stared into his incredible green gaze.
“That sun screen?” he asked, gesturing to the tube in her hand.
“Yes, want some?” Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze to the container.
“Do my back.” Logan turned and presented his tanned back.
Emma swallowed. His shoulders were a yard wide, the muscles and taut tanned skin tempting her like nothing had done before. He wanted her to touch him? To spread lotion across that expanse, and keep her sanity?
No, he’d said nothing about keeping her sanity. Fumbling with the cap, she finally got it off and poured some lotion into her palm. Taking a deep breath, she reached out to touch him.