Chapter Eleven
Emma stood on the edge of the deck feeling the afternoon breeze blow through her hair, gently toss the long skirt she wore.
Her arms were a bit pink, as was her forehead, from her afternoon of driving, but she felt glorious.
The soft cotton halter-neck dress caressed her skin as the wind blew it capriciously.
She glanced down one more time. She didn’t have a halter bra with her and balked at wearing her sister’s.
Checking the mirror a half dozen times, she had almost convinced herself it wasn’t noticeable. But she still had doubts.
What was it about living in California that made her so aware of sensations she’d never felt before? The wind caressed like a lover. The sun still bathed her skin with heat, and she felt every movement of the soft cotton. She stretched up her arms as if in worship, reveling in being a woman.
When she heard Logan’s car door, she spun around, heart thumping. She knew she should tell him the truth but during her drive she’d decided to see him one more time. She had to. She planned a nice stir-fry, had bought a light white wine.
Of course he may have other plans or just not want to spend an evening with her, but she had to try. She rehearsed her invitation a dozen times. The worst that could happen would be he’d say no.
And there was still Saturday and his friend’s party.
Almost floating across the grass between their homes, she smiled when she first saw him.
He held his sports jacket slung over one shoulder.
Somewhere on the ride home he’d loosened his tie so it hung lopsided from the open collar.
He looked tired. He might want an early night, but he had to eat first.
“Hi,” she called when he reached to unlock his front door.
He looked up, his eyes skimming across her from top to toe. A slow smile built.
“Hi, yourself. What’s up?”
Emma stopped near the path, not trusting herself any closer.
“I thought I’d invite you to share dinner with me, if you don’t have other plans. To pay you back for last night.”
“You don’t owe me for dinner last night,” he said slowly.
The jacket slid off his shoulder and he caught it up in one hand. Leaning casually against the heavy wooden door, he crossed his arms and watched her as she approached.
“It won’t be fancy, just stir-fry. Do you like that?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake in the food.
If he didn’t like Chinese she’d feel too awkward to change the menu just to get him to come to dinner.
“Love it. Give me a few minutes to shower and change and I’ll be right over. Can I bring anything?”
“No. Or maybe a healthy appetite.”
She’d done it. Asked the most exciting man she’d ever seen to dinner and he accepted.
Undoubtedly because he thought her the worldly cosmopolitan Lily, but that didn’t matter. Her daring had paid off. Now if she could think of topics to talk about while they ate.
She should have thought of that before. Now it was too late; her thoughts churned at the fact he was coming, she couldn’t think up a coherent sentence.
Logan walked onto the deck at Lily’s house a half hour later, dressed in pale faded denim pants and a loose pullover shirt with bold black and blue stripes.
His hair appeared damp from his shower. She greeted him with a smile.
The serenity was a fake. Inside she roiled with conflicting emotions from delight he’d come to fear she’d expose her deception. Or worse, bore him to death.
And shimmering over it all, a physical, sexual attraction that she couldn’t deny no matter how hard she tried.
“I bought some wine, want some?” she offered.
The glasses and bottle sat on the small wooden table between the chaise lounges.
“Sure.”
He poured wine into both glasses and held one to her. When she took it, he touched the edge of his glass to hers. The soft clink sounded friendly in the afternoon sun.
“Cheers.” He sipped appreciatively. “Mmm, good choice.”
Emma flushed with pleasure There had been rows and rows of wines, mostly from California vineyards.
She hadn’t a clue what to buy until the owner of the small store had taken pity on her and suggested a couple of choices.
Gratified that Logan approved, she sipped.
The wine tasted delicious, fruity and a bit tart, but cooling on her lips and tongue.
She glanced at him, wondering what it tasted like on his tongue.
Embarrassed, she turned away. She was acting like a schoolgirl. But she couldn’t resist. Her eyes met his. Curiosity shone from his, but he said nothing.
“I thought we could eat in a half hour. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to prepare everything. The rice is steaming now. Have a seat.”
She sank gracefully into a lounge chair, tucking part of her skirt beneath her legs to keep it from flying up in the breeze.
“Pretty dress,” Logan murmured as he moved the table and pulled his chair right up beside hers.
“Thanks.”
Glancing down surreptitiously, she double checked the bodice. The cotton was thick enough and patterns swirled in blues and greens.
“You should wear dresses more often, they suit you,” he said, with an appreciative look at her legs before moving his gaze out over the Pacific.
Emma vowed then and there to wear only dresses for the remainder of her vacation.
“Tell me more about this barbecue we’re going to on Saturday,” she invited as silence stretched out comfortably between them.
She felt a bit tongue-tied, on the edge of anticipation. She’d had David to dinner occasionally, but try as she might, she couldn’t equate Logan with David.
“Phil Mott’s throwing it. He lives with a couple of other guys in this huge house out in the Valley. They have a tennis court, swimming pool and big flagstone patio with a built-in barbecue grill that doesn’t quit. Every few weeks they throw a bash. Usually, I don’t go.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated a moment, then said, “No date.”
“I can’t believe that.”
Rested, he looked devilishly handsome. His dark hair moved in the breeze, his eyes held mysteries she longed to uncover.
Tall and lean, he appeared perfectly comfortable in a swimsuit on the beach or wearing the suit she’d seen him in today.
Any woman would say yes in a New York minute to an invitation.
“Let’s just say, no one I want to take lest I give the wrong idea.”
“I remember, you aren’t marriage-minded.”
“No, I’m not. And a lot of women are these days. So rather than start something I have no intentions of finishing, I avoid the situation entirely. Once in a while, I go stag, but usually I avoid gatherings like that.”
“Then I’m doubly honored to be invited,” she said.
“So you should be. But I think I’m safe. In the two years we’ve been neighbors, you’ve never come on to me. And after last night, I can guess why. You’re not an old lady yet only so early to marry.”
She smiled and nodded. Lily was probably having too much fun to settle down, and Emma planned to have the same kind of fun. Maybe when she was thirty or older she’d want to settle down, but for now, she was free and could be as wild as she wanted. Or as she dared.
Logan touched her shoulder.
“You’re sunburned.”
Emma jumped.
“Yes. I drove up the coast this afternoon with the top down never thinking how burned I’d get. If I do it again, I’m either wearing long sleeves or will slather on the sun screen.”
“Where did you go?”
“No where special. I wanted to drive around.”
“No tennis match?”
“What?”
“Didn’t you tell me a few months ago that you were spending a lot of time at the tennis club down on Mulholland?”
She looked away from his penetrating gaze.
“Not today.”
Emma enjoyed tennis and was pleased Lily did, too. Maybe she could use Lily’s membership and play a few sets some afternoons. Time hung a bit heavy with her sister gone.
The kitchen timer chimed.
“Oops, time to get busy.”
Emma escaped into the kitchen, placing her almost-empty wineglass on the counter. She had set the dining room table for the meal, feeling it was too windy on the deck.
Running her fingers through her hair, she wondered what it looked like. Did she have time to dash upstairs and run a brush through it?
“Can I help?”
Logan followed her in, his glass and the wine bottle in one hand.
“No, you’re the guest. I can manage.”
“I’m sure you can.”
Something in his tone caused Emma to spin around and look at him.
“What?”
“I’ll admit being surprised you’re so efficient and organized. I’ve always pictured you a bit helter-skelter. Doing things at the spur of the moment, at the last minute.”
“Inviting you was a spur-of the-moment thing.”
He nodded. Placing the wine and glass on the breakfast table, he spun a chair around, straddled it and rested his stacked hands on the high back.
“Have you made stir-fry before?” he asked lazily.
“Sure, a million times.”
Emma was comfortable in the kitchen. She turned back to the stove, glad to have something to do besides stare at her sister’s neighbor.
Smiling in simple joy as she prepared the meal, she almost pinched herself to assure herself the evening was real.
She was in California, preparing dinner for a man she’d only met yesterday.
It was just as she’d always pictured her sister.
Logan proved attentive and easygoing during dinner.
If he looked at her oddly from time to time, Emma ignored it.
The magic in the air thrilled her. Conversation proved easy as they moved from books they enjoyed to a discussion of how different books could be made into feature films. Emma forgot she was a rather shy librarian from Charlottesville, Virginia.
She talked easily, flirted a bit and covered her own shyness with the mantle of worldly Lily Rambeau.
“Want to take a walk?” Logan asked as they finished their coffee.
“I’d love to.”