Chapter Fourteen
Logan watched the car head down Lily’s driveway. Something didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She looked as sexy as ever, but he’d seen her look like that before.
Tonight he’d been hard-pressed to keep casual when she’d opened the door.
He’d wanted to yank her inside, bolt the door behind them and kiss her until morning.
Rubbing his fingers across his eyes, he tried to figure out this blatant attraction.
It had more to do with the way she wore the clothes, maybe.
That odd air of innocence that seemed to follow her.
He didn’t remember thinking that way about her before.
Had the water in Italy mutated his brain cells?
When the car turned onto the street and sped away, he continued walking back to his own patio. He loved the view of the ocean, loved the quiet and peacefulness he found in his home. Even though it was a relatively short drive into L.A., he felt a million miles away when he was home.
Tonight the silence didn’t bring the usual sense of peace. He wished now he’d called her this afternoon and suggested dinner. He’d lived next door to her long enough to know she rarely stayed home alone.
Lily was a party girl, liked going places and seeing friends. She liked dancing, and laughing and seeing the bright lights. Nothing had changed in that. So why had he thought she’d be waiting at home for him? She’d see him tomorrow. She was free to do what she wished.
Of course tomorrow he had to share her with the others at the barbecue.
Share her? When did he want exclusivity with a woman? Not since the early days with Crystal. Hadn’t he learned anything from that fiasco?
The evening loomed ahead, long and boring. How late would she stay out? How many different guys would she dance with? Kiss?
He didn’t care what she did. She was his next-door neighbor, nothing more.
The high-heeled sandals dangled from her fingers as Emma inserted the key in the front door. When it opened, she turned and waved at the car. It sped away. Flipping on the inside lights, she closed the door behind her. The stairs seemed insurmountable.
Dancing in high heels had been a mistake. The shoes made her legs look long and sexy, but they were awful for support. She’d finally kicked them off, but not until after she’d danced several hours wearing them.
“And I wish I had kept them on when that lecher at Maggie’s tried his tricks. I could have stomped on his foot with the spike heel,” she mumbled, pushing away from the door and limping toward the stairs.
On a scale from one to ten, she felt the evening was a definite nine or ten.
She’d laughed, sampled Chinese and Mexican munchies, and danced so much she might never walk straight again. And more people kissed her than she even knew in Charlottesville. Some were friendly on-the-cheek greetings, several were on the lips, and one man, the lecher, had tried a bit more.
If nothing else, it had proved how well liked Lily was among her friends.
Turning on the light in her bedroom, she switched off the hall light. Tossing the sandals in the direction of the closet, she headed for the bathroom. Maybe if she soaked her feet before going to bed they’d feel better in the morning.
The phone in the kitchen rang.
It was almost three o’clock in the morning, who could be calling her? It was too early for her mother, and too late for Lily. Unless it was an emergency.
Hurrying downstairs, she reached for the phone to stop the ringing.
“Hello?”
“So if not dinner, how about breakfast?”
“Logan? Are you out of your mind? It’s the middle of the night. You’re calling me to ask me out for breakfast?”
“Well, I was too late for dinner, so thought I’d get a start on breakfast.”
“What are you doing up?” she asked suspiciously.
“Waiting to see what time you got home. Or if you even came home. Or if you came home alone.”
Blinking, Emma was speechless. How did she answer something like that?
“Of course I’d come home. Where else would I stay?”
“I’m not answering that question. Talk about a loaded gun.”
Emma leaned back against the wall, and lifted one foot. She really didn’t want to stand any more than she needed to. She was so tired.
“Thank you for the breakfast invitation, but I think it needs to be for lunch. I plan to sleep in until at least noon.”
She rotated her aching feet, even her ankles hurt.
“Then we’ll make it brunch.”
“Okay.”
She felt the urge to sleep pulling her. Could she muster enough energy to get back upstairs and change into her nightshirt?
“Cupcake?”
Maybe she could lie down on the sofa in the living room for a few minutes and sleep in her clothes. There wasn’t enough of them to be restrictive.
“Lily.”
Emma’s eyes flew open.
“What?”
She’d almost drifted off.
“I think I’m about to fall asleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll fix brunch, okay?” Logan asked.
“Sure, whatever. Good night.”
She hung up, stripped off her top as she walked up the stairs. She shimmied out of her skirt in the dark and stumbled into the bed. In two seconds she was fast asleep.
The fragrant aroma of coffee wafted on the still air. Slowly Emma turned over and drew a deep breath. Nothing smelled better than freshly brewed coffee early in the morning.
Coffee? She opened her eyes. The sun was already high in the cloudless blue sky, the room warmed from its rays. Slowly she sat up and sniffed. Coffee.
Logan had told her he would prepare brunch. Had he meant in her own house? She threw off the covers and walked to her door, leaning against it to see if she could hear anything. The house seemed silent.
She reached for her robe and hesitated. Once before she’d gone downstairs in that terry-cloth robe, it was hardly her idea of glamour.
Biting her lower lip in indecision, she considered the frothy nothings her sister had hanging in the closet.
There was no way she could wear any of those if there was a man in the house.
Picking up her clothes from last night, she tossed them on the bed. Her best option was to get dressed for the day.
Logan heard the shower. Good, she was up and he hadn’t had to wake her.
He glanced at the clock. How long did she take?
A half hour, longer? He planned omelettes and toast. He could wait until she came down, as long as all the ingredients were ready.
If she hurried, they could get in some beach time before they left for Phil’s place.
“Now why did I think a brunch invitation meant going out to eat somewhere, not providing the food myself?” she asked from the doorway.
Logan spun around. The shorts revealed long slender legs much as that sexy skirt had last night. The hot pink top added color to her cheeks. Her eyes were sparkling and fresh. He thought she looked good enough to eat.
“I’m cooking, that’s something, right?”
“I guess.”
She stepped into the kitchen and looked around her with feigned surprise.
“And are you a master chef?”
“Good enough for an omelette that you won’t ever forget.”
“The smell of the coffee woke me up.”
“It’s piping hot and ready to go.”
He poured her a cup and carried it to her. When she reached out to take the cup, he held it out of reach and leaned over.
“Don’t I get something for my efforts?” he asked, his lips hovering inches from hers.
“A nice thank you?” she asked, flirting.
“How nice?” he said softly.
“How nice do you want?”
The throaty question pounded through his blood. She was an expert at this kind of thing, but he didn’t mind. For a while, at least, she was his.
Her breath fanned across his face, minty and sweet. He wanted to taste her, see if she tasted like toothpaste.
“I could have made it breakfast in bed,” he said, his eyes picking up the silvery shine in hers. Her lashes were long and curled, thick and dark.
“I’m already dressed.”
Her breath came a bit faster, her eyes never left his.
Logan felt the pull of desire build. The enticing game drove him on.
“You could have stayed in bed.”
“I wasn’t dressed to receive company.”
“If I were the company I wouldn’t care. Did you sleep in your T-shirt?”
Slowly she shook her head, her mouth scant inches from his. He could cover the distance in a nanosecond, but he suddenly wanted her to come to him. If the banter was driving her as crazy as it drove him, she’d have to give in soon.
“I was too tired last night. I took off my top and skirt and fell into bed.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips. When she promptly licked hers, he almost groaned aloud.
“In a lacy bra and skimpy panties?”
Emma slowly smiled. If he knew she wore white cotton briefs and a serviceable bra, he’d probably burst out laughing. If he wanted to believe in the fantasy of sexy underwear, she would do nothing to disabuse him of the notion.
Her lips almost trembled in craving. His breath mingled with hers, his eyes so close she could see into their depths, deep green pools of mystery and adventure. Intrigued with the thought of kissing him, she leaned a bit closer.
She could almost feel his lips against hers, could imagine the heat that would shimmer through her from him. Mesmerized by the challenge in his gaze, she moved a fraction closer still.
She felt as if this man had cast a spell. Something propelled her along. She wanted desperately to feel those lips against hers. Wanted desperately to discover what his morning beard felt like against her cheeks. Wanted a taste of the most blatantly masculine, sexy adult male she’d ever met.
Forgetting the masquerade, forgetting twenty-four years of strict upbringing, almost forgetting her own name, she closed the distance, daring the fire that almost consumed her.
Emma scarcely felt the touch of his lips before she wanted more. Taking a step closer brought her up against his hard body. Heat flared when she felt the response from his mouth.