His cell phone rattling on the workbench inside the shed, followed by a tinny rendition of “Home On The Range.” Logan hesitated at the familiar ring, but only for a minute. He and his buddies had made a pact nine months ago. Pride wouldn’t let him dodge a call from either one of them, even if he didn’t feel like talking.
“Hey, Dylan,” Logan said, answering the call. “The college semester must be over if you have time to call.”
“It is, and every damn grade registered.” Dylan MacCabe barked a Viking-loud laugh that made Logan pull the phone away from his ear. “I’m as free as a golden eagle for the next two months. I’m about to start work on that project I proposed at the reunion.”
Logan’s smile went tight. He’d last personally seen Dylan and another friend, Garrick, at a college reunion last fall. They’d all ducked out of the banquet room full of hungry divorcees to seek sanctuary in the old rugby field where they’d first met. They’d talked as the night stretched into the wee hours of the morning, catching up with each other’s lives, talking more about philosophy than they ever had as students. As the sun rose golden over the green field, they discovered they’d all suffered a personal loss. The kind of loss that made a man’s world pivot on its axis.
They’d made promises then, to themselves and each other. By the sound of Dylan’s voice, he’d be the first to fulfill his.
“You’re really going to do this,” Logan said. “Three weeks canoeing through the wilderness.”
“Damn right. The grant finally came through.”
“Congrats, Dyl. I hope you don’t get eaten by a bear.”
“I started making the birch bark canoe ahead of time,” Dylan chattered on. “I’ve been seasoning some white cedar for the gunwales and ribs. I’m heading up to the old cabin right now to buckle down to work.”
Logan said, “How is the ever-irascible Pops MacCabe?”
“Alzheimer’s sucks.” Dylan didn’t hold back his sigh. “We lose a little more of him every day. But he comes to his old, lively self when I talk to him about retracing his rum-running route…so I think I made the right choice.”
Logan nodded. Pops MacCabe had been like a second father to him too. Logan hated to think of that wiry, fire-breathing marshmallow of a storyteller struck down by sickness.
“That’s actually why I called,” Dylan said. “I was thinking about doing the trip alone, but it came to me that Grampa never traveled alone, so neither should I. You want to join me on an adventure?”
Logan grimaced. He should have seen this coming. He knew he wasn’t living up to the expectations they’d all expressed during those last soul-baring hours on the rugby field. He’d been content to hang out in this cabin, think about nothing at all.
Logan countered, “Why not ask Garrick?” .
He countered, “Why not Garrick?”
“That city boy? You remember fishing with Garrick two summers ago? He was checking stock prices the whole time. You know he’s always working, even if he should know better now.” Dylan shifted the Jeep’s gears hard. Logan recognized the sound since Dylan had had the jeep since college. “Besides, I might need a doctor in the wilderness if I break a leg or something.”
“I can’t imagine what makes you think I’ll be free and available for three long weeks.”
“You haven’t mentioned any other plans.” Dylan’s frustration crackled through the phone. “But by all means, tell me if you do. I won’t be disappointed either way.”
“I’m working on it.” That was a bald-faced lie.
“Then fly out and work on it here. The MacCabe cabin is all mine this summer, and I’d love the company.”
Logan remembered that cabin with fondness, the pine woods, the fly-fishing stream just out back, the smell of sap that permeated the place. He’d spent a lot of summers in college sleeping in the screened porch, lulled by the music of katydids. Dylan’s offer opened up a world of possibilities, including the option to get out of Jenny’s way. Her eyes screamed that she was interested—but her attitude said something different. She deserved better than being shacked up with a guy who prodded her temper at every turn, a guy who should be avoiding entanglements anyway. He sucked his breath between his teeth as he remembered the softness of her lips under his, and her soft gasp of surprise when he gave her the kiss they both wanted. The best way to make amends would be to leave her alone.
But there could be another way, too.
“Logan?” Dylan said. “You still there?”
“Dylan. Listen.” He peered at that grimy basement window, searching for a flash of a blond head, gripped by an idea. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s something I have to finish up here.”
“You’re dodging me.”
“No. This has to do with…something else.”
“You’re saying ‘something’ but I’m hearing ‘someone.’”
“Yeah, well,” Logan said. “Gotta go.”
“You sneaky bastard.”
“Keep me updated on the canoe trip, Dylan.”
“I will, so long as you let me know if Miss someone works out.”
Logan ended the call and strode into the cabin through the back door before he could change his mind. He made a beeline to the downstairs lab, where Jenny stood in a white lab coat, peering at computer screen next to a box that blinked and hummed on the workbench. Under the industrial hood behind her, something burbled in a round-bottomed glass set just above a gas burner. The whole room smelled of crushed greenery.
She raised her head and pinned him through a pair of safety glasses. She looked like she’d been bracing for his arrival all day.
He gazed around the room. “Impressive hideout.”
One sleek brow raised above the edge of the glasses. “It’s not a hideout. It’s a lab.”
“It’s serving double duty.”
“I’m not hiding from anybody, Logan. I’m working.”
“You work too much.”
“I enjoy my work. I always work this hard. I’m good at it. And I’d like to get back to it.”
“And get rid of me.”
She didn’t have to say it. It was written all over her, like letters scratched in window ice.
He tried for a charming smile. He used to have one, but this was rusty.
“I have a solution to our problem, Red.”
“We don’t have a problem. I’m working here. You’re working in the shed. We’re staying out of each other’s way.”
“That didn’t work the other day.”
“Logan.” She closed her eyes and then opened them again. “I’m busy.”
“Keeping busy used to work for me, too. It distracted me from whatever I didn’t want to think about.” He stepped down to the basement floor and leaned a shoulder against the concrete wall. “But these days, I just can’t get my mind off you, Red.”
She looked away with a catch of breath, tucked a tress back into her chignon, and then fiddled with a knob on the humming machine.
“Jenny,” he said. “How would you like to go out on a date?”
The machine hissed and hummed but she didn’t move a muscle.
“Nothing fancy,” he continued. “Pizza, maybe a movie. There’s nothing much else to do around here, anyway.”
Jenny swept the safety glasses off her face, dislodging the stray curl from the messy way she’d tied it up. She clanked the glasses on the table and took a breath that made her breasts strain against the buttons of the lab coat.
He remembered what those breasts looked like, glazed with steam, in the light of the master bedroom.
“Logan,” she said, in an uneven voice. “I’m not offended by anything you’ve done or said, okay? It’s clear that I’ve been a willing participant in the…difficulties between us.”
Willing participant. The words made his balls tighten.
“We don’t have to be friends,” she said. “We just have to live together for ten more days. That requires discipline.”
His mind leap-frogged t
o blindfolds and leather restraints. Would she be game?
“I admit,” she said, “that I’m not very good at being around people. I haven’t had a roommate since boarding school.”
Logan filed that little insight away.
“And certainly not a male roommate,” she continued. “Not since—well, not for a while.”
His curiosity kicked up. How long had it been since she’d been properly aroused?
“It’s just biology,” she persisted, “this physical attraction. Hormones run wild. But we’re both adults here. Are we agreed?”
“On the attraction? Hell yes.” He pushed off the wall, straightening up. “Thus the offer of a date.”
She closed her eyes. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Hanging out with me will cut the shine off the diamond. You’ll get to know the real me, uncluttered by my usual wit and charm.”
She blinked at him. “Charm?”
“I know, it’s blinding. But it’ll dim after a few hours across a dinner table, I can guarantee it.”
She tapped a pen on the wooden surface of the island table. “Familiarity breeds contempt.”
“Exactly. It’ll put both of us off.”
She crossed her arms, frowning as if trying to work out a chemical equation. “That’s almost twisted enough to work.”
It could go the other way.
The unspoken words shimmered between them. He’d been thinking the same thing, too. A date with this bundle of contradictions could end in a temper or tangled sheets. He knew what way he hoped it would go, he’d been thinking about wrapping his arms around her since he’d first seen her walk out of that shower, naked skin beaded with water. In either case, they would work out this thing between them. If it went bad, he’d fly out to stay with Dylan and put Jenny Vance out of his fantasies for good.
“What do you say, Jenny?” He cocked a brow. “You hungry?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jen jumped at the sharp rap on the closed door. She seized a skirt from the bed and held it against her, as if Logan could see through the solid wood to where she stood in a satin bra and matching lace underwear.
He said, “Ready whenever you are, Jenny.”
She glanced at the clothes strewn about, the shoes toppled across the floor, and the clutter of jewelry on the countertop. “I’m just…drying my hair.” She slipped a bone-dry tress behind her ear. “I’ll be right there.”
His footsteps receded. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sank onto the bed. When she’d packed for this trip, she’d expected to be working in the lab or in the field. At best, she might take an hour or two off for a quick visit to a country-store to shop for her father’s birthday. She’d sworn men off since the breakup with Michael, hadn’t seen the point in disappointing anyone—or being disappointed by anyone, either. How could she ever have anticipated Logan?
A moan threatened in her throat—she slapped the back of her hand against her mouth to close it off. It had been fluke, that kiss in the woods. An alignment of the planets, a phase of the moon, an excess of estrogen in her bloodstream. Some combination of all the above. Her body still buzzed whenever they shared the same air space. His eyes made promises her mind rejected but her body most definitely believed.
Jolting to her feet, she tossed the floral skirt on the bed and grabbed a sleeveless knit top she’d already put on and peeled off twice. She laid her hand on a short skirt with a flirty hem that she’d bought on a whim months ago, encouraged by a well-meaning friend distraught by her abstinent status. She shimmied the darn thing on and strode to the bureau while her mind went through a paroxysm of indecision about lipstick and mascara. Plunging her hand into a make-up bag, her fingers fell upon an old square case. She pulled it out, stared at it, and dug her teeth into her lower lip.
She hadn’t used the diaphragm since Michael had tossed her out for a woman whose blood ran a lot hotter, a fact he took pains to point out. She snapped the case open and flexed the rubber cup between her fingers, lifting it to the light. She wouldn’t need this—Logan would be bored with her by the evening’s end—but, heck, she had to make a choice tonight, and it might be a reckless one.
A few minutes later she flung open her bedroom door and sauntered into the cabin’s living room. Logan stood outside on the red cedar deck, leaning against the railing, staring off into a grove of western hemlock. He’d tucked a button-down shirt into a pair of khakis that his muscled backside pulled taut. He turned around as the screen door wheezed shut behind her.
Goosebumps rose on her skin, and not from the evening breeze, thick with the promise of rain.
“I’m not supposed to say this.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But you look great, damn it.”
A phantom firecracker exploded, showering her with sparks. “I’ll let it pass,” she said. “For now.”
“I’ll be more of a jerk later.”
His lips twitched, warming the current that passed between them, and her knees went a little shaky.
“I’m sure you will.”
“C’mon,” he said, rustling up keys from his pocket as he headed down the deck stairs. “I’ll do the driving tonight.”
She opened her mouth offer up her Saab—which would be a lot more comfortable than Logan’s beat-up hulk of a pick-up truck—but she bit her lip to stay quiet. Better to be battered around in a dirty cab than luxuriate in buttery leather seats. She realized her mistake a minute later, when she hauled herself up into the pick-up and a rush of memory assaulted her. How many hot summer nights as a teenager had she hopped into the passenger’s seat of a boy’s family truck for a drive into town, or an evening at the local bowling alley? Boys whose skin had been burnished tan from working on the family farm. Boys whose arms rippled with muscles. Boys who acted grateful for the opportunity to introduce her to the pleasures of necking in a flatbed under the glitter of a thousand stars.
She curled a hand around the open window as the truck bucked to life and bounced down the gravel driveway. The balmy air tossed her hair over her shoulder. The breeze filtered through the easy knit of her cotton sweater and wrestled with the hem of her skirt. The cab was set high so that despite the jouncing of the ride, she felt as if she were floating above it, as lighthearted as the sixteen-year-old girl she once was, anticipating an evening of hot petting.
She hazarded a glance toward Logan, his arms slung across the steering wheel as he stared at the road with all the intensity of a race car driver. The roar of the engine and the rattle of the vehicle precluded any easy conversation, but she could sense the tension in him. There was no other traffic on this winding, country road, shaded on either side by old-growth trees, so she could only assume he was trying not to look at how high her skirt had ridden up her thighs
A half-hour later, Logan turned the truck to a stop in front of a whitewashed building that looked more like a run-down country home than a restaurant. A painted sign hung swung from a post, with the single word ‘Pizza’ on it, painted in big red letters.
“It doesn’t look like much.” Logan turned off the truck. “But it’s the best pizza in town.”
“You told me it was the only pizza in town.”
“True.”
“You know I’m a pizza expert,” she said. “You can’t grow up in New York City and not be.”
“Great,” he said, with a flirty wink. “Then you’ll be thoroughly disappointed.”
Knocked askew by the wink, she followed him across the lot to the restaurant. Inside, country music wheezed out of tinny speakers, the air smelled of stale beer and red sauce, and the place was packed with plaid shirts. Logan led the way to the only available table, a rickety one in the far back corner of the room. A very small table, she discovered, once she settled down on the well-worn chair. Her bare knees bumped Logan’s under the table. With a start, she slid her legs around to avoid the contact.
He pretended not to notice as he waved a hand at a woman in a grease-stained apron heading toward them.
&nb
sp; The older woman granted Logan a bright, friendly smile.
“There you are, Mac, I’ve been wondering where you’ve been.”
“Been busy, Nora.”
“I see that.” Her brown gaze slipped to Jen. “But this isn’t a sister of yours, that’s for sure. Never seen this pretty thing before. What are you thinking, bringing her into town?” Nora delivered her words with a teasing smile that hid more than a little curiosity. “You’re going to disappoint every woman under sixty, Logan, when they see her and you sitting all cozy here.”
Did they look cozy? She felt like she was sitting on pins.
“Jenny’s a city girl who claims to know everything about pizza,” Logan said. “How about bringing her something that will blow her hair back?”
“Honey, there’s already something at this table that’ll blow her hair back. But if you don’t know what that is, I’m not going to be the one to tell you.”
The woman turned away and shouted an order to the kitchen before stepping to the next table.
She raised a brow to hide her flush. “Local character, huh?”
“Yup.” He spun a glass dispenser of hot pepper flakes on its base. “But you won’t be getting boring pizza.”
“Good. I hate boring pizza.”
His brows rose. “To think I pegged you for a plain cheese kind of girl.”
“You pegged me wrong.” She rested an elbow on the table. “I like it thick and spicy.”’
He pinned her with that clear, green gaze. She suppressed a grin. Flirting could be kind of fun.
“So,” she said, drawing in a gulp of air, “we don’t get to choose toppings? Or crust?”
“You get whatever Nora has in the kitchen. I guarantee you there won’t be pineapple or goat cheese. What you see is what you get.”
“Too bad the men around here aren’t the same.”
Alone With You (Cabin Fever Series Book 1) Page 5