Logan rose from his chair, extending his right hand. “It’s nice seeing you again.”
Randy shook the proffered hand. “Same here, Logan.” His gaze shifted from Logan to Caryn. “You two know each other?”
“We should,” Logan replied. “We’re living together.”
Randy was momentarily speechless in his surprise, but he recovered quickly. “I suppose you would know each other.” He flashed another professional smile. “I’ll be right back with your order.”
Caryn waited for Logan to retake his seat, then reached for his left wrist, her fingernails biting into his flesh and leaving small half-moons. “How dare you tell him we’re living together.”
Covering her smaller hand with his larger one, Logan held her captive. “We are living together. Would you have preferred if I said we were sleeping together?”
“We’re not living together or sleeping together,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“Then what the hell are we, Caryn?”
“We are sharing a house, Logan.” There was no mistaking the facetiousness in her voice. “Sharing a house is very different from living together.”
He tightened his grip on her delicate hand. “Semantics.”
Her eyes flashed sparks of green fire. “That’s bull!”
Logan released her hand, then extracted her fingers from his wrist with a minimum of effort. “Eat, Caryn,” he ordered in a bored tone, waving a hand. She opened her mouth to come back at him, but he stopped her. “Let’s not quarrel in public. I don’t want everyone to think we’re having a lover’s spat.”
Her gaze narrowed at the same time her fingers tightened on her fork. “You’re right. Let’s not quarrel.”
Turning her attention to the dishes in front of her, she smiled. Eating would give her something to concentrate on rather than the man sitting less than three feet away. Spearing a small piece of crab cake, she bit into it, watching Logan observe her as she ate. The succulently prepared flaky crab meat literally melted on her tongue. Each time she brought a portion of food to her mouth, his eyes followed the motion. She did not know why, but it was the first time she felt uncomfortable having a man watch her eat.
Placing the fork on the napkin beside her plate, she stared back at him. “Do I have food on my face?”
Logan shook his head. “No.” What he did not want to tell Caryn was that her mouth transfixed him. Picking up his own fork, he reached for a small portion of the untouched crab cake and popped it into his mouth. Arching his eyebrows, he chewed thoughtfully before reaching for a second piece. “Delicious.”
Caryn folded her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Sampling your food.”
“Did I give you permission to sample my food?”
“Have pity on me. I’m starved.”
Leaning closer, she whispered, “Whose fault is that? Why didn’t you eat earlier?”
He pilfered another portion of the crab cake along with several sweet potato fries. “I didn’t want to eat before I went swimming.”
Chewing slowly, he watched Caryn watching him as an expression of annoyance narrowed her gaze. She reminded him of a cat with her large, expressive gold-green eyes. And he could tell her mood by their color. Gold indicated she was relaxed, happy, while pinpoints of green revealed anger. He didn’t know why, but he wondered what color they would be if she were aroused by passion.
And he knew she was a passionate woman. He had seen her flirt openly and deliberately with several men, while her full lower lip was a positive clue to her voluptuous nature.
“You don’t clean and you wait until you’re nearly starving to eat because you can’t cook—”
“I never said I couldn’t cook,” he interrupted defensively.
A low, sultry laugh bubbled in her throat as she gave him a disbelieving stare. “No! You cook?”
“Yes, I do. And very well, too.”
Caryn registered his annoyance at her implication of his ineptness along with a hint of cockiness. “What can you prepare?”
“Everything. You name it and I can prepare it.”
“If that’s the case, then what are you going to prepare for the Fourth of July celebration?”
A wide grin revealed the perfection of his straight white teeth. “My lip-smacking baby back ribs.”
His fork dipped again, this time in the creamy cole slaw, but Caryn was too astounded by Logan’s claim that he could cook to protest. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“Miss Nettie. She’s my family’s cook. She came to work for my parents several years after they’d adopted me. And when I was old enough to differentiate that I looked nothing like the man and woman whom I called Mama and Daddy, I instinctively gravitated to Miss Nettie.”
“I take it Miss Nettie is African-American?” He nodded, smiling. Wrinkling her delicate nose, she gave him an expectant look. “Will you allow me to sample a few of your lip-smacking ribs before you take them to the celebration?”
“Of course,” he replied quickly. “But only if you’d let me sample your contribution.”
“I haven’t decided what I want to make.”
“You have only a day to make a decision.”
Caryn picked up a fry with her fingers. “I’ll probably bake several loaves of homemade bread, but I can’t decide whether I want to make an antipasto platter or a seafood salad.”
Logan took the wedge of sweet potato from her limp grasp and popped it into his mouth. “It probably would be easier to get the ingredients for the seafood salad than the antipasto.”
“You’re right.” She slapped at his hand when he reached for another potato. “Logan, stop. You’re eating all of my food.”
“I promise I’ll let you have some of mine when it comes.”
And he kept his promise, spooning a portion of everything on his plate onto hers. They ate in silence, their gazes meeting across the small space of the table and surreptitiously measuring the other’s reaction.
Logan reluctantly admitted that he was more than physically attracted to Caryn Edwards, and he now felt comfortable with her despite their initial acerbic encounter. She was beautiful, feminine, and appeared quite at ease with her femininity. And because she was, it was expected that men would be attracted to her. He had not been exempt.
“Where are you going after you leave here?” he questioned Caryn as she touched the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin.
“I’m going back to the house to pick up my car.”
“You need a ride somewhere?”
She nodded. “I want to go to a larger supermarket.” Marble Island’s minimarket did not stock the items she needed to prepare a dish for the Fourth of July celebration.
I’ll drive you. There are a few things I also have to pick up.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” And he didn’t mind. Driving Caryn around would allow him more time with her. They’d shared breakfast and now lunch. And the more time he spent with his housemate, the more he wanted to spend with her. He didn’t think he would’ve openly acknowledged it when he first stepped foot onto Marble Island, but now he had to admit to himself that he looked forward to sharing the house with a woman—especially if that woman was Miss Caryn Edwards.
Logan reached for the check at the same time Caryn withdrew her wallet from her oversized summer bag. “I’ll get it. Consider it my treat. Besides, I ate most of the food.”
Rising to her feet, she smiled as he rose with her. “The next one is on me.”
He pulled out her chair and stood aside for her to precede him. The fingers of his right hand went to the small of her back, burning her sensitive flesh through the lacy cardigan top. Her spine stiffened as she fought the impulse to give in to the strength of his long, slender fingers.
Instead of waiting for him to pay the cashier, she walked out of Addie’s and into the brilliant summer sun, blinking furiously while she groped in the bottom of her bag for her sunglasses. She
found them and perched them on the end of her nose, spying Logan’s Wrangler in the parking lot.
“Ready?”
She jumped at the soft sound of his voice close to her ear. His approach had been so silent that she hadn’t heard him come up behind her. Smiling up at him through the darkened lenses, she nodded.
For the second time within the span of minutes, Logan’s hand went to her waist as he led her to his parked automobile. The gesture was so natural and anyone glancing their way could assume they were a “couple.”
He opened the passenger side door. His hands circled her waist, and he lifted her effortlessly off the ground and settled her onto the seat. His ebony gaze bored into hers, he visually measuring her reaction.
“I thought you would have a problem trying to climb up with your little skirt,” he explained when she lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s not little.”
He shrugged a broad shoulder. “Well—it is kind of tight.”
Her sand-colored denim skirt was neither. It was slim, ending just at her knee, and therefore it would not have been difficult for her to raise it slightly to step up into the four-wheel-drive Jeep.
Giving him a dubious look, Caryn pulled the seat belt over her chest. A hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. Logan Prescott was either staid or very conservative. She’d packed one dress which she was certain to raise his eyebrows or make him stop in his tracks, and she made a mental note to model the garment at least once before he left Marble Island.
Logan started up the Jeep, slipped on his sunglasses, then maneuvered out of the parking lot, heading southward. The overhead sun beat down on his exposed flesh, and he mentally berated Caryn for refusing to wear a hat to protect her face. She’s not Nina, a small voice reminded him. And she was nothing like Nina. Not in looks and not in temperament.
They rode in silence for twenty minutes, each lost in their private thoughts as a warm breeze caressed their faces and the distinctive smell of salt-filled air stung their nostrils. Seagulls sailed wind currents on a constant prowl for food, while the sun played hide-and-seek with white puffy clouds in a brilliant blue sky.
Caryn felt alive, physically and spiritually alive for the first time in years. She forgot the bitter words she’d traded with Tom before their idyllic marriage ended, and the months of loneliness she encountered since she’d walked away from the only man she’d ever loved. She forgot the shrouded fear that had controlled her life once she discovered she was being stalked by a student who unknowingly had become obsessed with her. The stalking began a month after she left Tom; a time when she was most vulnerable; a time when she needed the protection of her husband.
Inhaling, she savored the scent of the salt-filled air and marveled at the crashing waves washing the face of the beach with its incoming tide in the same way she felt cleansed and healed. She turned slightly, glancing at the sharp, distinctive, clear-cut lines of Logan Prescott’s profile. He stared straight ahead, his regal head held high with pride. He’s a magnificent African prince, she mused as her gaze kissed the length of his long, strong neck and wide shoulders. Her gaze inched down to his hands, admiring their shape and strength. When he’d lifted her effortlessly onto the seat of the Jeep, she’d registered the strength of his fingers, the power in his upper arms, and the haunting subtle scent of aftershave clinging to his smooth, dark cheek.
Logan felt the heat of the sun and also that of Caryn’s gaze behind the lenses of her sunglasses on his face. He wondered what she was thinking, and for an instant he turned his head and stared back at her. Shrouded glass concealed the depths of their gazes from the other, yet both were aware of the deliberate interest in the other.
Returning his attention to the road in front of him, he turned off the local road and maneuvered into the strip mall containing a Winn-Dixie supermarket. “I’ll help you down,” he announced softly, turning the key in the ignition and shutting off the engine.
Caryn unbuckled her seat belt and waited for Logan to come around to her side of the car. He opened the door, extending his arms. Her slender arms circled his neck, and she felt the unyielding hardness in his powerful body for the first time as he molded her body to the length of his before slowly lowering her until her espadrille-covered feet touched the concrete surface of the parking lot.
They stood motionless, gazes fused. Caryn felt the heat sweep from her face, rush to her breasts, and still lower, and she was certain Logan felt the swell of her breasts against his chest as her nipples exploded against the lace of her bra and crocheted cardigan.
Closing her eyes, she prayed silently. It had been a long time, a very, very long time since she had acknowledged the absence of intimacy in her life. She could not begin to count the number of days, weeks, and now years since she had lain beside a man or taken him into her body.
Damn Logan for reminding her of what she’d missed and had been missing since she walked away from her husband. Why did he have to be so attractive, so male, and so very virile?
Pulling away from him, she turned and reached for her handbag off the floor of the Jeep. Then she straightened her shoulders and walked across the parking lot, heading for the supermarket and feeling the heat all over again as Logan’s penetrating gaze followed her retreat.
Chapter Seven
Logan caught up with her before she could make her way through the automatic doors. The fingers of his right hand caught her left one, and he held it protectively as the sliding doors opened silently. They were met with a wave of cool air which feathered over their bare flesh, eliciting a noticeable shiver from Caryn.
“Are you cold?” he questioned. He released her hand and curved an arm around her shoulders, offering his body’s heat. “I have a sweater in the car if you need it.”
Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she gave him a gentle smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll survive.”
“Let’s see how quickly we can shop so I can get you out of this igloo.”
She nodded, still rubbing her arms. “You won’t get an argument out of me.”
Logan pushed a shopping cart up and down spacious aisles, following closely behind Caryn as she selected items from shelves, and refrigerator cases, and it wasn’t until an elderly woman whispered to her husband that they looked like a “lovely young couple” did she realize the picture they presented.
Waiting until the older couple passed them, Logan pulled alongside Caryn, smiling. “Do you want to be Mrs. Prescott or would you prefer I become Mr. Edwards?”
“Behave,” she whispered, returning his smile.
“You heard what they said, didn’t you?”
“They said we look like a couple. That doesn’t have to mean we’re married.”
“What do you think—”
“Raven!”
The words died on Logan’s tongue when he turned around and spied a man whom he hadn’t seen in years. “Ham!”
Caryn stood motionless, watching a tall, slender, tanned man with long, sun-streaked golden hair pull Logan against him in a rough embrace.
“Hamilton, you old dog. How long has it been?” Logan asked.
“Too long, Raven.”
Draping an arm over his friend’s shoulder, Logan extended a hand to Caryn. She took the proffered hand, and he pulled her close to his side. “Caryn, I want you to meet an old college buddy. H. Hamilton Wheaton. Ham, Miss Caryn Edwards.”
Hamilton placed his left hand over his heart, extended his right, and bowed from the waist. “My pleasure, Caryn.”
Logan slapped his back with a resounding thud. “Still the ham, aren’t you?”
Hamilton straightened, his dark blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “I must live up to the nickname.” His gaze swept appreciably over Caryn before it returned to Logan. “What are you doing this far south? Last I heard you had put down permanent roots in Raleigh. Leo Griffin told me you’d gone into business with your father.”
Logan nodded as he studied the patrician features of the man who
had been one of the more popular students on the Yale campus. “I do work with my father, but I’m taking a month off for some R&R.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Marble Island. What about yourself?”
“We’re practically neighbors. Cynthia and I are renting a little bungalow at Gooseneck.”
Logan nodded at this news. Hamilton had married his college sweetheart during their senior year. “How long are you guys staying?”
“Until the end of July. Look, Raven, why don’t we get together? You and Caryn and can hang out at our place for a few days.”
Logan saw Caryn’s warning glance. “Better yet, why don’t the two of you come up to Marble Island, then we’ll reciprocate,” he suggested.
“Sounds good,” Ham agreed. “How about this weekend?”
Logan arched a questioning eyebrow at Caryn. “Would you mind having company this weekend, sweetheart?”
Her gaze narrowed even though her mouth was smiling. “Of course not, darling.”
Hamilton combed his fingers through his tousled hair, pushing it off his forehead. Light caught the glow of a wide gold band on the third finger of his left hand. “Great. We’ll come up Saturday afternoon and stay over until Sunday. How do I find the house?”
Caryn counted to ten—very, very slowly as Logan gave his friend directions to the house on Watermelon Patch Lane. She had left Asheville for Marble Island with the intent of spending two months alone. However, she hadn’t been on the island for two full days, and within that time she was living with a man who had invited another man and his wife to stay with them. And the problem was she couldn’t complain about it. Marcia and Terrence had given Logan permission to use the house, which meant he had just as much right to the property as she did.
One month, she told herself. She only had to put up with him for a month, then the house and the privacy she sought would be hers.
Hamilton embraced Logan again, smiling around his shoulder at Caryn. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
She returned his friendly smile and found some of her agitation slipping away. “I’m looking forward to it.” Ham, as Logan called him, and his wife would be staying for only a day. After all, they were Logan’s guests, not hers.
Summer Magic Page 7