Summer Magic

by Rochelle Alers

  “What happened after that?” she questioned.

  “The guys were so shocked, they just stood there staring at each other. I knew who Ham was because we were both drama majors, but I never thought I’d ever go out with him. One of the more popular freshman guys had agreed to go out with me, while all I could do was cry and ruin my carefully made-up face. Mascara had run down my cheeks and dripped onto my dress. As we would’ve said back in Evansville, I was souping snot.

  “Logan, being the most perceptive, suggested we all change and go to a popular off-campus burger joint. He literally changed my life that night. The guys went back to their dorm rooms and exchanged their ties and jackets for turtlenecks, while Vivienne and I opted for slacks and sweaters. I dismantled my elaborate French twist hairdo, and I tried covering the red blotches on my face with makeup, but in the end decided just to wear lipstick. Ham won me over when he said he preferred my hair down and my face without the blush, eyeliner, and mascara.

  “That one night taught me more than I’d learned in my first eighteen years of life. It taught me about class, which has nothing to do with the amount of money a person has in the bank. It was about family lineage, upbringing, manners, and an unwritten code of behavior. The other three had it and I didn’t.

  “Ham said he liked me for myself and after a while I decided I, too, liked Cynthia Jones from Evansville, West Virginia. That was who I was and who I would remain. Over the years I’ve learned what is socially acceptable and what isn’t. But what you see is what you get.”

  “What happened when you met his family?”

  Cynthia studied the unadorned gold band on the third finger of her left hand. “I met them for the first time over a Thanksgiving recess. They were speechless—all but Ham’s cookie-cutter Barbie doll triplet sisters. The girls were only twelve, and as privileged, overindulged little cherubs they quickly reminded me that I’d eaten my salad with the wrong fork. Ham’s mother took to her bed after dinner and remained there until we returned to school. His father didn’t know I’d overheard him telling Ham that I was an ignorant trailer park tramp who would deliberately get pregnant to entrap him into marrying me. I wanted to tell Hiram that I’d never lived in a trailer park, and even though I’d been dating his son for almost a year I had yet to sleep with him.

  “I had just begun my senior year when I tested for a small part in a movie and got it. The day I told Ham he proposed marriage, and I was faced with the biggest dilemma of my life. Do I leave school and go to California or stay and marry Ham. By that time I was so hopelessly in love with him that I turned down the part. We were married by the campus chaplin, moved into a tiny apartment in a less than desirable part of New Haven, and mapped out our future.”

  Caryn shifted an eyebrow. “I thought you said Ham came from a wealthy family.”

  “He did, but at the time he was receiving a modest monthly allowance from his trust fund which wasn’t enough to move into one of the better neighborhoods. Logan was also living off-campus, but his studio apartment was in a wonderful area of the city. Unlike Hiram and Maggie E, Logan’s parents did not monitor the women he dated.

  “The day Ham celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday he assumed complete control of his trust fund. We moved from Connecticut to Pennsylvania, purchased a dilapidated old farmhouse set on four acres, renovated it, then invested in a theater company.”

  “You are a true living and breathing Cinderella.”

  “You’re right about that,” Cynthia acknowledged with a bright, dimpled smile. Her smile vanished, her forehead furrowing. “I’ll never be as close to my in-laws the way Ham is with my family, but I have to remember the child I’m carrying is as much Wheaton as it is Jones. And Maggie E was the first to remind me that if it is a boy, then the Wheaton name would continue for another generation.”

  Reaching up, Cynthia pushed her sunglasses atop her head. “For heaven’s sakes,” she drawled, lapsing into the cadence of her childhood, “I been jawing to beat the band. What’s going on between you and Raven?”

  Caryn shrugged a bare shoulder. “Nothing.”

  Cynthia snorted delicately. “I know he told Ham he’d called off his wedding a little more than a month ago, but what I can’t understand is that he doesn’t seem to be too broken up over it. And I have a feeling you’re responsible for that.”

  “You and Ham have known Raven a lot longer and much better than I, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about him is that he’s a survivor. I don’t think he will permit anyone or anything to upset his emotional equilibrium for any extended length of time.”

  “You’re right about that, Caryn. But when are you going to admit that you’re as much in love with Raven as he is with you?”

  Never, she said silently. Staring out across the deck where Logan stood, she allowed her gaze to caress the length of his tall, powerfully built body. It lingered on his distinctive profile as he smiled at something Hamilton had said. Closing her eyes, she realized she had come to know every inch of his flesh—with or without his clothes. She had come to gauge his mercurial moods just by watching his body language, knowing when he was tense or relaxed, when he wanted her or when he wanted to be alone.

  She opened her eyes, and without warning he shifted his head and stared at her behind the lenses of his sunglasses. She felt the pull across the expanse of the deck, knowing at that exact moment in time he wanted her—as much as she wanted him. Their shrouded gazes fused as they shut out all and everything around them.

  “I can’t admit it, Tia, because you’re wrong,” Caryn whispered, knowing the moment the words were uttered that she’d openly lied about not loving Logan.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The captain of the Maggie E dropped anchor off the coast of Savannah in time to join his crew members for an on-deck dinner under the stars in a clear summer night sky.

  Caryn, Logan, Hamilton, and Cynthia reclined on deck chairs while listening to CDs on a small but powerful sound system playing Sade, the Rippingtons, and a greatest hits compilation from Motown: the Supremes, Marvin Gaye, the Four Tops, and the Temptations.

  Everyone was content to sit and listen until The Big Chill soundtrack slid into place on the carousel. Caryn sat up, completely startled as Logan, Cynthia, and Hamilton jumped up, singing and dancing with Marvin Gaye’s “I Heard It Through The Grapevine,” followed by the Temptations’ “My Girl.”

  Caryn was as transfixed by the trio’s theatrics as the crew, who had left their dinner to watch the impromptu performance. Cynthia’s understated sensuality surfaced as she performed the Aretha Franklin anthem, “(You Make Me Feel Like a) Natural Woman,” and “The Tracks of My Tears.” Logan was as uninhibited as his college friends when he mimicked the dance steps of the Temptations as he led them through “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.” It ended to rousing applause, whistles, and tears streaming down Caryn’s face as she doubled over in laughter. The captain, chef, and steward returned to their dinner, their muted laughter floating in the warm air.

  She held out her arms to Logan, hugging him tightly. “You were wonderful,” she whispered, registering the runaway pumping of his heart.

  His mouth swept over an ear before finding her lips. “So are you,” he whispered back. Holding Caryn close to his chest, he smiled over her head at the Wheatons. “The last time we put on this performance, you guys almost got me evicted from my apartment.”

  Cynthia leaned against her husband’s side, a hand cradling her belly. “It wasn’t only us, Raven. Remember, we were only two. There had to be more than thirty people in your apartment that night.”

  Caryn listened to the lively banter between the three friends and suddenly she felt left out, estranged. Cynthia and Hamilton were Logan’s friends, not hers. And the memories they had shared would bind them together for a lifetime, even if their paths never crossed again.

  But she would have different memories—memories of the summer storm that had propelled her into Logan’s arms and his bed, along with the summ
er passion he had offered her.

  Unknowingly he had helped her to heal and to trust. He had helped her to open her heart to love again, even though he would never know how much she had come to love him.

  Hamilton ruffled his wife’s tousled sun-streaked hair. “I think it’s time I put you to bed, wannabe diva.”

  Cynthia dropped her head to his shoulder. “You won’t get an argument out of me tonight.” She waved to Caryn and Logan. “Good night, guys.”

  “Good night,” they returned in unison.

  Logan waited for them to go below deck, then picked up Caryn and swung her around until she pleaded with him to stop. He made his way over to a deck chair and sat down with her straddling his thighs.

  “Logan,” she chided softly. “How do you think this looks?”

  Tilting his chin, he smiled up at her. Both their faces were shadowed in the tiny lights ringing the ship. “Exactly what it is. I’m holding my girlfriend while we study the stars.”

  Her gaze slipped lower. “I wasn’t aware I was your girlfriend.”

  “Oh? And just what did you think you were?”

  She shrugged a bare shoulder under her strapless dress. “A friend, or perhaps your roommate.”

  Much to her surprise he laughed, the sound rising and floating out over the calm ocean. He shook his head. “Oh, no, baby doll. You’re much more than that.” Shifting, he pushed to his feet and stood up, still holding her to his chest. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I have just the thing to remind you.”

  Five minutes later Caryn lay in Logan’s arms, feeling the gentle motion of the ship swaying under them as he wordlessly demonstrated how unlike friends they were. She successfully swallowed back the moans of passions scorching her mind and body. The fire blazed uncontrollably, sweeping them up in an inferno that refused to be quenched until hours later when they finally fell asleep as dawn touched the horizon and the Maggie E’s crew stirred to begin another day at sea.

  July twenty-fifth—

  We’re due to dock in San Juan Bay within the hour. After spending three days at sea—with layovers in Savannah and Miami, I’m more than ready for terra firma. The time we spent in Miami was magical, and the Spanish flavor of the city has gotten all of us in the mood to enjoy all that Puerto Rico has to offer.

  Logan and I did not get too much time to tour the city because we spent hours shopping for clothes. We left the trendy boutiques in Miami Beach with shoes, slacks, jackets. dresses, and exquisite accessories. Before returning to the Maggie E, Logan stopped at a bank to purchase travelers checks. He ordered several books in various denominations with both our signatures. He teased me, saying he thought I’d need a little spending change.

  Ham and Tia plan to spend five days in Puerto Rico before returning to the mainland. I project we’ll return to North Carolina the beginning of August, which will give me only another week before I return to Asheville. I don’t want to think about leaving Logan because I know I will start crying and won’t be able to stop. He’s never to know that I love him, now and forever.

  The beautiful island of Puerto Rico came into view, giving credence to its claim as the Shining Star of the Caribbean. Hundreds of boats—from cruise ships to sailboats—were docked in the harbor. Caryn felt Logan move behind her as she stood at the rail, watching the fronds of palm trees in the distance sway in a warm, gentle breeze.

  Smiling, she closed her eyes as he pressed closer. “Puerto Rico is beautiful, Logan. It’s only a thousand miles southeast of Miami, yet I’ve never thought of visiting the island.”

  Curving his arms around her waist, Logan lowered his head and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her freshly shampooed hair. “I’ve been here once,” he admitted. What he didn’t tell her was that he and Nina had come to the island after she’d accepted his marriage proposal.

  Caryn opened her eyes and turned in his loose embrace. “Was it for a special occasion?” she questioned perceptively.

  His lids lowered over his eyes, not permitting her to gauge his reaction to her query. “At the time it was,” he answered truthfully.

  She hesitated, her breasts rising and falling heavily under her blouse. “And now?”

  Releasing her waist, Logan cradled her face between his palms. “What I have with you is beyond special. You’ve changed me so much that I can’t even describe what I’ve become.”

  Lowering her gaze, she smiled up at him through her lashes. “Is that a good thing?”

  He nodded slowly. “A very good thing.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’m glad I met you, Logan Prescott.”

  “And I you, Caryn Edwards.”

  Hamilton walked across the deck, holding Cynthia’s hand as she exchanged parting words with the captain. “I don’t know about you two lovebirds, but we’re ready to go ashore.” His dark blue eyes grew serious. “Raven and you, Caryn, can have the option of either staying aboard the Maggie E or at my folks’ condo while ashore. It’s your call because there’s plenty of room at the condo.”

  Logan was as surprised at Hamilton’s suggestion as Caryn. “Where are you and Tia staying?”

  “We’ve opted for dry land.”

  Caryn shook her head, giving Logan her answer. “Then we’ll stay on the Maggie E. I think Domino would much prefer the run of the ship to being enclosed by four walls.”

  “Damn,” Hamilton swore softly under his breath. “I forgot about the dog. It’s just as well because pets aren’t allowed.”

  “You don’t have to baby-sit us,” Logan stated, trying to reassure their hosts he and Caryn would feel more than comfortable on the island by themselves. “I know you and Tia are here to unwind before you return to the States. How about we do our own thing during the day, then get together for dinner each night?”

  Hamilton quickly agreed and gave Logan the address and telephone number of his parents’ San Juan residence, before the two couples went ashore. Logan and Caryn waited for the Wheatons to hail a cab, then headed on foot toward the historic Old San Juan.

  “Old San Juan is a National Historic Zone,” Logan explained as he held Caryn’s hand firmly while leading her down a narrow, cobblestone street with thick-walled colonial buildings.

  They spent hours touring the seven square blocks of homes, municipal offices, shops, and art galleries. The soaring ninety-degree heat and her sandaled feet forced Caryn to give in to Logan’s entreaty that they return to the ship.

  Logan found Domino with the steward, whose turn it was to remain on board. The crew members had each elected to spend at least eight hours on board when in port. Hiram Hamilton Wheaton I paid them well, and had given explicit orders that his Maggie E was never to be left without someone aboard when docked other than home port.

  Curving an arm around her waist, Logan kissed Caryn’s forehead. “Why don’t you get something to drink, then take a siesta while I groom Domino before I feed him.”

  She needed no further prompting. San Juan was hot. Much hotter than she had expected, and her feet hurt from walking the cobblestone streets in sandals. The Italian-made shoes were pretty but not practical for the sixteenth-century city streets.

  Making her way into the galley, she poured herself a glass of fruit juice from the refrigerator, drank it, then made her way to the cabin she shared with Logan.

  The space was large and well appointed with all of the conveniences of one’s own bedroom. It contained a queen-size bed, double dresser, bedside tables, triple closet, and an adjoining shower.

  Stripping off her blouse and slacks, she draped them over the back of a chair. Then she removed her underwear before stepping into the shower. She lingered under the steady flow of lukewarm water, washing her hair and body. Reaching for a thick, thirsty bath sheet, she towel-dried her hair, then patted her body, making certain to leave a layer of moisture to cool her fevered flesh.

  When she opened the door to the shower stall and stepped into the bedroom, Logan was already there. He sat on a chair, sans shoes and shirt, waiting f
or her. There was a flicker of banked passion as his gaze moved leisurely over her naked body.

  He moved fluidly off the chair, reminding her of a large, graceful bird rising above the water before taking flight. She went still, unable to move when he placed one bare foot in front of her other with a deliberate slowness that made her heart stop at the same time her pulse raced.

  She felt like a helpless creature, paralyzed while tremling inwardly with the approach of a larger, more dangerous predator. She realized she did not fear Logan as much as she feared herself. How could she continue to see him, sleep with him, pour out her passion, and not tell him what lay deep in her heart?

  How could she not tell him that she loved him, wanted to become his wife and the mother of his children?

  Logan’s gaze registered the fluttering pulse in her silken throat as he moved closer. His right hand came up slowly and curved around her neck, fingers splayed over her cheek. Lowering his head, he breathed in the scent of her clean flesh. His mouth hovered above her, feeling the moist caress of her breath over his lips.

  Then he took her mouth, slowly increasing the pressure until her lips parted and permitted him access. He was not disappointed when Caryn rose on tiptoe and curved her arms around his neck. The full softness of her firm breasts pressing against his bare chest was a shock to his system when the nipples hardened with her rising desire.

  Logan had stopped asking himself if he would ever tire of her because he knew the answer even before the thought was formed in his head. But what he refused to ask himself was whether he could leave Caryn or permit her to walk away from him when the time came for her to leave Marble Island.

  And he had to admit to himself, he feared the worst. Caryn Edwards would and could walk away from him as easily as he had walked away from Nina.