There were times after he and Caryn had made love that he lay in bed beside her wondering how she could offer him so much passion without declaring what they shared went beyond friendship.
He’d slept with women he didn’t love, but he never gave them all of himself as he’d done with Caryn. With her he never held anything back, and doing so he had become vulnerable. The woman in his arms was the only human being capable of destroying him totally—body and soul.
He’d told himself over and over that he compromised himself each and every time he joined his flesh with Caryn’s. That she had become his opiate, an addictive drug he was helpless to resist.
His arms curved around her waist, and he lifted her off her feet until her head was level with his. Pulling back, he stared at her staring back at him. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed under her deeply tanned skin, her parted lips swollen from his sensual assault, and the color of her eyes a deep jade green.
Logan opened his mouth, the words I love you, poised on his tongue, but he swallowed them back. And in that instant the pain knifed his heart, causing him to inhale sharply.
He’d thought that loving her would be wonderful, magnificent, yet it brought only pain. A pain he would not permit her to see. A wry smile curved his strong mouth as he lowered her to the floor.
“Wait for me to shower, then I’ll join you in bed,” he said in a quiet voice he did not quite recognize as his own.
Caryn was noticeably subdued as she sat beside Logan in a restaurant at a luxury hotel situated along the Condado Beach area. She had sensed the change in him after he’d showered that afternoon before coming to her. His love-making was strong, but was tempered with a desperation which hadn’t been there during their previous encounters. And instead of holding her until they both fell asleep, he’d turned away and lay motionless until she slept. When she awoke he was gone.
She’d washed, dressed, and found him on deck, playing an intense game of chess with the chef. He hadn’t glanced at her, but patted a chair beside him for her to sit. She complied, sitting and watching the two men play until she grew bored then spent the next hour and a half relaxing on a deck chair with Domino at her side. The game ended without a winner, and only then did Logan inform her that they were to share dinner with the Wheatons at seven.
She had taken special care when she dressed for the evening, hoping it would lift her sagging spirits. She had selected a black silk tank dress ending midcalf with a generous slit that allowed for a view of her smooth, tanned legs. Three inches of black patent leather sling-strap sandals, with one strap crossing her instep and ending around her heel, added height and definition to her strong, well-shaped legs. She had applied a styling gel to her short hair and brushed it off her face until it lay against her scalp without any hint of a curl. A pair of large faux pearls earrings with a matching single-strand necklace rested on the fullness of her exposed breasts, a layer of mascara and deep copper lipstick complemented her simple, but elegant appearance.
Caryn had garnered the reaction she sought from Logan when he saw her. He’d stared, his mouth gaping for several seconds before he whispered how beautiful she looked. She had gone up on deck to wait for him to dress, and she had been equally stunned when he joined her. He had also elected to wear black—an exquisitely tailored linen suit; white silk shirt; and a patterned silk tie with muted shades of black, white, gray, and jade green. The stark whiteness of his shirt highlighted the deep, dark hue of his sable-brown face, and on more than one occasion a female head turned in his direction as he made his way through the restaurant.
Curving an arm around Caryn’s waist, he leaned closer and pressed his mouth to her hair. “Are you hungry, sweetheart?”
Tilting her chin, she smiled up at him. Her pulse quickened when she registered the potent magnetism Logan Prescott emitted by breathing. “A little,” she lied smoothly. She had barely eaten all day; however, her uneasiness would not permit her to put a lot of food into her stomach.
She had speculated all afternoon what had happened between her and Logan which would not permit her to feel at ease with him. Then she wondered if they had made a mistake to leave Marble Island. It was there they had found each other, offered the other healing, and it was on Marble Island where she had fallen in love with Logan Prescott.
Cynthia’s sea-green gaze studied the menu. “I’m hungry enough to eat a whole pig.”
Hamilton ran the back of his hand over her cheek. “Do you think it’s good to give the baby pork?”
The golden curls piled atop Cynthia’s head shook when she turned and glared at him. “You’ve got something against pork, Hiram Hamilton Wheaton?” she asked, folding a hand on her slim hip. “Because I’ll have you know that women have fed their babies pork since the beginning of time if it was the only meat they could get their hands on, and we’re still here to talk about it.”
Hamilton flushed furiously under his tan. “I didn’t mean it that way, Tia. I was just concerned about your intake of cholesterol.”
Cynthia kissed his cheek, then swiped away a smudge of deep rose color with her thumb. “Thank you, Ham, but you forget that I am as strong and healthy as a plow horse.”
Hamilton smiled into her eyes. “I’d never think of you as a plow horse, gorgeous. You’re more like a palomino thoroughbred.”
Caryn and Logan smiled at the interchange between the blond couple. It was apparent they still were very much in love.
“What are you having?” Logan asked Caryn.
She stared at the menu, reading the selections listed in both English and Spanish. “I don’t know. I’m leaning toward fish, but since coming to Marble Island I’ve had more fish in three weeks than I’ve eaten all year. Perhaps I’ll go for a meat dish.”
In the end the two couples decided to order a variety of dishes with beef, pork, fish, and chicken. They all agreed on accompanying platters of white rice, pink beans, and tostones de plátano, fried green bananas, and a melt on the tongue flán de leche condensada—a caramelized condensed milk custard.
Two hours later Caryn dabbed the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin, shaking her head in amazement. She could not believe she had eaten so much.
“Not hungry, huh?” Logan whispered close to her ear.
She poked him in the ribs with a finger at the same time as she gave him a tight smile. “I’ve got to get up and walk this off,” she stated between clenched teeth.
Logan nodded and signaled the waiter. “I’ll take care of the check,” he informed Hamilton, reaching in the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrawing a credit card case. Hamilton inclined his head.
Cynthia let out a satisfied sigh. “Now, where are we going?”
Caryn rose to her feet when Logan pulled back her chair. “I’m ready to do a little partying.” She had successfully shed her dark mood and was ready for a night of fun.
Holding on to her husband’s arm, Cynthia, said, “Let’s go to a club and dance.”
“Logan?” Hamilton questioned, as Logan signed the credit card receipt.
He glanced up, nodding. “Count me in.”
Caryn studied Logan’s clearly defined profile as he signed his name with a flourish. Once again she was taken with his physical perfection. Even his hands are exquisite, she thought, staring at his long, tapered fingers. Then she thought about the man and woman who had lain together to beget him, smiling. If they saw him as a man, she knew they surely would have been pleased with their creation.
Logan put away his credit card, then curved a protective arm around Caryn’s waist. “We’ll have the concierge call a driver to take us into Old San Juan. There are quite a few clubs for us to choose from.”
An hour later the two couples pushed their way through a throng of tourists standing shoulder-to-shoulder at a bar until they found two small tables in the back of the nightclub. The sounds of raised voices speaking English and Spanish punctuated the air.
An attractive young waitress sauntered over to them, her loos
e hips keeping tempo with the pulsing Latin rhythm coming from the powerful sound system.
“Buenas noches, señors y señoras. May I get you something to drink?” She switched with easy facility between Spanish and English.
Hamilton and Logan ordered rum concoctions, while Caryn and Cynthia opted for virgin piña coladas.
“I’ve got the drinks,” Hamilton stated firmly when he spied the waitress returning to the table with a tray filled with their order.
Cynthia frowned. “Must you guys always fight over the check?”
Logan arched a sweeping eyebrow. “You wouldn’t understand, Tia.” He took a sip of his drink, nodding his approval. It’s a man thing.” Cynthia’s mouth dropped as her face flooded with a rush of color.
Caryn caught Logan’s hand and urged him to his feet. “Let’s dance, darling,” she hissed between her teeth. He gave her a startled look, but complied, permitting her to lead him out to the crowded dance floor. “You’ve just came down with a classic case of foot-and-mouth.”
Pulling her against his body, Logan swung her into a smooth dance step. “Foot-and-mouth?”
“You just put your foot in your mouth, Logan Prescott. Don’t ever tell a woman about what’s a man thang.”
“Men are supposed to argue about who will pick up the check.”
“That’s just being silly.”
“What do women do?”
“We usually divide it evenly among us. That way there’s no ‘I paid last time and now it’s your turn.’ It saves us from getting catty.”
He chuckled. “That’s very diplomatic.”
“That’s because we are diplomatic, practical, and—”
Her words were cut off when he lowered his head and moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness.
“Are you telling me to shut up?” she whispered against his firm lips.
Tightening his hold on her slender body, he chuckled. “I’m not even going there, sweetheart.”
Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne clinging to the linen fabric. Pressed against his chest and thighs, she felt every hard line of his body, glorying in his cloaking protective warmth and strength.
The tempo changed to an upbeat salsa, and within seconds Caryn found herself dipping and swaying to the Latin rhythm as she followed Logan’s expert lead. She had danced with him more than she had with any other man in her life. He spun her around and around with one hand, then caught her and dipped her lower until her head was only inches above the highly waxed floor.
“Logan!” she gasped breathlessly when he clasped her close to his chest once again.
“I wouldn’t have let you go,” he whispered in her ear. His right hand moved down her spine, his fingers splaying over her hips and pulling her closer. He groaned deep in his throat when he felt her breasts swell against his chest. It was then Caryn’s turn to moan when his hardness searched against the silk of her dress, burning her groin with his rising, scorching heat.
“No,” she whispered frantically. “Not here, Logan.”
“Tell that to my body,” he gasped.
She felt her body grow heavy and heat up with his hardening flesh. If he didn’t stop she would beg him to make love to her right on the dance floor.
“Take me back to the table. Now!”
He released her, but held on to her shoulders as she walked in front of him until they reached the table. He seated her, then sat down.
Caryn picked up her drink, unable to look at Hamilton and Cynthia staring first at her, then Logan. How could he? she raged inwardly. How could he make love to her in public, and in front of his friends, whom she was certain saw everything?
“Dance with me, Ham,” Cynthia ordered her husband as she pushed to her feet.
Waiting until the Wheatons were out of earshot, she rounded on Logan. “What was that all about back there?”
Shifting his eyebrows, Logan slowly stirred his drink. He was back in control. “We were dancing, Caryn.”
“Wrong. We were making love on the dance floor.”
His head came around slowly and he stared down at her, his gaze narrowing. “I don’t need a dance floor to make love to you, Caryn Edwards. Each time I touch you, I make love to you. Whether it’s holding your hand or helping you into or out of a car, I’m making love to you.” He leaned closer. “Whenever I look at you, I’m making love to you. And if there’s a problem, then it’s yours, Miss Edwards, not mine.”
Fury choked her as she struggled to come back at him. Shifting slightly, she turned away and picked up her drink. The icy liquid bathed her throat, temporarily extinguishing the heat in her face. Swallowing, she realized the drink was too sweet, too much like a milk shake. She reached over and picked up Logan’s drink and put it to her lips. It was liberally laced with rum, but she welcomed the burning sensation, refueling her temper again.
“I don’t like public displays of affection.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew she couldn’t retract them. It was what Tom said to her whenever she held his arm or touched his hand in public.
Logan’s gaze narrowed when he saw a shimmer of unshed tears fill her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he questioned softly.
Tilting her chin, she closed her eyes. “Nothing.”
His fingers curled around her upper arm. “Stop lying to me, Caryn.”
“You don’t understand, Logan. You can’t understand.” The words were torn from her throat.
“Try me,” he crooned. “You know I’m a good listener.”
Opening her eyes, she let out her breath in a lingering sigh. “Not now.”
“When?”
Shaking her head, she bit down hard on her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
His hand moved up to her neck, his fingers massaging the tight muscles across her shoulders. “Remember, Caryn, I’m here if you need an ear or a broad shoulder.”
She nodded numbly. “Thanks.”
He’s so patient, she mused. And she felt like a shrew for snapping at him. Why couldn’t she just open up and tell him of the verbal, emotional, and physical abuse she had permitted to go on unchecked? Why couldn’t she tell him she had become a willing victim because she feared losing a man who had become her first lover?
An incredibly young-looking American sailor wearing a leering expression approached their table. His dark eyes swept appreciably over Caryn. Standing at attention, he extended his right hand.
“May I dance with the lady?”
Logan went completely still, then rose slowly to his feet, eclipsing the man by at least four inches. “Beat it!” he ordered softly. The sailor affected a neat salute, then turned and walked away.
Caryn doubled over in laughter as Logan sat down, trying valiantly not to laugh. “Did you see that clown?” he sputtered. “Did he really think he was going to dance with you?”
She dabbed at her moist eyes with the edge of a cocktail napkin. “He was kind of cute.”
Sobering, Logan stared at her. “You really think so?”
She also sobered. “First you were jealous of Domino and now it’s of a boy who’s probably on his first shore leave.”
“This is the second time you’ve accused me of being jealous.”
“Well, are you?”
His gaze inched over her face, feature by feature. The seconds stretched into a minute before he finally responded. “I suppose I am.”
Caryn felt her heart beating outside her chest. She had her answer. If he was jealous, then that meant she was more to him than someone he just slept with. What she didn’t want was for him to love her because it only complicated their having to leave each other.
He stood up, extending his hand. “Let’s dance again. I promise to behave.”
She put her hand in his, smiling. “Do you know how to behave, Mr. Prescott?”
“Not really,” he teased, leading her back to the dance floor.
Chapter Eighteen
It was past midnig
ht when Logan and Caryn returned to the Maggie E. She let out a small cry of surprise as Logan swept her up in his arms and carried her to their cabin.
“I can walk,” she whispered, hoping not to wake up the sleeping crew.
“Why are you being a tight-ass, Caryn?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Why can’t you permit me to court you properly?”
“Noooo, Logan. No courting.”
“And why not?”
“Because …”
He pushed open the door to their cabin, then kicked it closed with his foot. “Because what?”
She dropped her head on his shoulder. “Because I don’t feel so good right now.”
He smiled, attractive lines fanning out at the corners of his eyes. “It serves you right. You shouldn’t have touched my drink.”
“What was in it beside the rum?”
He place her on the bed and sat down beside her. “Rums. There were three different kinds of rum with a mixture of tropical fruit juice.”
Placing the back of her hand over her forehead, she closed her eyes. “I think I’m drunk.”
Logan removed her shoes, then turned her over and unzipped her dress. “You’re hardly drunk, sweetheart.” He eased the dress off her shoulders and pulled it down over her hips. Seeing her clad in a pair of black lace bikini panties with a matching strapless bra caused his mouth to go dry. The light from the bedside lamp spilled a ribbon of gold over her slender, tight body.
He unhooked her bra and removed it, but left her panties on. The tiny scrap of fabric was enough to provide a barrier against her nakedness and would serve as a reminder that she would not share her body with him this night.
He undressed, leaving his clothes on a chair, then slipped into bed beside Caryn, Reaching out, he turned off the lamp, plunging the cabin in darkness.
July twenty-eighth—
We’ve been in beautiful, romantic Puerto Rico for four days, and it has been four wonderful days.
Ham and Tia are celebrating a second honeymoon, while Logan and I are not only discovering the island. but things about ourselves. At least I am.
Summer Magic Page 20