Summer Magic

by Rochelle Alers

  “Edith is sitting here with me, taking dictation. I’m replying to a query from Wainscott and Llewellyn.”

  “Good news?”

  “It is, son. Your proposal was excellent. It appears as if they’re ready to finance the Fairview project.”

  “That is good news, Dad. I’m calling to let you know I’ll be back sooner than I’d first planned. I’m just going to need a few more days to close up the house.”

  “Thanks, Logan.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell Mama to book that cruise.”

  “Why don’t you call her and tell her yourself. She’s been complaining that she hasn’t heard from you in a while.”

  “She’s right. I’ll call her as soon as I hang up.”

  He depressed a button, ending the call. But he didn’t call his mother—not right away. He dialed a series of numbers, listening for the break in the connection.

  “Raleigh Police Department. Lieutenant Robinson.”

  “Robbie, Logan. Brother, I need a favor.”

  “What’s up, Logan?”

  “Can you run a plate through DMV for me?”

  “Someone hit you and take off?”

  “Nothing like that. I need an address on a Caryn Edwards in Asheville.”

  There was a pause before Jerome Robinson’s authoritative voice came through the wire again. “What did she do to you?”

  “Nothing.” A smile softened Logan’s stern features. “I just need to know where she lives so I can return a personal journal she lost.”

  “You’re not putting me on, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Can you wait for me to check the computer?”

  “Yes.” And he would wait until hell froze over if it meant seeing Caryn Edwards again. It was another three minutes before Jerome returned, giving him Caryn’s address in Asheville.

  “Thanks, Robbie. I owe you.”

  “This is personal, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “If I hear of any trouble between you and the lady, I’ll deny any involvement.”

  “Don’t worry, brother. There won’t be any trouble.”

  He rang off, then made his third phone call of the morning. What he thought of as the darkest day of his life had suddenly become one of the best. And he knew there were better days to come. Days he would share with Caryn Edwards.

  Chapter Twenty

  Caryn turned off the two-lane highway and onto a narrow local road leading to her house. It was only the second day of classes, and she felt as if she had been back in the classroom for months. She had been assigned a group of students whose intent it was to see how hard a time they could give her. She had begun the first day with staring down a girl who had openly challenged her authority. The sixteen-year-old stood at least three inches taller and probably outweighed her by more than fifty pounds, but she had held her ground. No one, regardless of their age, would ever intimidate her ever again.

  She had changed, even Marcia had commented on it, but she liked what she had become. It was as if she’d grown up the five weeks she had stayed on Marble Island.

  She could not think about Marble Island without thinking about Logan. Each time she conjured up his arresting face and magnificent body she smiled. And it was at night that her body betrayed her whenever she recalled the smell, taste, and feel of his lovemaking.

  Slowing, she maneuvered into the driveway. Her foot hit the brake when she saw the sleek lines of a gleaming black Ferrari with JP2 on a North Carolina license plate parked ahead of her.

  He’s come for me. She knew the car belonged to Logan even before she saw him rise from the rocker on the porch.

  Caryn put her car in park, turned off the ignition, and sat waiting for him to come to her. Her gold-green gaze caressed his tall body, silently admiring the expertly tailored charcoal-gray suit floating over his body.

  Her gaze moved from his short barbered hair, clean-shaven lean jaw, to the stark white shirt collar contrasting with the velvety darkness of his strong neck. He was impeccable, perfect, as evidenced by his professional and personal success.

  Leaning down, he smiled at her. “Good afternoon, Caryn.”

  Her heart pumped uncontrollably in her chest. “Hello, Logan.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “So I see.” Her voice was soft, calm, belying her inner turmoil

  Reaching in through the open window, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. “May I help you out?”

  She placed her hand in his as he gently pulled her to her feet. It was as if they were strangers; two very polite strangers.

  Logan took in her appearance with one sweeping look, his smile mirroring his approval. Her curly short hair was brushed off her face, accentuating the delicate hollow of cheekbones in her small face. She wore a minimum of makeup—a muted eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick.

  He liked her professional look. She wore a linen gabardine suit in a flattering burnt-orange shade with a pair of black patent leather pumps. Her only jewelry was a watch and the diamond studs in her pierced lobes.

  Tilting her chin, she gave him a challenging stare. “Why have you come?”

  “I’m surprised you have to ask me that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s something I need to hear from you, Caryn. You write beautifully, but I want you to tell me what I need to hear without having to read it in your journal.”

  Her jaw dropped as her eyes widened until he saw into their mysterious depths. “You took my journal!”

  “I found your journal. You left it at the house. You were in such a hurry to run away that you forgot it.”

  “You had no right to read my personal—”

  “I had every right,” he countered, cutting her off. “I have a right to know that you love me as much as I love you. I have a right to know whether I can, based on my feelings for you, ask you to marry me.”

  Cradling her face between his large hands, he brushed his mouth over hers. “I’m no Thomas Duff, sweetheart. Any man who loves a woman would never abuse her.”

  Her fingers curled around his wrists. “He was a monster, Logan.”

  “He’s your past, baby. I’m your present and your future.” He increased the pressure of his mouth. “The passion you arouse in me is frightening, unbelievably frightening, because there are times when I want to scream out how much I’ve come to love you.”

  Pulling back, Caryn stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. He’d memorized her journal entries. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, tears of love and joy.

  “And I do love you, Logan Prescott.”

  “As I do love you, Caryn Edwards.”

  Reaching up, she curved her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his smooth jaw. “Let’s go in the house. I have something I want to give you.”

  He pulled back, giving her a questioning look. “What’s that?”

  “An in-home demonstration of how much I’ve missed you.”

  Logan released her long enough to reach into her car to retrieve her handbag from the console between the front seats. He handed her the leather bag, grinning.

  “How much will this demonstration cost me?”

  She made her way to the little house, glancing over her shoulder. “Only the next fifty years of your life as Mrs. Logan Prescott.”

  He picked her up and spun her around. A tender expression filled his eyes, a tenderness that had never been there before. “Sold to the woman who stole my heart the day I walked into the beach house on Marble Island.”

  “I don’t give refunds, darling.”

  “I don’t want one,” he crooned as she leaned over and opened the door.

  Logan lowered her to her feet, but did not release his hold on her body. “We have a lot to talk about. When and where we’ll marry. Where we’ll live. How many babies you want.”

  She held his hand, pulling him in the direction of her bedr
oom. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now I need you to show me how much you love me.”

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  He walked into her bedroom, seeing only the woman standing before him as he undressed slowly, knowing this joining would be different, special. As special as the love they’d found on Marble Island. As special as the love that would bind them together for the rest of their lives.

  Epilogue

  Two years later…

  October fourteenth—

  Logan and I celebrated our second anniversary and the birth of our first child today. The only thing I can say about our daughter is that she’s beautiful. She wasn’t due until the end of the month, but decided she wanted to make her special appearance on her parents’ anniversary. There’s no way Logan will ever forget our anniversary or Angela’s birthday.

  We’ve decided to name her Angela because she is our angel—our miracle baby. Maeve and Jace have taken grandparents’ status to another level—lunacy. And because my parents are experienced grandparents, they are much more sophisticated about this repeat performance.

  Our vacation residence is scheduled for completion next week. Logan and I are hoping to celebrate Angela’s first Christmas at the new house on Marble Island. We’ve invited the Wheatons and their son, both sets of in-laws, and my brother, sister in-law, and their children. The house is tremendous—five bedrooms, so there’s enough room for everyone.

  I will always be grateful to Terry and Marcia for letting me use their house so I could heal. It was a summer of storms and a summer of passion. It is a time that will stay with me forever.

  I must close because I see my husband standing in the doorway smiling at me.

  And I’m not afraid to let him know that I love him now and will love him forever.

  About the Author

  Rochelle Alers has been hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most prolific and popular African American authors of romance and women’s fiction.

  With more than sixty titles and nearly two million copies of her novels in print, Ms. Alers is a regular on the Waldenbooks, Borders and Essence bestseller lists, regularly chosen by Black Expressions Book Club, and has been the recipient of numerous awards, including the Emma Award, Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing, the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award and the Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award.

  She is a member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., Iota Theta Zeta Chapter and her interests include gourmet cooking and traveling.

  A full-time writer, Ms. Alers lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island.