Excitement crowded in her throat so painfully, she could barely respond. Barely breathe. Surely this was the invitation she’d been hoping for. “Yes.”
“We have to get up early. It’s a long ride back home tomorrow.”
“Yes.” But tonight was what she cared about. Tomorrow, somehow, would have to take care of itself.
Slowly, he released her, his hand sliding down her arm, his fingers linking with hers as they walked off the dance floor. In a few quick motions, he signed the check the waiter had left on the table and they made their way out of the restaurant.
Dozens of well-dressed hotel guests gathered around the elevators waiting for a ride. The doors opened, and they were swept inside, pressed together like colorful crayons squeezed into a too-small box.
From behind, Logan’s arm circled her rib cage, his forearm brushing against the lower swell of her breast. She drew in a quick breath as he pulled her closer, and the continuing evidence of his arousal pressed against her buttocks. She twisted her hips, and knew the thrill of excitement when he groaned aloud.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear. “This is no time to get thrown out of the hotel.”
She swallowed a laugh as the doors opened to the seventh floor.
A grown woman didn’t run down hotel corridors. She wanted to. She wanted to drag Logan with her, into her room, into her bed. Into her life forever, if she could find a way.
They reached the door to her room. Shyly, not knowing quite what to do, suddenly losing confidence, she handed him her card key.
He slipped it into the slot, the light blinked green, and he pushed open the door.
Chapter Eleven
Logan’s courage failed him.
From the doorway he caught sight of the double bed in Janice’s room, the way the covers were turned down, the mint on the pillow. He was unable to move, unable to step into the room and take the one thing he wanted more than life itself.
She was vulnerable. He knew that. Knew, too, that she was willing. He’d seen it in her eyes. Heard it in the throaty sound of her voice.
But did he have a right to take advantage? For her, this had been an emotional journey. What could he offer her beyond a single night of pleasure? He couldn’t ask Janice to share his life and risk the fire chief coming to her door a second time to announce she’d been widowed. That the red devil, the firefighter’s greatest enemy, had taken another man from her.
That wouldn’t be fair to her.
His conscience wrestled with his urge to pleasure her. She’d endured so much, had been so brave through it all, she deserved every bit of satisfaction a man could give a woman. The right man. He didn’t qualify.
Her soft brown eyes questioned him. “Are you coming in?”
Switching tactics, his conscience warred with his hunger for her. “We’ll have to leave by seven in the morning if you want to get home in time for school letting out. We wouldn’t want to oversleep.”
“We can leave a wake-up call.”
“We’ll have to pack, too.”
“I didn’t bring much with me.”
Neither had he, and it was beginning to look like he’d left out a big chunk of good sense. “If you want breakfast, we’ll have to—”
“No, after that big dinner, I won’t be hungry for days.”
“Right.” He was running out of excuses. In the next three seconds he’d have to make the decision to walk into her room—or leave her standing there alone. Because he couldn’t keep wrestling with his conscience. He’d lose.
She cocked her head to the side, and a bruised look appeared in her eyes, the sharp pain of rejection.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have realized. You had a long day driving up here, and you have to turn around and drive back tomorrow. And here I am preventing you from getting the rest you need. I’m not usually so thoughtless.”
If she hadn’t looked like a wounded animal who’d been betrayed, if she hadn’t been concerned about his welfare instead of her own needs, Logan might not have stepped into her room. But he couldn’t let her go on thinking he didn’t want her. And once he crossed that threshold, the door swinging shut behind him, he had no choice but to pull her into his arms, crush his mouth to hers and savor the sweet taste he’d been craving all night.
After a moment’s hesitation, of shock or surprise, her slender body molded against his. He felt big and awkward in comparison, and tender feelings rose up, flooding him with a potent need to protect her. To care for her as no other man ever had…or ever could.
He speared his fingers through the silken waves of her hair, cupping the back of her head, deepening their kiss. His tongue probed and explored. Timidly, hers responded with its own investigation.
By the time he broke the kiss, his heart was thundering in his chest. She was breathless, her cheeks flushed.
“If you’re tired—”
“I’m not.”
“It’s been a long time since I—”
“For me, too.” He slipped her jacket from her shoulders, revealing her ivy-green tank dress and baring her arms. “I want you, Janice. More than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my life.”
“Ray used to complain because I—”
“There’s no one named Ray in this room, sweetheart. It’s just you and me.” He found the zipper tab at the back of her dress, edged it down to her waist. With an easy tug, he stripped the dress away, revealing a beautiful woman in innocent white underwear. Before closing his mouth over her peaked nipple, he murmured, “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
A paroxysm of desire jolted Janice as his mouth claimed her breast. Even through the sheer fabric of her bra, moist heat seared her sensitive flesh, the friction of his caressing tongue sending rippling waves of hedonistic pleasure in all directions. Her knees turned weak and rubbery. She managed to keep standing only because her arms were linked around his shoulders.
Deep in her throat she made a sound that was half sob and half moan of pleasure.
She rubbed her cheek against his hair. Her fingers stroked across his back, feeling the flex of muscles, wanting to feel more. She tugged helplessly, trying to pull his shirt free of his pants.
“Your shirt…off.”
With a low, rumbling growl, he gave up his grip on her breast in favor of shedding his shirt. Even while she relished the sight of his muscular chest, she missed the warmth of his mouth on her.
With little effort, he disposed of her underwear, tossing them carelessly aside, then lifted her off her feet, walking her backwards toward the bed. Together they fell, six inches of foam rubber catching them as she kicked off her heels. The crisp white sheet was cool on her back in contrast to the burning heat of his body touching hers and the raging fire that was building within her.
She felt no hesitation now. No inhibitions. His actions, the undisguised urgency of his need, his softly spoken words of praise, demanded a response, which she gave to him. Willingly. With all of her heart and soul.
The bedside light cast a soft glow around the room. Normally she might have been embarrassed, afraid he’d see the defects thirty years of life had left on her body. The extra pounds she’d gained. Fine white stretch marks, mementos of childbirth. But not now. Not with Logan.
In his eyes she saw approval, a reflected beauty she hadn’t known existed. The joy of it, the validation, simply took her breath away.
When he finally rose above her, she lifted her hips to welcome his penetration with an eagerness that knew no bounds. The intimate collision of flesh on flesh thrilled and excited her further. As he claimed her, thrusting powerfully into her, she affirmed herself as a woman capable of giving love and being loved in return.
A moment later, she came apart, exploding into a thousand pieces, and cried out his name. He surged into her again. Through the passionate mist that enveloped her, she heard the echo of her own name on his lips. It was like returning home after being exiled in some dry, desert land, and she found that here
, at last, she was at peace.
DRAINED AND EXHAUSTED, Logan struggled back to some semblance of awareness. He lifted his weight off Janice, rolled to his side and pulled her closer. With a sigh, she snuggled against him.
As he had expected, she was the most totally giving, totally satisfying woman he’d ever known. In a thousand ways large and small, she’d aroused him with her simple innocence, her natural sensuality. No man could have found a better partner for a night—or for a lifetime.
But that wasn’t a choice for Logan. Not as long as he remained a firefighter. That was too much to ask of any woman. His young wife had made that lesson clear to Logan years ago.
For Janice’s sake, he mustn’t forget it.
But deep in his gut he regretted that knowledge now more than he’d ever regretted anything in his life. To walk away from Janice when they returned to Paseo del Real tomorrow would take all the courage—all the decency—he could muster.
Tonight, he realized, would be his one and only chance to love her. Fighting against a sense of despair, he vowed it would be a night they would both remember.
When Logan roused her from a light doze with his kisses a few minutes later, Janice was momentarily torn between pleasure and the guilt that she could find such happiness in the arms of a man who was not her husband. She had a fleeting thought that a recent widow shouldn’t be quite so wanton.
In another instant, that thought vanished, replaced by the swirling heat of Logan’s tongue caressing her most intimate places and the lightning burst of desire that blazed through her once again.
THE MORNING following Logan’s return from Las Vegas, Buttons fell into step beside him as he crossed the fire station yard.
“Hey, fella. How’s it going?”
The dog’s tail wagged an eager salute.
Mike Gables looked up from his task of stacking hose. “He’s trying to tell you he’s a daddy. Suzie had her puppies yesterday, four of ’em.”
“Way to go, ol’ man. You ought to be passing out cigars.” Logan paused to give Buttons a congratulatory pat and tried not to feel envious of a dog because he had offspring and Logan didn’t.
“They’re the funniest-looking pups you’ve ever seen. Looks like they’re going to have Suzie’s mottled brown hair and Buttons’s spots.”
“Maddie will be tickled. She’s looking forward to getting one of the puppies.”
“Let her know, will you? They’ll be weaned in about six weeks.”
“Sure, I’ll tell Janice.” Except Logan knew he had to stay away from Janice and her kids. Far away.
When he’d dropped Janice off at home yesterday, he’d pleaded chores to be done, errands to be run. The truth was he hadn’t dared linger with her because he never would have wanted to leave. Now that she was financially secure, now that some of the guilt for Ray’s death had been lifted from his shoulders, he didn’t have an excuse to stick around. It would just make things worse, making his leaving all the more difficult, for both of them.
So he’d practically left her on the doorstep, offering little more than lame excuses for his hasty departure.
Cowardly, that’s what he’d been.
But how the hell could he be honest with her? As long as he was a firefighter, as long as he fought smoke and flames and the red devil, he’d never marry. Janice deserved better than a one-night stand, but that’s all he could give her. Because that’s how much he loved her.
He snatched up a mop, filled a bucket with soapy water and began to swab down the bay floor. The morning’s PT session hadn’t lessened his frustration. Maybe scrubbing floors would.
“Hey, Strong! You trying to wear away that concrete or trying out for a new Olympic sport?”
With a scowl, Logan turned to Danny Sullivan, who was polishing the connectors on Engine 62. He’d recently transferred in from Station Three and had already promised to bring home the highest bid at the Bachelor Auction next year. With his smooth Irish tongue and a twinkle in his blue eyes that drove women crazy, he was likely to do it, too.
“I’m cleaning up the mess you and your engine company left, okay?”
“Oh, woman troubles, huh?” Danny gave him a knowing grin.
Logan didn’t want any part of his kidding. “Shove it, Sullivan.” With a swipe of his mop, he worked on an imaginary grease stain and wished he could as easily whisk away his errant thoughts.
The afternoon went as miserably as the morning had. To distract himself he concocted a three-cheese vegetable lasagna for dinner using eggplant and every spice he could find in the cupboard. He had no idea how it would taste.
Emma Jean came strolling in while it was cooking, her jewelry jingling in a distracting off-key way with every step.
“Something sure smells good up here.” She sniffed the air. “Ahh. Heaven. I could use a man around the house who cooks. Logan, will you marry me?”
“No,” he groused.
Her dark brows shot up. “Oh-oh. Woman trouble, huh?”
He slammed down the serving spoon he’d pulled from the kitchen drawer. “Why does everyone think I’ve got woman troubles all of a sudden? Maybe I’m just worried about the oral exam tomorrow. Wouldn’t that make sense, too?” Not that he’d given the exam much thought, despite how important the promotion was to him. He’d been too wrapped up in thoughts of Janice—and desperately trying not to think about her at all.
Emma Jean leaned on the counter. “Nope. Your aura is definitely chartreuse with red streaks running through it. That’s woman trouble, if I ever saw it.”
“Chartr—” he sputtered. “My aura is none of your—”
“I’m psychic. You know that. I can see all kinds of things.”
He bent down so they were virtually nose-to-nose across the counter. He gritted his teeth. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs answering 911 calls?”
“I’m on my break.”
“Take your break somewhere else, Emma Jean.”
Straightening, she took a step back. “You don’t have to worry, Logan. I can pretty well see—”
“Don’t see, don’t look. No one’s interested in your psycho-babble.”
“Well,” she huffed, sending her jewelry tinkling again. “If that’s how you feel—” Whirling, she marched out of the upstairs recreation room. Her feet clattered on the stairs, the tinny sound of her bracelets knocking together discordantly.
The few firefighters hanging around gave Logan a puzzled look.
He hung his head and speared his fingers through his hair. Emma Jean hadn’t deserved his wrath. Just as Janice deserved better than Logan could give.
With a determined stride, he headed off after Emma Jean to apologize.
“SO TELL ME how Las Vegas was…and your gentleman friend?” Debbie, Janice’s neighbor, waggled her eyebrows. “Was he wonderful?”
More than that, Janice thought, but she was still upset and confused by the way Logan had left her yesterday. Not even a goodbye kiss. Surely a kiss wouldn’t have taken that much time away from the errands he’d had to run.
“I accomplished what I set out to do,” she responded, rather primly. “The casino has written off Ray’s gambling debts, which is a terrific load off my shoulders.”
“That’s wonderful, and I know you must feel relieved.” She grinned. “But what about him?”
Janice didn’t need her friend to define who she meant by him.
She sat down at the end of her couch and folded her legs beneath her. The children were upstairs, Kevin doing his homework, Maddie in bed, though probably not yet asleep. This had been the first time she and Debbie had had a chance to talk since Janice’s return from Vegas yesterday. And the fact was, Janice needed someone to talk to.
“His name is Logan—Logan Strong—one of Ray’s fellow firefighters on the ladder truck. He felt like it was his fault that Ray died.”
“You mean he was responsible—”
“No, not really.” Janice went on to describe what she’d learned in Las Vegas, including meetin
g Ray’s girlfriend and Christie’s views of Ray’s state of mind that fateful morning.
Debbie nodded from time to time and made understanding noises, even as her eyes widened at the news that Ray had been unfaithful.
“The unseen victim here,” Janice concluded, “beyond me and my children, was Logan. He was carrying around a lot of guilt over what happened. I think he still blames himself.”
“A guilty conscience sure can play havoc on a man,” Debbie agreed.
But did a guilty conscience result in an incredible night of lovemaking? Janice didn’t know. She only wished he’d called her today. She would have felt much better if he had.
“Well, I gotta go.” Debbie levered herself up from the chair. “I’m sure one way or the other, things will work out for you. But I’m sure going to miss you when you move.”
“Thanks.” She gave her friend a hug. “I’ll miss you, too. And so will the kids.”
“Ha! They’ll only miss my swimming pool.”
Silently agreeing that was probably all too true, Janice showed her friend to the door, then returned to the kitchen, intending to clean up the dishes. Instead, she found her son standing in the middle of the room, his expression a mixture of horror and dismay.
“What’s wrong, Kevin?”
“D-dad.” His voice broke. “Did Logan kill my d-dad?”
“Oh, my heavens, no!” She went to her son, wanting to hold him, reassure him, but the boy slipped away. Dear God! What had he heard? How much had he heard?
“Was it Logan’s fault Dad died, Mom? Was it?”
“No, honey. There wasn’t anything Logan could do.” How could she tell her son his father wanted to die? Was so distressed by his own failings that he’d walked into that inferno without any intention of coming back? And how could she possibly know that for sure? “Being a firefighter is a dangerous—”
“No! I heard you and Debbie talking. It was Logan’s fault.” The desperation in the boy’s eyes, his rising voice, spoke of panic and confusion. “I liked him, Mom. I thought Logan was cool. And he…he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“Kevin, that’s not your—”
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