Magic Kiss (Hope Falls Book 11)

by Melanie Shawn

  “Can you call her now?” Drew asked.

  Before Emma had become a parent, she never would’ve guessed that eighty percent of the job was answering questions and making decisions. But it was. There was always something else she had to decide. A call she had to make. It never ended, and it was beyond exhausting. Not to mention terrifying.

  What if she made the wrong choice?

  What if she said no when she should’ve said yes?

  What if she said yes when she should’ve said no?

  She used to think that the hardest thing ever was when Drew had been a baby because he’d never slept through the night. Then, once he’d started walking, she’d thought that that was the hard part because he had become mobile. Then, when he started kindergarten, she’d thought that that was hardest it was going to get because she’d had to make him go, even though he’d cried every day and held on to her legs. Then, when he started withdrawing and not talking to her as much, she’d thought that that was it. It was the worst. How could she be a good parent if her son didn’t even speak to her?

  A month and a half ago, it was asking if he could go to camp in California with his school. Now, he was asking to go on an overnight hiking expedition. In the woods. Where there were bears and mountain lions, not to mention all kinds of creepy-crawly things. She wanted to say no and that would be the end of it. But she couldn’t do that.

  Emma realized that each stage of Drew’s adolescence was going to hold its own set of challenges. It wasn’t going to get easier.

  “I’ll call her after dinner.” She needed a few minutes to get used to the idea of her son out in the woods. All night.

  “But, if everything’s okay, I can go?” The puppy-dog eyes were back in full effect.

  “Yes,” she conceded begrudgingly. Over Drew’s celebratory cheering, she reiterated, “I still need to talk to Amanda.”

  Her conditional response was obviously received as a definite yes. In all fairness, it pretty much was. She seriously doubted that her conversation with Amanda would raise any red flags. If anything, Emma was sure her new friend would put her at ease and reassure her that Drew would be well taken care of.

  “I’ve never slept out in a tent overnight,” Drew told Logan.

  “Well, you would’ve if you’d actually stayed at the camp you’re supposed to be at,” Emma pointed out.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess so.” Drew sheepishly glanced down at his plate. Then, in a clear attempt to change the subject, he bounced his gaze between the adults at the table. “Soooo, what are you guys going to do tomorrow all by yourselves?”

  “What?” Emma and Logan shot back.

  Drew continued, oblivious to the shift in the room. “Are you going to watch a movie or have game night?”

  Emma aimed for casual. “I’ll probably just work.”

  “I need to work on my bike,” Logan said matter-of-factly.

  Drew shook his head. “You guys are boring.”

  “Yep. Boring.” She took a drink of her water and hoped that it would cool the heat in her cheeks.

  She and Logan were going to be alone. Tomorrow. All night.

  After that kiss in the hall, her mind was filled with all kinds of things she’d like to do tomorrow night. And none of them had to do with writing.

  Chapter 15

  ‡

  As Logan stepped out of the shower, he grabbed the towel that was hanging on the back of his door. After a quick dry-off, he wrapped it around his waist. Leaning his hands on the counter, he felt any energy he had left drain out of him. His arms were heavy, and his shoulders sagged.

  His current state likely had nothing to do with the fact that he’d been out working on his bike all day. Yes, he was physically tired, but this exhaustion had more to do with the kiss he could never take back. Talking about Andrew at dinner, about how he and Emma had fallen in love had also taken an emotional toll.

  As if Logan hadn’t felt like a total piece of shit before that topic had come up, seeing the look on Emma’s face had practically ripped his heart open. She was his best friend’s wife, and he’d accosted her in the hall.

  He needed to talk to Emma about what had happened. His plan was to drop Drew off at Justin’s in the morning and come right back and apologize his ass off. Make sure she knew he would never do that again. If she was even still there in the morning.

  She had barely looked at him during dinner. Then there had been a moment when he’d thought everything might be okay, but right after that, Andrew had become the topic of conversation and she had gone right back to avoiding him. Not that he blamed her.

  Pushing off the tile countertop, Logan headed into his room and grabbed a pair of sweats. As he pulled them on, his mind raced with theories of what Emma could have been feeling, thinking. Was she mad? Was she upset? Was she confused?

  He sure as hell was. Especially after sharing a kiss that had put all other kisses to shame. And it had been more than a kiss. Never before had a kiss felt so real. So pure. So honest.

  Just thinking about it made him get a half-chub. Which was ridiculous, because he’d just taken matters into his own hands in the shower. And to add to his asshole checklist, he’d thought about Emma while doing it. It’d only taken a few pumps before he’d exploded.

  He hadn’t pictured her naked. Hadn’t thought about all the things he wanted to do with her. No. All he’d done was relive that kiss. The feeling of her soft lips. The taste of her sweet, wet tongue. Her moans of pleasure as he licked and explored her mouth.

  Damn. How could a kiss, just a kiss, be so hot and so sweet at the same time? It was unreal.

  It was also wrong. No matter how good or perfect it had been, it was wrong and it couldn’t happen again. He didn’t want Emma to feel uncomfortable while staying there, thinking that, at any second, he was going to push her up against the wall and shove his tongue down her throat.

  No matter how much he wanted to.

  Knowing there was nothing he could do about the situation at the moment, he lay down on his bed. Reaching back, he punched the pillows behind his head. Partly to get comfortable and partly to let out some pent-up frustration.

  He knew that life wasn’t fair. When he’d been growing up, things hadn’t been easy. His mom had struggled with depression before passing away. His father had been nowhere to be found.

  His big brother had walked away from a promising boxing career to take care of him and his twin, and never once did Logan see him feeling sorry for himself. Nope. Levi had done what had to be done and never complained.

  That had been a powerful lesson for Logan at a young age. So he’d never been one to ask “why me?” or get mad when life dealt him a shitty hand of cards. Or even feel sorry for himself.

  But, Emma… This was different. He found himself doing both of the above. He was asking why. Why in the hell did he feel the way he did about her, but had never felt that way with any of the other women in his life? He wondered why Andrew had to die, why he had to lose his best friend. Why Emma had to lose her husband. Why Drew had to lose his father. Why Emma had to be a single mom.

  Those were definitely shitty cards, and he was pissed about them. He wasn’t quite at the feeling-sorry-for-himself part, but he figured that would come after the inevitable talk about that inappropriate kiss.

  Rolling to his side, he hit his pillow again. As he laid his head back down, a floorboard in the hallway creaked.

  On alert, he sat up. Chances were it was just Drew going to the bathroom or getting water, but instinct—or the cop in him—drove him up and out of bed. In two strides, he was at his door. As he turned the knob and pulled it open, he fully expected to see the kid on his way back from the can or the kitchen.

  Instead, he saw the woman who had turned his life inside out in just a week. Emma was standing with her fist raised, poised to knock. She was wearing bright-pink shorts that had tiny Hello Kitties all over them and a white tank top with the cartoon character’s face. Her hair was piled up on top of her he
ad, and her face was makeup-free. Her large, ocean-blue eyes were staring up at him, and her full, pink lips were parted in what his mind was telling him was an invitation.

  She was adorably sexy, and Logan had to brace his hand on the doorframe to prevent himself from reaching out and accepting the perceived invitation.

  “Hey,” he rasped. His voice tended to get scratchier and scratchier the more turned on he was. Right now, he sounded like sandpaper.

  “Hi.” Emma opened her hand—which was still closed and set to knock—and waved. Her chest was rising and falling, and her eyes darted from his face to his chest, back to his eyes again, and then straight back down to his chest.

  She was nervous.

  Shit.

  Dread clenched in his gut. She was there to tell him that she was leaving. That she didn’t feel comfortable staying after what he’d done.

  His first instinct was to try to talk her out of it. Tell her that he was so sorry for his behavior. Promise her that nothing like that would ever happen again.

  But when she licked her lips in a gesture he was sure was borne out of anxiety and not arousal, he had to suppress the urge to do exactly what he would be promising would never happen again.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  The timid tinge to her voice was like a punch in the gut. He never wanted her to feel anything but safe and comfortable around him.

  “No.” He released his hands from the doorframe and tried to project calm and relaxed energy instead of a predator poised to pounce on his prey.

  “I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute.” Her voice shook.

  “Sure.” He felt like he was walking the plank to his death as he started to take a step out of his room. The last thing he wanted was for Emma and Drew to move out. But he had no one to blame but himself.

  Before he made it past his doorway, Emma pushed past him to stand in his room.

  “Don’t you want to talk?” he asked, motioning towards the living room.

  “Can we talk in here? Drew’s sleeping, but just in case he wakes up…” She wrung her hands.

  Logan wanted to kick his own ass for not only having put her in the position where she was this nervous about being alone with him, but also that she had to deliver news she didn’t want her son to overhear.

  “Sure.” He nodded.

  “Can you close the door?” she asked as she shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Yeah.” He held the knob as the door latched and turned it so it made as little sound as possible to not wake Drew up.

  Turning towards Emma, he started, “Emma, I’m so sorr—”

  At the same time, she blurted out, “I was wondering if you would—”

  Then they both stopped speaking at the same time.

  “Go ahead.” Logan stepped to the left, away from the door so that she knew she could leave at any time.

  “No, it’s okay.” She shook her head and bit the inside of her lip.

  He knew that this conversation was like a Band-Aid. Instead of him groveling and her awkwardly accepting but still insisting she needed to go, he figured it would be better if she just ripped the sucker off.

  “Ladies first.” He forced himself to grin even though the thought of Emma and Drew’s not being there anymore felt like a knife twisting in his chest. Instead of a Band-Aid being ripped off, he had a feeling this was going to feel more like a blade getting ripped out.

  *

  Oh boy.

  Emma’s heart was beating so fast that she wondered if this was what people felt like on speed. She’d never done any drugs, and if this was what it was like, she was happy she’d been too busy being a wife and a mom when her friends had been experimenting with them.

  Her palms were damp with perspiration. Her mind was spinning like a tetherball being unwound. Her legs were so shaky that she was surprised that she was even standing. She needed to speak, but she couldn’t find the right words.

  When Drew and Logan had gone to bed, she’d gone to her room and finished the scene she’d been working on earlier. And just like with the scene in the office, the words had poured out of her. Logan’s dominating attitude had been the first writer’s block demolisher, and that lip-lock had been so passionate that inspiration had more than struck. It had consumed her.

  She was able to describe, in detail, what “Tina” was feeling during her kiss. The tingle running down her spine when “Sean’s” fingers fisted in the hair at the base of her neck. The bolt of bliss that shot between “Tina’s” legs when “Sean’s” tongue swept inside her mouth. The need building with hurricane force low in “Tina’s” belly when “Sean” sucked her bottom lip between his and nipped it roughly before running his tongue along it and soothing the sting.

  Yep. She’d had inspiration flowing out of her like Niagara Falls.

  Logan was opening up sides of her that had lain dormant for so long that she hadn’t been sure they would ever come to life again. She had one and half more books to write, and she needed more from her muse. Sure, she could sit around and wait for things to happen organically. He’d kissed her. Really kissed her. She’d felt the evidence that—contrary to her prior belief—he did find her attractive.

  When he’d hightailed it out of Seattle, so fast that the Road Runner wouldn’t have been able to keep up with him, the morning after their uncomfortable kitchen encounter, then proceeded to stay away from her for the next five years, she’d figured she wasn’t his cup of tea. But his body had sure told a different story during that kiss.

  So the question was: would he let her use that body for research? Inspiration. Which, in her room five minutes ago, had sounded like a perfectly reasonable proposition. Now, standing in his room, while he stood several feet away from her, mouthwateringly shirtless with low-riding sweats that highlighted the sexy muscle that made the V inside his hips, she was seriously rethinking her request.

  Every muscle in his body was chiseled. From the indentations on his abs, to the pectorals on his chest, to the triceps and biceps of his upper arm—heck, even to the prominent vein that ran down his forearm. She felt like another Emma right now. Emma Stone in Crazy, Stupid, Love when Ryan Gosling takes off his shirt and she says that he looks Photoshopped. Logan Dorsey was definitely Photoshopped by a graphic design master.

  Logan looked like he belonged on the set of Magic Mike. He was her own personal Magic Mike muse. Well, she hoped that he would agree to be her own personal Magic Mike muse.

  “Emma, it’s okay. You can just say it.” Logan’s soothing and soft voice made him sound like he was talking to a scared animal.

  Which, she guessed, he kind of was.

  Standing up straighter, she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Time to pull up her big girl panties and…well…ask Logan if he would pull them down.

  Preferably with his teeth.

  Whoa. She blinked as a small grin lifted on her face. She wasn’t sure where that thought had come from, but she liked it. Apparently, her Magic Mike muse unlocked her inner freak.

  “I was wondering if…well…if you would help me. With my book. For research purposes only. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

  “Wait. You want me to help you with research?” Logan looked more confused than a boy ladybug.

  Not exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for, but she wasn’t going to give up all hope yet. “Yes,” she replied. Just because she wasn’t throwing in the hope towel didn’t mean she was willing to beg. At least, not yet.

  “I can’t,” he said as if she’d asked him if he could fly. He’d made it crystal clear in two words that the entire proposal was out of the question.

  “Oh, okay.”

  Hope towel officially thrown in. She ducked her head and started towards the door. Embarrassment was rising in her faster than a cake in a pressure cooker, and she wanted to get the heck out of there.

  “I mean, I would if I could.”

  Logan’s voice stopped her mid step, and she l
ooked back up. He’d moved closer to the door, and there was only a foot between them now. When their eyes met, he continued.

  “But I’ve never been in love.”

  “What?” Not to quote Tina Turner, but What’s Love Got To Do With It? Emma couldn’t imagine that he was really that old fashioned.

  Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he gave her the same look she gave Drew when he was saying something crazy, usually before she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead to check for a fever.

  “At dinner, you said that you interview people about falling in love. I’ve never been in love,” he explained, speaking slowly.

  Ahh. There it was. A classic misunderstanding. She’d thought she’d been so clear, but nothing she’d said had actually explained what she was asking. And of course he thought, because of their talk at dinner, research meant talking about love when she’d actually meant “Let’s Talk About Sex” Salt N’ Pepa style.

  Now, she just had to figure out how to explain that.

  “Oh that’s…um…not the research I was talking about…” She had so much more to say, but the words were caught at the lump in her throat. Stuck words, that’s all. It wasn’t like she was choking on lust from being this close to a perfect specimen of half-naked man…

  “Oh.” Logan still looked like he was smack dab in a cloud of confusion, not knowing what in the heck she was talking about.

  Biting the inside of her mouth so hard that she was surprised she hadn’t drawn blood, Emma tried to unjumble the thoughts that were crashing around in her head like bumper cars. It wasn’t working.

  She figured she would do what she always did when she wrote: hope that, like what usually happened with her characters, everything would fall into place. Staring up into the deep pools of his chocolate-colored eyes, she dove right in.