by Gina Wilkins
His nod of satisfaction told her he’d heard her correctly. “Let’s go learn some history,” he said, his tone lighter again.
With a smile that felt a little forced, she turned with him toward the stairs leading up to the city streets.
* * *
It was only 9:00 p.m. by the time they returned to the hotel room. The bars, clubs and restaurants of downtown Seattle were still open and active, but they weren’t tempted to stay out later. For one thing, Logan was still operating on Eastern time. Besides which, as nice as it had been to be out in public without concern about running into people they knew, they were ready to be alone again.
Logan headed straight for the shower, saying he felt grubby after a day of travel and tourism. While she listened to the shower run, Alexis swapped her street clothes for the slinky red nightgown she’d packed and hadn’t yet worn. Had she hoped even as she’d folded it into her bag that Logan would join her? She hadn’t envisioned herself wearing it for anyone else.
She brushed out her hair to let it fall straight to her shoulders, then made a quick assessment of her appearance when she heard the shower stop. The thin silk clung where it should, draped softly over curves to pool around her feet. Tiny spaghetti straps bared her shoulders and arms, and a bodice of red lace concealed only slightly more than it revealed. She’d bought the gown on impulse a couple months ago. And maybe she’d thought of Logan when she purchased it.
He emerged from the bathroom wearing the white terry-cloth hotel robe that had been hanging on a door hook. He’d towel-dried his hair so that it was still damp, finger-combed back from his freshly shaven face. He stopped short when he saw her standing by the big dresser in her nightgown. She set down her hairbrush, her hand suddenly a bit unsteady in response to the look on his face.
“I was hoping you’d wear that,” he said, his voice deeper, gruffer than usual. “I saw you pack it.”
She smiled faintly. “Is that why you came? To see me in this nightie?”
“No.” He took a step toward her, reaching out for her. “To take it off of you.”
Her breathless laugh was smothered by his hungry kiss.
* * *
It was still dark in the room when the insistent buzz of Logan’s phone on the nightstand startled them both out of deep sleep. Alexis focused blurrily on the clock as he groped for the phone, cursing beneath his breath. Six o’clock. After a deliciously energetic night, she’d rather hoped to sleep in this morning.
“What?” Logan barked into the phone. “Yes, I was. What do you need?...It’s in the storeroom of my garage, third shelf down on the right....Yeah, no problem. But don’t call again unless it’s an emergency, got it? I’m trying to take a vacation.”
He disconnected the call without a goodbye, then dropped the phone onto the nightstand again. “I should just turn the damned thing off.”
“They need to be able to contact you if there is an emergency,” she reminded him as she climbed from the bed, smoothing her tangled nightgown around her while she walked toward the bathroom. “But I’m sure whoever just called got the message that you don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s necessary.”
“It was Curtis. I left him in charge of the grounds. Which means I expect him to handle things without calling me at the crack of dawn,” he growled.
Curtis had no way of knowing, of course, that it was the crack of dawn for his boss, since Logan hadn’t told anyone which time zone he was vacationing in.
She stopped to look outside on the way back to the bed a few minutes later. It was still an hour or so before sunrise, so the streets below were dark. Lights glowed on the waterfront and across the sound in West Seattle and Bainbridge Island. A light rain fell, blurring those lights and splashing against the balcony on the other side of the glass door. She tugged the drapes back into place and turned toward the bed again.
Logan watched her from his pillows. “Sorry about the early call. I hope you can go back to sleep.”
She slipped beneath the covers and snuggled into his bare shoulder. “I’m in no hurry to get out of this bed. It’s ridiculously comfortable, isn’t it?”
Smoothing her hair from her face, he brushed his lips against her forehead. “Mmm.”
She smiled against his warm skin. From her observations, Logan wasn’t one to indulge in pillow talk. Of course, she hadn’t spent that much time in bed with him. He never stayed long after their lovemaking at home. It was a new experience to sleep beside him, to wake with him—and it was nice. They had only two more mornings to wake together in the foreseeable future, and she would savor each moment to mentally replay in her solitary bed at home. Vacations were meant to be enjoyed and appreciated, though they couldn’t last forever.
The room was considerably lighter when they woke again. Still, it took them a while to dress for the day, since Logan informed her gravely that she needed help washing her back in the shower. After a moment’s consideration, she replied that there was, in fact, a spot she had trouble reaching by herself. The nightie hit the floor again when he stepped forward eagerly to offer his assistance.
Finally dressed for the day in clothes comfortable enough for a considerable amount of walking and sightseeing, she opened the curtains again to see if it was still raining. She gasped in pleasure when she gazed out. “Logan, look. The sun’s out. It’s so pretty.”
He stepped up behind her, resting his hands loosely on her shoulders. Though soft gray clouds drifted across the sky, the midmorning sun beamed down on the waterfront and the sound, on the milling tourists and cruising ferries, on the soaring white-topped Olympic Mountains.
“There’s Mount Rainier,” she said, pointing to the horizon. “It’s the first time since I arrived that I’ve been able to see it so clearly. Suddenly it looks so big and so close, but I know it’s a couple hours away by car. Some of the locals at the seminar were talking about how pretty it is to hike up the mountain in the summer. They said the wildflowers are breathtaking.”
“Sounds like a hike we’d like.”
She nodded a bit wistfully. “Yes, it does.”
“Maybe we’ll try it sometime.”
A jolt of nerves had her moving away from him, speaking with a brisk laugh. “Like either of us could slip away for several days during the summer months. We’d be lucky to manage another half-day hike in Virginia.”
He was silent for a moment and she wondered if he regretted his random comment that implied a future between them. She was sure it had simply been a thoughtless contribution to the conversation. She shouldn’t take it to mean anything more, so there was no need for her to be so jittery all of a sudden.
Still, she found herself talking a bit too quickly and too brightly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for breakfast. There’s a great little place around the corner from the hotel where I had breakfast my first morning here. Delicious pastries and omelets. And the coffee— Well, it’s Seattle. Coffee is serious business here.”
Though he studied her face rather intently, he smiled a little when he responded. “Breakfast sounds good, but coffee sounds even better. I’m ready when you are.”
She donned her jacket, grabbed her bag and phone, and moved toward the door, hardly waiting to make sure he was following. She couldn’t have explained why she was suddenly so rattled. Silly, of course. Maybe it was just the whole adjustment to the novelty of sleeping with him, waking up with him, sharing a bathroom—things that took their relationship to an intimate new level, even if only temporarily.
A couple more days of fun and then they’d be back home, immersed in those busy schedules she’d just reminded him of. Rested, refreshed, ready to get back to work after the brief vacation they had both needed. She shouldn’t waste the weekend trying to analyze his every word and expression, she decided, slowing her steps and smiling more naturally up at him. There was plenty of
time after they returned to Virginia to decide how to proceed—if at all—with their affair.
Chapter Seven
It was immediately apparent that a beautiful spring day brought out the crowds in Seattle. While locals celebrated a respite from a long winter, tourists took advantage of the clear views of the Olympic Mountains to the west and the Cascades to the east, frantically snapping photos of Mount Rainier and the Space Needle from dozens of different angles.
With Logan indulgently tagging along, Alexis cheerfully played tourist along with everyone else, taking photos and standing in line to buy tickets for the monorail. The two-minute elevated ride took them to Seattle Center, where they admired the International Fountain, then rode the elevator to the top of the Space Needle for the breathtaking views of the mountains, the sound and the sprawling surrounding neighborhoods.
Logan didn’t complain when she browsed gift shops full of souvenirs and local handicrafts, and he seemed to enjoy the music and science fiction museums. While she explored yet another gift shop, he fell into conversation with a security guard. Stuffing her purchase—a cheesy but cute little ceramic replica of the Space Needle—into her bag, she approached them just as the men shook hands and the guard moved on.
“That looked like a serious conversation.”
Logan nodded. “We were talking about the best places to eat lunch around here.”
“So where are we going?”
He chuckled. “Depends on what you’re in the mood for. Pacific Northwest seafood, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, Ethiopian, Greek, Indian, Korean, Mediterranean...”
She laughed and shook her head. “Maybe you should just pick one and surprise me.”
After riding the monorail back downtown, they dined on Vietnamese food—stuffed escargot followed by pan-fried lemongrass sea bass for him, papaya salad and stir-fried vegetarian rice noodles for her. Logan had studied the menu carefully before making his selections, his expression so serious that she was rather amused. He’d done the same last night when they’d eaten at a popular seafood establishment, consulting with the server before ordering a wood-grilled chinook salmon dish that he declared “delicious.”
“You really are a foodie, aren’t you?” she asked him with a smile as she twirled noodles around her chopsticks. “Since we usually eat takeout or easy meals at my place, I didn’t realize what an adventurous palate you have.”
He looked a little self-conscious about her teasing. “I’m usually happy eating just regular stuff at home. I’m certainly no chef. Bonnie says I’d probably live on grilled steak and microwave-baked potatoes if she didn’t invite me to dinner several times a week, and she’s probably right. I guess I’m just in the habit of ordering more interesting dishes when I’m dining out and someone else is doing the cooking.”
“You and I haven’t really eaten out at home.”
He shrugged. “Just seemed too likely we’d run into people we know.”
“It wasn’t a criticism. It was every bit as much my choice to stay in for the meals we’ve shared.”
He nodded and glanced around the rather crowded dining room in which no one was in the least interested in them. “Still, it’s kind of nice to be able to eat out together for a change.”
“Yes, it is.”
She sipped her green tea, then set the cup on the table. “I dined out all the time when I lived in New York. Trying new restaurants was something my group of friends did at least once a week. Since I’ve owned this business, unless I’m being served at an event, I find myself eating on the run, or just settling for something quick I can make at home and eat while I do the never-ending paperwork.”
“I have lunch at the diner a couple times a week, and Bonnie has me to dinner fairly often, or I’ll meet with some guys to watch a game over pizza and beer, but I fend for myself the rest of the time. Occasionally, when a new place opens, I like to check out the menu, either by myself or with friends.”
She wondered how often those “friends” were actually dates. She knew he hadn’t been seeing anyone else since they’d gotten together, but that had been only a few months and she doubted he’d been entirely celibate beforehand. Logan’s healthy appetite was not limited to food. Perhaps he hadn’t worried about being seen out and about with those other women, who weren’t connected to him through their work and his sisters, leading to far fewer potential complications.
“You said your father introduced you to fine dining,” she remarked, partially to distract herself from thoughts of those less-complicated women. “I’m sure with all his world travels, he’s tried a lot of different foods.”
Logan’s expression went studiously blank, though his reply was cordial. “Yeah. He liked trying to gross us out when we were kids by telling us about the weird stuff he’d tried—scorpions and rattlesnakes and various animal organs. But mostly he enjoys traditional ethnic cuisines from various other countries. He talks a lot these days about New Zealand dishes—traditional Maori foods, Kiwi-Asian fusion, that sort of thing. Kinley said last time she talked to him, he mentioned that he’s thinking about resettling again. He’s looking at Bali.”
“Bali, really? Intriguing choice.”
Logan shrugged. “He has exotic interests.”
“Have you ever visited him in any of those exotic countries?” She thought she already knew the answer, but she had to ask.
As she’d expected, he shook his head. “No. Only time I’ve ever left this country was to go hiking in British Columbia with some friends the summer after my first year of college. Had a great time.”
Maybe he hoped she would be sidetracked to ask about his trip, but she was still trying to understand his relationship with his father. “Did your dad never invite you to join him?”
She thought she heard what might have been a faint sigh of resignation before he said, “Not really. Until I was in high school, his excuse was that I was too young. Then I got involved in sports, and I didn’t want to miss the seasons, especially baseball in summer. Some other things came up while I was in college that kept me from traveling for a while. After I earned a degree, I got busy making a living, starting a software business, helping out Uncle Leo when I could. It just never worked out for me to take off to whatever distant location Dad had landed in. Now it just seems better to leave things the way they are.”
She thought back to her brief meeting with Logan’s father. She’d been at the inn with a potential client and Bonnie had introduced them when they’d passed in the hallway. Looking like an older, more grizzled version of his son, Robert Carmichael had been lean and sun-weathered, his manner gruff but pleasant.
He’d spoken to his daughters fondly but somewhat too jovially, and even at the time, Alexis had thought it was as if he didn’t really know Bonnie and Kinley all that well, but was trying to hide the fact from outsiders. She hadn’t seen him with Logan during that visit, so she had no idea what undercurrents she might have sensed if she had.
Remembering Logan’s comment that seeing his dad over Christmas would hold them for a year or two, she thought it sad that they had such a distant connection. But then again, she’d had a difficult relationship with her own father, so she could relate to an extent.
“My dad stayed around after he and Mom divorced, but I wouldn’t say we were all that close,” she confided impulsively. “There were times I thought he saw me more as a weapon to use against my mom than as his daughter.”
Logan grimaced. “Damn. That’s rough.”
Suddenly realizing what she’d said, she blinked in surprise. A short, humorless laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever said that aloud before. Must be the green tea—I think it’s going to my head.”
It was a bad joke, and he made no effort to smile. “Acrimonious divorce, I take it?”
“Very. My brother and I were quite
young and our parents fought several bitter custody battles during our childhood, making certain we knew all the angry details. We were never sure when they went to court who we’d end up living with, though Mom always ended up keeping primary custody with us seeing Dad on weekends and holidays. When we reached our teens, my brother ended up spending more time with Dad and I stayed with Mom. That seemed to satisfy both of them. Mom could live vicariously through my music and dance performances and Dad was free to push Sean toward a career in professional sports. I loved my dad, and I grieved when we lost him, but I can’t say we were ever truly close.”
“Your brother is an athlete?”
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t have the self-discipline to work that hard at any one sport. He’s a department manager in a sporting goods store now. Last I heard, he’s considering pursuing professional bass fishing.”
She touched her napkin to the corners of her mouth, then smiled wryly at Logan. “All this was just my way of letting you know I understand what it’s like not to have a traditional relationship with your father.”
Logan nodded. “At least we were spared the vicious custody battles. There was never any question that we would stay with Mom. And she never said a bad word about him. She claimed to love him until the day she died, she just said she couldn’t live the nomadic way he did, especially after she had three kids in just over four years. She always made excuses for him—said he tried to stay in one place and be a responsible husband and father, but it was simply against his nature. That’s bull, of course. He was just too selfish to make the effort. She made sure we talked to him often on the phone, and that we wrote him letters and sent photos, and she always welcomed him and accommodated him on his annual visits. If she had any bitterness or resentment over the way things worked out between them, she never even hinted at it to us.”
