The Sheriff’s Proposal

by Karen Rose Smith

  Logan mounted the porch stairs, a bouquet of flowers in his arms. After presenting them to Lily, he sat on the top porch step. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. But nobody will believe me,” she grumbled as she smelled the flowers.

  Logan grinned. “You have lots of people who care about you. Let them pamper you a little.”

  “They’re pampering me until I’m suffocating.” She pointed to her niece. “This one, for instance, thinks she has to cook and clean and do all the laundry. I’m going to have to get a note from my doctor so she’ll let me load the washing machine! She even postponed volunteering at the adoption agency. I told her she’s going tomorrow morning if I have to push her out.”

  Meg shook her finger at her aunt. “Your doctor said no heavy lifting. You’re to walk and build up your strength. After your next checkup, we’ll talk about the laundry. And we’ll talk about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.”

  Lily looked toward heaven. “She’s worse than a drill sergeant.” Suddenly a twinkle sparkled in her eyes. “I have a great idea, Logan. Why don’t you take her on a picnic? She could use a break.”

  “I don’t need a break,” Meg murmured, embarrassed her aunt was backing Logan into a corner.

  “See? She’s prickly. Meg never gets prickly. So she definitely needs a break,” Lily assured Logan with a smile.

  Logan’s gaze fell on Meg. “Would you like to go on a picnic?”

  “I wouldn’t want to force you into anything.” The comment just sort of popped out.

  Logan’s brows arched. “No one forces me into anything. If you can find a blanket, we can stop at Gibson’s and get what we need. I know the perfect spot.”

  Logan did know the perfect spot. Laurel grew along the bank of the stream. Willows swayed low, their branches whispering with the breeze. He often drove the few miles out of town and sat on the bank of this stream. He’d thought about seeing Meg again constantly for the past two weeks. But he knew she was distracted at first with worry about Lily and then with her aunt’s care.

  Logan studied Meg as she pushed her purse to the corner of the blanket. It fell over, and the clasp popped open. Ignoring it, she reached into the deli bag and took out the sandwiches. They’d only talked about what they should buy for lunch. He could sense Meg holding back, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  “You’ve been very quiet.”

  She raised her gaze to his. “I wasn’t sure if you came to visit Lily or me.”

  He tried to suppress a smile. “Both won’t do?”

  Avoiding his gaze, she set a turkey sandwich before him. “I haven’t seen you for two weeks.”

  “You were busy. I didn’t want to interfere.”

  “Just say it, Logan. You changed your mind. You lost interest…whatever happens to men when they don’t call back.”

  He clasped her wrist. “Don’t lump me with everyone else.”

  Her gaze locked to his. “Why not if you act the same way?”

  “Act the same way? The last date we had, I couldn’t keep my hands off you. Why would I lose interest?”

  She pulled her hand out of his grasp. “Maybe you finally realized I’m going to leave and someone else could meet your needs better.”

  The passion inside him for Meg Dawson burst the restraints he’d carefully kept in check. He rose to his knees and cradled her head in his hands. “I want you. No one else. I haven’t lost interest. But every time I hear your voice, see you, touch you, I want more. And you didn’t have time for more with Lily on your mind.”

  He still saw the doubts, the sense of abandonment she carried with her from her childhood. And there was only one way he knew to make that go away.

  Pulling her up to him, he sought Meg’s lips, and he didn’t hold back. With her gasp of surprise, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, intending to erase each of her doubts and assure her he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone.

  Chapter 10

  Logan’s mouth was possessive and hard on Meg’s. He turned his head and, with an urgent thrust, pushed his tongue into her mouth again. The dark sweetness of her increased his need, and the desire to show her that his interest had reached new heights, rather than diminished, was foremost in his mind. He searched and stroked and possessed until her arms wound about his neck, and he was sure she understood that he wanted her in the primal way a man wants a woman.

  Suddenly she returned his desire. She took it, made it her own and gave it back to him with flames that licked at his body, intent on consuming him. He groaned, his arousal straining for freedom, his body dying for her touch. But the kiss was too intense to break, the pleasure too great to cut off. He wanted it to go on forever. Yet he knew he couldn’t last. He was too close to the edge now.

  He breathed in the scent of roses and Meg. Searching her mouth for every bit of sweetness, he ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms. His senses reeled.

  As his fingers danced over her skin, she became more daring. Her tongue dashed to the corner of his lips. When he tried to capture her, she evaded him, kissing his bottom lip, then the upper, then meeting him again lips to lips and tongue to tongue while her fingers dug into his hair.

  Logan wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back. He felt the heat under the cotton blouse, and he wanted it at his fingers. He pulled her blouse from her skirt and unhooked her bra. The buttons evaded his trembling fingers as he tried to unfasten them, all the while kissing her harder, trying to assuage some of the need.

  The last button tore, but it didn’t matter because finally he filled his hands with the softness of her breasts. The sounds she made encouraged him. As he rubbed over her breasts with his thumbs, she bit his lip, and the intensity of their passion was almost a physical blow.

  He broke away and, when she cried out in protest, he bent his head to her breast and swirled his tongue around her nipple. She grabbed at his shoulders, and her fingernails dug through his shirt. When he took her nipple between his lips, nipping and nibbling and licking, finally suckling in a mating rhythm that was driving them both insane, she clawed at his shirt, dragging it up his back. Finally her fingers touched his skin, and he shuddered.

  Pulling back, he separated from her for only a moment and tugged his shirt over his head. Then he kissed her again, taking her down on the blanket. Her gaze met his, and there was no turning back.

  He couldn’t get enough of her satin skin, golden in the reflection of the sun’s rays. Looking and tasting, he devoured her and coaxed broken moans from her that drove him on. Her breasts swelled under their dusky rose peaks. He bit gently, and she grew more restless, reaching for him, murmuring his name. He felt powerful…invincible…and whole.

  Meg’s hands felt like soft, branding instruments of sweet torture as she caressed his chest. When her thumb slid over his nipple, he sucked in a breath and wondered how much more he could take. Her hands danced over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, in restless abandon. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, and his breathing became ragged.

  Cupping Meg’s head, Logan kissed her with the desperate need building inside him. He searched for the hem of her skirt and brushed it up her thigh. She was silk and heat, and he was dying to plunge himself inside her. But she had to be ready. He had to make her ready.

  He nibbled down her neck and stroked her inner thigh. She was so hot there…so soft. She undulated toward him, and he explored higher until he met a silky barrier. When he played his fingers over it, she cried out. He dragged in a breath, trying to rein in his body’s need. Wherever they were going to go, he had to take her with him. He had to.

  Meg couldn’t seem to breathe in enough air to help her think coherently. Logan’s kiss had started a spiral of desire and need and longing that was taking her somewhere she’d never been. His need was hers; hers was his. There was an intangible connection between them, deeper than the passion lacing their kisses and touches.

  Logan’s tongue on her nipple brought tears to her eyes.
The sensation was so beautifully erotic. His taste and texture and scent were everywhere, surrounding her, making her long for more. But any more would almost be too much, wouldn’t it? How much pleasure could she absorb without losing herself in him?

  When he cradled her head, and the passion seared the depths of her soul, all she wanted was more of him in her arms. She wanted to feel his body against hers, his skin against hers. He glided his hand up her thigh, and she realized skin against skin would never be enough. She wanted him inside her, touching her core, reaching a place that was isolated…alone…waiting.

  When he found the juncture of her thighs, she wanted to touch him as intimately as he was touching her. She reached for his belt buckle. Logan helped her, stripping off his jeans and briefs, coming back to her with a kiss that made her forget they’d been separated even for a moment. As he stretched out on top of her, his hips met hers. She could feel his arousal through her skirt, through her panties, and she wanted no barriers between them.

  Arching up to meet him, she could feel more, but not enough. Apparently Logan understood the message. Leaning to the side, he swept up her skirt. But he didn’t hurry to undress her. He simply laid his hand over her panties, arousing her until the core of her throbbed.

  “Logan!”

  “What, sweetheart?” His voice was raspy and deep.

  “It’s not enough. It’s…”

  In a deft motion, his long fingers and large hand ridded her of her undergarment. “It’s not enough for me, either.”

  While he kissed her, he caressed her thigh, inching higher and higher. She couldn’t stand the anticipation, the waiting, the suspense. She wanted to cry out in frustration. Her body screamed, More, more, more. And then his fingers parted her and she felt as if she’d explode. He knew how to touch…and where to touch. She melted around him and kissed him as he took her deeper and deeper into passion and taught her the recklessness of desire.

  She clutched at his shoulders, feeling the same glistening slickness on his skin that she felt on hers. The warmth of the sun penetrated the canopy of leaves above them, but she knew that her heat and Logan’s came from the two of them together, a ball of fire that ignited inside them when they were together—inside of them, not outside. Her fire and his fire were coalescing into one. When they joined, she was afraid she wouldn’t care if she ever burned alone again. There was something magical about their desires uniting, becoming more powerful, fed by each other, so much more together than separate.

  The hungry yearning of her body centered in her womb, under Logan’s deft fingers. When he found the silky nub, hidden, waiting for him, his touch was so sensually slow and erotic, she cried, “I want you, Logan.”

  He took her at her word, meeting her hips with his, joining his lips to hers, resting at the entrance where her need for him was greatest. She felt the tip of him, the scalding heat of tangible passion, and knew he was waiting for her consent.

  Nothing in this world could stop the fire between them now. Nothing in this world could prevent Meg from giving her heart with her body. Nothing could keep her from raising her hips and inviting Logan to possess her.

  And possess her he did. He took her hands and held them above her head. Intertwining his fingers with hers, he murmured, “Raise your knees.”

  The huskiness in his voice, the green depths of emotion in his eyes, the trembling of their hands that was neither his nor hers but theirs, urged her to do as he demanded.

  When she did, he thrust into her with all the power of his need.

  “Logan!” The sensation was sublime. She could feel his heat, his heartbeat, his pulsating desire. He withdrew and she protested.

  He caught her protest and her breath with a scalding kiss as he thrust into her again.

  Quickly she closed her knees and gripped his hips, taking him deeper, prolonging the pleasure. He tore away. “Meg, I can’t hold on when you do that. Let me…”

  “Don’t hold on.” She contracted around him, and he groaned. With another powerful thrust, he stoked the fire. Each time he drove into her, she rose to meet him until they moved as one, burning into each other.

  The fire became liquid, flashing over her in waves, melding them together. Each wave became more intense than the one before. She couldn’t think in words, only in feelings and senses. Logan’s taste was on her lips, his scent mingled with hers, surrounding them, his hands closed and opened with hers in cadence with his thrusts. The fire danced in front of her eyes, first red, then orange, then silver white—white heat that licked and swelled and finally burst into an explosion that rocked the universe. She couldn’t breathe as the orgasm shook her, subsiding, swelling, subsiding, swelling until the prolonged tremors became Logan’s, as well as hers. The ecstasy seemed to last forever.

  Finally she needed air, and she drew in a deep breath. Logan’s body was still on top of her.

  He lifted himself on his forearms. “Are you okay?”

  Gazing into his eyes, realizing what had happened, her mind racing ahead, asking what happens next? she answered, “I’m not sure.”

  “I hope you don’t have regrets.”

  How could she regret something so wonderful? Yet…

  He frowned and separated from her. “I only have one regret.”

  “What?”

  “Are you on the pill?”

  Her eyes widened, and the full impact of his question hit her. “No.”

  He laid on his back beside her and stared up at the leaves blocking the blue sky. “I wouldn’t want either of us to be trapped into something we don’t want.”

  Would she feel trapped? Obviously Logan would. Because of a pregnancy, he’d been trapped in an unhappy marriage. “We should have known better.”

  “I should have known better.” He rolled toward her, studied her face and pushed her damp hair from her brow. “But when I’m with you, I feel like a teenager again. Apparently with about just as much sense.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  “Are you? Do you burn every time we get within a foot of each other? Does the sound of my voice turn you on? Does an inadvertent touch make you need?”

  She heard his frustration, but she heard vulnerability, too. “Logan, yes. I wanted you as much as you wanted me. How could you doubt that after the way I…?”

  “Some women can pretend real well.”

  “Logan!”

  “It’s true. Shelley—” He stopped.

  “Tell me,” she requested softly.

  He stared up at the leaves above them. Finally he said, “After Shelley became pregnant, she was less than enthusiastic about sex. I thought we just needed time. But after Travis was born, she didn’t want any more children. It was always a point of contention between us and colored whatever happened in the bedroom. When we made the decision to move to Willow Valley, I asked her if we couldn’t start over, consider having another child. She agreed. After we moved, I thought our marriage was better. She seemed to enjoy sex again. Then I found out it was an act to cover up for her guilt.”

  Meg moved her leg closer to Logan’s. Her arm brushed his. She wanted the physical contact to let him know he could tell her whatever he was thinking and feeling.

  “One evening I saw something sticking out of her dresser drawer. I opened the drawer to stuff it back in, and I felt a package at the edge, the reason it wouldn’t close. It was a packet of birth-control pills with some missing.”

  Turning on her side, Meg watched Logan’s chest rise and fall and wondered if he’d ever told anyone about any of this or if he’d kept it inside all these years.

  “I confronted her with them. We started shouting. Saying things we shouldn’t have. I don’t even remember them now. But I do remember her telling me she never should have married me—not for a baby’s sake. She said I’d ruined her life. Then she ran out, and an hour later I got the call. She was speeding, lost control and ran the car into a telephone pole. She was killed on impact.”

  Logan’s expre
ssion manifested anguish, as if it had just happened, as if he blamed himself. Instinctively Meg reached for him and held him tight.

  His body was rigid, as if he couldn’t accept her comfort. After a few minutes, he kissed her. The sparks burst into flame again, but this time he pulled away. “We’d better not tempt fate twice,” he said in a husky murmur. “Let’s have lunch.”

  Meg felt awkward dressing, putting her clothes in order. But as Logan zipped his jeans, he smiled at her. Not sure what he was thinking or feeling, she proceeded cautiously. “Remember I told you I have to go to D.C. for a fund-raiser?”

  Logan nodded.

  Noticing the top button of her blouse was torn off, she decided not to worry about it. A little cleavage at this point didn’t much matter. “It’s next weekend. Saturday night. I wondered if you’d like to go along with me as my escort.”

  “Black-tie?” He buckled his belt.

  She couldn’t seem to move her gaze from his hands, the fly of his jeans. Her body was still tingling, and the thought of being with him again…

  “Meg?” The sexy, knowing smile on his face made her blush.

  “Uh, yes. It is. We could stay at my apartment.”

  His smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “I’ll have to make sure Travis has somewhere to stay. But he has friends besides Kyle. It shouldn’t be a problem. When do you want to leave?”

  “Saturday morning around eight?”

  “Sounds good.” He sat down beside her. “But what sounds even better is a night at your apartment.”

  “Logan, I don’t know where we’re headed….”

  He caressed her cheek. “I don’t, either. But until we get there, let’s just enjoy ourselves. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  Meg couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed an impromptu picnic more. Of course, she’d never been on a picnic quite like this one. She still couldn’t believe… She sneaked a surreptitious glance at Logan—at least, she thought it was surreptitious—as he took a bite from an apple. His jaw was so strong and well chiseled. His cheekbones were high. The long lines beside his mouth deepened when he smiled. And his mouth…