He caught her looking, and the green of his eyes deepened. Leaning toward her, he offered her a bite of apple. “It’s juicy,” he said with a wink.
She’d never thought of Logan as a ladies’ man, but she realized he could be devastatingly charming without half an effort. She took a bite and the juice ran down her chin. When she reached for a napkin, Logan took it from her.
“Let me.”
Bending to her, he licked the apple juice from her chin. He didn’t stop there, but settled his lips on hers. When he ended the kiss, she wished the picnic would never end.
He smiled. “Would you like the apple? I have another one.”
Maybe if she crunched on the fruit, she’d forget about what else they could be doing. She took it from him.
He reached to the corner of the blanket for the grocery bag. Her purse lay open with the contents spilled out. First he picked up the lipstick and tossed it inside. Then he gathered the pen and small notepad. When he glanced at it, he frowned. “What’s this?”
She could protest he had no authority to poke into her things, but there was no point to that. “It’s a list. I make them all the time. They’re people I’m going to call next weekend.”
“Friends?”
She took the notepad from him and pushed it into her purse. “No, my contacts and colleagues who should know when I’m returning.”
“You’ve made a decision?” There was a strain in his voice.
“I want to make sure Aunt Lily’s okay. So I’m going to tell them I’ll return January 1.”
“You sound sure.”
“I am sure.”
He lifted her chin. “And what about what happened today? How does that figure in?”
She searched his eyes and her heart. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think it was a mistake?”
He was forcing her to look at them and make some kind of decision. She had to admit, “Maybe it was. Our roads are different, Logan. I have to go back to my work. You know that.”
Dropping his hand, he shook his head. “I don’t understand you. You have people here who love you.”
Was Logan including himself in those people? “But I also have my career. It’s part of who I am. Just like being a cop is part of who you are. Could you quit?”
“That’s not the same thing, Meg. You know as well as I do long-distance relationships can’t work. Me here. You in Washington and God knows where else.”
Avoiding his gaze, she dropped her purse in her lap. “We haven’t known each other very long. You can’t expect me to make a decision about us because of a few weeks.”
“I expect you to make a decision about us because of us.”
“Logan, I’m still trying to find my bearings. I—”
“You’re running away from people who care about you because you’re afraid they’ll let you down—like your parents did, like another man did.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “So you’re a psychologist now?”
“In my line of work, I’m a little bit of everything.”
“You think you understand me, but you can’t understand your own son. Have I got that right?”
His jaw tensed, and his voice was curt. “That’s a low blow, Meg.”
She’d never meant to hurt him. But he was hitting hard at her insecurities.
He gathered the remains of their picnic and stuffed them in the bag. “I’ll take you home.”
Why couldn’t he understand her life couldn’t revolve around one person? Why couldn’t he see the danger in that? “Logan…”
Frowning, he stood. “It’s all right, Meg. You call it as you see it. We just don’t see it the same way.”
He drove her back to Lily and Ned’s in silence. They didn’t seem to have anything else to say. Meg hurt. She’d been so close to Logan when they’d made love. But now he didn’t even want to talk to her. When she climbed out of his car at her aunt’s, she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. And she didn’t ask because his answer might hurt too much.
Fully expecting to drive to Washington alone Saturday morning, Meg opened her back door and tossed her overnight case inside of her car. Most of her clothes were back at her apartment, so she didn’t need much. When she heard tires on the lane, she turned in surprise.
Logan. She hadn’t heard from him since the picnic a week ago. After their argument, she presumed he wouldn’t want to go with her.
He pulled in beside her car and got out. With each step he took, bringing him closer to her, her heart beat faster.
“My car rides better,” he said in a neutral tone.
“I didn’t think you’d want to go with me after—”
“I keep my commitments, Meg, even though I make a mess of them sometimes.”
His attitude rankled. “This isn’t an important one, Logan. If you’d rather not go, you don’t have to.”
“Meaning I’m easily replaced?”
She was sure she could find an escort among her acquaintances in D.C. Annoyed with his attitude, she responded quickly, “Yes.”
His green eyes became hard as his jaw tensed. “Well, I don’t want to be replaced, so let’s go.”
She could tell this was going to be a fun trip. But she’d rather have Logan beside her, even when he was pulling his caveman routine than not have him with her.
The ride to D.C. was awkward. Although Logan switched on a soothing radio station, the vibrations inside the car kept Meg from relaxing. As they neared Chevy Chase, she directed him on which exit to take. Her apartment building was easy to find.
The doorman smiled at her. “Welcome back, Miss Dawson. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, George. How about you? Is Mary Claire walking yet?”
“Just last week. Now that she’s got the ground covered, she’s climbin’ on everything.”
Meg laughed.
Her smile faded as she stepped into the elevator beside Logan and his gaze met hers. She pushed the button for the fourth floor.
Logan remained silent while she unlocked her apartment. Once inside, he asked, “Where do you want the bags?”
She knew what he was asking, and she was tired of pussyfooting around. “Where do you want the bags?”
Apparently he was, too. He dropped them on the floor and crossed to her, his face granite hard, his eyes boring into her. “I don’t give a damn where we put the bags. But I want to spend the night with you, in your bed. Is that what you want?”
She reached up and stroked his jaw. “Yes.”
The tension between them snapped. Logan wrapped his arms around her, and his lips crushed hers. When he broke away, they were both breathless.
He took her face between his palms. “I don’t know how to deal with an independent woman.”
His admission and the frustration in it made her want to cry and laugh at the same time. “Is that what I am?”
He grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.” Dropping his hands, he paced across the room like a caged tiger. “I’m not used to dealing with a woman like you. You’re strong enough to tell me what you want, what you need. Apparently Shelley wasn’t. And I have to wonder why. Maybe if I could have let her make the decisions, if I hadn’t pushed to have more children—”
“Logan, all the what-ifs in the world won’t change the past. You’re a strong man. I imagine you’ve always known what you want.”
He shook his head and faced her. “That’s no excuse for not listening. Maybe you were right. Maybe I don’t know my own son because I don’t really listen to him, either.”
Meg crossed to Logan and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He stood rigid, as if he didn’t know how to accept the comfort. Finally he enfolded her in his arms.
She twined hers around his neck and stroked his nape. “You can start listening anytime.”
“Not when you’re doing that,” he growled, and swept her into his arms.
Since Meg only had one bedroom, finding it wasn’t a problem. Logan lowered her to the b
ed and opened the top button on her blouse. “This time we’re going to take it slow.” When he finished with her blouse, he went to push it from her shoulders.
She caught his hand to stop him.
“What’s wrong?”
“The last time I…wasn’t completely undressed. My shoulder…it’s not pretty.”
He lifted her chin and rubbed his thumb over the point. “Everything about you is pretty. Sit up so we can take this off.”
Meg sat up and pulled her blouse from her jeans. Logan helped push it from her shoulders. For a long moment, he studied the red lines. Then he leaned toward her and, with incomparable gentleness, kissed each line, each scar, until she knew they truly didn’t matter to him.
Logan helped strip off Meg’s clothes slowly, kissing her arms, her fingertips and, a few moments later, her knees and calves. Each piece of clothing melted away under the firmness and heat of his lips, the stroking eroticism of his fingertips.
When she was naked before him, quivering from his kisses and caresses, she said, “Now it’s your turn.”
His brows arched as he smiled. “And that means?”
She sat up and pulled his shirt free of his jeans. “That there are advantages to keeping company with an independent woman.” After the first button, she kissed his chest. After the third, she splayed the plackets open and rubbed her fingertips over a dark nipple.
He shuddered.
Smiling, she unbuttoned the rest and placed a slow, wet kiss above his navel.
“Meg. What are you trying to do?”
Her hands worked his belt while she looked up and teased, “Didn’t you say you wanted to do this slowly?”
The green of his eyes deepened with the desire evident in his taut muscles, his husky voice. “I never realized it would be such torture.”
When she answered Logan by cupping him, he groaned and took her by the hands. “That’s it.” He stripped, took foil packets from his pocket and lay beside her on the bed. Then he dropped the packets on the nightstand.
They gazed at each other, absorbing the other’s presence, just relishing the moment. Meg brushed her hand over his shoulder. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
“It crossed my mind,” he said honestly. “Especially when you didn’t call.”
“When I didn’t call?” She withdrew her hand.
He caught it and brought it to his lips. Gently, with a sexy grin, he nibbled and kissed her palm until she sighed. “The more I thought about not seeing you again, the more restless I got. Then I started thinking about my history with women and your history. You needed your independence to survive emotionally, and you have every right to make decisions you feel are right for you. I might not agree, but that’s my problem. Too often I forced my opinions on Shelley. Or else she just wasn’t confident enough to stand up for what she believed.”
Meg tried to keep herself free of the sensual haze Logan induced and paid attention to his words. She knew they were important. “It sounds as if you’ve done a lot of thinking.”
“I have. And it all boils down to the fact that I’m not ready to give you up.” Leaning toward her, he kissed her tenderly, letting the passion build.
With soft words and feverish caresses, he kissed and touched her everywhere until she was trembling from head to toe, needing him in the most elemental way. But this time she wanted to touch him, too. His back was smooth to his waist, where she discovered a few silky hairs. Every inch of him was strong and muscular and hot. And when she stroked his thigh higher and higher until she curled her fingers around him, she knew she’d found an intimacy with Logan of which she’d been afraid to dream. She could feel the beat of his pulse in her hand, and when she stroked him, he made a deep sound in his throat and closed her tight in his arms. She’d never felt more safe or more cherished. If only the feeling could last forever.
But Logan had other feelings in mind. Drawing her on top of him, he entered her slowly. Then he let her set the pace. Tears came to her eyes. He was telling her she was his equal and that they could share their passion, not compete, not make promises they couldn’t keep. He held her waist, kept his eyes on hers and joined her in their ascent up the mountain.
Just when Meg thought she’d reached the top and could grasp the pleasure and hold on to it, it exploded all around her, shaking her and frightening her. Because the moment before the ecstasy overtook her, she realized the deepest truth of all—she loved Logan. Heaven help her, she loved him. The realization scared her to death, because if she loved him, she’d have to trust him. She wasn’t sure she could trust anyone.
After Todd, she’d promised herself, no matter whom she met or what situation she got herself into, she would only trust herself. But trust went with love, didn’t it? Yet how did independence and trust fit together?
As she leaned forward, laying her cheek on Logan’s shoulder, feeling his heart beating, she realized she was more frightened than she’d ever been. In Costa Rica her life had been in danger, but here…now…her heart was on the line. Did she have the courage to give it to Logan and trust him to keep it safe?
Chapter 11
A waiter offered Logan a glass of champagne from a silver tray, but he declined, keeping his gaze on Meg. Ever since they’d walked into the ballroom, one person after another had greeted her. Mostly men. What man wouldn’t look at her in that dress? It was emerald green and molded to her much too well from her breasts to her ankles. The slit halfway up her thigh made it sexy as sin.
To be fair, the men looked at her all right, but they talked to her, too. She was obviously well respected. And here she was in her element. She glittered and glowed, more than the gold earrings swinging on her ears. For all his talk of accepting her independence and the decisions she made, he regretted how well she seemed to thrive in this atmosphere. He was hoping she’d return to D.C., see the emptiness of it and want to spend the rest of her days in Willow Valley. That was a foolish pipe dream on his part.
After they’d made love this afternoon, she’d changed, becoming quiet and distant. He’d asked her if anything was wrong. She’d just smiled and said, “No.” But there was something in her eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was fear.
She’d been talking to the same guy for fifteen minutes. Suddenly her gaze connected with Logan’s. After another minute or so, she walked toward him. Once she was beside him, she asked, “Are you bored?”
“I can think of other things I’d rather be doing,” he drawled.
She smiled coyly. “Walking on the mall?”
“We did that this afternoon.”
Tilting her head she offered, “I’d suggest visiting the Smithsonian, but it’s closed.”
“Not quite what I had in mind, either.” He stuffed one hand into his trouser pocket. “Who was that guy?”
She looked toward the man who had engaged her in conversation. “He’s a journalist.”
“Known him for long?” Logan asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.
“About five years.” She studied him for a long moment. “Logan, are you jealous?”
“Hell, yes, I’m jealous. You’re my lady now, and I don’t particularly relish watching while other men undress you with their eyes.”
He thought she might get her hackles up. But instead of getting angry, she laid her hand on his arm and said, “But I only let you undress me.”
The husky desire in her voice, the sincerity in her wide brown eyes, aroused him. He tapped one of her dangling gold earrings. “Do you intend to mingle much longer?”
“Not if you’d rather go back to my apartment.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’m positive.”
Meg was so unlike Shelley—so sure of herself, what she had to do, what she needed. “Then let’s go, pretty woman. Because right now there’s no place else I’d rather be.”
Back at the apartment, Logan took off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it over a chair. Meg’s apartment, even at night, was v
ery much like her. Flowers and vines in rose and green on white covered her love seat and chair. The wicker tables added lightness to the small area. The kitchen was painted yellow and white with touches of green here and there. Vibrant, warm and alive were words that came to Logan’s mind.
After making sure all locks were in place, he went to Meg’s bedroom. It was simple but elegant—an off-white spread, silky curtains at the windows. Meg stood at the dresser removing her earrings. She smiled at him in the mirror.
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “How would you like to go hiking next Saturday with me and Travis?”
“Maybe the two of you should go alone.”
His eyes stayed on hers. “I’m afraid he won’t go if it’s just the two of us. He seems to like you.”
“So you want to use me as a buffer.”
Logan dropped his arms and stepped back. “I can understand if you’d rather not go.”
When she turned to face him, her voice was gentle. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want Travis to think I’m invading his territory.”
He should have known Meg would think about Travis, too. “All right. I’ll ask him if he wants you to come along. Maybe it’ll get some honest conversation going between us.”
“And you’ll tell me the truth about what he says.”
Logan nodded. “Always.” He ran his fingers along the edge of her dress above her breasts. “Do you need help getting out of this?”
Slipping her arms around his waist, she unlatched his cummerbund. “If you need help getting out of this.”
Logan lifted her off the floor, bringing her lips to his. His answer was in his kiss.
Meg’s restlessness woke Logan. She tossed from side to side. When beads of perspiration dotted her forehead and she said, “No, no. Don’t shoot!” Logan knew she was having a nightmare rather than a dream.
He clasped her arm. “Meg. Wake up. It’s only a dream.”
The Sheriff’s Proposal Page 14
