“’Kay, Mom.” Drew grabbed the three plates Logan had placed on the counter and did as his mom had asked.
Logan was feeling more off-balance than what was normal since Emma’s arrival. Every second he spent around her was proving more and more difficult for him to keep his distance—or even his sanity. If he didn’t figure out how to deal with whatever he was going through, he was sure that not only was he going to be trying to hide his perma-boner all the time, but he was also going to lose his mind.
She was making him crazy and she wasn’t even doing anything. Just seeing her baby-blue eyes, her full pink lips, her creamy skin, and her silky hair was bad enough. But add to that smelling her fresh, clean, intoxicating scent, which he would put money on wasn’t bottled but natural, and hearing her sweet, honeyed voice was enough to put him in a straitjacket.
For years, Emma was just Emma. Andrew’s Emma. Logan hadn’t noticed the curve of her thigh as it dipped behind her knee, which looked so mouthwatering that it would tempt a priest. The sway of her hips as she walked with enough sex appeal to hypnotize a blind man. The graceful slope of her back as it curved into her ass, which spiked his blood pressure so high that he wasn’t sure a monitor could read it.
Back then, she was simply his best friend’s wife. That was all he’d seen when he’d looked at her, when he’d thought about her. Why couldn’t he see her that way anymore? Yes, Andrew was gone, but that didn’t change who Emma was to Logan.
She was still Andrew’s Emma. If anything, she was more off-limits now.
Drew skipped back into the kitchen. “Can I have a soda?”
“Have you had one today?” Emma poured the pasta from the boiling pot into a strainer.
Drew didn’t answer, just looked down at his shoes.
“How many?” Emma followed up.
Sighing, Drew dropped his shoulders. “Two. One at lunch and one when we were cleaning out the stables.”
“You cleaned out stables?” She shook the excess water out.
“Yeah. We had to pick up the poop and”—Drew’s face distorted with horror—“I just… I didn’t know anything could poop that big.”
Emma’s head fell back and her belly laugh filled the entire space of the kitchen. The melodic sound rolled over Logan like a cool breeze on a scorching-hot day.
She ruffled her son’s hair. “Yes. You can have a soda.”
Drew’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Rea—” Then the kid decided not to question his mom’s acquiescence and took the win. “Thanks, Mom!”
Logan had never seen anyone move as fast as Drew did when he opened the refrigerator, grabbed the can of soda, and fled the scene before his mom could change her mind. He would’ve made The Flash proud.
Emma tilted her head to the side, and her squinted eyes lit with an inner glow of amusement as she looked from the door Drew had just made his great escape through then back to Logan. She shrugged, her lips pulling up in a grin.
“He loves soda.”
“Really? I would’ve never guessed,” Logan deadpanned.
Another giggle bubbled up and out of Emma as she turned her attention back to the stove. Logan couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face. Damn, he loved hearing that girl laugh. And seeing her smile. Her smile was so electric that it could light up the entire town of Hope Falls. Hell, it could light up the entire state of California.
Deciding that it was best not to dwell on either of those things, Logan figured his time would be better served by helping Drew set the table. So he stepped forward to grab the silverware from the drawer just to the right of the stove. As if it had been choreographed, Emma bent over to take the garlic bread out of the oven directly in front of him.
Logan froze.
Her back was to him, so she couldn’t have timed it purposely—not that he thought that was really her style. But, premeditated or not, her ass was a centimeter in front of him. If he moved at all, she would be lined up perfectly to feel the physical evidence of just how badly she affected him.
Before he could get it together enough to extract himself from the precarious position, Emma sucked in a hissing breath as she dropped the pan on the stovetop and hopped backwards, holding her finger. When she backed that thing up—as Juvenile would say—she ended up coming into intimate contact with his hard-on.
It was a perfect example of actions having consequences.
Without thinking, Logan wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her, inadvertently pulling her soft curves tighter against him. Now, Emma was the one who froze after gasping in a breath of surprise, or at least he thought it was surprise.
She felt so perfect against him, so right. Every nerve ending in his body felt raw and exposed in heightened awareness. His mind was so clouded with arousal that he could barely string a cohesive thought together, much less speak. But when her finger turned a shockingly bright red, he snapped out of his lust paralysis.
Keeping his arm firmly around her waist, he twisted around so that they were both now facing the sink. Then he turned the water on cold and placed her hand under it. Her body was shaking against his, but she was making no effort to move away from him. If anything, her body was melting against him like the cheese on top of the garlic bread.
“Mom, I’m starving!” Drew called from the other room.
Logan stepped back from Emma and immediately missed the weight of her body against his.
“One minute,” she called out over her shoulder.
After turning the water off, she reached for a paper towel and wiped her hands, briefly biting her lip before lifting her eyes to his. Raising her injured finger, she wore a half smile as she spoke barely above a whisper.
“Thanks. It’s better now.”
“Good,” Logan rasped. He was dying, but if her finger was better, that was all that mattered.
Why did he touch her? Now, his entire being was strung tight with need. Thankfully, Emma broke the eye contact holding him prisoner and put the cheesy garlic bread in a bowl.
He took the opportunity to get himself under control. He wasn’t some horny teenager. The fact that he kept sporting wood at embarrassing, totally inappropriate times was not okay. If there were a pill that was the opposite of Viagra, a boner-killer pill if you will, he’d be popping those suckers like candy.
*
“Wow. I didn’t realize that it took so much work to take care of a horse,” Emma enthused as Drew told her, in detail, about his stable duties. Thankfully, since they were eating, he left out the tidbit he’d told them in the kitchen.
The kitchen.
Emma had heard the expression: if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. But ooooh lordy, she’d never experienced it. And she didn’t mean the burn on her finger. In fact, not even a raging inferno could compete with the flames that being pressed against Logan’s large, firm body as his breath had fanned against her neck, had ignited in her.
She hadn’t felt that kind of sweltering arousal in…so long that she couldn’t remember. The sensation of his rock-hard length against her rump-shaker, while the warmth of his heavy breaths spread down her neck and radiated through her body, had been so glorious that she’d seen stars. Her world had spun on its axis. She’d held her breath, afraid that, if she inhaled or exhaled, the moment would’ve passed.
But his body and his breathing had been nothing compared to the real showstopper. That honor was held (pun intended!) by being in Logan’s arms. Being wrapped in his embrace might’ve just been better than sex. Not that she could remember. She also couldn’t remember having felt so safe and taken care of, like she had someone to lean on. Literally.
Her intuition had been spot on, because without missing a beat, after he’d seen her burn, Logan had swiveled them both towards the sink and placed her finger under running water. Emma knew all about romantic gestures. She studied them on a regular basis. She’d interviewed countless happy couples over the years, from newlyweds to couples celebrating their fiftieth a
nniversaries, for research. And the ones who worked, the ones who lasted, were the ones who saw moments like she’d just had in the kitchen for what they were. That moment had been about as romantic as it got in her book.
She wasn’t sure what it was about that man and kitchens. When he’d come to visit Drew about a year after Andrew had been killed, she and Logan had had a moment in her kitchen. That one registered a lot closer to passionate rather than romantic on the Moment Meter.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?” She twisted her fork around the spaghetti and looked up to see her son and Logan staring at her.
“Did you hear me?” Drew lifted his hands in exasperation.
It was a little dramatic—even for a ten-year-old.
“Sorry, bud. I was thinking about my book.” She hated using her work as an excuse to zone out, but she couldn’t possibly tell him what she’d really been thinking about.
Not at all phased by her excuse—probably because he’d been hearing it since he was four—Drew pushed on. “I said Karina Black knows you and knows you’re here.”
“Oh, that’s nice. You told her your mom’s here.” She made a mental note to send the pop star a thank you card for having suggested Drew join the Junior Ranger program at Mountain Ridge and for being so kind to him.
Then she gave it a second thought. Did people send huge celebrities thank you notes? Maybe she’d send her an Edible Arrangement.
“No, Mom!” Drew was getting worked up, which only ever happened when he didn’t feel like he was getting heard.
Emma decided to backburner her inner voice and concentrate on whatever her son was trying to say.
“She knows you,” he continued, pushing off the table as he folded his legs beneath him and sat on them.
Emma hated when he sat like that because it cut off his circulation, but she figured she’d pick her battles.
“Chelsea Paige you! Noah and I were talking while Karina and Amanda were making lunch. He was telling me that his mom died, and I told him that my dad died. He said his dad builds things. He’s a construction worker, and he asked what my mom did. I told him you write books.
“Amanda and Karina must’ve been listening to us, because Amanda said she loves to read and asked what your name was. I told them that your name is Emma but when you write, your name is Chelsea Paige.” Sitting up even taller, he lifted his hands up. “Oh my gosh, Mom! They freaked out! They ran into the other room, and, Mom, they have all your books!”
She never quite knew how to deal with information like this. Her cheeks were burning, but she wasn’t embarrassed, just shy. Especially since this conversation was happening in front of Logan.
“Oh, that’s great,” she said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible while moving the conversation along. “So, you really like working there, huh?”
“Mom!” Drew’s voice rose in frustration.
Okay…apparently, her reaction was not what Drew had wanted it to be.
“Karina Black knows you and has read all your books! Do you have any idea how cool that is!?”
“Yeah, that’s really cool!” She attempted to bump the excited factor up in her response.
“Actually, she’s not the only one.” Logan smiled.
Emma’s eyes shot to his while her chest slammed against her ribs so hard that she was hoping that it didn’t crack them.
What did he mean? Had Logan read her books? No! Why would he have? He was an undercover cop. Undercover cops didn’t read romance novels. Did they?
She was mortified at the thought, which was ridiculous. Why should she care if he’d read them?
Then, instead of a “light bulb moment,” the answer hit her more like a lightning bolt. Her mortification stemmed from being scared that, if Logan did read them, he’d see himself in them. Every hero she’d written had been inspired by two men: Andrew and Logan.
How had she never realized that before this second? Was she that clueless? Or maybe she was just that much in denial.
“Levi’s wife, Shelby, almost tore me a new one today because I’d never told her that I knew you and you were in town and I hadn’t brought you by to meet her.”
Whew. That was a close one. Logan hadn’t read her books. Crisis averted.
“She wants you to go to their book club meeting tomorrow night. If you want to go, I thought I could bring Drew to play basketball with the boys. I’ll see if Justin can bring Noah.”
“Yes, Mom! Please!” Drew pleaded.
Emma’s gaze bounced between Logan and her son. One was giving her huge puppy-dog eyes and the other was wincing while he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
It was the latter that put a smile on her face. She completely understood that, sometimes, you said things you didn’t mean to around kids. Logan felt bad about bringing basketball up in front of Drew, but honestly, she was happy he wanted to spend so much time with him. A strong male figure had been severely lacking in Drew’s life, as was evident by the begging that was going on. So, if that meant she had to go to a book club meeting, then so be it.
Emma had spent her entire literary career avoiding social situations like book signings, book clubs, and conventions.
A long, long time ago, in what felt like a galaxy far, far away, before she’d gotten pregnant, Emma had been popular in school. Really popular. She was head cheerleader, student body president, and the only sophomore to be voted into the homecoming court. But, after she’d gotten knocked up and married, she’d found out who her real friends were, and the sad truth was she hadn’t had any.
Her family had disowned her. Her friends had stopped calling, and they’d never visited her. They had acted as if pregnancy were contagious. None of them had even come to see Drew at the hospital when he’d been born. The only visitor she and Andrew had had was the man at the opposite end of the table, who was silently communicating his remorse.
Forcing herself to socialize with a room full of women wasn’t high on her to-do list. But she would take one for the team so Drew could hang with Logan and his friends.
“Okay, sure. That sounds great,” she agreed before taking a huge bite of garlic bread. A little carbohydrate therapy never hurt anyone. Right?
Drew whooped in celebration and started talking about a game he’d played last year where he’d scored sixty-three points. It had been an impressive feat, but in all honesty, the other team had really sucked.
Emma felt Logan’s stare on her as she finished her second piece of garlic bread. Part of her didn’t want to look up. She liked the feeling of him watching her. But, like a bee to honey, her eyes lifted to his. What she saw in his coffee-colored stare melted her heart.
It was concern. His brow was furrowed, and his assessing scrutiny was clear as a bright summer day. Turned out her less-than-enthusiastic agreement to attend the book club meeting had not gone over his head like it had Drew’s.
As much as she appreciated the concern, the very last thing she wanted was to add any stress or worry, no matter how insignificant, to Logan’s life. So she pasted her most convincing smile on, determined to be present during this dinner.
No more trips down Lust Lane. She was going to ignore her mental GPS that kept directing her there. She was taking the wheel back and steering herself right into Platonic Place.
Her assuring smile was met by a sexy bad-boy grin that had her doing a U-turn and heading in the wrong direction.
Yep. She was in trouble.
Chapter 12
‡
“Thanks for dropping me off.” Emma felt like a teenager again as she started to climb out of Logan’s truck.
He’d insisted on taking her and picking her up from the book club meeting even though she had a perfectly reliable rental car.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you in? Introduce you to everyone?” Logan offered. Again.
His eyes were hidden behind aviator glasses, but she could hear the concern in his tone. Between last night and today, he’d probably asked her if she real
ly wanted to go to this thing and told her that she didn’t have to at least a dozen times. No matter how much she’d tried to convince him that it was fine, that she really did want to go, he still was not convinced.
It was the oddest feeling to have someone—especially someone as intense as Logan—be so completely in tune with you. It was like she was putting out an airwave he had the receiver to. It didn’t matter what she said. He looked into her eyes and watched her responses more than he heard them. She wasn’t sure if he’d been implanted with emotional x-ray vision in his undercover work, but if he had, it would explain how he saw everything she was trying to hide.
“I’m fine. Really.” As much as she enjoyed his attention, she was kind of at a loss for what to do with it. “You guys have fun. Love you, bud,” she said to Drew, who was playing a game on his phone.
“Love you,” he responded without looking up.
If this was what ten years old was like, she had no idea how she was going to make it through his teenage years.
“Call me if you need anything,” Logan instructed for the third time since they’d left his house.
She stood tall and saluted him, trying to lighten the mood so he could play ball and not worry about her. “Yes, sir.”
Even from behind his mirrored glasses, she could see the corners of his eyes crinkle as a wide grin spread across his face.
“Funny,” he said. “Real funny.”
Letting out a little laugh—which had more to do with nerves than it did with laughing at her own joke—she said, “Go. Have fun,” before shutting the door.
Turning towards the house, she took a fortifying breath. Okay. She could do this. She thought she remembered Logan telling her that the hostess’ name was Lily, and Amanda was supposed to be there. She definitely wanted to meet her and thank her. Also, she was excited to meet Shelby and Jane.
The hum of the engine was loud as she walked up the short path of the cute cottage-style house. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Logan was waiting for her to get to the door before he left.
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