by Sally Falcon
“I figured you had a rough day today, so I’m putting all that good, courteous southern training to use,” he explained. Now that the waiting was over his confidence returned, allowing him to walk toward her with a slight swagger. From her expression, he couldn’t have done anything too incredibly stupid last night. “Let me take your jacket, then you sit down and put your feet up.”
She followed his instructions, but watched his every move. He smiled at her wary look when he returned from hanging her jacket in the hallway. She sat perched on the edge of the couch with her hands folded primly in her lap.
“That isn’t any way to relax,” he chided, walking to the armoire that concealed her television and stereo. Opening the door he flipped on the radio to the classical station he’d found earlier. “You look like one of those poker-stiff portraits of my ancestors that Mother insists on displaying at home. Sit back and put your feet up.”
“Logan, what’s going on?” she finally protested after he’d plumped the tasseled throw pillows and moved the needlepoint ottoman close to the couch. When he reached for her feet, she jerked away, tucking then safely under her. “Cut that out, and give me an explanation.”
Trying to look crestfallen at her peremptory order, he sat on the ottoman. “Arnette told me you were out all day getting your shop ready for tomorrow’s opening. Being a southerner in training, I had an inspiration. You shouldn’t have to do a thing for yourself tonight, so you’ll be nice and relaxed tomorrow morning.”
She tilted her head to the side and nibbled her lower lip. Suspicion lurked in the back of her eyes, but after a minute a tentative smile appeared. “Can I go change my clothes by myself? Please? I’ve been in the same outfit all day, hauling equipment, yelling at the staff, and cooking.”
“No problem. Your wish is my command,” he said easily, although he was tempted to offer to help her change. But he knew better than to press his luck. So far, so good. He was going to be as impersonal as his mother’s butler, at least for a while. “I’ll go pour you a glass of wine while you change.”
An hour later Tory dropped onto the couch with a sigh of contentment. “Logan, I think you might just have earned your southern diploma tonight. Dinner was wonderful.” Propping her slippered feet on the ottoman, she draped the skirt of her silk caftan over her legs and sat back among the pillows. “There was only a minor problem, but I think I can overlook it this one time.”
“A problem? Did I forget something?” He was puzzled, unable to think of anything he’d missed as he knelt to light the fire. Once the flames took hold, he served her a snifter of cognac with a flourish and settled himself on the floor in front of the couch at Tory’s feet.
“Nothing too serious. If you really want to impress me, don’t serve me food from one of my major competitors.” Her reprimand was softened by a chuckle. “Or at least hide the evidence better.”
“Guess I should have thrown out the boxes sooner,” he agreed, smiling ruefully over his shoulder. Silently he wondered how much longer he could maintain the pose of a lapdog. Ironically, Curtiss’s and Trevor’s advice yesterday didn’t seem too off the mark. Tory seemed to be responding to the gentlemanly approach. Why hadn’t any of his efforts worked until tonight? Maybe Trevor was right as well about Tory exaggerating her dislike of northerners.
“Don’t I get some points for working on a tight schedule? Besides, your shops aren’t open yet, so I had to play it by ear.”
“You have a point.”
With the matter settled, Logan didn’t bother to answer. The soft strains of Chopin filled the room as they sat in amicable silence. Logan allowed his mind to wander into a fantasy world. This was how it would be if he could persuade Tory to marry him. They’d sit at home, discussing what they’d done during the day. The children would be asleep, letting their parents have some quality time to themselves.
“Logan, did you happen to see any large pods out in the woods yesterday?”
“What?” Tory’s question jarred him out of his pleasant daydream just as he was about to carry his wife to bed. “Pods?”
“Didn’t you ever see Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”
Giving her a curious look, he tried to think of the plot to the movie. Concentrating was hard with Tory so close, and so inviting. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, her maple-colored eyes slumberous and sparkling with suppressed laughter. The silk of her caftan lovingly outlined her small breasts, the zipper leading from the V-neck inviting him to explore. The invitation of her smile had his lower body tightening in response.
“Give up?” she teased, running her finger around the rim of her glass. Her smile widened when he nodded. “People who slept near the pods changed personalities. I thought you might have come across some during the rally.”
He stared at her, knowing the moment had arrived to give up his charade. Her smile wavered slightly as he reached for her glass. He placed it on the marble top of the coffee table along with his, then hoisted himself up on the couch next to Tory. This was what he’d wanted to do all night.
“You have to make up your mind, sweetheart. Which man do you want?” He spoke softly, draping his arm along the back of the couch. Moving slowly, he gently moved her hair back behind her ear, tracing the line of her jaw with the movement. “Do you want tonight’s polite eunuch, or this man?”
As his mouth closed over hers, Tory’s last thought was, This man. She allowed herself the magic of one kiss. One kiss couldn’t be so dangerous. They were both reasonable adults who could control their emotions. Then Logan gently coaxed her lips apart with the tip of his tongue.
She knew she should resist, but the sensations that he evoked were too tempting. It was just one kiss. Boldly she reached up to thread her fingers through his thick golden-brown hair. When he groaned deep in his throat, she dared to challenge his intimate invasion of her mouth. She began a passionate duel that had her sinking further into the world of pure sensation.
To her surprise, Logan broke the contact of their lips. But she wasn’t disappointed. His lips trailed over her cheek to explore the soft skin below her ear. Murmuring her approval, she leaned closer to the warmth of his hard body. She stroked the tense muscles of his back, wishing his shirt wasn’t covering the taut skin beneath.
“Now, isn’t that better than having some genderless fool hanging around?” he whispered, his warm breath setting off a thousand tiny sparks within her.
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. His tongue was tracing the outline of her ear. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
Logan pulled back. His eyes were a deep, stormy gray as they searched her face. She stroked the side of his face, the smooth skin telling her he’d shaved recently. The evidence of his preparation didn’t alarm her.
He turned slightly, his lips feathering over her palm before the tip of his tongue repeated the caress. “Would it be so terrible if I was?”
She had trouble remembering what they were talking about. Her mind seemed to be functioning in slow motion, but a small, inner voice warned her to be cautious. “Tonight I’m not sure.”
“Consider it a reward for a man going on a journey.” His finger skimmed over her jaw to trace the line of her throat to her collarbone. From there, he continued to explore new territory with the back of his fingers, settling in the shadowed valley of her cleavage.
“You’re going away?” Her voice sounded distant to her ears, but talking wasn’t high on her list of priorities at the moment. She was much more interested in the play of his clever fingers that were toying with the pull of her zipper.
“Yes, I’m going to Paris, Texas, tomorrow. There’s a rally next weekend, so I’m going to spend some time scouting out the countryside.”
The thought of him going away made the decision for Tory. She didn’t consider the contradiction of avoiding him for the past week while he was near at hand. Tonight would be the last time she would have any intimate contact with the man she’d inexplicably come to love in such a short amount of time. She w
ouldn’t deny herself the pleasure of one last night in his arms. It would be her farewell to something that couldn’t be, and much better to make a clear break now, instead of waiting until he returned to Boston.
She played with the button at the top of his shirt, dipping her fingers under the collar of his shirt to explore his warm skin and feeling the steady beat of his heart. She smiled at the sudden intake of his breath as she exerted pressure and his button slipped through the button hole.
“Are you going to make me do all the work?” She thrust out her lower lip. Watching him from the screen of her eyelashes, she dared him to continue his sensual assault.
She wasn’t prepared for Logan’s reaction. He jumped to his feet, scooping her up into his arms before she knew what was happening. Her arms looped around his neck in a tight grip as she wondered if they’d make it to the bedroom. Logan didn’t falter. Guided by the dim light of the hall, he set her back on her feet next to the bed.
Tory wasn’t sure what to do. She nervously twisted her hands together as Logan reached over to turn on the milk-glass lamp on the nightstand. Then he turned back to her, his hand reaching for her zipper. He hesitated for a moment. There was a questioning look on his face, giving him a vulnerability that was incongruous with his usual self-assurance.
Any doubts she had were allayed as she recognized his sudden defenselessness. She made quick work of the buttons down the front of his shirt, pulling it free of his waistband and opening the material to expose his chest. Closing her eyes for a moment, she savored the hair roughed texture against her palms, moving her hands back to his shoulders before burrowing beneath the material to slip it off his body.
Logan’s body was tense under her exploration. His eyes were hooded, but didn’t hide the lambent gray-blue fire as he slowly pulled on the zipper of her caftan. She tried to repress the slight shiver of excitement as he bared her body to his hungry gaze. Suddenly the soft material was in a pool at her feet, leaving her cloaked only in a scrap of silk at her hips. He didn’t touch her, seeming satisfied to study her grateful figure in the soft light.
“No, let me,” he whispered when she started to step out of her slippers. His hands closed over her shoulders, holding her in place as his eyes ran over her. He began at her rounded breasts, then slowly moved to the indentation of her waist, coming to rest on the thrust of her hips. His lips willingly followed the same path as he kissed his way down her body until he was on his knees before her. His compelling hands feathered down the length of her legs until they met at the heel of one slipper.
Tory closed her eyes against the exquisite delight. Logan removed each slipper, taking his time. Burying his face in the slight swell of her stomach, his hands moved upward to massage her firm buttocks, holding her in place. She moaned in response to the heat building in her as his lips traveled over the last barrier that veiled her from his sight.
She gazed in fascination at the top of his tousled head against her skin. Any minute she thought she’d explode from the intoxication that was building inside her. She’d made the right decision. This would be a memory she’d have for the rest of her life, no matter what happened. Tangling her fingers in his golden-brown hair, she tilted his face upward. His stormy eyes reflected her own excitement.
He rose to his feet and cupped her face gently in his hands, hands that were trembling slightly. “I can’t wait much longer. I’ve been thinking and hoping for this since that incredible night in Oklahoma.”
“Have you?” She didn’t recognize her own voice, husky with passion as his unsteady fingers removed her panties. She tried again when he pulled her into his arms, her sensitive breasts nestling into the heat of his chest. “Oh, Logan, I need you, too. Don’t wait. Next time you can be my gallant gentleman.”
“Next time? Oh, love, I hope you’re not overestimating my stamina,” he answered, triumph in his laugh as he swept her into his arms once more. When he placed her on the bed, he hastily dealt with the rest of his clothes. His hot gaze never leaving her body. “I’ve dreamed of you like this so many times since I carried you to bed that night. Leaving you alone was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”
“You don’t have to leave tonight,” she promised, opening her arms to take him into her embrace.
They didn’t waste time on preliminaries. Both of them were already too impatient for the ultimate joining. His tongue explored her moist lips as he entered her feminine core. She wrapped her legs around his hips wanting to take all of him inside her. Their tentative, slow foreplay was forgotten. He moved over her in a steady rhythm that she gladly met.
She wanted to return every ounce of pleasure he was giving her, share the incredible tension that was growing, flowering inside her. His hands were moving over her, branding her with each touch. When his lips moved to suckle the pebble-hard peaks of her breasts, she cried out. She was spinning out of control and the only thing that would save her was holding on to the man who was taking her closer and closer to the vortex.
Impatiently, she quickened the pace. Her hands grasped his hips. The heated nucleus of her desire seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces of sparkling lights that coursed through every portion of her body. “Logan!”
He captured the sound with a searing kiss, reaching the peak of his gratification. They descended back to reality, his arms wrapped securely around her damp body. Slowly he rolled onto his side without breaking the connection of their bodies as a sweet lethargy settled over them.
Tory nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder, hiding her face against his neck. Her body was still trembling in reaction, her breath shallow. She could feel his rapid heart beat under her hand and couldn’t resist the tactile exploration of his chest.
“Tory?”
Pressing her fingers against his lips, she made a shushing sound against the taut column of his throat. She didn’t want to spoil the magic of the moment by talking. This was her night to dream. Tomorrow would be the time for talk. Until then, she would express her love with her body, giving Logan a precious memory when she said goodbye.
She sought his lips, trailing kisses as she went. Her reward was Logan’s moan of delight. As her body dissolved into his, she felt the rebirth of his desire growing inside her.
Tory climbed down from the truck and stretched her arms over her head to relieve her tired muscles. She’d been working extra hours in the week since Logan had gone to Texas. For the hundredth time she wondered how he reacted to the note she left beside him on the pillow the morning he left.
She’d woken up at dawn and knew she couldn’t face him. Leaving him peacefully sleeping, she went to the kitchen. Writing her farewell was the hardest thing she’d ever done. When she’d returned to the bedroom for her clothes, one look at Logan had tempted her to return to bed.
Memories of the night almost overwhelmed her, but she knew there wasn’t a future for them. No matter how much he tried to fit her pattern of the ideal mate, it couldn’t happen. She valued her independence too much to become involved with a man with Logan’s temperament. It was better to say goodbye now when there was less heartache. She’d turned and walked out the door, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes.
Dragging her feet, she went up the back steps to the main house. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. Maybe T.L. could distract her from her thoughts of Logan.
“Well, it’s about time you got home, young lady,” Arnette said as she walked into the kitchen. “You’re working yourself into the ground with this new store.”
“I had the last interviews for sales staff today. Next week it won’t be so bad,” Tory prevaricated. Next week wouldn’t be any different. Work was the only thing that kept her mind off her personal problems.
“Don’t sit down. You march yourself into the front parlor and help your daddy entertain his guest,” the older woman ordered. Tory hovered next to the chair she’d pulled out. “I had orders to hold dinner until you arrived, so march.”
“I really don’t think I’
ll be good comp—”
“That’s an order. Besides, T.L.’s going to need all the help he can get with that one.”
“Who is it, Arnette?” Tory was intrigued by her tone of voice. There weren’t very many people who got on Arnette’s bad side.
“I don’t want to ruin the surprise. You need to experience this without any warning.”
Knowing she wouldn’t get any more information from Arnette, Tory followed her instructions. She could hear T.L.’s voice as she walked down the hall and was surprised to hear a feminine voice respond. A woman? A warning bell went off inside her head. Could T.L. have brought home a woman to introduce to the family? Is that what had Arnette in a snit?
Please tell me I’m wrong, Tory pleaded silently as she stood in the parlor archway. The woman was tall, elegant, and looked as if she were smelling something bad. She sat poker-straight in one of the armchairs. The regal tilt of her head and the sleek, upsweep hairstyle made Tory think of royalty. The inner alarm rang again when the woman turned to regard Tory, but this time she knew her guess was more accurate. Logan must have inherited his eyes from his mother’s side of the family.
“Ah, Victoria, there you are,” T.L. practically boomed across the room. He was on his feet and walking toward her like a man reaching for a life preserver. “We have a visitor. I was truly amazed when I came home to discover that Logan’s mother decided to pay us a visit.”
He latched onto Tory’s arm, almost as if he was afraid she’d try to escape. Pulling her alongside him, he returned to Mrs. Herrington’s side. “Victoria, this is Enid Herrington. Enid, my daughter, Victoria.”
“How do you do?” Tory said formally, taking the limp, pale hand that Enid Herrington extended. Things must be pretty bad if T.L. was calling her Victoria.
“Charmed,” Enid managed, sounding anything but delighted. “Tyrone has been telling me about your little food business. You keep very unusual hours here in Arkansas.”
Tory didn’t know how to respond and looked at T.L. for some guidance. No one called her daddy Tyrone.
