Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2

by Christine Rimmer

  “I am rather a large fan of proactive thinking,” he said. “And I have to say, I’m impressed you’ve done your research on this topic, and I—” God, now he had both of his hands on her hips, and in doing so, he had pushed her sarong up to the very top of her thighs “—absolutely despise the thought of you not getting the proper amount of rest.”

  “Yes. Well, I...I like to think ahead,” she said, breathless.

  This was really happening, with extraordinarily little effort on her part. And now Logan was taking the lead, which was all fine and good, except she’d meant to say more. About their arrangement, about how a physical relationship wouldn’t change any of the rest of their agreement. Mostly, though, that she was not falling for him or under any misconceptions that he was falling for her.

  “Oh!” she half yelped, half whimpered as his hands started their trek up her body, toward her breasts. “Stop, Logan. Just for a minute. Please.”

  He did so, instantly, and exhaled a long breath. Thankfully, while he went completely still, he didn’t pull away and his hands remained just where they were. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked. “Or...something else?”

  And she knew, to the bottom of her soul, that if she had changed her mind, this man—despite his grumpy attitude for the past two weeks—would not hold it against her, and he wouldn’t make her feel bad. They’d just carry on as if he hadn’t found her in his bed.

  But since she hadn’t, in any way, altered her decision, she said, “No to the first, but before we get too far in, I just want you to know, to understand, that this is about sex between two consenting adults, not romance or...or anything more. That’s it. Just...um...sex.”

  At her words, an invisible weight dropped out of thin air and landed solidly in the space between them, and Anna wished—oh, how she wished—that she hadn’t opened her mouth. Why had she felt so compelled to put a damn spotlight on the line they’d already drawn in the sand?

  He didn’t speak. She didn’t, either. But their gazes remained connected, and he did not remove his hands from the still relatively gentle slope of her stomach. Even so, she recognized they were on a precipice. One wrong word would completely shatter the moment or any hopes of continuing what they’d started. And oh, she absolutely wanted to continue.

  So she tried again, saying, “I thought it best to be open and honest, because I... Well, you shouldn’t worry that I’m suddenly seeing us, what this arrangement is, in a different light. I’m not, Logan, I promise.” She shrugged. “I’m just...um...”

  “Horny?”

  She laughed, and in a blink—or maybe two blinks—the weight disappeared and Logan smiled. A sleepy, sexy smile that, once again, put them exactly where Anna wanted them. “An adolescent word,” she said, “and rather crude, but yes. You understand what I’m trying to say, though, right? That you don’t have to worry?”

  “Sweetheart,” he said in an easy, breezy, no-big-deal sort of way, “I already assumed as much, but I’m glad to have confirmation that we’re on the same page. Sex is sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything other than what it is.”

  Confirmation, huh? On the same page, too? Well, she couldn’t quarrel with either, even if the terminology and Logan’s easy acceptance somehow grated. It shouldn’t, she knew. In any way at all. “Right,” she said, refusing to let negativity take hold. “I’m all set now, Logan. We can...um...commence. If, that is, you’re still interested?”

  “Interested doesn’t begin cover how I’m feeling.” Logan wrapped his arms around her waist, beneath her sarong, and tugged her toward him. Close enough that she was darn near sitting on his lap. She looked into his eyes and recognized the hunger she saw there, in their stormy blue-gray depths. Hunger for her.

  And that look right there catapulted her own desire, her own hunger for him, to new, previously undiscovered heights. No, she did not need a perfect body to be or feel sexy with Logan. And yes, the heat they created together was more than enough to put her in a sexy frame of mind. She liked—no, loved—that she appeared to do the same for him.

  It was a luscious form of power. One they each held for the other.

  Logan’s mouth captured hers in a slow, searching type of kiss, and Anna fell headfirst into the moment. Hard lips pressed against hers while his hands flattened against the small of her back, somehow bringing her even closer to him. The kiss deepened in intensity, in heat and, yes, in hunger, too. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else could matter. Not when Logan’s mouth commanded—demanded, really—her undivided and complete attention.

  Which she happily gave.

  She moaned softly as they continued to kiss, as the heat between them grew from a steamy sizzle to an all-out burn, as her need for him continued to climb. It seemed endless, this want she had for this man. Endless and beautiful and so very natural.

  Breaking the kiss with a groan, Logan said, “Lie down, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t much feel like lying down,” she said. “You can, though, if you want.”

  With a suggestive, somewhat amused quirk to his brows, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, exposing his bare chest and strong arms, his tight, taut stomach and angled hips that peeked out in a ridiculously enticing fashion from the waistband of his jeans.

  To Anna, he was breathtaking in his masculinity.

  But then he did as she’d asked and stretched out on the bed. She knelt next to him and leaned over, running her hands up his arms, from his wrists to his shoulders, and reveled as he clenched his mucles, released them, then clenched them again. Logan exhaled a sharp, short breath, and another groan emerged deep from his throat. And oh, the sight of him, the sound of him, the reality of Logan and what was about to happen between them made her feel incredibly feminine.

  Inch by delectable inch, she stroked his skin, moving her fingers from the hard plane of his shoulders to his lithely muscular chest, from his chest to the beautiful, perfect line of fine, soft hairs that just barely covered his flat, rippled abdomen. Without any self-consciousness to speak of—what did she have to be self-conscious over?—she unclasped his jeans and, slipping her hand into the denim waistband, continued to touch...to explore.

  The physical proof of his desire was undeniable and, based on her oh-so-fun but less-than-scientific measures, seemed to be...er...growing rather rapidly. A fact she very much took pleasure from. This was, she decided, yet another form of power.

  “Anna,” Logan said, his tone thick and tangled and smoky, “I love what you’re doing here, darlin’, but my control is slipping fast.” Reaching over, he brushed his thumb along the curve of her cheekbone. “I want you. Quite desperately, it seems, and I don’t believe I’ll be able to wait a lot longer. Especially if you keep doing... Ah, yeah. Doing that.”

  She glanced his way, gave him a saucy, sexy grin and then kept right on doing exactly that, relishing the effect—all of the effects—she was having on him...from his uneven, shallow breaths to his tensing muscles to the delicious warmth emanating from his skin.

  No. She wasn’t quite ready to stop. Not yet, at any rate.

  Her intention was to go in a sweet, slow fashion, to savor every minute—every second—of this encounter, in case it proved to be their last. And she had zero concerns about Logan losing control. Despite his warning, she’d wager every last dollar currently in her bank account plus every single dollar she’d yet to earn that he’d stay in control from this minute until the very last.

  Another deep, hungry groan growled from his throat, and suddenly his hands were on her, sliding her sarong past her breasts, up to her shoulders and, once he loosened the delicate silk ties behind her neck, over her head. He dropped the garment on the floor to join his shirt.

  “If you think,” he said, “that I’m going to sit idly by while you have your way with me, then sweetheart, I believe you should start thinking differently. Two can play at
this game.”

  Oh, Lord. Her heart started beating faster, her muscles all but melted into jelly and one long shiver rippled through her body. A plethora of memories from the last time she was naked with this man—the night they conceived their daughter—rushed in, causing her to shiver again.

  Just that fast, her control ceased to exist, and it no longer seemed important to take any of this slow. She wanted him. He wanted her. It was, after all, an extraordinarily simple equation.

  “This seems a bit unfair, Logan,” she said. “Here I am, without any clothes on to speak of, and there you are, still wearing your jeans. I think it’s time to even the stakes.”

  And then, to show she meant her words, she unzipped his jeans and gave them a good, solid yank, so the dark gray denim loosened and dropped to his hips. Better. Much, much better...but not nearly good enough. Freeing herself from Logan’s grasp, she tugged his jeans down and off his legs, and his navy blue boxers—with a little help from him—quickly followed.

  “There,” she said, crawling her way toward him. “Now we’re even, and I think—”

  That was all she managed to say before his arms crushed around her and he pulled her to him, on top of him, and his mouth came to her breast. His tongue found her nipple, and she moaned as he kissed and caressed and teased this oh-so-sensitive area before he moved on to do the same to her other breast. His touch was delicate, soft, but the sensations he evoked were overwhelming in their intensity. Another moan escaped her lips, and she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Her body wouldn’t let her wait any longer. She needed him.

  She needed the release only Logan could give her. And she needed this now.

  Sitting up straight, she scooted her body into exactly the right position, reached between her legs and guided the length of him to her—again to exactly the right position—and pushed down, gently at first, and then with more strength, more certainty.

  There. Oh, yes, there he was, and the feeling of Logan being inside her, filling her, was so satiating, so incredible, so...perfectly right, that the entirety of Anna’s body, from cell to blood to bone to skin, to the beat of her heart and to the center of her soul, faded into the background. All she felt, all she knew—as if that was all she’d ever known—was Logan.

  His body. His skin. The beat of his heart. The feel of his soul merging with hers. And in a way she couldn’t explain or put words to, they became one.

  They were no longer two distinct and separate people who happened to be having a baby together. No, this went much further. This connection held greater power than even the miracle of creating a life. It was as if they were one body. One heart. One soul. Meant to be combined.

  Meant to be one.

  Oh, Lord. This wasn’t only unexpected or even more than what she’d bargained for. It was...misery in the making. And what in heaven’s name was she supposed to do now, after promising Logan that their lovemaking wouldn’t alter a darn thing between them?

  Because this sensation of oneness, of pure wholeness, of being with the precise person she was, perhaps, destined to be with absolutely changed the status quo.

  This changed everything.

  * * *

  Delicious scents spilled from the kitchen when Logan walked through the front door a little over a week later. He’d spent the past five days in Wyoming and hadn’t planned on returning to Steamboat Springs until next week, to be with Anna for New Year’s Eve. But he’d woken that morning with the inescapable urge to see her, to talk her into joining him at Bur Oak for Christmas.

  So, here he was.

  He hadn’t warned her he’d be home early, and he wasn’t entirely sure if she’d even agree to go back to Wyoming with him, but he figured he might as well try. He wanted her to meet his family, and ever since that afternoon he’d found her in his bed, in that sheer getup, and the intimacy that had followed, keeping Anna out of his head had proved even more difficult than before. And yeah, he’d missed her while he was gone.

  Dropping his overnight bag on the sofa, he couldn’t help but grin at the explosion of Christmas decorations in the living room. Two rows of interwoven blinking lights were strung over the top of the curtains, around the door frame leading into the kitchen, and... Well, hell.

  Even his desk was surrounded by twinkly lights. And that tiny tree she’d bought was now taking center stage on the coffee table. Apparently Anna had gone on a holiday binge during his absence, and he’d bet money—based on the sugary, sweet smell wafting in the air—that she was now in the midst of a Christmas baking blitz. Cookies, most likely.

  In addition, she had the TV set to a music channel, and Christmas carols were playing loudly enough to explain why she hadn’t heard him enter the house.

  That was fine. A few extra minutes to find his composure, settle in a bit, before making his presence known seemed a bonus. He’d missed her, yes, and no, their quick-like evening phone calls hadn’t helped one lick in that regard, but that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind on the emotional-distance front. He hadn’t. Couldn’t, even if he was fool enough to have that want.

  His goals hadn’t changed. For the moment, he still refused to give any credence to what he thought he was feeling toward Anna. But he’d come too close to losing her altogether with his cold, cantankerous behavior. She seemed to want—perhaps even need—certain things from him. Some of those things were logical, even natural and expected. Such as a warm human being to share a home with, to talk to and laugh with and maybe, from time to time, even to vent to.

  Logan had intended on delivering all of those necessities to Anna from day one, and yeah, he’d failed there for a while, but he wouldn’t let her down again. And if she wanted a physical relationship, he’d give her that, too. He wasn’t a strong enough man to say no to sex with Anna. Not when he likely wanted it as much, if not more, than she did. So yeah, he’d give her what she needed, when she needed it.

  But he’d do so, for now, without making any guarantees about the future or uttering so much as a syllable of what was going on in his head. Or his heart. This decision was, primarily, due to his intense desire to protect Anna. But he couldn’t deny that vigilance for himself was at play here, too. What if his feelings didn’t change? Or what if they grew stronger?

  If she was 100 percent satisfied with their agreement as it stood—and she must be, based on her promise that sex wouldn’t alter their relationship—then yes, in that scenario, she would have the power to hurt him. Frankly, he disliked a potential future in which either one of them walked away in any form of pain.

  Therefore, he’d do his level best to keep them both safe.

  Logan shrugged off his coat and hung it in the closet, purposely taking his time...purposely ignoring the adrenaline pummeling through his system in anticipation of seeing Anna. Half of him yearned to run into the kitchen, squeeze her tight in a hug and spend the next two hours talking—just talking, and the other half wanted to pick her up and haul her back to bed for another round of so-called meaningless sex. It hadn’t felt meaningless to Logan.

  Not even close.

  But he could pretend well enough, he figured, so long as she didn’t fire a whole bunch of nosy questions his way, about his feelings and thoughts. And he’d continue to pretend, for another three months or so—at a minimum—until his daughter was born and he could pull apart the twisty, tangled strands of his emotions to see what was what and what belonged where.

  Suddenly, the off-key trill of Anna’s voice reached his ears. The gal couldn’t sing, that was for darn sure, but she was giving “Frosty the Snowman” her best—and loudest—effort. It was real cute, though, and appealing enough that it made him forget his previous consideration of taking some time before announcing his arrival.

  Maybe she could use some help with those cookies she was baking.

  Striding forward, he went to the kitchen doorway a
nd paused, waiting for her to see him, so as not to scare her into dropping the piping-hot cookie sheet of Christmas cutouts she’d just pulled from the oven. Yup, she was singing...or giving it her best effort, at any rate. She was also moving her hips in a jaunty little cute-as-could-be jig as she all but pranced across the room, her attention so focused on her baking that she’d yet to notice his presence.

  He might as well have turned to stone, he became so transfixed.

  By her out-of-tune singing. By her dancing. By her still painted cherry-red toenails. And, though he’d likely be smart to keep this particular appraisal to himself, by the size of her stomach. It had been only five measly days since he’d last laid eyes on her, but in that time, their baby must have had one helluva growth spurt, because Anna’s belly had morphed into the perfectly round shape of a bulging basketball. His smile grew even larger.

  God, she was beautiful. Flawlessly so. From the top of her head all the way down to her ten painted toes, including that adorable baby bump that was his daughter smack-dab in the middle. Well, he couldn’t rightly state that her singing was flawless, but he liked it just the same.

  “Anna?” he said, not speaking too loudly but with, hopefully, enough volume to be heard over the music and her warbling. A ripple of shock went through her spine and she pivoted, the cookie sheet in one hand and now a spatula in the other. Her mouth dropped open. A tear—a friggin’ giant tear—and then another rolled down her cheeks.

  And the sight of those tears had him moving toward her. Fast.

  “Logan? Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked as she set the cookie sheet on the counter. “You’re not supposed to be here until after Christmas.”

  “I wanted to—” He broke off, shook his head, re-formed his thoughts and shrugged. “I was thinking it might be a good idea for you to meet my family, especially my mother, before the baby is born. Figured I’d come home, see if you’d go back with me.”