LOGAN COULD PUT THIS DAY ON HIS LIST OF GREAT ONES.
Michael had obviously had a wonderful time, and Angel…
The woman was beautiful, knew a hell of a lot about the creatures the park rescued, and Michael obviously adored her.
And, Nadia’s prediction notwithstanding, Logan was coming to adore her as well. He honestly couldn’t say when he’d enjoyed a day—and a woman—more.
He followed Angel and his son across the parking lot and clicked the remote opener so Michael could climb in the car, wondering if Angel would sit in the back like yesterday, or the front as she’d done on the ride over.
Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder again and he wanted to ask her to sit up front. Right next to him.
Every time she’d done that today, every time her eyes crinkled with laughter or she’d sung with the birds, he’d found himself remembering last night.
“Angel.” Her name slipped out before he thought better of it.
She reached the car and looked up at him with those expressive eyes. “Yes?”
“I—”
She did that thing again with her hair where it draped over her shoulder, dancing along her arm, a curl
circling forward into the inside of her elbow. “What is it, Logan?”
It was powerful. It was intense. It was potent.
Different than last night, but no less compelling.
He slid his fingers up the path her hair had taken, feeling the velvet smoothness of her skin, hearing the slight catch of her breath that told him he wasn’t wrong to do this. Seeing the quick, shallow rise and fall of her breasts that he wasn’t feeling any guilt about looking at.
He stepped closer.
Her chin tilted, and she shook her hair again, sending more of the silky tresses sliding over his skin. “Is there something you needed?”
Oh, yeah. There was. Logan leaned in.
Q
Okay, maybe she could have rephrased that. But why, when his gaze was a physical burn on her skin?
He was going to kiss her.
Angel closed her eyes, half afraid she was dreaming this.
Half afraid she wasn’t.
Today had been leading up to this. Every shared smile, every look…
And she couldn’t blame it on her voice. Not this time.
Logan’s hands closed on her arms. Lifted her up just a little. Enough to raise her to her toes. The ones that were beginning to tingle again.
His warm breath fluttered across her face, the scent of him surrounding her, blocking out the sweet smell of the jasmine nearby.
“Angel,” she swore she heard him whisper, his lips just a breath from hers. So close she could almost feel them.
And then he stopped.
As if a door had slammed, she felt him pull back from the moment, and she opened her eyes.
His gaze met hers. His hot, intense, searing gaze. “No,” he whispered, and this time she was sure he
pulled back.
She tensed. What in the gods’ names did he mean by no?
His tongue flicked out to lick his lips and Angel thought she’d melt right there.
“Not like this.”
Somewhere deep inside her, she found her voice. “Like this?” Deep, husky, shaky… but definitely hers.
“Here. In broad daylight.” He shook his head. “After last night you deserve some finesse, and with Michael here,” he nodded to the back seat, “it’s not the right time. Or place.” His fingers slid up her arms, caressing her shoulders, and Angel lowered herself back onto her feet. Back to the earth. The analogy made her want to cry.
But then Logan tipped her chin up so she could see his eyes. “When I kiss you again, Angel, it’s going to be special. The right moment.” He wet his lips again, his eyes doing a quick flick over hers. “Perfect.”
She was melting again. As if she’d stepped into the ocean and her legs were turning back into a tail, sweeping the support out from under her, and she clung to him.
Perfect? Oh, she could go for perfect. The truth was, right now was pretty damned perfect. But if Logan wanted the moment to be more special, she could wait.
Because he’d said when he kissed her again, not if. She could do when.
She would do when.
Q
The setting sun’s rays filtered through the blinds in Logan’s office later that evening. When a streak of sunlight landed on the same line-item in the report he’d been looking at for the past half hour, he gave up. Shoving away from the desk, he finally admitted that he couldn’t concentrate. On work, that was. Angel, on the other hand…
Yeah, he could concentrate on Angel.
Not that it was hard to do since she and Michael were right outside his office window, tossing a Whiffle ball between them.
All he had to do was look up for a front-row view of the beautiful woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. She ran to catch the ball and her pants hugged that perfect ass and her gorgeous hair spilled down her back. Her laugh¬ter was as warm as the summer sun, her smile as sparkly as the waves, and Logan no longer gave a damn about the prospectus he was supposed to be taking a look at.
First she’d been naked, then he’d kissed her, now she was bending and moving and twirling and running outside his window like a beautiful painting come to life. And her laugh—every tinkling, musical note slid over his skin like scented oil, so heady he felt like a teenager again.
Jeez. He was back to spouting sonnets.
Thankfully, the phone rang. “Hardington.”
“Someone’s working late.” His best friend. The guy had perfect timing. “Or did the kid paint the garage with a gallon of ice cream? Get his head stuck it the stair rail? Decorate your truck with markers?”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Richardson?” “Hey, then you’d finally get why I had to cancel on
you at the last minute for the game. It’s not like I wanted to miss box seats. Which, by the way, is why I’m calling. Can you get a babysitter on such short notice? I’d say Beth could watch him, but she took ours to her mother’s. I’m lovin’ the freedom.”
“I can tell. You’re enjoying it so much you’re looking for someone to spend time with.”
The window rattled, and Logan looked up. Talk about spending time with someone: Angel stood there, ready to toss a ball at him, her smile as wide and beautiful as the ocean behind her.
“Hey, come on, Logan. They’re fifty-yard line. Can’t get any better than that. You telling me you’re gonna pass?”
He’d rather make a pass—“Yeah. I am. It’s… well, it’s a long story. Can’t make it.”
“Does this have something to do with a woman? There are only two reasons a guy is going to pass up fifty-yard line seats, and you aren’t dead.”
If she bent over in front of that window one more time, he just might be.
“Look, Drew, I gotta go. Call Randalls. He’s always good for a night out.”
“All right, but don’t give me shit for not asking you.
You were first on my list, Lo.”
“Appreciate that.” Even if he didn’t believe it. He, Drew, and four other guys had been friends since the first project that had made them their money and repu-tations; someone was always available to catch a game or a bite with.
Angel made a grab for the ball before it hit the ground, but she missed and ended up sprawled on the lawn. He wouldn’t mind catching a few nibbles of her leg.
“What about golf this weekend? Are we still on?” “I’m going to have to get back to you.”
Angel climbed to her feet and smoothed her pants over her ass.
“It’s a woman.”
She certainly was. “I’ll call you, Drew.” “Uh huh. Good luck with that.”
Logan hung up. He didn’t need luck—not when he kept replaying the parking lot near-miss. How she’d closed her eyes and leaned in to him. Any sane man would have taken her up on it, but after the mauling he’d done the night before, his sanity was in question and, hell, they both deserved better.
This time, it’d be perfect. Without Michael and the public venue. He wanted to carry her up the stairs, peel those clothes off that enticing body he knew was under-neath, and discover every erogenous zone she had. He wanted to hear her breath catch, see her eyes widen, then cloud with need. He wanted to touch every part of her, wrap her hair around his fists, trail kisses across those breasts that were driving him wild, plunge his tongue into her mouth and take all she…
Logan kneaded the knot at the back of his neck. He
was getting ahead of himself. Just because Angel hadn’t made him stop didn’t mean she’d be willing to take it to the next level.
Of course, he could always do his best to convince her…