Summer Magic (4 page)

Chapter Four

Logan awoke as he did every morning, before dawn pierced the black cover of night, ready to run two miles before he went through his routine of preparing to go to the offices of J. Prescott and Associates.

This morning, he lay in bed, eyes closed, thinking of how different this day would begin. He planned to run the two miles, but his only contact with J. Prescott and Associates would be through the beeper, cellular telephone, laptop computer, and fax machine he brought with him when he left Raleigh.

His mouth tightened in a grim, hard line. This week was to have been the beginning of his ten-day honeymoon at a private villa on the French-Caribbean island of Martinique. All of that had changed because instead of sharing a villa with Nina in Martinique, he was waking up on a small island off the coast of North Carolina, sharing an exact replica of a Louisiana low-country house with a woman who was as different from Nina Smith as night was from day.

Nina’s mahogany-brown skin, stylized short-cut hair, slanting black eyes, and her tall, thin body had earned her
the sobriquet as the Black Ice Princess, while Caryn’s black curly hair and lush, slim body made her ripely seductive and dangerously tempting as an enchantress.

However, Nina’s unapproachable image was shattered completely once she shared his bed. And it had taken two years, a proposal of marriage, and direct proof of Nina’s infidelity for Logan to realize that he hadn’t loved the woman as much as he loved her passion. Nina was the first woman he had met whose passions were as strong as his own in their intensity.

Thinking of passions reminded him of his body’s reaction to seeing Caryn nude. The reaction was just as unexpected as it was violent. It was so powerful and violent that a cold shower failed to relieve the heaviness in his groin, and it angered him because he did not want to want her. He didn’t want to want
any woman.

Swinging his long legs over the side of the bed, he slipped into an athletic supporter, a pair of shorts, and his running shoes and made his way to the bathroom at the head of the staircase.

Less than five minutes later, he released Domino from the large cage he had placed in an alcove near the door leading to the rear of the house.

Domino jumped up and down, whining excitedly. There was no doubt he was pleased that his master had released him from his overnight captivity.

Tucking the Dalmatian puppy under his arm, Logan opened the back door and walked down the steps of the double stairway. The air was warm, signaling it would be another day of near-ninety-degree temperatures.

He lowered Domino to the sand-littered ground and began a series of stretching motions as the dog sniffed every blade of sparsely growing grass before marking his territory. Logan whistled sharply and his spotted head lifted alertly. It was the signal that he was to chase his master.

Man and dog ran leisurely along the beach, Logan slowing periodically so that Domino could catch up. He discovered
jogging on the beach was very different and much more exhilarating than jogging around the indoor track at the housing complex where he occupied a two-bedroom apartment in a self-contained private community. The housing development was one of the more successful ventures of J. Prescott and Associates.

Logan’s father, Jace, had made a name for himself in Raleigh as an astute businessman who secretly and quietly bought large tracts of commercial properties in the capital city. And as a trained architect and urban planner, Logan directed the building of malls, affordable housing developments for low- and middle-income families, and a business complex that housed not only office buildings but also a hotel, convention center, upscale shops and restaurants, a multiplex movie theater, and an entertainment center.

He couldn’t think of J. Prescott and Associates without thinking of the Smiths. Nina’s father had provided his father’s company with their financing for years. Nothing had been said, but he doubted whether the Smiths would continue to invest in any future Prescott projects. What Logan had to do was find additional financial backing for J. Prescott and Associates’ upcoming project. Staying at the house on Marble Island was the perfect setting for him to develop proposals for potential investors.

Pinpoints of sun broke through the dawning sky, and he felt the buildup of heat on his bare back as he glanced down at the puppy who managed to keep pace with him.

He estimated that he had jogged about a half mile before he turned back. Domino was more than content to rest in his master’s arms for the return trip.

Logan reentered the house the way he had left. He cleaned Domino’s cage and filled his bowl with fresh water. It wasn’t quite six-fifteen, but he wanted to be showered and dressed before seven. Even though he wouldn’t go into his traditional office, he did not want to break his routine. His workday always began at seven.

He placed his foot on the first step of the staircase leading to the upper level at the same time Caryn began her descent.

For the second time in two days, Caryn stood at the top of the staircase staring down at Logan. He hadn’t made an attempt to ascend the stairs, and she tried curbing the dizzying waves of excitement coursing through her as she placed one foot in front of the other.

She had slept soundly, but upon waking her thoughts were those of Logan. She tried recalling the sound of his rich drawling voice, the midnight pitch of his penetrating eyes, and the coarse texture of his raven-black hair—hair that now glistened with droplets of moisture.

Her gaze inched lower to his bare chest. What she glimpsed the day before was manifested tenfold. Natural and unabashed vital masculine power radiated from his beautifully proportioned body. The developed muscles in his smooth, broad chest and wide shoulders appeared to be from a regimen of exercise which did not include lifting heavy weights; and her gaze lingered on his chest, not attempting to risk shifting below the waistband of his shorts.

She didn’t want him to see her doing what he had accused Chris Barnett of doing—salivating.

And Caryn was practically salivating as she forced an open smile. Coming abreast him on the last stair, she said, “Good morning.”

Tilting his head at an angle she had come to recognize whenever he studied her intently, Logan returned her warm greeting. “Good morning to you.”

He was surprised his voice sounded so natural as his pulse quickened with desire. The hauntingly feminine scent he associated solely with Caryn Edwards wafted in his sensitive nostrils. Her natural body fragrance and the perfume she had chosen to wear reminded him of a newly opened flower dotted with early morning dew. She smelled good. Clean. Sweet.

A pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt failed to conceal
the unbidden image of her long legs and full breasts as he’d watched her descend the staircase. And seeing her unbound curly hair cascading down her back within inches of her waist conjured up the image he’d happened upon the night before.

Again, his body betrayed him. The rush of blood to his groin almost embarrassed him. Why, at thirty-five, was he unable to control what he’d taken years to acquire? From the first time he confessed to his father that he had slept with a woman, Jace Prescott lectured him sternly about self-control. Jace’s warning that he never let his hormones do his thinking for him was something he never forgot; however, it wasn’t until he discovered Nina’s infidelity that he admitted to himself that his hormones had significantly overshadowed his gray matter when it came to her.

But right now what he wanted to do was get away from Caryn before she noticed his aroused state. Not lingering, he brushed past her, taking the stairs two at a time.

He walked into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and stood under the icy spray of the shower until his teeth chattered and his lips lost their natural color, taking on a bluish hue that matched the undertones in his dark skin, before he adjusted the water temperature, shampooed his hair, and washed his body.

Caryn filled the automatic coffeemaker with the specially blended coffee she had bought in an Asheville gourmet shop. The cold water filtered through the well, heating up and releasing the aromatic aroma of finely ground beans.

Humming to herself, she withdrew a large peach, an orange, cantaloupe, several strawberries, and kiwi from the refrigerator. Her weekday breakfast consisted of coffee and a fruit salad, while she set aside the weekends for pancakes or french toast with bacon or ham.

She hadn’t decided on a routine, but she intended to walk from the house into town at least three times a week.
She had clocked the mileage, and it was only a mile and half each way.

Swimming, reading, listening to the many cassettes and CDs she had packed, were also top priorities.

She also planned to do a few things she had neglected since her marriage ended: keep a daily journal, bake her own bread, knit or crochet a wearable garment, and she had exactly seven weeks to complete the tasks before she returned to Asheville and another year of teaching.

Working quickly and skillfully, Caryn peeled and sectioned the fruit in a large colorful plastic container. She had just filled a large mug with the brewed Irish Creme coffee and a small bowl with fruit when the sound of the doorbell shattered the quiet stillness.

She glanced at an overhead wall clock. It registered six fifty-five and she wondered who would come visiting at the early hour. Making her way to the front door, she opened it and stared through the screened door at a tiny gray-haired woman with bright blue eyes holding a basket covered with a pristine white linen towel to her chest.

“Good morning,” Caryn said, her voice cheerful and friendly.

“Good morning, Mrs. Logan. I’m Elaine Shelton. Your husband hired my grandchildren to take care of this place for the summer,” the elderly woman explained quickly.

A slight frown furrowed Caryn’s smooth forehead. What husband? Who was Mrs. Shelton talking about? Logan wasn’t her husband. Then she realized that the twins also thought Logan was her husband. Had he told them they were married?

Mrs. Shelton shifted the basket uncomfortably, and Caryn felt a wave of heat suffuse her face. She had forgotten her manners.

Opening the screen door, she smiled. “Please come in.”

Mrs. Shelton stepped into the entry, her intelligent bright blue gaze darting around the space. “The Crawfords have such a lovely home. It seems odd not to see them this summer.” Something caught her attention, and she
flashed the practiced smile that helped her win the title of Miss North Carolina for the 1945 Miss America pageant.

Caryn glanced over her shoulder to find Logan returning Mrs. Shelton’s winning smile. She felt the restless, leashed power in his tall body as he neared her and the older woman. His blatant masculinity screamed silently through his white T-shirt and faded jeans.

He’s a panther
, she thought, then quickly changed her mind. Logan’s black hair, ebony-hued skin and sharp, piercing black eyes were more like a bird’s—a raven. And he’s also a
fraud
, she mused, telling people they were married. Well, it wasn’t as if two couldn’t play the same game.

She walked over to Logan, looping her bare arm through his and registered a momentary tightening of his muscles before they eased.

“Darling,” she crooned, smiling up at his impassive expression. “Steven and Stephanie are Mrs. Shelton’s grandchildren.”

Logan extended his free hand. “My pleasure, Mrs. Shelton. Caryn and I are quite pleased with their work.”

Elaine Shelton shook the proffered hand. “That’s wonderful. They don’t mind spending the summer here on the island, but earning some extra pocket money will probably be the highlight of their stay.”

Logan disengaged his arm and curved it around Caryn’s narrow waist. Tightening his grip, he molded her slim curves against his length and it was her turn to tense up. He smiled down at her seconds before dropping a kiss on her sweet-smelling curly hair. The gesture shocked Caryn and she inhaled sharply. It was the second time he had kissed her hair.

She was confused by her unexpected response to his touch and wondered whether she had gone too far. The solid hardness of his thigh pressing against hers, the fragrance of his freshly showered body and sensual aftershave, and his overt virility shocked her senses, reminding her how sterile her life had become. Her marriage ended
legally two years before, but her role as a wife did not survive the first of their four-year union.

Her heart thumping uncomfortably, Caryn smiled at Elaine Shelton. “Logan and I were just going to sit down for breakfast. Won’t you join us, Mrs. Shelton?”

“Please call me Elaine.” She handed the basket to Logan, who was forced to release his hold on Caryn. “Perhaps another time. I had my breakfast when I sampled a couple of blueberry muffins this morning. I decided to make a bit more than my usual batch after my grandchildren sang your praises. Think of it as a small welcoming gift to Marble Island.”

Lifting the napkin, Logan inhaled the sweet smell of warm muffins. “Caryn and I thank you.” He flashed his devastatingly sensual smile. “When can we return the favor?”

“Come to our island-wide Fourth of July picnic celebration the day after tomorrow. The entire island shuts down while everyone gathers in the large field behind the church at noon. The only requisite is that you bring something to eat. It doesn’t matter what you decide to bring because whatever it is you can rest assure that it will be eaten. There’s a short pause for everyone to digest their food before the dancing begins. The older folks usually leave around eight or nine, but the younger folks go on until midnight.”

“We’ll be there,” Logan replied, answering for himself and Caryn.

“Well, if that’s the case, then I’d better be getting back so I can help Jack open up the store. We have to close down for the Fourth because we house the post office, and people around here always seem to act a little strange when they can’t get to pick up their mail. You’d think we weren’t a part of the United States the way they come in checking on mail. They talk about coming down here to get away from all of the rush and stress, then look for mail from people they came here to get away from.” Shaking her snow-white head, she walked to the door.