Summer Magic (9 page)

He found himself studying her, trying to discover what it was that drew him to her. It couldn’t have been the way she looked physically because he’d always found himself attracted to taller, darker women. And although there was a seven-year difference in their ages, he usually dated women who were no more than a year or two younger than he was, but there were times when he did date those who were older. He had made it a practice to stay away from the ones who’d elected to act like girls, because he detested playing head games or public histrionics. Several had accused him of being too serious, but he was quite comfortable with who he had become. He smiled. Caryn Edwards was different. She may look young, but she was no girl.

“Good morning.”

Caryn’s head came up quickly, and she smiled at Logan leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, muscular arms crossed over his navy-blue T-shirt. Like herself, he also wore a pair of jeans.

“Good morning,” she returned, giving him the sensual smile he’d come to look for. “Coffee’s on if you’d like a cup.”

He returned her smile. “As soon as I let Domino out, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“I’m also offering breakfast this morning.”

Logan stared, complete surprise on his face. Nina had never offered to prepare breakfast or any meal for him, even though he had made it a practice to cook for her whenever she spent time at his place.

“Why, thank you.”

Caryn nodded, then turned her attention back to the dough. Giving Logan breakfast was the least she could do. After all, he had paid for all of the groceries.

She turned a large ball of dough mixed with shredded cheddar cheese, fresh chives, and green onions into an
oiled bowl and covered it with a clean towel. She then repeated the process with a dough mixture of sauteed leeks and crisp broiled crumbled bacon. Both would double in bulk before she rolled them out into ropes for a large braided bread loaf and dozens of smaller leek and bacon knots.

She chopped green and red peppers and added it to a reserve of finely chopped sauteed leeks and a small portion of shredded cheese. Working quickly and efficiently, she then rolled out biscuits with a hint of cinnamon and brown sugar.

Logan returned, sans his wet running shoes, drying his hands before he wiped a sheen of moisture from his hair and face with a towel.

“How is it outside?” she asked at the same time as she leaned over and placed the pan of biscuits in the heated oven.

“Damp. It looks as if it’s going to rain all day.”

Straightening, she stared at him. Suddenly the space seemed smaller with his presence, and she found it difficult to draw a normal breath with him standing less than five feet away. Her gaze was fixed on the breadth of his wide shoulders and powerfully developed upper body. She recalled the sight of his half-naked body when he’d left to go jogging the day before, and the heat in her face had nothing to do with the increasing warmth from the oven.

Tilting his head at an angle, he regarded her with silent expectation. “Do you need any help?”

She nodded quickly. She needed him to do something, anything, except stand around and stare at her. “You can set the table.”

He returned the towel to the half-bath off the kitchen, then busied himself taking down plates, cups, and saucers from the overhead cabinets.

“Do you want to eat in the dining room or in the kitchen?”

“The kitchen,” Caryn replied. And she always preferred eating breakfast in the kitchen with the lingering smells of
brewing coffee, broiling bacon, and baking breads. Dining rooms were better suited for lunch or dinner.

Logan set the round oaken table situated where they would have a view of the outside porch with serviceable tableware and cutlery before Caryn directed him to remove a bowl of fresh fruit from the refrigerator. She broiled strips of bacon on the stovetop griddle, then added beaten eggs filled with the pepper, leek, and cheddar mixture.

The rising wind swirled the falling rain in a slanting pattern, and Logan quickly checked all of the windows to make certain they were shut. He returned to the kitchen and to the enticing sight of the table filled with platters of hot biscuits, fluffy omelets, and cups of fragrant coffee and a fresh fruit medley.

“Don’t be shy. Sit down and eat, Logan.”

He circled the table and pulled out a chair for her. She sat down and he lingered over her head, the cloying fragrance of his hauntingly sensual aftershave wafting in her nostrils.

She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

Leaning over, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m thanking you in advance for breakfast,” he explained, as she gave him a puzzled look.

He flipped on the radio and turned the dial until he found a station that featured soft jazz, then rejoined Caryn at the table. Picking up a fork, he speared a portion of blackberries and cantaloupe. “Where did you learn to cook like this?” he questioned after biting into a fluffy biscuit.

“My dad taught me. He’s a retired chef.”

“And your mother?”

“She’s a retired interior designer.”

Logan swallowed a piece of crisp bacon, staring across the table at his dining partner. Caryn was only twenty-eight, and he wondered how old her parents could be. “I assume they retired young?”

She nodded. “They retired two years ago. Daddy was fifty-eight and Mama was fifty-five.”

“That’s young.”

“They worked steadily for thirty years without taking a vacation.”

Logan’s coffee cup was poised in midair. “What did they do?”

“They owned a string of bed-and-breakfasts along the East Coast. They started out with one in western Pennsylvania, then managed to add one every three years. They usually bought a large house that was in foreclosure and renovated it. Mama decorated all of the rooms while Daddy hired the staff. He made it a practice to recruit the best students from culinary schools all over the country, offering them starting salaries they couldn’t refuse. Each B&B was set up with the same menu with one exception.”

“What was that?”

“Each chef was allowed to create one special dish. And the dish always bore their name.”

“Who runs them now?”

“A consortium of restauranteurs.”

“Why didn’t your brother take over?”

“Kyle is a salesman, not a chef. My very smooth, silver-tongued brother can convince someone to buy a Lamborghini or a Ferrari in less than two hours, yet he can’t boil an egg.”

A bright smile crossed Logan’s face. “A Lamborghini. Now, that’s a beautiful machine.”

Caryn put down her fork. “Don’t tell me you’re also into outrageously overpriced vehicles?”

“I happen to like Ferraris.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You men and your toys.”

“Either it’s cars or women. And I much prefer to collect cars.”

“Why must men always collect something?”

Leaning back on his chair, Logan gave her a penetrating stare. “And you women don’t?”

“Not like men.”

“How about material things?”

“Not in the least.”

“I’ve known women who make it a practice to collect
engagement rings. Others collect husbands, while some lovers.”

“And some men find it necessary to keep a count of their conquests,” she shot back.

“I’m not one of those who do,” he admitted softly.

Caryn noticed Logan watching her intently. It was as if he were waiting—for what she didn’t know.

“What do you collect, Caryn Edwards? First-edition books? Or perhaps love letters?”

She dropped her gaze, staring at his well-formed hands. “I collect journals.”

“Medical journals?”

She shook her head. “Personal journals.” Tilting her chin, she met his unwavering midnight gaze. “My mother gave me a beautiful tapestry-covered journal for my sixteenth birthday. She told me to write down my dreams and aspirations, and then one day read the entries to find out whether any of them had come true.”

Reaching across the table, Logan caught her hand, his fingers tightening as she attempted to free herself. “Have any of them come true?”

Biting down on her lower lip, she closed her eyes. “Some of them.”

He saw the quivering muscle in her delicate jaw. “You wanted to marry and you did,” he said perceptively. She nodded, not opening her eyes. “And you wanted children?” Again she nodded. “It can happen, Caryn. Just because it didn’t work out the first time, that doesn’t mean you can’t try again.”

Her eyes opened and she glared at him. “It can’t happen again.”

“Why not?” he shot back.

“Because I’ll never allow a man to control my life again.”

“Marriage is not about control. It’s about loving, sharing, and give and take. No one person is right all of the time, and no one person is wrong all of the time.”

The bitterness she’d always directed at Tom was transferred to Logan, and at that moment Logan Prescott
became Thomas Duff. “You’re a fine one to talk. If you know so much, then why did you call off your wedding a week before you were to be married?”

Without warning, he released her fingers and stood up. His chair clattered noisily to the floor behind him. “Wouldn’t you if you caught your future husband in bed with your maid-of-honor?”

She gasped loudly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh no, Logan,” she mumbled through her fingers.

“Oh yes, Caryn,” he countered angrily, picking up the chair and stalking out of the kitchen.

Chapter Nine

Caryn stared at the place where Logan had sat, debating whether to go after him. She knew he was entitled to his privacy, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t told her what she knew he hadn’t told anyone else—not even his parents.

Rising from her chair, she walked out of the kitchen to the place where she was certain to find him. He stood on the porch, hands at his sides, fingers curled into tight fists, staring out at the falling rain.

Wouldn’t you if you caught your future husband in bed with your maid-of-honor?
She replayed Logan’s query, feeling his pain as surely as if it were her own; and whatever she thought of her ex-husband, there was one thing she knew Tom hadn’t been and that was unfaithful.

Pushing open the screen door, Caryn stepped out onto the porch and stood behind Logan. She was less than a foot away, and she knew he had to know she was there even though he hadn’t moved. Taking another tentative step, she curved her arms around his waist, offering comfort and understanding.

“You did the right thing, calling off the wedding,” she
whispered. She felt him stiffen slightly before he relaxed enough to unclench his fingers.

Logan drew in a deep breath, holding it until he felt his lungs burn. He wanted to punish himself for not acknowledging what he should’ve known sooner. How could he have been so blinded by beauty and sophistication that he was unable to see the real Nina Smith? There were times when he second-guessed himself and said it wasn’t her beauty that blinded him as much as it was her passion—a passion that always left him wanting more. She offered herself to him, but he never got enough of her, and that was when he surmised he couldn’t exist without her. But he had survived and would continue to exist without her in his life. The past two weeks had verified that.

Logan grasped the slender arms circling his waist, feeding on their delicate softness. He had yet to figure out what it was about Caryn Edwards that prompted him to bare the secret he hadn’t revealed to anyone, not even his parents. Jace and Maeve Prescott deserved more than the explanation he’d offered. He owed them more than
I’ve decided not to marry Nina
.

Caryn moved closer, the pressure of her firm breasts burned his flesh through the T-shirt. He held his breath again, this time not to punish himself but to counter the shock of his body’s response to her womanly heat. Closing his eyes, he felt her relax as she laid her cheek against his back. They held the position a full minute before he unclasped her hands and turned to face her.

Holding her hands, his penetrating gaze searched her face, lingering on her tempting mouth. Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers repeatedly with soft, nibbling kisses. Her moist breath mingled with his, her lips parting slightly.

He gathered her closer and buried his face in her fragrant-smelling hair. “Thank you for helping me unburden myself,” he whispered against her ear. “Just saying the words has helped me let go of some of my anger and guilt.”

Caryn snuggled closer, unconsciously seeking Logan’s protection. It had been a long time, too long, since she’d experienced a man’s protection. “Why should you feel guilty about ending a relationship based on infidelity?”

“It’s not about Nina, but my parents. I don’t know whether it was the first time Nina and Wayne slept together or the hundredth. The fact remains, he’s a lifelong friend and she was to become my wife. I don’t owe either of them an explanation. But on the other hand, my mother and father deserve more than my trite statement that I was calling off the wedding.”

Pulling back, Caryn smiled up at him. “It’s not too late to explain, Logan. Call and tell them what happened.” He hesitated, giving no indication whether he would follow through on her suggestion. “Do it,” she urged in a quiet tone. “It’s time you put some of your demons to rest.”

His hands fell away and he took a step backward. “You think I have demons tormenting me?”

She detected a hint of censure in his tone. “Yes, I do. Otherwise why would someone as young as you be, as my students would say, ‘such a tight-ass.’ ”

Logan stared at Caryn with complete surprise on his face. “Is that how you see me? You think I’m uptight?”

“Very.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he regarded her with a disapproving look. “I suppose I’ll have to prove you wrong, won’t I?”

“Don’t challenge me, Mr. Prescott, because you’ll only come up a loser.”

“We’ll have to see about that.” His frown vanished, replaced by a bright smile.

Caryn returned his smile. “Yes, we will.” Turning, she opened the screen door and walked back into the house, leaving him on the porch staring at her retreating figure.

Logan’s smile was still in place as he folded his long frame down to a cushioned chair. The wind had died down, and the rain had slacked off to a steady drizzle. A little scrap of a woman with near-waist-length hair and gold-green
eyes had challenged him. He had to admit he was a bit too serious at times, but certainly not a tight-ass, as Caryn had referred to him. She was wrong, and he would prove her wrong, but first he would call his mother and explain why she would never claim Nina Smith as her daughter-in-law.

He went into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. He retrieved the cellular phone and dialed his parents’ residence.

“Good morning.”

Logan smiled when he heard the soft, drawling greeting of Maeve Prescott’s. “Good morning, Mama.”

“Oh! My baby!”

“Mama,” he said softly, “I stopped being your baby years ago.”

“Don’t you dare lecture me, Logan Prescott. As your mother I can call you anything I please.”

Rolling his eyes upward, he shook his head. He’d always thought of Maeve as a motherhood zealot.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s better. How are you, sweetheart?

“Wonderful. I just settled in, and I must say the house and Marble Island are the perfect places for an impromptu vacation.”

“Have you decided how long you’ll be down there?”

“Probably until the end of the month.” He paused. “I’m calling because I have to tell you something.”

“And what is that?”

“You deserve to know why I decided not to marry Nina.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Logan.”

“I
need
to tell you.” He paused, closing his eyes and reliving the scene in Nina’s bedroom. “I walked in on Nina and found her in bed with Wayne Singleton.”

A gasp came through the line before Maeve responded. “Oh, sweet heaven, no!”

He opened his eyes. “They didn’t know I saw them.”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Mama.”

“I never thought she would be such a—a trollop. And with your best friend, no less.” Logan forced back a smile at Maeve’s description of Nina’s morals. “And she has the nerve to come here every day asking for you,” Maeve continued. “Of course, Jace and I haven’t told her where you are. But don’t worry your heart, baby. I know you’ll find someone who’ll be faithful to you. And I’m certain she’ll love you as much as you deserve to be loved.”

“I’m not looking for anyone right now. I need a lot of time to unload some emotional baggage.”

“Don’t take too long. I’d like to claim grandmother status before I turn eighty.”

“You’re only sixty-six. What’s the rush?”

“The rush is that all of the women in my social club are grandmothers. Some of the more catty ladies always manage to give me pitying looks when they pull out updated pictures of their grandchildren.”

Logan shook his head. “If that’s the case, then why do you socialize with them?”

“Why? Because they’re my
friends
.”

He wanted to suggest that she select a new set of friends, but didn’t. “Tell Dad I should complete the preliminary draft for the zoning board on the Fairview project next week.” J. Prescott and Associates had to have the zoning board’s approval before they could secure the necessary financing for construction.

“I’ll tell him to call you.”

“Remind him not to give out this phone number for any reason. I promise to call you in a couple of days.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you, Logan.”

“And I love you.”

He rang off, feeling as if most of his problems had vanished like a puff of smoke. Caryn was right. His confession made him feel less uptight. “But I’m still not a tight-ass,” he mumbled as he made his way down the staircase.

He found Caryn in the kitchen, stacking dishes in the dishwasher. Moving behind her, he pulled her back against his chest. “Thanks, friend,” he whispered close to her ear.

Turning in his loose embrace, she smiled up at him. “Anytime, friend.”

“I want to thank you twice: for the advice and for a wonderful breakfast.” He kissed the right side of her mouth, then the left, feeling her stiffen in his arms. “Relax.”

“I am,” she countered, wiggling and trying to free herself. “Please let me go, Logan. I have work to do.”

Instead of releasing her, he tightened his hold on her waist. “Now, who’s uptight?”

She frowned up at him. “I’m not uptight.”

“Then relax. I’m not going to bite you.”

He increased his grip on her body, pulling her closer and allowing her to feel the hard planes of his muscular physique. Caryn ceased struggling, realizing it was useless against his superior strength. Her arms moved tentatively up and around his waist as she laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the calm, steady pumping of his heart. Closing her eyes, she counted the beats of his heart and was amazed when her own slowed to a matching rhythm.

He emitted a low sigh of satisfaction when she went completely pliant in his embrace. Now that she was in his arms, she had no desire to pull away. The crush of his body was so warm, so male. Her mind told her to resist and reject Logan Prescott, but her body refused to follow the dictates of her head.
This is not supposed to happen
, a secret voice whispered to her.

Caryn lost track of time as they offered each other healing, she floating to another dimension and marveling at the sense of fulfillment she felt in Logan’s arms. When she’d first arrived on Marble Island, she thought she wanted to be totally alone. But with him holding her, she knew she’d lied to herself.

“What did he do to you to make you leave him?”

She jumped, the sound of his voice startling her more than his question. She gave him a questioning look. He’d bared his soul and his innermost secrets, and he expected
her to do the same. He’d had secrets, and so did she; secrets she would never tell anyone.

Composing her thoughts, she began very quietly, “Thomas Duff did everything for me except breathe. He planned our lives by the clock. At first I welcomed it because I’m also pedantic, but he took it to an extreme. We ate dinner every night at the same time, not a minute before or a minute after. We went to the supermarket every second and fourth Saturday at exactly 10:00
A.M.
And he washed our cars every Sunday morning at nine, rain or shine. He claimed the car wash didn’t clean them the way he wanted them cleaned. I finally realized no one could meet his standards.

“His dogmatic behavior didn’t begin to bother me until he began complaining about my style of dress, how I wore my hair or my makeup. We’d make a date to have dinner at a restaurant, but if I showed up wearing something he didn’t approve of, he would cancel the reservation and walk out.

“Then we began arguing about everything: which movies to see, where to go on vacation, who to invite for dinner parties, when to make love, when I should get pregnant, and on and on.

“The final straw came when he wanted me to give up my teaching position to become a full-time housewife. He claimed I couldn’t handle working outside the home and tend to his needs at the same time. What he actually believed was that I was having an affair with one of the male teachers. One day I woke up and decided it was over. I moved out of my perfect little house, left my very perfect husband with only my personal possessions, and filed for a divorce. The divorce proceedings were less than amicable because Tom contested everything. My leaving him indicated that he’d failed as a husband.

“I wanted nothing from the union except my maiden name, while he missed court appearances because of undocumented catastrophic illnesses. What helped Tom was that as a very popular attorney he knew all of the
judges in Asheville, who occasionally overlooked his blatant attempt to postpone the final decree.”

Logan shifted an eyebrow. “The man sounds as if he needs professional counseling.”

“Tell that to his second wife.”

“He remarried?”

She nodded slowly. “There was no reason for him to remain single for any appreciable length of time. He presents a very attractive package: intellect, good looks, and excellent resources.”

Lowering his head, Logan pressed a comforting kiss on her forehead. “You’re lucky you got out without becoming a basket case yourself.”

Caryn nodded again, but what she didn’t say was that she hadn’t escaped unscathed. She had scars. Invisible scars.

Loathing to leave the protective warmth of Logan’s arms, she pushed gently against his chest. “I really have work to do.”

He released her, a frown creasing his smooth forehead. “I hope that work doesn’t include house cleaning because the Sheltons are due back today. And they’ll have their work cut out for them because I’m going to make my barbecue sauce.”

“You make it from scratch?”

“Yes. Do you want to help me?”

“You don’t mind giving away the secret ingredients?”

“That depends on who’s on the receiving end.” He winked at her. “Consider yourself one of the privileged few.”

She wondered if Nina Smith had also been one of the privileged few, but didn’t voice her thoughts aloud.

They spent the entire morning in the kitchen. Caryn’s yeast dough had doubled in size, and she punched one down and rolled strips into six long ropes, using three of each for two loaves of cheese and chive bread; she then
rolled another thirty-six ropes from the other mixture for three dozen leek and bacon knots. She showed Logan how to form the knots, and with his assistance she completed everything in half the time it normally would have taken her. The bread and knots rose a second time. She placed everything in plastic bags, storing them in the freezer.