She dug through her purse for a pen and paper and scribbled down the information on the back of a receipt. “That’s my home and cell number,” she said as she handed it over. “Feel free to send me a text.”
As Logan pocketed the paper, Hannah withdrew her keys, turned around and unlocked the door with a little effort, then walked inside without another word.
Logan was left alone on the porch to ponder why being with her again seemed so damn important. He had his choice of beautiful women back in Cheyenne, although most hadn’t come close to capturing his interest like Hannah Armstrong.
He could chalk it up to chemistry, but he inherently knew that was only part of it. He did appreciate her keen sense of humor, knock-’em-dead body and those expressive green eyes that could drop a man in his tracks. He appreciated her all-fire independence and that she had the temperament of a mother bear when it came to her kid. In some ways, that attracted him more than anything else. But above all, she’d experienced the loss of a loved one. Their true common ground.
Hannah might understand his grief because she’d lived it, but if he told her his story, would she see him in the same light? Or would she turn away when she learned the truth?
Only time would tell if he’d find the courage to confess his greatest sin—he’d been partially to blame for the death of his only child.
Three
Her car was back, and so was the man who’d been foremost on her mind all morning long. All night, too.
Hannah peered out the window and watched Logan emerge from her aged blue sedan dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt, faded jeans secured by a belt with a shiny buckle and dark boots. Her heart immediately went on a marathon, the direct effect of an undeniable attraction she’d experienced all too well last night. That attraction had given her the courage to kiss him, something she normally wouldn’t have the audacity to do. But by golly she had, and she’d liked it. A lot.
Hormones. That had to be it. Those pesky freaks of nature that made people act on impulse. She made a point to banish them as soon as she climbed out of bed. Granted, when he’d called to say he was bringing the car back, she’d made certain she looked more presentable than she had during their first meeting. She’d dressed in simple, understated clothing—white capri pants, light green, short-sleeved shirt and rhinestone-embellished flip-flops. Of course, she had put on a little makeup and pulled her hair back in a sleek, low ponytail. The silver hoop earrings might be a little much, but it was too late to take them off unless she ripped them out of her earlobes.
When the bell rang, Hannah automatically smoothed her palms over the sides of her hair and the front of the blouse. She measured her steps to avoid looking too eager, even though she wanted to hurl herself onto the porch and launch into his arms. Instead, she gave herself a mental pep talk on the virtues of subtlety before she slowly opened the door.
He greeted her with a dimpled grin and surprisingly stuck out his hand. “Mornin’. I’m Logan Whittaker, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Hannah didn’t know whether to kick him in the shin or kiss that sexy look off his face. She chose option three—play along for now—and accepted his offered handshake. She noticed the calluses and the width of his palm as he gave her hand a slight squeeze before he released her. “Good morning, Mr. Whittaker, and thank you for returning my car.”
“You’re welcome, but after last night, you should call me Logan.”
Cue the blush. “I’m trying to forget about last night.”
“Good luck with that because I sure can’t forget it. In fact, it kept me tossing and turning most of the night.”
She’d experienced the same restlessness, not that she’d admit it to him. “Do I need to drive you back to the lodge?”
“Nope,” he said. “One of the valet guys will be here in about ten minutes.”
Must be nice to have people at your beck and call, but she supposed that perk came with money. “Are you sure I can’t drop you off? It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m sure, but I’m not leaving until we discuss your inheritance and my proposal.”
No amount of money would ever convince her to agree to sign a nondisclosure form, even if she had no intention of aligning herself with the Lassiters. And that’s the way it would stay. “I haven’t changed my mind about the money, and the jury’s still out on the other, to coin a legal phrase.”
“Well, since you haven’t ruled it out, I think you should let me in to argue my case. I’m housebroken and I won’t destroy the furniture.”
The sexy dog. “I suppose that’s okay, but I have to warn you, the place is a mess, thanks to my child and the plumbing problems.”
He had the gall to grin again, revealing those damnable dimples and perfectly straight, white teeth. “I promise you won’t regret hearing me out.”
She already did when he brushed past her and she caught the subtle scent of his cologne. Even more when once they moved inside, he turned and asked, “Where do you want me?”
An unexpected barrage of questionable images assaulted Hannah, sending her mind in the direction of unadvisable possibilities. Clearly those inherent female desires she’d tried to bury in everyday life weren’t completely dead. That was okay, as long as she didn’t act on them. Again.
She swallowed hard and bumped the door closed with her bottom. “Let’s go in the dining room.” A safe place to interact with Mr. Charisma. “Actually, the floor’s wet in there, so we can stay in here.” First, she had to clear the worn floral couch of kid debris.
Before she could do that, Logan presented a frown that didn’t detract from his good looks one iota. “Leaky pipe?”
“You could definitely say that. I managed to cut off the water under the sink, but this morning I got up only to discover the valve is leaking, too. Now the flood waters are trying to take over my kitchen.”
“Tough break.”
When Logan began rolling up his sleeves, Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “What are you doing?”
“I’m pretty handy when it comes to pipe problems.”
“That’s not what you said yesterday.”
“I’ve learned not to reveal my skills. Otherwise I’ll be hounded every time someone has a plumbing issue. But for you, I’m willing to take a look.”
She’d already taken a look. A covert look at his toned forearms threaded with veins, and the opening in his collar that revealed tanned skin and a slight shading of hair she’d tried not to notice last night. “Now I get it. You’re really a repressed plumber masquerading as a lawyer.”
His reappearing smile had the impact of a jackhammer. “No, but I am good with my hands.”
She’d bet her last buck on that. “Thanks for offering to help, but it’s not necessary. A real plumber should be here today.”
Now he looked plain cynical. “Good luck with that, too. They don’t get in a big hurry on a Saturday.” He winked. “Besides, I’ll save you that weekend rate and check it out for free.”
He did have a valid argument, and she really liked the free part. What would be the harm in letting him peruse her pipes, or anything else of hers he’d like to peruse? She seriously needed to get a hold on her self-control. “Fine, but you’re going to get wet. I did.”
“Not a problem. Getting wet isn’t always a bad thing.”
Logan’s suggestive tone wasn’t lost on her. “Since you insist, be my guest.” She pointed toward the opening to the dining room. “Just swim through there and keep