“She didn’t say, but you can ask her yourself when she arrives.” Aunt Lou walked away, taking Cindy with her. “And think about the raffle, Logan.”
Logan turned his attention back to his burger. He had nothing against raising money for literacy, but posing as a hero? It made him feel like a hypocrite. Yes, he’d ridden a horse through Taliban country. Big deal. He’d also been so damn distracted when his team had gone in to rescue the three female aid workers held captive in a remote region of Afghanistan that he’d forgotten to cover his teammate. One inch in another direction and that bullet would have hit the woman in Hunter’s arms. It had practically brushed the top of her head.
No, he couldn’t sit down to lunch and recount his heroics. He was biding his time in Mount Pleasant, helping his aunt with the farm, until he could return to work. It killed him, sitting on his hands, away from the action. But he knew he deserved the punishment. And this time when he went back, he needed to have his head in the game 100 percent.
Still, his team was like family. Aside from Aunt Lou, the only one he had left. Being away from them—the loneliness ate at him.
Logan shook away the thought and returned to his burger. Across the restaurant, the door opened, letting in a shaft of midday summer sunlight. A redhead with mile-long legs walked in and headed for the bar that ran the length of the barn-turned-restaurant.
He studied the mysterious woman as she moved across the restaurant with carefree confidence. In one hand, she held a spiral notebook and a small purse. She was new to town, probably a tourist, though she didn’t look like the type to spend her free time hiking and biking. Her high-heeled sandals screamed big city.
Her loose curls bounced with each step, the bright red a sharp contrast to her creamy white skin. And her green eyes shone with playful mystery, as if she had a secret she wanted to whisper in his ear. Everything about her was vivid, fresh and exciting.
His gaze returned to her legs, narrowing on the point where they disappeared beneath her black miniskirt.
If you think her skirt is too short, she’s too young for you. His teammate wasn’t with him tonight, but Mike’s familiar mantra echoed in Logan’s mind. One of his T-shirts would cover more of her legs. He closed his eyes. And, great, an image of the redhead in his army T-shirt was now planted in his mind.
Logan forced himself to look away. She was too young for him. Not that thirty-five was ancient, but the word widower made a man seem older than his years.
He took one last look as the redhead slid onto a stool at the end of the bar. She’d chosen a seat close to his table and the proximity offered an up-close view as she crossed her legs, the indecent skirt sliding a little higher. Too young and too wild. Logan turned away, praying no one saw the longing in his eyes.
If he was being honest with himself, what he really wanted was a few nights of hot and heavy sex to take the edge off his loneliness. Nothing serious. Just something physical to make him feel alive.
Logan caught the waiter’s eye and signaled for the check. While he waited, his gaze drifted back to the woman.
He watched as she accepted a glass of red wine and opened her notebook. She took a sip, but her eyes never moved from the words in front of her. Setting the glass down, she drew her lower lip into her mouth and ran her teeth over it. She made reading look like a forbidden act, something that should be done behind closed doors.
The waiter returned and Logan opened up his wallet. Then he stood and headed for the door. He had to get out of here. Longing and loneliness would not change the fact that any reasonable woman would expect things he wasn’t ready to deliver.
“SEDUCE ME. I want to feel your hands on me. Your mouth, your tongue. I want to feel every inch of you holding me down, claiming me,” I say as I lean back on the bed. “That’s an order.”
Sadie read the words for a third time, but failed to reach the next paragraph. She couldn’t concentrate on the pages she’d written yesterday. Not with a man staring at her. Reading a sex scene in public was nothing new. In Manhattan, she’d reviewed her chapters while riding the subway. Before she’d sold her first book, commuting to and from her multiple waitressing jobs was when she’d done most of her writing.
But reading while a stranger watched her as if he wanted to devour her? That destroyed her focus and sent parts of her body spiraling toward take-me-now excitement.
Sadie shifted in her seat. His attention—and her response—reminded her how much her body missed her ex and their regular bedroom workouts, even if her mind had moved on quickly in the wake of their parting three months earlier. But the interest she felt had nothing to do with the past.
She looked up from her notebook as the stranger walked by her bar stool. With his wavy dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes and muscles even his cargo shorts and loose black T-shirt couldn’t hide, the man defined ruggedly handsome.
She turned her head to one side, her eyes narrowing. He seemed strangely familiar. Studying his backside as he walked toward the door, she knew. Mr. Ruggedly Handsome looked like Hugh Jackman when he’d played Wolverine in the X-Men movies—minus the facial hair—from his serious expression to his ready-for-battle body.
He walked with grace and purpose. Part of her wanted to go after him, find out if he was available and interested. But she couldn’t. Not right now. Her sister would be here any second. As long as she was in Mount Pleasant, her family came first. Everything else, from work to drool-worthy strangers, needed to take a backseat.
The door opened and he disappeared into the sunshine, leaving Sadie to her reading.
“There you are.” Laurel, Sadie’s twin, enveloped her in a big hug. They might have been born the same day, but the similarities ended there. Sadie had inherited their father’s Irish coloring, while Laurel looked like the all-American girl next door with her blond hair and blue eyes. A very pregnant girl next door.
“Careful, you’ll crush the baby,” Sadie said, struggling to maintain her balance on the barstool.
Laurel squeezed tighter. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“You said you needed me.”
“I know. And you always come through for me. But this time you’re here. For a whole month. I never thought you’d leave New York for that long.”
“I can barely believe it myself.”
An entire month in small-town Vermont, away from the hustle and bustle of her everyday life in New York City, away from sushi delivered to her doorstep, away from her quiet writing space. Of course, she could work here. She could write anywhere. But still, she was here. For Laurel. For once, she was trying to put her sister first, to tip the scale between personal life and professional.
“Sit. Please,” Sadie said, pulling away from her twin’s embrace. “You look like you should be resting with your feet up. You’re...”
“Enormous?” Laurel said with a wide grin.
“That wasn’t the word I was looking for.”
“Only for another month.” Her sister took her hand and squeezed. “I can’t believe you’ll be here when the baby arrives. I asked Dad to come up, too, but he said the trip was too expensive.”
Sadie frowned, her wineglass hovering close to her lips. “I sent him an extra check with a note to buy a plane ticket.”
“Oh, well, he didn’t mention it,” Laurel said, the excitement in her eyes dimming.
Damn him, Sadie thought. Her father might begrudge her charity, but he didn’t have to take it out on Laurel. As far as Sadie was concerned the monthly checks weren’t a handout. Their father had worked hard to