He watched as she licked her fork clean, her lips running over the utensil until she’d consumed every last drop. He’d never been attracted to the way a woman ate pie before. But everything about this woman’s mouth turned him on. “Probably. Aunt Lou will insist.”
“And you always listen to your aunt?”
He shrugged. “Most of the time.”
“That’s sweet.” She smiled, piling another large bite onto her fork.
“My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad, well, he was never in the picture. My aunt and uncle raised me. My uncle died of a heart attack three years ago. Lou is... She’s all I have left.” He heard the grief in his voice and knew he should have kept his mouth shut.
Logan brought his beer to his lips and drained it, careful not to look over at Sadie. He wanted something from her, but not pity. Still, he felt her gaze on him, studying his profile. He had a feeling she wanted to ask him a question.
“Whatever it is, go ahead and spit it out.”
She turned her fork over in her hands. “You said you screwed up. What happened?”
Logan looked off into the surrounding Green Mountains. Lined with evergreens, these peaks were a world away from the ragged war-ravaged cliffs in Afghanistan. He was about to feed her his automatic “that’s classified” response, but first he had to know why she was digging. “Aunt Lou said you’re a writer. Are you a reporter?”
He studied her face, waiting for her answer. But he knew before she opened her mouth that his paranoia had pushed him way off base. Her brow furrowed with surprise. Then laughter transformed her face, making her eyes sparkle.
“Nope,” she said. “Not even close. I write fiction.”
“All right, then,” he said. “The answer to your question is classified. I can’t talk about my missions.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “I’m going in for another. You want one?”
“I’m thinking about it,” he said.
She cocked her head to one side and looked at him, her gaze burning a path down his body before she nodded and headed inside. He watched the screen door close behind her. If she could set him on fire by just looking at him, what would happen when he touched her? Did he want to find out?
Yes. No hesitation. It was the first time in months he’d made a split-second decision, one that felt certain and solid. After all, his colonel had told him to do whatever it took to move forward. He had a feeling going after Sadie, kissing her, maybe more, would do more for him than sitting down with a shrink. Logan stood and followed her inside.
* * *
SADIE HEADED DOWN the short hall, her mind still turning over his words. She’d been on the verge of asking him whether he was married, but something in his voice had stopped her. The depth of his grief when he talked about his family seemed too raw and fresh for a childhood loss. It left her wondering about his secrets again. Everyone had them, but his seemed edged with sorrow. And a far cry from a married man looking to sneak around on his wife.
She’d thought about offering the usual expression of sympathy, but she had a hunch this wasn’t a man who wanted pity. She’d rather see him laughing, and maybe after another drink or two, naked.
She carried the empty bottles to the kitchen and found two more, setting them on the counter. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the fridge. A picture of Logan without his work jeans and T-shirt filled her mind. She’d seen the outline of those muscles when she’d sent them both tumbling into the water trough. But her imagination went a step further, picturing him in the shower, wet and glistening, begging for her to touch and taste.
In her fantasy, he stood back against the wall, his hands flat on the tiles. It would take all of the man’s willpower to keep his hands off her, but he would if he wanted to feel her mouth on him. She’d make that clear. And like a good soldier, he’d follow her orders.
The wooden floorboards creaked in the hall and Sadie opened her eyes. The erotic shower scene vanished, but it had left its mark. She was leaning against the fridge practically panting with desire, the downside to having an overactive imagination.
Logan turned the corner. She saw him hesitate for a second and guessed he’d noted her come-and-get-me look. He crossed the kitchen and planted one hand on either side of her head. Holding his body away from hers, he looked down into her eyes before dropping his gaze to her parted lips.
That look—it was part question, part warning. He wanted to kiss her. He planned on kissing her. And right here, right now, she wanted the real thing, no more almost-kisses in bookstores. But he didn’t move.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
Heat flared in his eyes.
“Now,” she added.
He lowered his head until their lips almost touched. And then, damn him, he froze.
Sadie reached out, grabbed his hips and drew him close, craving contact. This man wanted her. She could feel it. But something had a hold on him. And she needed to know what it was.
Running her hands up from his hips, over his oh-so-tempting chest and shoulders, she moved to his biceps, then down his powerful forearms to his hands. Entwining her fingers with his, she forced him to release his hold on the fridge.
“The other day, in the bookstore, you started to say something. You said ‘I’m a’—but never finished the sentence. Now might be a good time to tell me.”
LOGAN CLOSED HIS EYES. One kiss. That was all he wanted. One kiss before he watched pity eclipse her laughing, playful expression. Christ, she wanted it, too. The way she’d said that one word—now—had turned him inside out with need. But he’d hesitated, damn it.
“Logan?”
Opening his eyes, he stepped away, his arms falling to his sides. He didn’t have a choice now. He had to tell her. “I haven’t kissed a woman in a while.”
She nodded, watching him, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s been more than a year.” Longer since he’d claimed a kiss that would lead to more. “I—”
A loud ring echoed in the kitchen.
Sadie’s eyes widened. “The landline.” She raced across the kitchen to the cordless phone on the far wall. “Hold that thought. I need to get this.”
She frantically punched a button on the phone. “Laurel? Are you having the baby?”
Logan blinked. If the woman on the other end said yes, he needed to make himself scarce. Talking about his late wife while her sister was in labor? Not going to happen.
“Dinner?” Sadie closed her eyes. “I’m the worst sister in the world. I got caught up in something and forgot. Laurel, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”
Sadie hung up the phone and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time. I promised my sister I’d be back for dinner.”
“No problem. I’ll head out.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the door. Her sister had bought him some time, but he knew if he wanted to kiss this woman he had to tell her that he’d lost his wife to cancer. If she stuck around long enough, someone in town would volunteer the information.
But after he told her, would she order him to kiss her? Not likely. No matter how that conversation played out in his mind, it didn’t lead to her mouth on his and her body tight against him.
“Logan?”
He paused in the archway between the kitchen