The Loner Page 8

"You weren't through playing with your new toys," Caroline observed as he brought the brass spyglass up to his right eye and pointed it toward the Texas flag flying atop the courthouse.

  He shot her a wicked grin that she felt clear to her bones. When he followed the grin with another wink, her toes literally curled.

  Oh, dear. With that one exchange, all the old feelings came rushing back. The desire she'd felt for one man, this man, welled within her, burgeoned and bloomed and heated her blood. Her cheeks flushed and her mouth went dry.

  She was so ashamed. She should be beset with worry for Ben, but instead she was brimming with lust for Logan Grey. Dear Lord, she'd be mortified if he noticed.

  "Are you hot, Caroline?" Logan asked. "Your face is all red."

  "I'm fine," she insisted. "Really. A little thirsty, perhaps." She gave a shaky little grin and increased the speed of her steps.

  Logan ambled along behind her, his attention divided between the events of the morning and the saucy sway of Caroline Kilpatrick's—no, Caroline Grey's—hips. His wife's saucy, swaying, curvy hips. When she arrived at Addison's office, she'd expected to be served with divorce papers. And she hadn't been happy about it.

  Interesting. Not as interesting as her curves, but still interesting. What would happen after he rescued the boy? And he refused to think of any other outcome than that. Did she want to stay married? To maintain the status quo? Hell, what did he want? He had a financial responsibility, yes, and he'd see it through. But what about beyond that?

  Divorce? No. Absolutely not. He knew the stigma divorce attached to a woman. Might as well call her a whore. He couldn't do that—wouldn't do that—to Caroline. Or to Will. But what was the alternative? Just walk away?

  Or, maybe stay? The possibility floated through his mind like a dream. He could stay. Have a wife. Be a husband. Make a family. Make a home.

  Whoa. He glanced up at the sky. Had he been out in the sun too long or what?

  Logan didn't stay. He didn't want to stay. Never had, never would. He'd been a wanderer since the day he left Piney Woods Children's Home and the life suited him. His job suited him. He had freedom to go where he wanted, when he wanted. He lived in the here and now and that was the way it was gonna stay. He wasn't cut out for family life.

  He'd learned that lesson all too well.

  No, staying wasn't an option. Divorce wasn't an option. So what options did they have?

  Logan veered around a broken jar of molasses lying on the sidewalk. Hell, he didn't know. This was all so fast. He was still digesting the fact that he had a kid.

  His gaze fastened on the flash of bare ankle her swaying skirts displayed, and against his own better judgment, he indulged in the fantasy of having a wife—this wife—do all the wifely things a woman can do for a man.

  Whoa. Don't go there, Grey. You're asking for trouble.

  Yeah, but a little trouble sounds so good right about now.

  He closed the distance between them as they approached the entry to the Blackstone Hotel, and with his hand familiarly at her waist, he ushered her inside.

  Heavy doors and thick walls shut out the sounds of the city outside. Dark paneling and upholstery in reds, greens and golds created a rich, wealthy atmosphere that encouraged muted voices. As they walked farther into the lobby, the heavy scent of lilies clashed with that of cigars. Logan wrinkled his nose. He never had liked lilies. Made him think of caskets.

  Caroline dug her room key from her handbag as she led him up to the third floor. Her room was nestled against the staircase. Small, it contained only a bed, a little chest and a writing desk and chair. Her satchel sat in the chair, so Logan dumped the shopping bags atop the writing desk, then while Caroline removed her hat and set it atop the chest, he sat at the foot of the bed, thinking about how strange this situation was.

  It was as if they were really married, having returned from a shopping trip for their child. They were comfortable with each other. Familiar. Easy.

  Oh, hell. This was scary.

  In the process of pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the writing desk, Caroline's hand jerked and water splattered on the desk. "Oh, for crying out loud," she murmured, taking a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and wiping it up.

  It flusters her, too, Logan realized. Ordinarily, he wasn't so slow on the uptake where women were concerned, but recent events would knock any man off his game. Now that he'd noticed, what would he do about it? What did he want to do about it?

  Hell, Grey. You 're chock-full of questions today. How about an answer or two ?

  "Water?" she asked, shoving a glass in his direction.

  "No thanks."

  She nodded, then tossed it back like a shot of raw whiskey. Yep, she was flustered all right. And nervous about being alone with him in a hotel room. Did she think he'd lose control and ravish her?

  He tucked his tongue into his cheek. The notion did have a certain appeal.

  Come to think of it, that was what happened last time they'd been alone together in a hotel room. He'd certainly lost control and they'd ended up ravishing each other for most of the night.

  Still, he'd like to think he'd gained some control in the past decade and a half. But then again, her beauty had ripened and matured in that time, too, making her all the more desirable.

  His body stirred.

  Maybe she had reason for concern.

  "I brought the sketchbook because I thought you might like to see it. Sketchbooks, actually. I brought two. I have a series of them. Suzanne started a new one every year on his birthday. I brought Will's first-year book and his sixth-year. Do you want to see them both?"

  "Sure."

  She opened her satchel and removed a pair of leather-bound books. Handing one to him, she said, "This is his baby book."

  Logan's attention shifted from the mother to the son when he opened the book to see a rendition of a smiling infant with rosy cheeks and a tuft of red hair atop his head. "He has red hair? I thought you said it was dark."

  "When he was born his hair was red, yes, but it didn't last. It darkened as he grew older."

  Logan grinned and turned the page. "Plump little bugger, wasn't he?"

  "He was hungry all the time and that hasn't changed. Keeping that child fed has been one of my greatest challenges."

  Logan paged slowly through the infant pictures. Before this moment, he'd never had much interest in babies. He found it nearly impossible to relate to them. But with this little guy.. .everything was different. Look at that smile. Caroline said Will had his smile, but she was wrong. That smile was just like his mother's.

  "I confess that little babies terrify me. They seem so fragile that I'm afraid I could break 'em."

  "The McBride sisters all have little ones. Hasn't being around them gotten you past that fear?"

  "Nope. I stay away from the infants—for good reason. When I was ten or so, someone abandoned a newborn at the orphanage and Nana Nellie asked me to give it a bottle. My hand shook so much that I put bubbles in the milk and gave the baby gas. Nana Nellie never asked me to help with him again."

  Caroline laughed. "I was so young and inexperienced when Will was born that I did some of the dumbest things. It scares me now to look back on them. That poor baby—it's a wonder he didn't bleed to death from all the times I accidentally stuck him with diaper pins."

  "Live and learn, I guess." In so many areas.

  Logan continued to turn the pages of the sketchbook, watching his son grow up before his eyes. Will sitting up and playing with a variety of toys. Will chewing on a red ball. Banging a spoon on an overturned pot. Gleefully knocking down a tower of wooden blocks. He got a little gooey inside when he saw the drawing of his son holding a cowboy hat bigger than he was over his head, his green eyes alight with delight, his smile wide and showing off a pair of new teeth.

  "He does have my eyes," Logan said, speaking past a blockage of some sort in his throat.

  "Yes. Like I said yesterday, you certainly left your
stamp on him. I knew he looked like you, but I didn't realize just how much until I saw you again."

  "I'll bet he's not all like me." Curious, he glanced up at Caroline. "Tell me how he's like you."

  She thought a moment, then shrugged. "Oh, I don't know."

  "Come on. I know there's something." Logan wanted the answer as much to learn about his wife as about his son. "Tell me. Will is...?"

  "He has a temper like mine," she finally said, a rueful tip to her smile. "It flashes hot and fierce, but we tend to get over it fairly quickly."

  "What else?"

  "Will inherited my sweet tooth. I'm a fool for chocolate, and Will is just as bad." Smiling, she added, "We have contests to see who gets the last piece in a box of chocolates."

  Logan studied his wife, then glanced back down at one-year-old Will. "He has your smile, Caroline. Bright and open and infectious. That's a real nice gift you passed along to our boy."

  Color stained her cheeks. "He's a happy child. Or at least he was. I haven't seen his smile very often since Suzanne died."

  He detected a glimmer of guilt in those gorgeous eyes of hers. "You can't blame yourself. From what I can see, you've been a good mother. That's all any kid could ask for."

  "I love him. He's hurting and I can't fix it. That makes it hard for me."

  Logan took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "We'll bring him back safe, Caroline. Don't doubt it."

  After she gave him a shaky smile, he resumed his perusal of the sketchbook and saw his son learn to crawl, then walk. Four of the drawings included sketches of Caroline, and Logan lingered over those. Lord, she'd been young to face all that she'd faced. Seeing her in these drawings drove that point home, and admiration at how well she'd managed washed through him.

  "Can I see the other one?" This time when she handed over the book, he grabbed her arm and tugged her down beside him. "Tell me about the pictures as we look at them."

  "I can do that standing up."

  "I'm getting a crick in my neck from looking up at you. This way is more comfortable."

  Unsettled, Caroline shifted her weight on the thick feather mattress and established a good foot of space between them. Logan countered by closing the distance as he opened the sketchbook, propping it half on his lap, half on hers. He breathed in her lemony scent and studied the first drawing, which depicted Will playing with a dog. In his mind's eye he saw another child playing with a different dog, but he ruthlessly buried the memory, cleared his throat and said, "Now, that's a cute kid. You say he's six years old in these pictures?"

  "No. I thought I had a different book. This is actually his five-year-old book."

  "Gunslinging Suz was quite an artist."

  "I have a beautiful watercolor of a sunset back home that she painted, but she always said that Will was her favorite subject."

  "She loved him. You can see it." Logan carefully thumbed through the pages, stopping at one that showed Will staring at a barber pole, his expression etched with horror. "Tell me about this one."

  Her smile turned wistful. "He'd just had his first haircut in the barbershop. What a battle that was! Will has a cowlick right here—" she gestured toward the crown of her head "—and it got to where no matter how I tried, I only made it worse when I cut it. I decided I need professional help and, oh my stars, that turned out to be a mistake. Will took one look at the barber's chair and turned and started screaming."

  "He was afraid?"

  "Terrified. I was shocked. Up until that point, he'd been Mr. Fearless."

  "What did you do?"

  "The barber sat down on the floor and asked Will to sit in front of him and that was that."

  "I've known a barber or two I wish I'd run from," Logan said, chuckling, as he turned the page, then froze. His breath rushed out in a whoosh.

  The drawing depicted a day at the swimming hole. Will knelt beside the water playing in mud, his face streaked with dirt, his grin wide and a little bit ornery. Suzanne had drawn herself seated on a quilt, a sketchbook in her hands.

  "Oh, dear." Caroline grabbed at the book. "I forgot about that drawing."

  Logan kept a death grip on the page. Caroline lay against another quilt, her long, lush eyelashes resting above rosy cheeks as she slept. Her hair was mostly dry, pinned in wild disarray atop her head, though a few straggling curls lay in damp ringlets against her cheeks. From the neck up she looked like a Madonna in repose, a peaceful, resting angel.

  From the neck down...one word came to Logan's mind. Sin.

  Her bathing costume would have gotten her arrested in a public venue. Instead of one of those navy-blue bloomer girl uniforms he'd seen women wearing on California beaches and along the Texas Gulf Coast, she wore what appeared to be her underwear—white, lacy, thin. Transparent.

  "Please, Logan." She tried to yank the book from his grip.

  Yes, it pleased him.

  The wet fabric clung to her skin, outlining the shapely length of her legs, the curve of her hip, the fullness of her breasts. Motherhood had softened her body and given it a lushness that she carried still today.

  He reached out with an index finger and traced the line of her figure from her bare feet up her calf to her thigh and—

  Caroline yanked hard and successfully snatched the book away and slammed it shut. "Really," she muttered. "I don't know why I didn't tear that page out of the book. Suzanne had no business..."

  His gaze locked on hers and in her wide violet eyes he watched both awareness and trepidation bloom. She moistened her lips. The air between them thickened and went hot. "No business what?"

  "M-m-making me look like that."

  "Like what? Beautiful? Alluring? Sultry?" When she closed her eyes and shook her head, he focused on her lips. "You were all those things, Caroline. You are all those things.. .and more." He leaned forward, pressed a butterfly kiss against her lips. "Tempting." He touched his lips to hers again. "Tantalizing."

  Her mouth opened on an evocative little gasp and Logan rimmed her lips with his tongue. "Tasty."

  She shivered. "Oh, Logan."

  He laid claim to her with his kiss, plundering her mouth, tasting her, taunting her, demanding she respond. For a brief moment, her spine remained stiff, her muscles tense, but when he made a low-throated sound of encouragement, the dam broke.

  She returned his kiss with a fiery heat that seared him to his bones. The sketchbook slid to the floor as her hands lifted to rest upon his shoulders, then clutch him there as he took the kiss deeper.

  Logan speared his fingers through her heavy curls. Her lips moved firmly beneath his, and her tongue met his with a heady passion. Desire pulsed in his blood and instinct took over. Fitting his hard frame against her soft curves, he pressed her back.. .back.. .then he rolled them both until she lay full and flat against the mattress. At his mercy.

  He settled in beside her and lifted his head just enough to breathe. "Caroline."

  Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and fast. Her lips, swollen from his kiss. Beautiful. So damned beautiful.

  His hand tugged at the buttons lining the high neckline of her suit until he revealed the creamy skin he sought. Then he skimmed his mouth across her cheek to her neck where he nibbled and licked and sucked on her skin until she shuddered. Boldly, his fingers trailed down her bodice, exploring the luscious swell of her breast. Her breath caught and she squirmed beneath his touch, shaking her head back and forth as he cupped her fullness, kneaded her, teased her nipple to a turgid peak. Mentally, he cursed the layers of fabric separating his palm and her sweet skin.

  He wanted her naked. He wanted to see her bounty revealed, to touch and taste and sample at his leisure. He wanted to free his aching erection and thrust inside her hot, slick passage, to take her and claim her and slake his lust and hers until they both collapsed in exhausted bliss.

  And yet, the small part of him that retained possession of his wits recognized the danger in pursuing the pleasure his body so fervently demanded.

>   It was too soon. He and Caroline had too much left to settle. Indulging themselves here and now would only complicate an already complex situation.

  Knowing this delightful interlude must end, he captured her mouth once more in a hard, deep kiss that communicated his need and frustration and desire. Then with a groan, he wrenched himself away from her and lay on his back beside her, gritting his teeth and breathing as if he'd run ten miles in five minutes.

  Caroline lay without moving for a full half a minute, then abruptly levered herself to a sitting position. "Oh my God."

  She scrambled off the bed and whirled on him, her eyes wide and wild. "Oh my God," she repeated.

  With jerky fingers, she buttoned the neck of her blouse. Embarrassment bloomed on her cheeks like roses.

  She went to the door and opened it. "You need to leave now."

  He sighed and rolled to a seated position. "Caroline..."

  "Just leave. Please, just leave." A shrill note entered her voice as she added, "You know how to do that. I know. I was there."

  He stood and took a step toward her. "Honey..."

  "Stop! Go! I've done this once. I'm not doing it again."

  What was she talking about? Sex? "Have you not had sex again in all this time?" Hell, he'd been young, sure, but... "Was I that bad?"

  "No. I haven't been with another man, but that's not what I mean. I've raised one child alone. I'm not going through that another time. Do you hear me? Not again. Never again. Get out of here now, Logan Grey, or I'll...I'll..."

  "Wait a minute." Logan dragged his mind away from the fact that she'd remained virtuous all this time and thought about what she'd said. His own temper flared. "Wait just one minute. I'll take a lot from you—heaven knows I deserve it—but give me some credit here. I learn from my mistakes. Don't be talking like I'd walk out on you again if you turned up pregnant, because I wouldn't. I won't. Take that as a promise or a warning, however you wish."

  He grabbed his hat and headed for the door, pausing at the threshold to say, "I don't know how things are going to settle between us, Caroline. I figure we both have some thinking to do. I know that I want you. It took every ounce of discipline I possess to roll away from you just now, but I did it. I want credit for that."