Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (27 page)

“I promise.” Then, after a quick conversation with his brother, Logan pulled Anna into his arms. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, his breath warm in her ear. “I will do my level best not to repeat this mistake but, darlin', you have the right to hit me on the head if I do.”

“Oh, don't you worry. I will. And next time something is weighing on you, causing you distress, you have to tell me,” Anna said, enjoying the sensation of being held by Logan.
This
was the man she'd married. This was the man she needed by her side. “Okay?”

He didn't respond instantly, just tightened his hold and kissed the top of her head. When she was starting to worry all over again, he said, “Okay, sweetheart. If that's what you want, then I'll try.”

Well. She'd prefer a guarantee, but she supposed the best anyone could do was try. And now that the majority of her stress had eased, Anna's thoughts drifted in a different direction.

One more soft and quick kiss—this time on her forehead—and Logan pulled away. He filled his travel mug, added a spoonful of sugar, clasped on the top and said, “Feels wrong, leaving now. You'll...that is, you'll be here this afternoon, right? Because I would understand if—”

“I'll be here, Logan. I promise.”

He hesitated briefly before nodding and exiting the kitchen. She waited until she heard his car back out of the driveway before sitting down at the table. It had taken some doing, but Logan had cracked open the door and allowed her a few inches of entry. She wanted more, even if she shouldn't. She wanted to know every nuance of this man she'd married.

Difficult with most men, perhaps, but even more so with a man such as Logan Daugherty. Because, frankly speaking, he was quite likely the most stubborn man she'd ever met. Sexy, though, too. And so very sweet, once you chiseled beneath his toughened exterior.

Anna served herself breakfast and, while she ate, considered what had just taken place and how she'd almost admitted defeat. She'd meant what she said—she would've left—but she was so happy she didn't have to follow through.

And now, whether sensible or not, she was ready for more from their relationship. She wanted a deeper connection to Logan. Emotionally, yes, but also physically. Her desire for a repeat of their one-night stand hadn't dissipated, and in fact, it had grown by leaps and bounds as he held her in his arms.

She'd seen his heart, his vulnerability, and in a snap, her libido fired to life. So much so that Anna began to give serious consideration to an act of seduction. Could she seduce Logan? Should she?

Heat flooded her cheeks, spreading into and throughout her entire body, inch by inch. If she went this route, she'd better prepare herself for rejection. The thought wasn't appealing, naturally, but she could deal with the possibility. On the other end of the scale, he might just take her up on her offer. A potential that made the risk of a “no, thank you” small and inconsequential.

She finished her breakfast, washed the dishes, tidied the rest of the kitchen and tried to decide how she should broach the idea of adding sex into their platonic relationship.

Her body, even before her pregnancy, couldn't be described as centerfold material. Her hips were too narrow to be shapely—then and now—and while they were slightly fuller, she had very little to show off in the breast department. In her pre-pregnancy past, her flat, firm stomach and her legs—especially when shown off with high heels—had always been her sexiest features.

Resting the palm of her hand on her rounded stomach, she sighed. Her perfect abs weren't in fighting form and wouldn't be for quite some time. As for her legs...well, they were fine, she supposed, but she certainly would not be prancing around in heels.

Under a flurry of self-doubt, Anna came this close to changing her decision, but the rapid beat of her heart and the desire simmering in her blood wouldn't let her. Besides which, being sexy...feeling sexy should not require flat abs or perfectly shaped...anything. Sexy was more a state of mind. And
being
sexy was about the unique heat two people created together. What they did to and for each other. How her body reacted to his. How his reacted to hers.

Based on their one and only night together, being
and
feeling sexy with Logan shouldn't prove difficult. Hopefully, his memories of that night were as vivid and consuming as hers.

Of course, she'd have to be clear that wanting sex was very different from wanting to change any other portion of their relationship. Logan appreciated logic. By emphasizing the reasons why engaging in a sexual relationship actually increased the health of her pregnancy, she should be able to minimize any concerns that she might be falling for him.

But how to set the scene for a seduction? Preferably in such a way that he'd say yes? This man, Logan, was her husband, the father of her unborn daughter, and yet...she did not know where to begin.

Bemused with her predicament, Anna stared out the window. Logan was too intelligent, too pragmatic to fall for parlor tricks or acts of subterfuge. Probably a good thing, as Anna didn't excel at either. Better all the way around just to tell him what she had in mind. In a blunt, matter-of-fact, way. With, of course, some attention to her appearance.

And then whatever happened...well, happened.

* * *

The confrontation and following conversation with Anna stayed with Logan straight into early afternoon. Gavin's good-natured prodding while they'd completed some repairs and cleanup around his property hadn't helped. Nor had Haley's sweet inquiry over lunch, about possibly throwing a surprise baby shower for Anna once the Christmas holiday was behind them, offered any relief.

He'd put Gavin off with the general excuse of not enough sleep, and his brother had wisely stopped prodding. And Logan had told Haley that holding a baby shower for Anna was a fine idea, but she should check in with Lola before moving ahead with any official planning.

Once lunch was finished, he'd got into his car to head for home. He couldn't let go of the fear that despite Anna's promise, she would be long gone by now. And really, if so, he could only blame himself.

Difficult to admit, but her description fit him like a well-worn glove. In an effort to pull back and retain some control over his runaway emotions, he'd become the spitting image of his granddad, and...hell, anyone who knew Zeke would surely call him a cantankerous old man.

Stopping at a red light, Logan cursed. All he'd managed to do in the past two weeks was cause Anna confusion and pain, which was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. And now, thanks to his stubbornness and less-than-stellar coping skills in this particular area, he was five minutes from walking into what might possibly be an empty house.

The thought, the image, was crippling in its intensity.

He did not want to roam inside those walls and feel Anna's absence. He didn't want to sit in the living room by himself or pass by her bedroom and see whatever remnants of her belongings she'd left behind. And nope, he most certainly did not want to read the letter she'd—if she had chosen to leave—written for him out of some form of courtesy.

Instead of manning up with what was beginning to feel inevitable, he supposed he could stop by the grocery store. Or better yet, drop in at Mick's to grab a beer and play some pool. Except...well, being at the bar would only serve to remind him of the night he'd first laid eyes on Anna.

She'd caught his interest right off. Hunkered at a corner table all by her lonesome with two drinks in front of her. She hadn't seemed sad, just...out of place and unsure, maybe a little lonely. And his curiosity about why this gorgeous woman was sitting by herself got the better of him. He'd sauntered over, nodded at the drinks and asked if one was meant for him. Those brown eyes of hers had widened and he thought he'd been a little too cocky, a little too sure of himself, but then she said he was welcome to join her. So he had.

Before too long, he'd learned that while she'd grown up in Steamboat Springs, she hadn't lived here for quite a while and this was her first night back in town. They'd chatted about this and that and the other, played several games of pool and had a few more drinks, and somehow, between the flirting and the laughing and the conversation, she had got clean under his skin. When it came time for the bar to close, he wasn't ready to let her go on her way.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that Anna was not a woman accustomed to one-night stands. And hell, Logan hadn't made a habit of sleeping with strangers, either. But they'd clicked, and maybe he was a mite lonely, a touch out of place himself, because he'd pulled her to him, like he'd been wanting to for most of the night, and after kissing her soundly, he'd asked her to return to his hotel with him so they wouldn't have to say goodbye just yet.

Surprisingly, she'd agreed. And what had followed had lived in Logan's memory ever since, even before she'd turned up with the news that she was carrying his baby.

As he drove slowly down his street, his brain spun with questions and considerations. Such as, if Anna had not become pregnant that night, yet they'd continued to see each other, would her smile, her breathing—hell, every last thing about her—have had as equally a strong effect on him? And saying that was the case, how would he have reacted? With the same trepidation and confusion over the strength of his attraction, or with increased interest and curiosity to see if they could go the distance?

He did not know. But that was the damn crux of his problem—wondering if he'd feel the same toward Anna after their daughter's birth—wasn't it?

Logan swore again, vehemently, and slowed to turn into his driveway when he saw Anna's car. She hadn't left... She was still here. Inside, presumably waiting to finish their discussion.

Parking his car next to Anna's, Logan waited for the fast, drumlike beat of his heart to return to its normal pace. Before he talked with her, he had to decide on how much to admit to, since the line between meeting her needs and keeping his defenses rock-solid seemed to hold the width of a solitary strand of hair, split in half.

Well, he'd apologize again. Thank her for not leaving, for keeping her promise. He supposed he could elaborate on the workings of the ranch and his grandfather's refusal to take better care of himself, and how both were causing a boatload of stress for his entire family. How he felt guilty for not being here on a daily basis to help, but how he hated the thought of leaving Anna alone, as well. He wanted to be here, for her and their daughter.

And—just as what he'd told her this morning—all of it would be the truth, just not all
of
the truth. But would it be enough for Anna to feel comfortable?

Should be, Logan decided, as long as he spoke in a straightforward, honest manner. But he couldn't backslide into his...ah...cantankerous frame of mind as a defense when she talked or smiled or, hell, kept herself alive by
breathing
. Saying the right words today might momentarily yank him out of hot water, but they wouldn't fix the root of his issue.

Might be smart, given those considerations, to head for Wyoming in the next few days rather than at the end of the week, as originally planned. The distance of miles would further ease the tension between them, and by the time he returned, he should be better prepared.

Logan exited the car, relieved by his plan, and paused at the front door before pushing it open, readying himself for whatever he might encounter.

But when he stepped over the threshold and scanned the living room, Anna wasn't anywhere to be seen. He checked the kitchen next, only to discover another empty room. She could be napping or... Well, hell. Maybe she had left after all. Lola might have driven over here in her SUV and hauled Anna and her belongings to her house.

Tossing his keys on the counter, Logan strode to Anna's room. Her door was closed, so he swung it open without bothering to knock. Nope, she wasn't there. But her clothes, her books, the ridiculously huge stack of pillows on her bed all were.

The tightness in his chest loosened. By all appearances, she really had stuck by her word.

So, where the hell was she? Not the bathroom or the living room or the kitchen. Not in the backyard or the garage. That left...only a single place she
could
be. His bedroom.

A rush of energy drove him down the hallway, straight to the end where his bedroom was located. His door was open, which was just how he'd left it, and the light was still off. Even so, he pushed himself all the way into the room, and...whatever coherent thoughts he still had clanked and banged together, before dissolving into nothingness.

Anna was stretched out on his bed—his
bed
!—her warm, golden-hued hair long and loose and framing her face like a...a...damn billowy cloud. A sheer pink garment—a... He didn't have the beginnings of a clue as to what to call it—draped her body in a sheath of sensual, soft silk that did not leave much to the imagination.

And this vision of Anna, in that getup, and prone on
his
bed, stole his breath.

Because whatever it was she wore—be it a nightgown or a sarong or a sundress of sorts—left her shoulders and arms bare in all their cream-kissed glory, and the skirt of the whatchamacallit was hiked a delicious, seductive two full inches above her knees, displaying long, slender legs and cherry-red-painted toes. It did not matter that the rest of her body was covered, because the gauzy, slippery fabric clung like glue to her curves, dipped suggestively between her breasts and was about as see-through as a pane of glass.

And Logan was lost in an ocean of primal need, hungry desire and desperate want. He was also, quite seriously and quite completely, flummoxed.

He attempted the rather simple action of speaking her name—it was just one word, for crying out loud—and found his ability to talk highly compromised. What erupted from his mouth came straight from his gut and sounded closer to a caveman's growl than an actual two-syllable name. He tried again with similar results. Well, hell.