Summer Magic (16 page)

“Perhaps I’m in love with you.”

Her heart lurched in her chest. “Perhaps?”

“Just perhaps,” he repeated glibly while winking and flashing a teasing smile.

Perhaps
, she repeated over and over to herself until the boat bumped against the sandy shore of the tiny island measuring less than a mile in width.

Logan pulled the oars into the boat and jumped out. He hauled it up on the beach, then extended his hand to assist Caryn as she attempted to disembark with the puppy cradled under one arm and a blanket under the other.

She noticed they weren’t the only ones who had decided to picnic on the island. A couple lay facedown on a blanket completely nude, while a quartet less than ten feet away were racing for the water wearing the tiniest swimwear she’d ever seen on a man or woman.

After looping a leash around Domino’s neck, Caryn looked up and saw Logan coming toward her, carrying the wicker basket packed with chilled salads from Addie’s and a colorful striped beach umbrella.

His gaze wandered over the nude couple and he shook
his head. “I prefer a different view if I’m going to eat,” he whispered, smiling.

“So would I,” she concurred.

They walked several hundred yards and found a spot to their liking. Caryn spread out the blanket while Logan set up the umbrella. He opened the large basket and withdrew a dish wrapped in plastic for Domino and filled it with chilled bottled water. The dog lapped up the water, then sank down on a corner of the blanket, yawned, then closed its eyes. Within minutes they heard a soft snoring.

Caryn removed her cap, fluffed up her shortened hair with her fingers, and sank down to the blanket. A cooling breeze swept under the umbrella as she rolled over on her belly and rested her head on folded arms. Logan eased his tall frame to the blanket, his face close to hers. He’d removed his cap and she stared at the shimmer of moisture clinging to the strands of his short, coarse, black hair.

Reaching out, she pulled several strands with her fingertips, realizing for the first time there was no indication of a curl. “Why do you wear your hair so short?”

His eyes widened slightly before he closed them, shutting out her questioning stare. “The longer it grows, the more stubbly it gets.”

“It won’t lie down or curl?”

He shook his head, opening his eyes. “Any more questions?”

Her mouth gaped, then snapped shut. “Are you telling me to mind my business?”

Rising on an elbow, his free hand touched her cheek. “Not at all. I’d never say that to you.”

“Touché, Logan.” She remembered telling him to mind his business when he’d asked her about her ex-husband.

Logan’s forefinger toyed with the diamond stud earring in her pierced lobe. “After I thought about it, I realized I had no right to pry into your private life. Just because we’re sleeping together that doesn’t permit either one of us carte blanche to know the other’s personal secrets.”

Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to his and brushed her lips across his mouth. “Thank you for understanding. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you about Tom, it’s just that I can’t. Not now.”

The fingers of his right hand curved around the back of her head as he increased the pressure of her mouth on his. “It’s okay,” he crooned between soft, nibbling kisses. “Everything is going to work out between us.”

I pray you’re right
, she mused, giving into the drugging power of his potent mouth.

They spent more than five hours on the tiny island, napping, dining on the chilled-packed dishes purchased from Addie’s, and reading aloud to each other from the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe. Caryn lay, eyes closed, listening intently as Logan read “The Raven” and “Annabel Lee,” his sonorous voice rising and falling with the striking musical imagery of the popular poems.

The lazy, hazy summer day also affected Domino, he preferring to yawn, stretch, and doze to running around and exploring his new surroundings. The most energy he expended all afternoon was to climb up on Caryn’s back and promptly fall asleep.

She stared at a stunned Logan, spreading her hands outward. “I did nothing to elicit this,” she protested, pointing over her shoulder.

He mumbled a four-letter expletive under his breath, then apologized. “I’m sorry, Caryn. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Yes, you did, Logan Prescott. And don’t blame me for your pet’s behavior.”

“I’m not blaming you. The animal’s hopeless.”

“And don’t call him an animal. He’s not a wild creature who roams the woods eating carrion.”

Logan forced back a smile. “Now that he’s a certified mush, I suppose you’re going to train him to bite me.”

“Never,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

His laughter bubbled up and out, the sound full and rich. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

Caryn wanted to say,
just love us
, but didn’t. She flashed him a sensual smile that made his heart turn over in anticipation. It had been days since he’d made love to her, and not only did he want her but he also needed her.

Chapter Sixteen

Logan walked into Caryn’s bedroom at the same time as she made her way out of the adjoining bathroom, one towel wrapped around her head and another over her breasts.

She knew he’d showered and shaved because she could smell the natural odor of his skin mingling with the fragrance of a scented soap and matching aftershave.

Taking long, determined strides, he closed the distance between them and swept her up in his arms. She opened her mouth to tell him she still had to moisturize her body, but the words were swallowed back once he covered her mouth with his, robbing her of her breath.

Clinging to his neck, she trembled as she felt the rapid pumping of his heart against her bare breasts. She did not have to glance down to see whether he was aroused because she knew he was.

Their mouths still joined, he took her to his bedroom and placed her on the bed, his body covering hers, and she welcoming his weight. It was later, much later, that Caryn remembered what had occurred between them.

He’d removed the towels, then his mouth and tongue
were everywhere: tracing the outline of her lips, in her ears, along the column of her throat, over her breasts, under her arms, and up her inner thigh. She wasn’t given an opportunity to recover from one shock before she was assailed with another.

His tongue searched and teased the nodule of flesh at the apex of her thighs, eliciting heat and chills at the same time. Reaching down, she tried pushing at his head, but he caught her wrists between his long, strong fingers and held her fast while he feasted on her throbbing flesh.

Arching, she was unable to stop the soft moans escaping her parted lips. The moans slipped into groans, then into a keening that rose and held like a sustained note.

Her entire body was on fire, throbbing with a desire akin to pain if she didn’t release it. “Logan. Oh, Logan. Please, Logan.” His name became her mantra as she pleaded for release.

Logan heard her entreaty. He moved up her body and reached for the plastic pouch on the bedside table. Seconds later he moved over her trembling form, staring down at the passion dilating her pupils and erasing all traces of gold from her eyes. Easing his hardness into her body, he gasped audibly from the exquisite pleasure of becoming one with Caryn as she closed her eyes.

Pressing his greater weight down on her slender body, he whispered roughly in her ear. “Are we still friends, sweetheart?” he taunted, punctuating each word with a strong thrust. Opening her eyes, Caryn stared up at him as if she’d never seen him. “Do friends do this to each other?” he whispered, quickening his thrusting and rolling his hips heavily against hers. “Do they?” he continued.

Curving her arms around his neck, she buried her face against his shoulder and mumbled a quivering, “No.”

The single word broke the dam, and a torrent of passions rained down like the fury of an erupting volcano. A rising desire swept them up, buffeted them sideways, then took them on a ride of free fall before they were shattered into
minute particles where they collapsed in a flood tide of complete and utter sexual fulfillment.

Logan went still, savoring the lingering pulsing aftermath of completion as he counted the thundering beats of his heart slamming against his ribs. For a brief moment he had experienced
le petit mort
—the little death—in the arms of the woman he had come to love above all others.

His body quieted and it was then he felt her trembling. Withdrawing from the warmth of her soft body, he reversed their positions and held her gently.

Caryn bit down hard on her lower lip, fighting back tears. Curling into a fetal position atop Logan’s sweat-drenched body, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Hamilton and Cynthia were waiting for them as they maneuvered alongside their shiny black Mercedes sedan with Pennsylvania plates on the sand-littered driveway. Caryn waved, flashing a grin as she waited for Logan to circle the Jeep and help her down, while Domino barked excitedly when he recognized the two people who had shared his domicile a week ago.

Logan swung Caryn to her feet, then unloosened the leash around the roll bar, releasing Domino.

Cynthia moved forward to greet her guests, her hair swept up in a ponytail and making her appear much younger than thirty-five.

She kissed Caryn’s cheek, then offered her lips to Logan. “I’m glad to see you’re both wearing deck shoes.”

Logan held her at arm’s length. “Where are we going?”

“Sailing,” Hamilton, announced, extending his hand to Logan.

He took the proffered hand as a wide grin softened his features. “For how long?”

“How long do you guys want to stay?”

Logan glanced down at Caryn, shrugging his shoulders. She raised her eyebrows and lifted her own shoulders. “Caryn and I packed enough clothes for three or four days.”

Hamilton dropped an arm around Caryn’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You won’t need clothes if you brought bathing suits.”

Logan’s gaze narrowed as he stared at Hamilton, then Cynthia. “How long a sailing trip have you planned for, and where are we going?”

“Sunny Puerto Rico,” Cynthia announced, rolling her
r
’s. “We’ll sail down, take in some nightlife, then come home.”

Caryn turned to Logan, her eyes wide. “I didn’t pack clothes for—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said softly, interrupting her. “I’ll buy us what we’ll need once we dock.”

Letting out her breath, she nodded. She thought they were going to spend a few days on Gooseneck Island, but instead she was sailing to Puerto Rico with the Wheatons, Logan, and Domino.

Cynthia moved closer to Caryn and looped her arm around her waist. “I wanted to tell you what Ham and I had planned, but we wanted it to be a surprise.”

Caryn smiled at the taller woman. “And it’s a very nice surprise.”

“A driver will be here any minute to take us to the marina. When I found out that I was pregnant, Ham and I decided to take a month off and celebrate. It’s been a long time since we’ve taken a
real
vacation, and having you and Raven along will make it special.”

The sound of an engine garnered everyone’s attention, and within minutes a man maneuvered a classic, wood-paneled station wagon behind the other two vehicles.

Caryn and Cynthia sat on a row of seats in the back of the station wagon, while Hamilton and Logan helped the driver store their luggage in the cargo area. The entire process took less than five minutes. Domino jumped into the car, turned around several times, then settled himself between Caryn’s feet. Scratching the puppy behind his ears, she smiled at Logan as he sat down beside her, noticing the beginnings of a grin as he shook his head and drew his finger across his throat in a slicing motion.

Tilting her chin, she gave him a haughty look, then glanced out the window as the car backed out of the driveway. Her pulse quickened in anticipation of sailing down to the Caribbean with Logan. She never would’ve imagined when she first stepped foot onto Marble Island she would
share the house with a man—a man she had fallen in love with; a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Caryn lay on a canopy-covered deck chair of the
Maggie E
, closing her eyes. After boarding the yacht, she was shown to a cabin where she quickly changed into a swimsuit before returning to the deck. The overhead sky was cloudless, the sun brilliant, and a rising sea breeze cooled her exposed flesh at measured intervals.

The
Maggie E
was a magnificent gleaming white seventy-five-foot sailing vessel which boasted a polished teakwood deck that was as soft to her bare feet as absorbent cotton. The highly trained crew of three were friendly, silent, and amazingly imperceptible.

Logan and Hamilton hadn’t changed, but leaned against the railing talking animatedly with each other while Domino found a shady area and had settled down to sleep. Cynthia crossed the deck and lay on a matching deck chair next to Caryn’s. She had also changed into a swimsuit, but had added a lightweight, long-sleeve blouse to prevent her fair skin from burning. The form-fitting swimsuit accented her thickening waist, and it was the first time Caryn saw her as a pregnant woman.

“Is this not the life?” Cynthia questioned with a wide smile.

Caryn nodded while inhaling a lungful of sea air. “It’s incredible.”

“I love this ship,” Cynthia continued. “Ham’s dad bought it for his wife for their forty-fifth wedding anniversary. Her name is Margaret Elizabeth, but she insists everyone call her Maggie E.”

Turning her head, Caryn stared at Cynthia from behind the lenses of her sunglasses. “It’s nice to have that kind of money.”

“And you’d better believe the Wheatons have loads of money. They’re descendants of one of Connecticut’s founding families who had made their money by shipping
goods between here and Europe before expanding into marine insurance and investment banking. It took them a long time to accept me, but now that I’m carrying a Wheaton things have changed.”

Caryn sat up, noticing the frown between Cynthia’s eyes. “Are you saying they didn’t want you to marry Ham?”

“They loathed me on sight.”

“But why?”

“Because they were rich, very smart, and were able to see what so many others hadn’t been able to discern up to that point. Before I married Ham, I was Cynthia Jones from Evansville, West Virginia—population three hundred thirty-four. Even before they closed the coal mines, I doubted whether the population was ever more than five hundred. I was the sixth of eight children of Jimmy and Patty Ann Jones.”

“But you don’t sound as if you’re from West Virginia.”

“You forget I’m a trained actress.
A very good actress
,” she said, stressing each word. “I hated Evansville, the coal dust, and I hated having to share a bed with three of my brothers and sisters. All I ever dreamed of was getting out. And I figured out at a very early age that I had three things going for me. I had a quick mind, long legs, and I had inherited good teeth. Perfect assets for an actress.

“Once I realized I had a photographic memory, I used it to my best advantage. I studied very hard, graduated valedictorian, and received a full scholarship to Yale for the dramatic arts. The moment I arrived on campus, I knew I was different. Everyone was polite, but so Ivy League. Whenever I opened my mouth to speak, anyone who heard me stopped and stared. It was then I began my metamorphosis.

“I waited tables to earn extra money and instead of using the money for clothes or to take in a movie I gave it to a voice coach. My roommate was a gorgeous black girl from New York, whose mother had been a model. I watched her style her hair and put on her makeup and asked her if she would teach me. Within three months I’d
lost the West Virginia twang, changed my hairstyle, and learned to apply makeup like a professional.”

“What about clothes?” Caryn asked, totally engrossed in Cynthia’s Cinderella story.

“My mother taught all of her daughters to sew, which came in handy once I bought a secondhand portable sewing machine. I made a lot of my clothes, and every once in a while I’d make something for my roommate, Vivienne. She had tons of beautiful clothes, but she was gracious and always wore what I’d made for her.

“We became very close, and when she began dating Logan Prescott she asked me to double date with his friend, H. Hamilton Wheaton II. I later found out the
H
stood for Hiram. Ham’s father is also named Hiram, and they called Ham by his middle name to distinguish between the two. Our first date was a disaster.”

“What happened?”

“I wouldn’t listen to Vivienne when she told me that I was overdressed. The guys were supposed to take us to an upscale restaurant in New Haven, and I wanted to make a good impression but ended up looking like a five-dollar painted hooker on New Year’s Eve. I had on a pair of high heels and a dress that was better suited for a dance club, while Vivienne wore a simple wool wrap skirt with a matching bolero jacket and a white silk blouse with a jewel neckline. I took one look at Ham and Logan with their tailored slacks, sports jackets, and ties, and started bawling like a trapped pig.” Cynthia laughed, recalling the events that followed, and to her surprise Caryn also laughed.

“What happened after that?” she questioned.

“The guys were so shocked, they just stood there staring at each other. I knew who Ham was because we were both drama majors, but I never thought I’d ever go out with him. One of the more popular freshman guys had agreed to go out with me, while all I could do was cry and ruin my carefully made-up face. Mascara had run down my cheeks and dripped onto my dress. As we would’ve said back in Evansville, I was souping snot.