He slammed on his brakes, narrowly missing the car ahead of him. Where had that wild idea come from? Once lodged, he couldn’t shake it. She knew the score. Hadn’t one of her friends last night repeated her own vow to be an old lady before she ever considered marriage again?
And there would be no worry about the money. She was loaded if her life-style gave any indication.
He’d never noticed the same man hanging around, so she appeared fancy-free. Why not turn that fancy toward himself? If her intent was to gain his interest, she’d succeeded. He’d pursue her. A few kisses, some shared nights. Nothing permanent, nothing to catch the emotions, just enjoyment of each other’s company.
Chapter Eleven
Emma stood on the edge of the deck feeling the afternoon breeze blow through her hair, gently toss the long skirt she wore. Her arms were a bit pink, as was her forehead, from her afternoon of driving, but she felt glorious. The soft cotton halter-neck dress caressed her skin as the wind blew it capriciously. She glanced down one more time. She didn’t have a halter bra with her and balked at wearing her sister’s. Checking the mirror a half dozen times, she had almost convinced herself it wasn’t noticeable. But she still had doubts.
What was it about living in California that made her so aware of sensations she’d never felt before? The wind caressed like a lover. The sun still bathed her skin with heat, and she felt every movement of the soft cotton. She stretched up her arms as if in worship, reveling in being a woman.
When she heard Logan’s car door, she spun around, heart thumping. She knew she should tell him the truth but during her drive she’d decided to see him one more time. Shehadto. She planned a nice stir-fry, had bought a light white wine.
Of course he may have other plans or just not want to spend an evening with her, but she had to try. She rehearsed her invitation a dozen times. The worst that could happen would be he’d say no.
And there was still Saturday and his friend’s party.
Almost floating across the grass between their homes, she smiled when she first saw him. He held his sports jacket slung over one shoulder. Somewhere on the ride home he’d loosened his tie so it hung lopsided from the open collar. He looked tired. He might want an early night, but he had to eat first.
“Hi,” she called when he reached to unlock his front door.
He looked up, his eyes skimming across her from top to toe. A slow smile built.
“Hi, yourself. What’s up?”
Emma stopped near the path, not trusting herself any closer.
“I thought I’d invite you to share dinner with me, if you don’t have other plans. To pay you back for last night.”
“You don’t owe me for dinner last night,” he said slowly.
The jacket slid off his shoulder and he caught it up in one hand. Leaning casually against the heavy wooden door, he crossed his arms and watched her as she approached.
“It won’t be fancy, just stir-fry. Do you like that?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake in the food.
If he didn’t like Chinese she’d feel too awkward to change the menu just to get him to come to dinner.
“Love it. Give me a few minutes to shower and change and I’ll be right over. Can I bring anything?”
“No. Or maybe a healthy appetite.”
She’d done it. Asked the most exciting man she’d ever seen to dinner and he accepted.
Undoubtedly because he thought her the worldly cosmopolitan Lily, but that didn’t matter. Her daring had paid off. Now if she could think of topics to talk about while they ate.
She should have thought of that before. Now it was too late; her thoughts churned at the fact he was coming, she couldn’t think up a coherent sentence.
Logan walked onto the deck at Lily’s house a half hour later, dressed in pale faded denim pants and a loose pullover shirt with bold black and blue stripes. His hair appeared damp from his shower. She greeted him with a smile. The serenity was a fake. Inside she roiled with conflicting emotions from delight he’d come to fear she’d expose her deception. Or worse, bore him to death.
And shimmering over it all, a physical, sexual attraction that she couldn’t deny no matter how hard she tried.
“I bought some wine, want some?” she offered.
The glasses and bottle sat on the small wooden table between the chaise lounges.
“Sure.”
He poured wine into both glasses and held one to her. When she took it, he touched the edge of his glass to hers. The soft clink sounded friendly in the afternoon sun.
