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
"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
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