Page 30 of Alone With You
“Need some time to find a new rhythm?”
“John,” Logan said, like a warning.
“And here I am, showing up in the middle of all this, Mr. Sunshine.”
“Not good timing.”
“So you want me to march out that door and go back to my wife and child and leave you and Dr. Vance to figure out—”
“That won’t be necessary, Professor Springfield.”
Logan looked up to see Jenny standing in the doorframe. She wore a bathrobe of heavy silk that covered her from neck to ankle. A glow lit her cheeks – a silent flush of embarrassment, Logan figured—but she held her chin level, despite the tousled hair he’d mussed with his own fingers.
She said, “It’s good to see you again.” She stepped into the kitchen and held out her hand.
“What’s this ‘professor’ stuff? You always call me John.” He shot to his feet, leaned across the table, and shook her outstretched hand. “No matter what the circumstances.”
She managed a Sphinx-like smile as she stepped back into the doorframe. “Even these odd ones.”
Logan forced himself to breathe, wondering how he ever thought Jenny was cold and distant, when the act was so clearly a shield, and a brittle one at best, guarding the secrets of a woman who knew what she wanted.
“My apologies about all this,” John said, with a dip of his head. “I should have called first.”
“Nonsense.” She tightened the sash of her bathrobe. “This is your cabin, after all.”
“Not right now it isn’t.” John’s blue eyes danced with humor. “I’ll pass on the coffee, Logan. I’ll head back and leave you to your privacy.”
“Professor—John. Please don’t go.” Logan watched a blotchy flush deepen on her throat. “There’s no use leaving just because my lingerie is decorating the bedroom.”
Logan blinked, not quite believing his ears. John appeared to choke on his own tongue.
“Logan and I,” she continued, with a flick of a glance, “can keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours. Am I right, Logan?”
A surge of electricity passed between them so hard he expected the light bulbs in the ceiling to explode. A few hours? He wanted her now, wanted to tear that satin bathrobe off her as he tore her skirt off her last night. He wanted to burrow his head between her freckled thighs. He stared, lost in a kaleidoscope of fantasy, until he realized that she was expecting him to say something, and John’s ears were all perked in the silent room, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember what she’d asked and how he was supposed to answer.
“Stay for lunch, at least,” she said, looking away from Logan as her throat glowed pink. “Logan can grill burgers.”
John glanced at Logan, seeking guidance, but Logan’s tongue had been stolen by Jenny’s ease.
“Besides,” she continued, drawing John’s attention back to her, “While you’re here, I’d like to show you some of the results from the tests I’ve been running on the honeysuckle.”
John perked up, his mind shifting gears. “Find anything of note?”
“Potentially,” she hedged. “I’ll be happy to show you later, but first I’ve got to…” She waved vaguely back to the bedroom, and Logan saw the brittle shield of control quiver a little, before she forced it still. “Let’s talk about the results when I’m wearing real clothes.”
“O-okay,” John stuttered. “That would be…great.”
She nodded to the coffeepot, her gaze on Logan like a flickering flame. “Is there enough in there for me?”
“Plenty.”
She nodded and turned. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Then she was gone.
John let out a slow, long whistle the moment he heard the bedroom door close. “Did that just happen?”
Logan exhaled. He wasn’t sure what the hell just happened, either.
“I walk in her to find out you’re involved with Dr. Jenny Vance, tenured professor, working wonder, and lo and behold out of the bedroom strides a Titian love-goddess.”
