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Authors: Marcia Evanick
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the best friend I ever had."
"I seem to be apologizing to you a lot today. I’m sorry. I won’t question your friendship with Josh again." He saw her guarded expression and pulled up a cellophane package of Ding Dongs. "Am I forgiven?"
"Maybe."
"For two chocolate cakes surrounding a heap of delicious cream all covered with dark chocolate, I need a definite answer."
"Yes, providing I get to ask the next question." He smiled graciously and handed her the package and another sarsaparilla. "Sure. I have all my own teeth, stopped believing in Santa Claus by the time I was ten, and flunked my driver’s test the first two times. I’m allergic to asparagus, deplore horror movies, and my favorite color is yellow. I love my job, can’t spell worth a damn, and my checkbook’s never balanced. I’ve never married, but I once lived with a girl during college. I don’t believe in ironing, ESP, or that we will one day balance the national budget. Did any of that answer any of your questions?"
A mischievous smile touched her lips as she shook her head. "No. I was just curious if you always wore such interesting shorts."
Startled, he asked, "My shorts?"
"Yeah, you know, those cute boxers. I especially like the green ones with the light bulbs all over them."
"How in the hell would you know what my shorts look like?"
Her voice was all innocence. "I did the wash this morning."
Logan willed back his embarrassment. He was a thirty-four-year-old man and the subject of his shorts shouldn’t cause him to blush like a schoolboy. "I thought Ruth was the housekeeper."
"She is, but I do all the laundry."
"Why?"
"The machine is very temperamental. It only listens to me. The two times she tried to wash a load catastrophe struck."
"Catastrophe?"
"The first time the water hose snapped and we ended up with a flood in the laundry room. The second time it wouldn’t rinse the suds out of the clothes."
Logan studied Kelli’s serene expression; something wasn’t right. A housekeeper who didn’t do laundry? A living room that magically cleaned itself? In the two days he had been there, Ruth had baked and cooked meals that Kelli usually wasn’t around for. When it was time for the dishes, Henry or Kelli was always there to lend a helping hand. When his aunt had some free time she was either napping or knitting Kelli another red sweater. But he would get to the bottom of the housekeeper who never kept house later; he decided to answer her original question now. "My shorts are a conversation piece."
Kelli looked at Logan’s earnest expression and burst out laughing. The more she thought about it, the more she laughed. An image of Logan standing there in just his outrageous skivvies didn’t inspire conversation. Lust? Maybe. Wanton desires? Probably. A need for a quiet tête-à-tête? Never! She would be lucky if she could breathe in such a situation. As the laughter subsided she barely choked out, "Do you like to hold conversations while you stand around in your B.V.D.’s?"
He grinned. She had a magical laugh. It held the sweetness of youth, a promise of passion, and the silkiness of seduction. Put it all together and she was arousing him with a laugh. He suddenly shifted position and wondered when he had become a masochist. He suddenly had to hear that laugh again. He held up an imaginary cigar while wiggling his eyebrows in his best Groucho Marx fashion. "Anytime you want, I’ll take off my pants and chat up a storm. Just let me know."
She adored his humor. It said a lot about the man. She wasn’t sure how she would have handled a friendly chat about her undies, but he was handling it marvelously.
Maybe too marvelously. This afternoon she had fallen for his charm and had completely forgotten about being enemies. Distrust and sadness replaced the laughter in her eyes. No sense crying for the moon. As a child she had learned that wishing for unattainable things only made the pain linger. With a sigh of regret she brought their
"I seem to be apologizing to you a lot today. I’m sorry. I won’t question your friendship with Josh again." He saw her guarded expression and pulled up a cellophane package of Ding Dongs. "Am I forgiven?"
"Maybe."
"For two chocolate cakes surrounding a heap of delicious cream all covered with dark chocolate, I need a definite answer."
"Yes, providing I get to ask the next question." He smiled graciously and handed her the package and another sarsaparilla. "Sure. I have all my own teeth, stopped believing in Santa Claus by the time I was ten, and flunked my driver’s test the first two times. I’m allergic to asparagus, deplore horror movies, and my favorite color is yellow. I love my job, can’t spell worth a damn, and my checkbook’s never balanced. I’ve never married, but I once lived with a girl during college. I don’t believe in ironing, ESP, or that we will one day balance the national budget. Did any of that answer any of your questions?"
A mischievous smile touched her lips as she shook her head. "No. I was just curious if you always wore such interesting shorts."
Startled, he asked, "My shorts?"
"Yeah, you know, those cute boxers. I especially like the green ones with the light bulbs all over them."
"How in the hell would you know what my shorts look like?"
Her voice was all innocence. "I did the wash this morning."
Logan willed back his embarrassment. He was a thirty-four-year-old man and the subject of his shorts shouldn’t cause him to blush like a schoolboy. "I thought Ruth was the housekeeper."
"She is, but I do all the laundry."
"Why?"
"The machine is very temperamental. It only listens to me. The two times she tried to wash a load catastrophe struck."
"Catastrophe?"
"The first time the water hose snapped and we ended up with a flood in the laundry room. The second time it wouldn’t rinse the suds out of the clothes."
Logan studied Kelli’s serene expression; something wasn’t right. A housekeeper who didn’t do laundry? A living room that magically cleaned itself? In the two days he had been there, Ruth had baked and cooked meals that Kelli usually wasn’t around for. When it was time for the dishes, Henry or Kelli was always there to lend a helping hand. When his aunt had some free time she was either napping or knitting Kelli another red sweater. But he would get to the bottom of the housekeeper who never kept house later; he decided to answer her original question now. "My shorts are a conversation piece."
Kelli looked at Logan’s earnest expression and burst out laughing. The more she thought about it, the more she laughed. An image of Logan standing there in just his outrageous skivvies didn’t inspire conversation. Lust? Maybe. Wanton desires? Probably. A need for a quiet tête-à-tête? Never! She would be lucky if she could breathe in such a situation. As the laughter subsided she barely choked out, "Do you like to hold conversations while you stand around in your B.V.D.’s?"
He grinned. She had a magical laugh. It held the sweetness of youth, a promise of passion, and the silkiness of seduction. Put it all together and she was arousing him with a laugh. He suddenly shifted position and wondered when he had become a masochist. He suddenly had to hear that laugh again. He held up an imaginary cigar while wiggling his eyebrows in his best Groucho Marx fashion. "Anytime you want, I’ll take off my pants and chat up a storm. Just let me know."
She adored his humor. It said a lot about the man. She wasn’t sure how she would have handled a friendly chat about her undies, but he was handling it marvelously.
Maybe too marvelously. This afternoon she had fallen for his charm and had completely forgotten about being enemies. Distrust and sadness replaced the laughter in her eyes. No sense crying for the moon. As a child she had learned that wishing for unattainable things only made the pain linger. With a sigh of regret she brought their
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