brought the wine to you.”
“Perfect.” He held out a hand. “Join me?”
He smiled again. That smile. The one that made her melt.
“Yes,” she said, her own lips curving up. “I’d like that.”
Bailey slipped out of her jeans and shirt, then took his hand and stepped into the
shower, still in her bra and panties.
“Nice,” he said softly, trailing his finger along the cup’s lacy edge, dipping his
finger under the delicate fabric.
She arched against him. Greedy not just for his clever hands and mouth, but for the
oblivion being with him would bring. The moments of dizzying pleasure, the certainty
that came after.
That he was the man she thought he was. That their fairy tale would have a happy ending.
He pushed her up against the shower wall, hands and mouth everywhere. She shuddered
and gasped, and dragged his mouth up to hers. He lifted her onto him and took her
there, giving her just what she’d longed for.
Oblivion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bailey and Logan lay naked under the sheet, twined together, the ceiling fan circling
lazily above them. She trailed her fingers across his chest, thinking of the way she
had doubted him. The way she had let her imaginings run away with her.
“Tell me about your day, sweetheart.”
As if he had read her mind. She nuzzled his neck. “I spent much of it being ridiculous.”
He tipped his head to see her face. “What does that mean?”
She sat up. “Our wine, I almost forgot.”
She slipped out of bed and crossed to retrieve it.
“Nice view.”
She glanced over her shoulder and struck a pose. “Glad to hear that.”
“Come back here.”
She collected the two glasses and returned to the bed. He sat propped up against pillows,
the sheet puddled in his lap, chest, hip and thigh gloriously exposed.
“I like that view.” She handed him a glass, then crawled in beside him.
“Did you plan anything for dinner?”
She shook her head.
“We could drive into the city?”
“Would that involve putting on clothes?”
“Unfortunately, it would.”
“I could whip up a salad? Or some eggs?”
He made a face. “Faye’s is open for dinner.”
“No, not Faye’s.”
“Because you were already there today?”
She couldn’t hide her shock. “Who told you that?”
“I was joking. Were you there today?”
For a moment, she didn’t respond. His forehead wrinkled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s … wrong.”
“So, you were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I had a BLT. Hardly a crime.”
“I didn’t suggest you being there was a crime. You’re just acting … guilty.”
Her cheeks heated. She was. And why? She had done nothing wrong.
She opened her mouth, then shut it. This was her opportunity. Why was she hesitating?
The longer she did, the stranger she felt about it. And the more uncomfortable he
was becoming. She could see it in his expression.
“I was pulled over today,” she said.
“You got a ticket?” He sounded amused.
“A warning. It was a local cop.”
“Billy Ray Williams.” He said the name flatly, but something dangerous glittered in
his eyes.
“Yes. I … there’s bad blood between the two of you.”
“You could say that.”
She pressed on. “What’s that all about?”
“Ancient history. Did Williams harass you?”
“Why would he?” she asked, the avoidance feeling like a lie.
He didn’t respond and she went on. “I heard something at Faye’s—”
He snorted. “I hope you took it for what it was worth. That place’s a hotbed for local
gossip. And the Abbott family is always a favorite topic.”
She cringed at the bitterness in his tone and wanted to drop the whole thing. Just
go on as if today had never happened.
But she couldn’t do that. “I saw a newspaper. I read about the missing women. Why
didn’t you tell me about them?”
“It didn’t cross my mind.” He turned to fully face her. “That has nothing to do with
us,
“Perfect.” He held out a hand. “Join me?”
He smiled again. That smile. The one that made her melt.
“Yes,” she said, her own lips curving up. “I’d like that.”
Bailey slipped out of her jeans and shirt, then took his hand and stepped into the
shower, still in her bra and panties.
“Nice,” he said softly, trailing his finger along the cup’s lacy edge, dipping his
finger under the delicate fabric.
She arched against him. Greedy not just for his clever hands and mouth, but for the
oblivion being with him would bring. The moments of dizzying pleasure, the certainty
that came after.
That he was the man she thought he was. That their fairy tale would have a happy ending.
He pushed her up against the shower wall, hands and mouth everywhere. She shuddered
and gasped, and dragged his mouth up to hers. He lifted her onto him and took her
there, giving her just what she’d longed for.
Oblivion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bailey and Logan lay naked under the sheet, twined together, the ceiling fan circling
lazily above them. She trailed her fingers across his chest, thinking of the way she
had doubted him. The way she had let her imaginings run away with her.
“Tell me about your day, sweetheart.”
As if he had read her mind. She nuzzled his neck. “I spent much of it being ridiculous.”
He tipped his head to see her face. “What does that mean?”
She sat up. “Our wine, I almost forgot.”
She slipped out of bed and crossed to retrieve it.
“Nice view.”
She glanced over her shoulder and struck a pose. “Glad to hear that.”
“Come back here.”
She collected the two glasses and returned to the bed. He sat propped up against pillows,
the sheet puddled in his lap, chest, hip and thigh gloriously exposed.
“I like that view.” She handed him a glass, then crawled in beside him.
“Did you plan anything for dinner?”
She shook her head.
“We could drive into the city?”
“Would that involve putting on clothes?”
“Unfortunately, it would.”
“I could whip up a salad? Or some eggs?”
He made a face. “Faye’s is open for dinner.”
“No, not Faye’s.”
“Because you were already there today?”
She couldn’t hide her shock. “Who told you that?”
“I was joking. Were you there today?”
For a moment, she didn’t respond. His forehead wrinkled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s … wrong.”
“So, you were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I had a BLT. Hardly a crime.”
“I didn’t suggest you being there was a crime. You’re just acting … guilty.”
Her cheeks heated. She was. And why? She had done nothing wrong.
She opened her mouth, then shut it. This was her opportunity. Why was she hesitating?
The longer she did, the stranger she felt about it. And the more uncomfortable he
was becoming. She could see it in his expression.
“I was pulled over today,” she said.
“You got a ticket?” He sounded amused.
“A warning. It was a local cop.”
“Billy Ray Williams.” He said the name flatly, but something dangerous glittered in
his eyes.
“Yes. I … there’s bad blood between the two of you.”
“You could say that.”
She pressed on. “What’s that all about?”
“Ancient history. Did Williams harass you?”
“Why would he?” she asked, the avoidance feeling like a lie.
He didn’t respond and she went on. “I heard something at Faye’s—”
He snorted. “I hope you took it for what it was worth. That place’s a hotbed for local
gossip. And the Abbott family is always a favorite topic.”
She cringed at the bitterness in his tone and wanted to drop the whole thing. Just
go on as if today had never happened.
But she couldn’t do that. “I saw a newspaper. I read about the missing women. Why
didn’t you tell me about them?”
“It didn’t cross my mind.” He turned to fully face her. “That has nothing to do with
us,
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