Ineligible Bachelor (17 page)

Time stopped. Breathing stopped. Her heart stopped.

But she didn’t stop him from kissing her and didn’t want to.

She began to slide down the tub, so she wrapped her arms around Logan’s neck, closed her eyes, and held on as though her life depended on it.

He reacted to her by wrapping his arms around her waist and somehow pulling both of them to their feet. For a moment, her wet feet slipped against the side of the marble tub, but he shifted one arm, scooping her out of the tub before sliding her down the length of his body until her feet touched the thick bathroom rug.

And all without breaking contact with her mouth.

“Freddy,” her name was no more than a rush of breath as his hands glided down her back to the bare skin above her bathing suit near her waist. Behind them, the water in the jetted tub churned. He dropped his hand a little lower, just to the soft curve of her backside, and pulled her closer to him. “Am I hurting you? With your sunburn, I mean?” he whispered against her lips.

“What sunburn?” she whispered back against his lips.

He feathered her cheek with kisses. “I guess my mom’s cure worked.”

“Remind me to thank her next time I see her.”

Her head spun as he trailed little kisses down her cheek to her neck. Her ability to think dulled with each touch of his lips.

She barely heard the knock on the door to her suite before the voice. “Ms. McAllister, Roberto wanted the doctor to check on your sunburn.”

She put her hands on Logan’s chest and pushed him back. “It’s Annie. Quick, hide.”

A soft moan of disappointment caught in Logan’s throat. He stilled his hands and eased up the pressure against her body. “Annie sure has crappy timing.” He looked over her shoulder toward the doorway. “And you want me to hide.”

“Do you really want someone from the production crew to find you here?”

“It would definitely make things interesting.” A rumble of laughter vibrated in his chest. He spun, taking her with him and trapping the back of her calves against the spa tub. “With me blocking the view from the door, someone with the right camera angle might think you have no clothes on right now. Does that sound familiar?”

She had to laugh with him. “I know I may deserve it, but as you said, crappy timing. Worry about hiding first, payback later.”

He smiled just long enough to let her know hiding wouldn’t be his first choice. “Okay. There’ll be plenty of time to discuss revenge later. But before I go all stealth and things, I’m more interested in this.”

Before she could say a word, he helped himself to another slow, hot kiss. Everything, including her ability to think, came to a screeching halt. The only thing for her to do was kiss him back.

“I guess maybe the game is on us,” Logan whispered against her lips.

“We’re not in it, Logan.” Her heart thudded against her rib cage. Was all his attention real or just part of a script written to get higher ratings? When one show ended and the trailer for the next show aired, was Logan just giving good TV? One more kiss from him and she would breach a very precise—and so far seemingly ironclad—contract she freely signed. To accept what came with it if she did, she needed to be sure his kisses were real and not part of the production.

The knocking began again. “Ms. McAllister, are you all right?”

Freddy pulled back. “I’ll be right there.” She looked into Logan’s eyes. “Logan, kissing is probably not a good idea right now.”

His answer came in the nibbling she felt on her neck. The ability to make him stop slipped from her grasp with each touch of his lips. “But it could be about time,” he said with a tilt of his head.

More kisses burned a trail across her throat. She could feel the heat of his body wherever he touched her, but she forced her brain into gear when the knocking started a third time. She pushed him away, this time with enough force to let him know she meant it.

“On my way,” she called out. “And you,” she pointed at Logan. “Out of sight and quiet until I tell you the coast is clear.”

Logan sat down near the rack of shoes at the back of the dressing room. He could hear Freddy talking to Annie and the doctor she brought with her in the other room. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying to each other unless he got closer to the door. So he’d wait. He had no choice.

He picked up a strappy black shoe with a three-inch heel and twirled it around his forefinger. How did women walk in something like this anyway? Mesmerized, he slowed it to a lazy circle, wondering how the spiky heel might complement Freddy’s long leg
when she wore it. He stopped the shoe’s orbit and held it as though it were Cinderella’s glass slipper. He pictured the delicately arched foot encased in the leather, leading to a softly curved calf and a silk-draped thigh. The picture in his mind’s eye amplified as he continued to stare at the shoe.

A smile curved his lips and he rose from the floor as silently as he could. He was having the start of a pleasant fantasy, so why not go with it?

He ran his fingers over the clothes hanging from padded hangers until he came to a rack of gowns. There he flattened his palm and slid it like a caress across each one until he found the one that felt like liquid to him. He reached up and freed it from the rack.

When he hung it on the dressing hook near the full-length mirror, it swirled like a mist before settling like the first falling of pure white snow in winter. He set the shoes under it, noticing for the first time tiny rhinestones dotting the strap that crossed the arch of the shoe.

He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, now picturing the dress flowing down around Freddy, the fabric settling onto her perfect curves. He could almost see the rhinestone strap of the heels arching across her foot as she walked toward him, the dress flowing around her body, accenting her thighs and the curve of her hip.

So intent, he never heard Freddy come back into the dressing room.

“Having so much fun with reality TV that you’re thinking of getting cast in
Project Runway
next?” he heard her say.

“No. Being followed by cameras and miked for most of the day isn’t that much fun. I thought I’d help you out.”

“How so?” she asked, circling to face him.

“I found the perfect dress to go best with sunburn for tonight’s elimination.” He ran his hand across the pale fabric. “I don’t think this material will hurt too much.”

He watched her touch the delicate fabric and felt an instant pang of jealousy, wanting to feel her fingers across his skin the way they moved across the dress. He gave his head a small shake, stupefied by his reaction to the one simple gesture.

“It is soft enough,” she agreed. “And strapless.” She laughed. “And white doesn’t clash with red.”

“Speaking of which,” he said, cutting his gaze to her shoulders, “you seem to be fading from bright red to a nice rosy glow.”

She extended her arms and examined the color. “The doctor says I may get redder, but I think your mom’s remedy worked. I feel much better. He gave me some cream to put on and told me to wear loose clothing for a while.” She looked at the dress. “That qualifies.”

“You’re coming to elimination then?”

She nodded. “Have you seen the script?”

He blew out a long breath of air. “Wouldn’t reality TV fans be surprised to know that these episodes are scripted?”

“Some maybe.”

She seemed anxious for some reason, and he guessed it wasn’t because of her sunburn. “What’s wrong?”

“Not counting having to do this show?”

“Not counting that.”

“Then nothing.”

“Okay, then what’s wrong with the script?”

“For you, it’s great.”

“And for you?”

She hesitated. “It kind of suggests you have to kiss your date.”

“How does it suggest that?”

“Red letters—
Logan kisses bachelorette
.”

“That’s a little more than a suggestion, Freddy.”

She held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Maybe a little.”

“Maybe I don’t want to kiss any of the bachelorettes.”

The tone of his voice made her laugh. “I can’t believe we are having this conversation.”

Then he laughed. “It is kind of funny.”

“Maybe an on-screen kiss, complete with a script and production crew, isn’t worth a Nielsen share of 9.5.”

He felt a slow smile curve his mouth. “What do you think is worth it?”

He saw her eyes soften before she lowered her chin and looked at the floor while she thought about his question. Lordy, she did look beautiful, even with the creamy white skin he’d come to know over the last few weeks looking as red as a lobster. He couldn’t deny it any longer, something had changed between them. He didn’t think of her as merely a friend any longer. He thought of her as someone much more important. When she looked back into his eyes, he knew he had been right. A look of something more than friendship lived there now.

She shrugged her answer. “Kissing shouldn’t be a viewing option. It should be reserved for a time you believe in, when you want to hold on to the moment in spite of everything,” she told him. “Kissing is something special between two people and for times so deep inside you that nothing could ever dislodge the moment from your heart.”

As lightly as he could, he put his hands on her arms just above her elbows and pulled her closer to him. “Do you have a moment like that inside your heart?”

“I do,” she whispered.

“Can you tell me?”

Again, emotion raced around in her eyes. “No, I can’t.”

His gaze searched her face. “You can tell me anything.” He tunneled his hands in her hair and urged her face closer to his.

He felt her heart hammering against his chest when she spoke. “Not this.” Her eyes seemed dark now. Her cheeks flushed as her breath came in tight puffs that matched his own breathing.

He pulled her the last inch into his body. “It’s us, isn’t it?” he whispered into her ear.

She closed her eyes just before he kissed her and said, “No.”

The word kicked him in the chest, but her kiss back told him that she had lied. He matched the want he felt behind her lips with every ounce of passion he could muster, hugging her into him. She’d tell him the truth, he vowed, even if it meant kissing her silly until she did.

He felt her hands splay across his chest in a gentle massage and then hesitate. Lips still on his, she opened her eyes and pressed him back.

He just stood there looking at her. He couldn’t move. He had a feeling the next few minutes were going to be really important.

Freddy opened her mouth and then closed it again. Not because words eluded her, but for fear of what might come out. She stepped away from him, each saying nothing for the moment.

“Now tell me the truth,” he urged her.

Thankfully, before she could babble out something she hoped was benign, Logan’s cell phone rang. He put his hand on his pants pocket but didn’t make a definitive move to answer it.

“You should take that.”

“It will break the mood.”

She smiled. “It already has.”

Logan nodded. “We’ll continue this later.” He turned and dug out the cell phone from his pocket. She walked away from him as he answered.

Mesmerized, she watched him. Even dressed casually, in a white T-shirt and jeans, he looked like a man in the prime of his life: successful, driven, ready to take on anything cast at him. Her chest tightened in a lovely sensation of awe and wonder. Logan Gabriel with his endearing wit, talent, creativity, and willingness to give up a few weeks of his life to save a woman’s reputation was simply the most attractive and alluring man she’d ever met.

She knew he was special when, at twelve, she started noticing boys in more than a casual way, Logan especially. As they shared
their teenage years, she watched his innate sexuality emerge along with everything that comes with one’s developing maturity. When she was finally ready to admit the feelings she had for him, it turned out to be too late to do anything about it. They’d become like family.

Over the next few years, they flirted a little and actually thought about dating once, but she always held back, blowing every opportunity to try to move from friend to girlfriend. The thought of stepping aside and handing him over to another woman squeezed her chest, wringing the life out of her with the impossible predicament she caused. Couple that with the fact that she loved him, completely and, maybe, foolishly, and she had no idea how she continued to breathe.