Mad enough to marry (6 page)

**Really cute," he murmured.

She bhnked again. *'Next you're going to tell me I have a great personality."

Now he did laugh. '*I wouldn't go that far."

**You're up to something, Logan."

He clucked his tongue. "So suspicious."

She shrugged. *'A woman leams it young."

He reaUzed he had her trapped between his body and the kitchen counter. Holding her gaze, he reached out a finger and drew it along the curve of her jaw.

Her eyes narrowed and she held herself still. Oh, but he would swear that stillness cost her. There was a tremor there, rigidly controlled, beneath her flawless golden skin. A quivering reaction to his presence, his touch.

His heart pumped hard against his chest, but he ignored it. This was about what he did to Elena. His gaze dropped to the pulse-beat in her throat. It was fluttering, fast, he thought. Very fast.

**Lx)gan—"

**Logan!" It was his name again, but not in Elena's voice this time. *'Logan!" It echoed through the first floor and then there was a heavy thumping on the stairs. '*Where are you, son?"

Elena instantly twisted away from him. *'Isn't that your father's voice?"

Danm. Just when things with Elena were getting interesting. Logan bent his head and took a calming breath, then another to fortify himself. "Yeah, that's him."

Logan knew why he was here, too. His father didn't take Logan's decision to leave Chase Electronics seriously because Logan had so rarely bucked his father's decisions. It wasn't that he'd been weak, Logan thought, but he had been lazy. He'd taken the

path of least resistance for years, never realizing he was sinking furth^ and further into boredom until he'd finally hit rock-bottom unhappiness.

He could feel Elena's puzzled gaze. "Shouldn't you tell him where you are?"

"Yeah." Logan straightened. "Hiding from him never lasts."

Chapter Four

After four days, Logan wondered if the O'Brien sisters were hiding from him. Living with Elena and Gabby was hke Hving with ghosts. Their scents lingered in the hallway and the soft echoes of their voices sounded late at night and in the still-dark hours of the morning, but he never caught sight of them.

If it wasn't for the Elena-size sweatshirt he'd found on the stair landing one morning he might have believed he'd dreamed up the move-in day, perhaps prompted by the many times he gazed upon Elena in Bed. But any painting-inspired fantasy would surely have her moving in with him —or him moving in her—and the cotton sweatshirt had not only been real, but smelled really good, like that heated-flower perfume that the flesh-and-blood Elena always wore.

Still, when he unlocked the front door of his house about 10:30 on Thursday night, he bUnked a few times before he accepted what his eyes were seeing— Elena slumped on the bottom step, her arms folded over her knees, her head on her arms. Overstuffed grocery bags and other paraphernalia sat at her feet.

*'Elena?" He kept his voice quiet, afraid to startle her.

She mumbled something.

*'Are you all right?" The door snicked shut behind him.

**Mmm." She Ufted her head, her eyes half-mast and her mouth soft. "Promise you won't tell anyone I was drooling?"

It might have to be a mutual vow. Because she looked delectably appealing with her hair mussed and a sleepy half-smile on her face. Too tired to have her defenses up, let alone her claws out, Logan decided. He leaned back against the door, enjoying the moment. Sleeping Beauty barely awake.

'*Long day?" he asked.

She Ufted a hand toward her hair, then dropped it as if the move cost too much effort. '*Yes. You?"

He ran his gaze over her body. She wore a long-sleeved dress of some Ught, silky fabric that was navy blue and scattered with dime-size white polka dots. At a stand, the dress likely ended just above her knees. But her seated position hiked up the hem to reveal a ftill half length of her nylon-encased thighs as well as her knees and calves. She wore sling-back navy pumps—^the only thing his ex-girlfriend had

shopped more for than beauty products was shoes, so he knew the correct term—that had heels three inches high and displayed a distracting amount of toe cleavage.

''Logan?"

Damn. She sounded like she was waking up a little and here he was, getting hard just looking at her feet. Pasting a concerned frown on his face, he pretended he was inspecting the hardwood floor at the bottom of the steps. "Is that a scuff mark or a scratch?" he murmured, striding forward.

As he neared, she drew in her heels and peered over her knees. "I don't see anything."

He let out a sigh. "You're right. Nothing to worry about." Hoping she took the last as a subliminal message, he dropped to the step beside her. There was nothing wrong, nothing to worry about for either one of them, in a little friendly, neighbor-to-neighbor catch-up.

"Where have you been tonight?" she asked.

He lifted the large disposable container he held. "The bachelor bag doesn't give it away?"

"'Bachelor bag'?" Her heavy black lashes slowly swept down, then up.

Shding closer, he tapped her arm with his elbow. "Kinda like a doggie bag, sleepyhead. It's what every pitying mother sends home with her single son after a family dinner."

The comers of her lips quirked. ' 'Ah. And how was your evening with Mr. and Mrs. Chase?"

How to explain his parents and their strange, yet

Strangely contented relationship? Their distant marriage had nearly convinced his brother Griffin that the Chase men were incapable of love. Maybe Logan was partly to blame for that too. After all, he'd stuck with one woman for years out of nothing more than habit and their parents' wishes.

"My evening with Mr. and Mrs. Chase was as all evenings with Mr. and Mrs. Chase. Dad obsessively talked business and didn't listen to anything anyone else said. Mom serenely let Dad talk obsessively about business even while trying to make me feel like I wasn't one of the dining room walls."

''Serene is exactly the way I'd describe your mother," Elena said, nodding. '1 bet she's rock-solid in a crisis."

*'You're right. Every day is a crisis—a business crisis—^for my father and she manages to breeze through it all." He frowned though, thinking that there was something different about his mother lately. Ever since his parents had celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary a couple of months back, Logan had detected a brittleness to Laura Chase's usual equanimity.

But he didn't want to think about that, so he turned to Elena and smiled. "What about you? What's kept you out so late tonight?"

She shrugged. "The usual. Work, a parents' meeting at the high school. Grocery shopping."

"And baby-tending?"

Her cheeks flushed. "I hoped you'd forgotten that."

He didn't think he'd ever forget the sound of that lullaby and the sight of a baby blanket cuddled against her awesome breasts. But it would be a big mistake to hand over such a confession, so he lightly elbowed her again. **What? Afraid I'm going to turn you in for yolk-neglect?"

She reached down to retrieve a tote bag wedged between the groceries and set it on her 1^. *'Yolks happy and accounted for. See?"

The bag yawned open. He leaned over, and sure enough, the eggs' shoebox-crib was perched atop a stack of envelopes and a pile of p^)erwork. His gaze rose to hers, their faces just inches apart. "Yeah. I see."

He saw too that her eyelashes were so thick diat the upper and lower ones tangled at the outside corners of her blue eyes. He saw that the flush hadn't yet receded from her creamy-gold skin. He saw that her tongue was pink and wet when she darted it out of her mouth to nervously lick her bottom lip.

Just like that, the big, three-story house shrank to one step, one woman, one man.

Her perfume, that scent of flowers in paradise, curled around his body, drawing him closer. He remembered he'd intended some friendly, neighbor-to-neighbor catching up and suddenly mouth-to-moufli seemed the logical method to make that happen.

Her pupils expanded. ''No," she said. It was faint.

*'Yes," he repUed. Decisive.

She shook her head.

He was so close to her that the motion sent a lock

of her hair whispering against his cheek. His body clenched, impossibly tight, just with that mere, unintentional caress.

*'I have to get going," Elena said.

He watched her lips form the words, thinking how they would feel moving against his. "After," he said. He lifted the tote bag from her lap, set it aside. Intending to turn her toward him, he circled each of her upper arms.

She jerked.

Then jerked away from him and jumped to her feet. *'I said I have to go."

"Elena..."

Her mouth was set in a stubborn line and her eyes flashed blue fire. "I didn't ask for this."

"Of course, but—"

"I don't want this," she spat out, even more fiercely.

"Fine, but—"

"Is this—" she gestured between them wildly "—^why you're letting me stay here?"

Shocked, he stared at her. "For God's sake, Elena. Tell me you don't believe that."

Instead of answering, she whirled way from him and started snatching her belongings from the floor. Groceries, tote bag, purse, they were all more than an armful and her angry movements hindered the task.

He rose and reached out to help. His hand brushed her shoulder.

"Don't!" she said, latching on to another bag of groceries.

'*Let me help."

But she was in full defense mode. **I don't need any help," she said, an angry, dangerous Ice Queen. Her belongings gathered around her body like armor, she began ascending the stairs. **rm perfectly fine by myself."

The strong words were hardly weakened when she had to make a desperate grab for her sUpping purse.

It hit the floor with a soUd thump and then was joined by a grocery sack. And then another.

Without waiting for her p^mission, he picked all three up. Without looking at her, he headed past her, up the stairs.

'*I can manage. Put those down."

He kept climbing. She was still for another moment, as if flabbergasted that someone would ignore her orders, then he heard her start after him. When they reached her door, she dropped more groceries as she fumbled through her tote bag for her keys.

When he wordlessly reached down for the fallen sacks, he caught her glare. And then found himself glaring right back. **What the hell is the matter with you? Why is it so difficult to accept some simple help?"

She stilled. **I..." Her hand lifted vaguely, then she turned away to put the key in the door. With a jerky movement she unlocked it, pushed it open, then stepped inside.

He followed her, suddenly irritated and very un-wiUing to let the subject go. **It's the same with that insulting crack you made about me letting you stay

here because I wanted something—^you—out of it." The groceries he dropped to the kitchen countertop. He held on to the purse, squeezing it instead of wringing her lovely neck. "I offered to let you stay here because you needed a place to live and I happened to have an empty apartment."

His temper kindhng, he stomped toward the apartment door. "For your information, I don't need to hand out house keys in order to get myself a woman."

*'Are you saying you didn't want me a few minutes ago when we were sitting on the step?" Her voice was icy-hot.

It did not cool him down. He turned to face her. 'I'm sorry. All right? I'm sorry I tried to kiss you."

Her blue eyes flashed. "You heard me say no. Is there something about that word you don't understand?"

The flames of his temper leaped. He didn't remember ever feeling this angry toward a woman. Maybe toward anyone. He knew himself to be even-tempered. Good-natured to a fault.

But right now there was an emotion burning through his blood that was unfamiliar. It made the colors in the room sharper and all his senses more acute.

*T heard what you said," he snapped. He could also hear her drawing air in and out, the rhythm as fast as his own ragged breathing. "But I also knew that your body, your blood, your desire was saying *yes."'

Spots of color lit high on her cheeks. **How dare you presume to know what I want?"

He rolled his eyes. *'Elena, give me a break. I wasn't about to ravish you. A kiss. Just a kiss."

*'A kiss," she repeated. Her breasts were heaving against her dress.

That unfamiliar, unnameable emotion surged in him and his focus tightened on the delectable, furious face of the one woman who'd been his every bad dream and every frustrating fantasy for the past months. **Yes, a kiss. A kiss that if you were honest with yourself you would agree you wanted. From me, Elena, Would that have been so bad? It's not like we're strangers,"

She was frozen for a moment, then her eyes narrowed to shards of blue glass, **No, not strangers," Her hand made a quick, cutting movement. **I know you very well. You're the man who was once the high-and-mighty, heardess boy who asked me to the school prom then stood me up when you decided I wasn't good enough for you."

Logan's lungs were working like a steam engine when he shoved open the door to his ^artment. He started to run his fingers through his hair but then realized he was still clutching Elena's purse.

**Damn it." He kicked the door closed behind him, then tossed the purse onto his couch and headed for the bathroom. He'd have to return her property, of course, but not until he had hold of himself.

Cold tap water filled his cupped palms and then he

dashed it over his face. When that didn't cool him down, he did it again, then stared at his reflection in the mirror over the sink.

What the hell was the matter with him? He looked the same. He looked like Logan Chase, reasonable, rational man. But too long in Elena's presence and he was like a werewolf under a full moon. Ho-o-o-wl.

But it wasn't his fault. She'd been sniping at him for months, getting in quick digs about standing her up at every opportunity. He might have let that go, gritted his teeth and accepted it as his due for the disaster that night became eleven years ago, but he couldn't accept the **not good enough" part.