Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (85 page)

L
ogan took
the world’s fastest shower to rinse off the salt water and sand, then towel-dried his hair and pulled on his nicest cargo shorts and a light blue dress shirt over a white tank-top.

From Tori’s room, he could hear a hair dryer.

He paced around the suite’s living room, telling his gut to stop fluttering like it was full of butterflies. This wasn’t a date. He had zero reason to be excited to see her step out of her room. Zero reason to want to escort her to a restaurant, share a pitcher of rum punch, laugh until their sides hurt and then come back to a hotel room together.

Two rooms, dude.

But as he had ever since tenth grade, Logan found himself waiting with the eagerness of a puppy for Tori to appear.

He used to linger in the library when she had debate club prep. He’d never been a big reader, but that sophomore year, he’d discovered the reference books on engines and aircraft. Submarines and scuba-diving.

His unrelenting desire for another half-hour alone with Tori had also ended up being the trigger for his eventual career in the Navy. He’d read while she did her club thing, and then he’d walk her home. They’d take the long way around the park, sometimes stopping at the swings if they were in the middle of a conversation.

If Tori was talking, he could listen for hours.

And when she was watching him, a little smile curling up at the corner of her mouth as he told her about the intricate ins-and-outs of a helicopter he’d just discovered, he felt like he was ten feet tall.

She’d always made him feel like that. Special. Capable. Heroic.

Her door swung open, and she stepped into the small hallway between their bedrooms.

She was looking down at her feet, adjusting the swinging hem of her dark red sundress, so he had a second to drink in his fill of her. Tan skin, dark hair, and those legs…

I love you
. The punch in the gut wasn’t anything new. If he were a smarter man, he’d avoid it because it was so fucking predictable it hurt.

But it was all he had of her, so he took it every time without even flinching.

She glanced up and smiled, but it took effort. Damn. She looked tired.

“You sure you want to go out?” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“Yeah.” Another smile, this one bigger. “I want to make every single second of this vacation count. My new life starts right now.”

“That’s my girl.” He held out his hand and she slid her fingers around his, giving them a little squeeze as she stepped right into his personal space.

“Thank you,” she whispered, pushing up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”

* * *

H
e was the worst
, in fact.

Dinner had been great. There was a well-signed path that ran from the resort to the edge of town, half a mile away, and there they found an awesome bar, right on the ocean, that made a mean rum punch and an awesome, simple grilled fish dinner.

Then there had been dancing. First, Tori danced with a couple of friendly local men, then she’d pulled Logan onto the dance floor.

Thank you, rum punch.

But this was what he’d signed up for—a week of Tori cutting loose in dresses that showed off her legs and bikinis that showed off everything else. A week where he had one job—not to think of those legs wrapped around his waist. Or his head.

Jesus.

He was the absolute worst because he was failing at that so hard.

They were halfway back down the path to the resort. Tori was tugging on his arm, her fingers interlaced through his. Tug. Swing. Giggle.

And all he could think about was spinning her around and pressing her up against a tree. Kissing her until the giggles turned to sighs and those legs—

“Earth to Logan.” Tori bounced against his arm. “Almost there. Then you can put the drunk girl to bed for the night.”

He snorted. “Long day for us both. Bed sounds good.”

“Back to the beach tomorrow? Or do you want to go for a hike?”

“We could do some exploring, sure.”

“They’ll bring breakfast to us.” She hummed under her breath. “Doesn’t that sound glorious? We can eat in our pjs. Not that I packed any. But I can wear a robe.”

His brain stuttered over the drunken admission that she didn’t have any sleepwear. “Uh…”

“You can wear whatever you want. No dress code for breakfast. Wear those yummy board shorts you were swimming in today. Those looked nice. Very nice.”

She’s drunk, he told himself. Don’t read anything more into her words than the filter-dissolving reality of rum. “I’ve got pjs,” he muttered.

“Perfect.” She grinned at him brightly as they stopped in front of their villa.

He opened the door and followed her silently toward the bedrooms. Not watching her ass sway. Not at all.

“Oh,” she said suddenly, turning around and stopping right in front of him.

His hands came up and rested on her hips. “Whoa, there.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just remembered that I wanted a glass of water and there isn’t a cup in my bathroom.”

Ah. He lifted his hands and stepped back, but she didn’t move. Instead, she gave him a crooked, happy smile and dropped her purse on the ground before flinging her arms around his neck.

“Thanks again, Logan,” she breathed in his ear as her body pressed against his. Soft in all the right places. Like there was a chance in hell he could resist that.

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. “You deserve a kick-ass week, babe. We’re going to have an epic adventure here.”

“We already are.” She gave him a quick squeeze, then let go. It took him a half-second to follow suit, and then she was sliding past him to get a water glass. He let himself into his room, leaving the door open until she called out a good night, then he closed the door and threw himself on the bed, still dressed.

T
ori had never seen
anything quite as pretty as the waterfall in front of her. The view of the ocean behind her was a pretty close second, though.

“Okay, this was worth the extra hour of hiking,” she whispered in awe.

Logan swung his small nylon backpack off his shoulder and dug out a water bottle. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” They stood there together for a few minutes, listening to the rush of falling water and the twitter of birds high above. She breathed in and out, letting the peace of the place seep into her bones.

Once she’d finally absorbed the wonder of it all, she turned to Logan at the same time as he turned to her.

“So we should—”

“Where do you want to eat—”

They both broke off and started laughing. They were so in sync sometimes. She tried again. “Pick a place to eat lunch?”

Logan pointed out a flat spot halfway around the small pool of water, surrounded by large rocks. “That works.”

She climbed ahead of him, eager to sit and rest—and eat. Logan’s idea of exploring the rainforest was more intense than she expected. She was more than ready to dig into the picnic the resort had packed for them. Logan carried the food. She had the rest of their provisions—a blanket, towels, and a first aid kit that Logan had rolled his eyes at, and then augmented with his own supplies.

“We should go for a swim after we eat,” he said after she spread out the blanket and he started unloading the food from his pack.

“Definitely.” She grinned as he immediately started to untie his hiking boots. “Eager, much?”

“Just getting comfortable.” He winked at her as he pulled off his socks, then peeled off his shirt, too.

Well, she wasn’t going to complain about that. Logan was a fine looking mountain of a man, and having him half-naked next to waterfall serving her lunch was nothing to complain about. “Pass me the pineapple, you adorable freak.”

“What can I say? I love swimming.”

“I know you do. I love sandwiches. Pass those, too.”

He laughed and handed over the neatly packed boxed of ham and lettuce sandwiches, kept cool and crisp with a thin ice pack at the bottom.

“Oh my God. Delicious.” She hummed as she licked a bit of mustard off her fingertips. “This is pretty incredible.” She gestured around.

He gave her a slow nod and an even slower smile. “Yep.”

“I bet this is same-old, same-old for you, huh?”

“Nah. I don’t get to picnic next to a waterfall when I’m on the job.”

She winced. “Right. Of course not.”

He reached over and gently pushed against her bare knee. “Hey, it’s fine. I do get to see a lot of beaches, though. Jungle. That’s familiar terrain for me, yeah.”

“You ever think about getting out?” The question bubbled up from nowhere, and she didn’t know why she’d asked. She never had before, mostly because she didn’t want to know the answer. It was part of the deal of loving Logan—she also had to deal with missing him, too.

He frowned. “Once in a while.”

Her heart jolted at the unexpected answer. “Oh?”

He shrugged and sighed. “This isn’t a conversation to have right now.”

“Okay.” She held out the sandwich box. “Here. Eat some before I devour them all.”

He shifted closer and set the box on the blanket between them. “There. We can share.”

They finished eating in companionable silence, but even after tucking the food containers away, Logan didn’t head for the pool of water. Instead, he rolled over and stretched out on his front, closing his eyes.

Tori took off her own shoes and followed suit, lying down on her back. The sun that filtered through the trees overhead was warm on her face.

“I kind of wish I never had to leave this place,” she finally whispered, breaking the silence.

Logan just grunted.

Men. She rolled her eyes.

“You’d miss Atlanta,” he finally said.

“No I wouldn’t,” she said, surprising herself just as much as him, probably. She did a double-take. No, she wouldn’t.

Her pulse pounded in her neck.

“Whoa,” he said, pushing up on his elbows.

She turned her head and found him looking at her with a worried expression on his face. “Whoa, what?”

“Don’t make any rash decisions.”

She frowned. “I’m not.”

“You’re thinking about moving away.”

Well yeah, now she was. But only in the hypothetical sense. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. No rash decisions. But I don’t think I can just keep going like my previous life decisions had all been totally cool, you know? Obviously they weren’t.”

“What? No, that’s crazy.” He scowled at her. This time, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His heart was in the right place, even if he was being a bit obtuse. “This is all about Steve being a dumb shit. No reflection on you. In a few months, you’ll have totally moved on and nobody will remember that you were once engaged to that asshat.”

“Will I?” Of course, she’d move on from Stephen. She was already doing that in her heart, and her mind had been furiously working a mile a minute since her ex had dropped the bombshell on her two days earlier. Figuring out who would get trivia night—she would, Stephen hated it—and the Braves season tickets—all his, she didn’t care. Their life cleaved neatly into two piles, it turned out. And didn’t that just speak volumes to a reality she’d been completely blind to until Stephen got cold feet?

But she
had
been blind to it.

That couldn’t be skipped over.

She’d been a fool.

How could she just move on?

How could she trust herself to make sound romantic decisions ever again?

Logan bumped his shoulder against hers. “Where’d you go in your head?”

“An ugly, self-doubting place.”

“Well, stop that.”

She laughed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is.”

Easy for him to say. Logan had never had a serious relationship, at least as far as she knew.
She
was his most serious relationship and given that they were platonic besties, that said a lot. Although…maybe she should try it his way for a while. She scrunched her face. Casual sex? Flings?

Didn’t really appeal.

Actually…had never appealed before. She sat up, intent on changing the subject. She brushed her hands together. “Last night was fun.”

He gave her a wary, confused look. “Okay.”

“Maybe that’s what I need more of this week. Fun.”

“You want to head back to that bar for dinner again?”

“Or find a place with more dancing?”

“You want to go dancing again.” It wasn’t a question. More of a flat, disbelieving statement.

She frowned. “Don’t tell me you think I need to have a mourning period over my broken engagement.”

“No.” But his jaw flexed and he looked away from her. Okay, so she’d jerked the conversation around a bit, but did he need to be such a downer?

Judgment from Logan Dwyer about her having a little fun now that she was single again? “I’m not going to have some random island hook-up.” Although why shouldn’t she? She shoved to her feet and yanked off her t-shirt. She’d worn a sturdy one-piece under her clothes for this exact reason. It was time to go swimming. Enough talking.

“Tori, stop…”

“No, Logan.” She shoved her hands into her hair. Restless, nervous energy zig-zagged through her body. “You stop. Stop trying to be a protective big brother to me, okay? I’ve done the safe, smart thing my entire life, and look where that’s landed me.”

He moved toward her and she stepped back, undoing her shorts. Her heel bumped into one of the large, flat rocks around their lunch spot and she hopped up on it. Ha. Now she was taller than him. She kicked off her shorts and pointed her finger down at him at the same time, a move that probably wasn’t as impressive as it felt, but she’d take her victories where she could find them. “If I want to have no-strings-attached, dirty sex this week, I’m going to, and you’re not going to stop me. Do I make myself clear?”

His eyes glittered with frustration. “Perfectly. Now get your gorgeous ass down off that rock before you—”

“Stop. Bossing. Me. Around.” She jerked away from him as he reached for her, only realizing at the last second that in doing so, she was spinning herself off the rock—and into the dark turquoise pool at the base of the waterfall.