Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3) (4 page)

“I was eighteen, so you were much
younger,” Summer said. “We went surfing out on the Maharees, don’t you
remember?”

The huge, white sand dunes of the
peninsula. Four of them bundled up against the Irish summer chill in wetsuits. She’d
been a goddess in black rubber.

Even then, he’d mooned about
after her like a lovesick puppy.

“You taught me to surf.” Her
voice was dreamy. “You stood me on a surfboard on the sand. You were so sweet.”

Nick grimaced. Sweet. What a
crappy word.
“I’d done it before.” He’d always loved surfing. Being out in
nature, sailing across the surface of the water. 

“And you told me something like, ‘You
can do it, you can do anything.’ When we went back out, you held the side of my
board, and we surfed back to shore. That was the first time I managed to get up
on the board. It was only for a moment, but I did it. I did it because of you.”

It was amazing how she remembered
it all so differently. “Don’t you remember what happened before you reached the
shore?” Nick gritted his teeth. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it.

“I remember getting a mouthful of
salty water, and floundering on the sand like a beached seal. You picked me up.
Everyone laughed. I was mortified.”

“You deflected their laughter
easily enough.”

“Did I?” Her forehead wrinkled,
had she really forgotten the cruel words she’d spoken? The way she’d shouted
that he should take his hands off her?

She smiled. “You were always such
a sweet kid.”

“I wasn’t a kid. Your friend
wanted me to kiss her that holiday, did she ever tell you?”

Her eyes widened. “Sharon tried
to kiss you?”

Sharon, yes, that was her
name.

“I’m so sorry, she never should
have done that—she was so much older than you, I’m appalled. I never knew.” She
looked at him over the rim of her wineglass. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you kiss her?”

He put down his knife and fork. “I
was sixteen, not twelve. There’s only two years between us, Summer. So yes, I
damn well did. Even though there’d been someone else I wanted to kiss that
holiday. I wanted to kiss you.”

Chapter
Six

“That’s crazy.” She never thought she’d be having this
discussion with her brother’s best friend. He’d been a good-looking kid,
but…Summer shook her head. He’d been a kid. Just like her brother.

“Yeah, well, it was a long time
ago.” Nick finished the rest of his dinner and pushed his plate away. “I guess
I wasn’t the only one. Most of my class had the hots for you back then.”

“I used to get valentine cards
from some of Declan’s friends,” she said. “But never from you.”

“Declan would have killed me. You
were off limits.”

“Funny, isn’t it? Looking back.”
She couldn’t help wondering when that crush had withered. Now she was
thirty-two and he was thirty, the years between them were nothing. “If I met
you for the first time today, I wouldn’t even know you were younger than me.”

“What would you do, if this was
our first meeting?” His direct gaze pierced her. “If I’d come out here to help
with Fella, and you’d never met me before, how would things be different?”

The conversation was moving into
uncharted territory. The temptation to flirt was strong, but she tamped it
down, and tried to answer honestly.

“I guess I’d be making small
talk. I’d be nervous, stuck alone in a house with a man I didn’t know. I’d be
hoping you didn’t make any sudden moves.”

He grinned. “Well, you know me,
so there’s no need to worry.” He stood, picked up the plates, and stacked them
next to the dishwasher. “I’m going to sleep in here tonight—keep an eye on
Fella.” He waved at the old sofa that had previously lived in the sitting room,
but had been moved into the kitchen when the new suite of furniture arrived. “That
will do me fine. Tomorrow morning we’ll assess the situation, and with luck we
can drive back down to Brookbridge.”

He shoved his hands into the
front pocket of his jeans. “I’ll grab a quilt and pillow off Declan’s bed.”
With that, he walked out of the room.

The revelation that he’d wanted
to kiss her so many years ago, opened a door in her mind that she’d never
noticed before. She’d been a success to most everyone, all through her life,
but memories bombarded her now of the times that she’d failed.

The day on the beach. That time
she had too much to drink at a school dance, and fallen, ripping her hose on
the gravel. Both times, Nick had been there—had witnessed her humiliation, and
helped her up.

Outside the dance, he’d helped
her onto a bench, had turned away while she slid off her hose, and had wiped
the blood from her knees with a tissue he found in her bag. Even then, he was
caring for injured creatures.

When he’d stripped earlier, she’d
been knocked off her feet by a wave of lust. All thoughts of who he was, their
history, had been churned up, like sand in seafoam. Now, the memories of Nick
merged with the reality of who he was now. A man she found attractive. An
available man, who at one time had found her attractive too.

She poured the last of the wine
into her glass and drained it. Nick wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t judge her, and
it had been so long since she’d had a man’s arms around her…what happened in a
snowstorm, stayed in a snowstorm, didn’t it?

*****

So, that happened.

He’d made a complete idiot of
himself with Summer. Had confessed a teenage crush, which still seemed to be
very much alive, if his body’s reaction to her was anything to go by. Talking
to her—hearing her reminisce about that vacation in Kerry, had re-awoken
sensations long buried. He remembered it all in vivid Technicolor. Summer in
her white bikini, wriggling into the wetsuit, and him holding the board in
front to hide the evidence that merely the sight of her gave him an erection.

The look in her eyes when he
picked her up from the churning surf. Grateful for a moment, and then horrified
as the others laughed. She’d brushed his hands away and loudly shouted, “Get
off me!” as though he was attacking her or something.

He’d been the embarrassed one
then.

Declan had tried to say she was
just being like that because she couldn’t bear to fail, but Nick felt a fool,
being turned on like that. The incident hadn’t killed his feelings for Summer,
but had made him cautious.

And by the time he built up the
courage to try again, she belonged to someone else.

Since then he’d made a decision, conscious or not, to never
let a woman tangle with his emotions.

Now he felt like he was back
there…worse, that he was in deep water, in danger of getting dragged into the
undertow.

Jesus, get a grip.
Nothing
had changed. She was still Declan’s sister. She had a life in London, a
successful restaurant to go back to. And hearing that he’d had a crush back
then had come as a total surprise.
Don’t be weird. Just act natural.
He
snatched up Declan’s quilt and pillow and stomped downstairs.

She’d cleared away the dinner
things by the time he walked back into the room, and was sitting at the table. “I
thought we could play cards.” She held up a deck. “I guess we could watch TV,
but I don’t want to leave the warmth.”

“I haven’t played cards for
years,” he said. “And from what I remember, you’re a bit of a card shark. You
used to fleece me and Declan.”

“Okay, you choose the game then.”
Her mouth curved in a smile.

He eyed her carefully. “Poker’s
your game, isn’t it?”

He had a distinct memory of her
winning a trophy for a poker tournament while she was in college.

She held up her hands. “Busted.
Yeah, I won a couple of years in a row.”

“In that case, I choose snap.”

She snorted. “Snap? Who plays
snap? That’s a child’s game.”

“It’s a game we both have an
equal chance of winning. Do you want to play for money? I have a few euros…”

“Euros.” Her lip curled. “Come
on, we can do better than that.” She’d cleared away the wine as well, and had
put two shot glasses and a bottle of whisky on the table. “Shots.” She poured a
measure into his glass and then her own. “Every time you lose a game, you have
to take a shot.”

He could drink most people under
the table. “Okay, you’re on.”

She tucked a strand of hair
behind her ear. “Or lose a piece of clothing.”

Nick felt his eyes widen. “You
want to play strip snap? With snow outside?”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I
guess that’s a stupid idea. Let’s forget it.” She shuffled the cards, looking
down rather than at him.

What messages was she sending? If
it had been anyone else but Summer, he’d think there was some flirtation going
on here. He tested the waters. “If you want to see me naked, you only have to
ask.”

Her gaze shot up. “I almost did
already.”

“Almost asked?”

“Almost saw you naked.” She cut the
deck and started to deal. “Upstairs, earlier. I just thought we could make
playing cards more fun.”

She was a study in awkward,
although she was hiding it well. She picked at the end of her sleeve, tugging
the wool down at her wrist. Tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. Rubbed the
nape of her neck.

“I can think of nothing more fun
than winning every hand and seeing you naked,” he said without the trace of a
smile. “But I’m not about to risk hypothermia.” He picked up the pile of cards.
“Let’s play.”

She won the first game, shouting
snap and slamming her hand down on the cards so enthusiastically he laughed. “You
really can’t bear to lose, can you?”

“What can I say, I have an
over-developed sense of competition.” She gestured to the shot glass of whisky.
“Drink.”

He swallowed the amber liquid in
one swallow. “Let’s go again.”

The same thing happened for the
next game. He drank another shot. “If we were playing for clothing, I guess I’d
be down to my jeans and socks by now.”

“Wouldn’t you lose your socks
first?” She tilted her head to the side.

Flirting.

“Socks would be the last thing to
go. You’ve gotta keep your feet warm.” He leaned across the table and stared
into her eyes. “I can’t help thinking you’re trying to get me drunk.”

“Why would I do that?” Her eyes
sparkled. Her chin angled up.
Definitely flirting.

“I don’t know. Maybe you find me
irresistible, and want to lower my inhibitions.”

“That would make me a very
calculating older woman.”

He picked her glass up and handed
it over. “You should drink one too. So both of us lose our inhibitions at the
same rate.”

She swallowed the shot and
spluttered. “What could that lead to?”

What indeed? “We’re alone.
Anything could happen—if you want it to.”

She sucked on her bottom lip, her
mind definitely running over the possibilities. “This is crazy, you’re Declan’s
best friend.”

“You think of me like a brother.”
A knot formed in his stomach. He forced himself to consider the truth—that she
didn’t want him, couldn’t get past the brothersfriendzone…

“No. I never thought of you like
that.” She tossed a card down on the table. “I always thought you were sort of
hot, but, you know…you were younger.”

“Age doesn’t matter.”

“Not now, but when you were
seventeen it sure did.”

“You thought I was hot when I was
seventeen?” He threw a card down on the table.

“I did. I admit it.” She threw a
card down too, followed by her hand on top. “Snap.”

“I always thought you were
gorgeous.”

Her eyes widened.

“I still do.”

She put down her cards, stood up,
leaned over the table and kissed him square on the mouth.

*****

She tasted of whisky. The kiss was an impulsive thing, over
in a moment. She pulled back and smiled as though it hadn’t been anything, hadn’t
meant anything.

Forget that.
“You call
that a kiss?” He really shouldn’t take it further, but there was no way he
could pretend it was nothing. He’d dreamed of kissing her for years. Really
kissing her, not just the quick touch of closed mouths.

“This is how I’d kiss you.”

She didn’t move, didn’t look
away. Her lips parted and awareness was in her eyes, awareness that maybe she’d
poked a snake. Teased, without assessing the consequences.

He stood. Walked around the
table. Slipped a hand behind her nape, and brought his mouth a millimeter away
from hers. Her pupils expanded. Her eyelids dipped, but she still watched him.
He breathed in the scent of her—heady, arousing. “If you want me to stop, tell
me now.”

She stayed silent.

Nick teased her lips with his.
Traced the seam of them with his tongue, then angled his head and poured all the
long years of wanting into his kiss. He’d meant to make a point, to show she
couldn’t just kiss him and sit back down as though nothing had happened. But
the moment she opened her mouth and started to kiss him back, his ability to
think clearly evaporated.

Her hands were on his chest,
tugging his sweater, demanding he get closer.

He snaked his other hand around
her narrow waist, kissing her as if there would be no tomorrow—would be no
consequences of their actions. As if nothing in the world existed but the two
of them and this moment. Their mouths parted for a split second, then she
moaned and started to kiss him again—as though she was just as intoxicated and
mesmerized by the taste of him as he was of her.

Intoxicated. Shit.
Intoxicated.
He pulled away. Just how much of that wine had she drunk?

Her eyes flickered open. “Nick?”
Her cheeks were rosy, and the fevered light in them could be desire, or could
be something else, could be alcohol induced.

“Not like this.” His hands
dropped to his sides and he took a step back.

And then the lights went out.