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with
appreciation, and even through her long skirt and underwear, it electrified her
senses.
    He moved his hand down her thigh until she stiffened, ready to
stop him if he took things too far.
    Instead, he brought that seeking hand back up her body, up, up,
to her left breast.
    Before she could think better of it, she arched her back,
pressing into his palm, alive with sensation.
    He cuddled her, but his movements slowed, became more of a
search than a caress.
    Lifting his head but staying very close, he said with a touch
of confusion, “What kind of bra is that?”
    No, she didn’t want reality to intrude. Not yet. Not now.
“Sports bra,” she breathed, and took his mouth again.
    A very tight, very restrictive sports
bra.
    Hoping he might not think too much of it, she caught his wrist
and tugged his hand away. Please let me have a little
more.
    “I want to touch you,” he murmured, and his hand went back to
her waist, this time slipping up under her loose shirt.
    Sexual frustration mounted, warring against desperation,
against common sense. She knew she had to be strong, but then she felt his rough
palm at her waist, at her ribs, and her resistance began crumbling—until a knock
sounded on his door.
    She jumped, at first alarmed, and then, reluctantly…relieved
for the jolt back to sanity.
    The pizza delivery boy had saved her, because she hadn’t been
strong enough to save herself. She’d take the interruption as a warning—to show
more care.
    Logan pressed his forehead to hers. His heartbeat rapped
against her breasts, and the tension in his shoulders amplified.
    “Rotten timing.” Using both hands, he held her face, his thumbs
stroking her jaw, his breath hot. “I don’t suppose you’d want to put off
dinner?”
    She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d cave. Staring at
his left shoulder, she shook her head.
    His sigh teased her lips. “All right then. Pizza it is.” As he
sat up, he pulled her up, too.
    She closed her eyes with stark regret, and when she opened them
again, she encountered his intense scrutiny.
    His smile went crooked as he tweaked a long hank of her hair.
“You are so sweet.” And with that, he left the couch.
    Sweet? What was that about? Pepper checked her hair and felt
the way her ponytail had come undone. Worse, her top was all displaced, her
skirt hiked up on one side all the way to her knee, and she’d lost one slip-on
canvas shoe.
    While Logan answered the door, she decided to make a hasty exit
to right herself. “Excuse me.” She snatched up her shoe and rushed down the
short hall into his bathroom. She closed and locked the door.
    Get a grip, she ordered herself.
But it was oh-so-difficult after those scorching kisses and exciting
touches.
    A few deep breaths helped a little. She stepped into her shoe,
tugged her shirt into place, and moved away from the door. One glance in the
mirror over the sink and she winced. Her hair was more out of the ponytail than
in it. Hastily, she pulled the band free and finger-combed her long hair back,
then resecured it.
    She straightened her clothes again, but could do nothing about
her aroused flush. Blast her fair skin.
    A tap sounded at the door. “Everything okay, Sue?”
    “Yes.” Other than unfulfilled lust, she was just peachy. Head
down, Pepper opened the door and walked around him, up the hallway and into the
kitchen.
    He’d already put slices of pizza on plates, set out napkins,
and moved their drinks to the table. Surprising her, he pulled out her
chair.
    Why, oh, why couldn’t he be wearing a shirt instead of
flaunting that awesome body? As to that, why couldn’t he be out of shape instead
of so ripped? Or unattractive instead of so appealing? Or—
    “It’s just pizza, Sue.” He tipped his head. “I won’t pounce on
you while you’re eating, I promise.”
    She didn’t want to get that close to him again, but she didn’t
want to look overly foolish, either. “Thank you.” She brushed past him and
sat.
    After