“You told me how you get your ideas for the books but tell me from start to finish how you write them.” He sat on his leather couch, and I sat on the same one.
I did not sit in his lap. I did not straddle him and dramatically rip off my clothes. I did not grab him and pull him on top of me. I thought about it but figured that would be pushy.
“I’ll try to think of a little lesson Roxy Belle might learn about life, then I build the story around the lesson. I try to focus on atleast one of her family members each book, too, so the readers get to know all of them. She has a mother and father and five siblings, as you know. Plus, in school I always include something that the readers can learn—something about science or animals or grammar or writing. And she always writes vocabulary lists so the kids can learn new words along with her. I write a lot about her animals and the farm because kids love reading about both. I write a short outline, a draft, and I edit the story four or five or more times. I know when I’m done, then it goes to my agent and editor.”
“When’s your next deadline?”
“Oh…” I waved my hand. “I passed that a long time ago. I’m late.” I was touched by how interested Logan had been in Roxy Belle and my writing career. My ex had never been interested when I’d told him I wanted to be a writer and illustrator. He’d dismissed it. Hadn’t wanted to hear about it because it had nothing to do with him. He hadn’t believed I could do it either.
“Thanks for talking to me so much about Roxy Belle, Logan. It’s actually inspiring.”
He spread his hands and I remembered what those hands could do to my body.
“I wanted to know all about your career. I admire you. You wanted to become a writer and illustrator, and you did. I also admire you for coming home to run the bar for your mom.” His words were soft and low, honest. “Whiskey has an outstanding daughter.”
“She’s done everything for me. I’m happy to do this for her.”
“If you lived here, you couldn’t write, though, could you?”
I sucked in my breath. It was like he knew I’d been thinking about that. “No. I don’t think so. I’d end up working in the bar. The bar is so important to my mom and to our employees, and my mom is getting tired. Very tired.”
“But being a writer is a huge part of who you are. It would be hard to give that up.”
“Yes. It would be. I love writing the books and going to schools and reading the books to the kids and telling them how I write. I like the teaching part of my job and having the kids write their own adventure stories.”
“Fulfilling job.”
“Yes, that’s it. You always understand how I feel, Logan.”
“I try. You’re fascinating, m’lady, always changing, so I have to keep up.”
I scoffed. “I see nothing fascinating about myself. Can I see the rest of your home in the sky? That’s how it feels in here. It feels like we’re alone, in the sky, the mountains all around.”
“Come along. The tour continues. Step this way, m’lady.”
An office with a huge desk and table and a guest bedroom were on opposite sides of the hall.
“Here’s my lonely bedroom.”
“Your lonely bedroom.” I shook my head at him, but I was relieved—oh-so-relieved. It would have been so discouraging for him to say, “And here’s my bedroom that is never lonely because so many women have paraded through here, lucky me.” Ugh. Miserable.
He opened the door, and all I could see was his huge king-sized, four-poster bed. Each post was part of a tree that had been shined up. It looked like he had a mini forest in his bedroom. Only one light was on, so the whole atmosphere had a romantic vibe. Although maybe I simply felt a “romantic vibe” because I was thinking of Logan in bed.
I had another one of my graphic visions of Logan and me naked, only this time I was up against the wall with my legs wrapped around his waist, my head back.
Good heavens.
Control yourself, Bellini.
Then I thought of wrestling around with Logan in that bed and conquering the handsome male beside me…
As my face heated, I whirled and ran right into Logan’s chest. “Jeez,” I said. “You are still made of steel.”
I saw his chest rise and fall as he inhaled, but he didn’t move. Not an inch. I didn’t move either. The top of my head came up to the base of his neck. We were within an inch of touching each other. The air between us was, instantly, hot. Steamy, sexy hot.
I inhaled at the same time he did, as if we were both preparing for what came next.
Seeing each other, talking and laughing again as if we’d never been apart, then these dance lessons where we were chest to chest—it was all too much.
