“That sounds promising.”
He looked up at her, his eyes serious. “Thank you. This birthday dinner is the best gift anyone could have given me.”
I love you, she wanted to say. It was on the tip of her tongue, but it stuck before she could release it.
“Why don’t we eat?” she suggested instead, extricating herself from his arms.
Logan stowed the last dirty dinner dish inside the dishwasher and closed it with a barely audible click. Sighing, he began rummaging through the all but empty cabinets for some plastic wrap for the leftovers. By his fourth cabinet, he was more than just a tad annoyed. By the eighth cabinet, he was shoving things around and closing doors with a bit more force than necessary. By the tenth cabinet, he’d finally located the elusive plastic wrap. He turned to the kitchen table, his thoughts churning restlessly.
His mind was made up, had been ever since he’d walked into the kitchen and seen the place settings. It was now or never. Derek had given him a pep talk before he’d left the house, which hadn’t really made sense at the time, but did now. He must have been in on Claire’s birthday surprise. Logan didn’t know that he liked the idea of Claire conspiring with Derek, but given the results, he thought it wise not to complain. Besides, Derek was right. Now-or-never time had definitely arrived. Since Claire’s father had given him a similar, though slightly more threatening pep talk at the hospital, Logan had been able to think of little else. He lived for the time he spent with Claire and Julie in the evenings, which never seemed to be enough. He hadn’t wanted her to move out of his house, but the only way to keep her from doing so was to flex his custodial muscles. And that would have caused an impregnable rift between them.
So he had let her pack up his daughter and move back here, to her sister’s old house. It was a lovely old house, Logan thought now as he prowled around the kitchen. But it wasn’t home. There was a reason why all the cabinets were virtually empty. Looking at the spartanly furnished but clean kitchen, he knew he didn’t want to spend the next eighteen years of his life making evening visits here. It sure as hell wasn’t where Claire and Julie belonged. He wanted Claire and Julie with him, under the same roof. To achieve that, he had to take action.
He was going to tell Claire he loved her.
He hadn’t prepared a speech. Hell, he hadn’t even known that he was coming here for this. But here he was, cooling his heels in the kitchen while Claire breastfed Julie, and the night seemed perfect. Her gesture had moved him. That she had remembered his birthday at all amazed him, but that she would go to the extreme lengths of cooking him a surprise dinner floored him.
It also gave him hope. Even if she didn’t return his love, Claire still must harbor some sort of warm feelings for him. He could discern from the events of the evening that she still desired him, at any rate.
The dinner they’d shared had been exquisite. Claire was a talented chef and the chicken had been delicious. Naturally, the best part was simply being with his family and knowing that Claire wanted him there, in her life, in their daughter’s life. Just the idea of he, Claire, and Julie as a family made his gut clench and his eyes burn. For so long, he had wanted to belong to a family, first as a foster kid no one wanted, later as a man leading a lonely life. No, he’d never thought of himself as a family man before. But he liked the idea of waking up every morning next to Claire, raising Julie together, first steps, high chairs, dolls, kindergarten, soccer games.
He wanted it all, forever. He wanted Claire in his life forever. Now he was seeking a more official role.
Husband.
He’d proposed to her before and it had been off the cuff, totally unprepared, totally unromantic. And she had refused. Here he was again, preparing to do the same thing. He didn’t have a ring, of course, which put a kink in his plans, but he was hoping that Claire would overlook that minor flaw. After all, his first proposal had also been sans ring. Then again, the first proposal had been met with a sound refusal.
Damn it.
By the time Claire reappeared, Logan was pacing the kitchen, nearly insane with an attack of nerves. She looked mussed. The sexy dress was wrinkled from sitting so long and her hair was tucked behind her ears, a habit that asserted itself whenever she was preoccupied. Heat seared through him. God, but she was beautiful, with her lush lips and petite but curvy body. Her legs were bare and sleek, naked to mid-thigh, and his hands were itching to touch them.
A soft smile curved her lips. “Julie’s sleeping in her bassinette upstairs in my bedroom.” She deposited a baby monitor on the kitchen table.
“Do you know how badly I’ve been wanting to run my hands from your ankles to your thighs?” he asked, his voice thick. It wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, but the sight of her was like a blow to his gut. Each time he saw her, he wanted her more.
She stopped midstride, eyes widening, pupils dilating.
He took it as a sign of encouragement. He closed the space between them, her legs brushed against his pants. Drawing his arm around her waist, he pulled her flush against him, leaving his other hand free to enjoy a lazy perusal of her upper thigh. Her sharp intake of breath was like the most potent aphrodisiac.
“I’ve been wanting to brush my fingers across your skin,” he murmured, grazing her ear with his lips. “To see if it feels as smooth as it looks.” His hand crept upward, along the outer portion of her left thigh, higher until his fingers hooked in the thin elastic band of her underwear.
“Logan,” she whispered, half protest, half plea. She licked her shiny, cherry-red lips.
He couldn’t resist tasting them. As his mouth swooped down on hers, he smelled vanilla. “Is your lip gloss vanilla flavored?” he asked, his mouth half an inch from hers.
She smiled. “Yes.”
Logan groaned. “You know I’m just going to have to lick it off.”
Claire brushed her lips against his. “Lick away.”
Another groan sounded deep in his throat as a freight train of lust slammed into him. “If you insist.” His best intentions faded. Claire arched against him as his hand slid to her bottom, cupping it beneath her skirt. Only a flimsy layer of lace separated his hand from her bare skin.
He ran his tongue over the lush curve of her lower lip, tasting the sweetness of vanilla on his tongue. “Mmm. Delicious.”
Claire’s fingers were on the buttons of his shirt, frantically tearing at them. Their kiss deepened, grew more insistent, tongues mingling in frenetic, spiraling heat. Logan heard the tinyplink plinkof his buttons raining to the floor. His shirt was gone in a millisecond. He shrugged out of it as Claire pulled it from his arms, their kiss never ending. When her hands landed on his bare chest in teasing, caressing circles, Logan swore he was about to jump out of his skin.
“I love what you do to me,” he growled into her mouth.
