Summer Magic by Rochelle Alers Page A

acknowledged it when he first stepped foot onto Marble Island, but now he had to admit to himself that he looked forward to sharing the house with a woman—especially if that woman was Miss Caryn Edwards.
    Logan reached for the check at the same time Caryn withdrew her wallet from her oversized summer bag. “I’ll get it. Consider it my treat. Besides, I ate most of the food.”
    Rising to her feet, she smiled as he rose with her. “The next one is on me.”
    He pulled out her chair and stood aside for her to precede him. The fingers of his right hand went to the small of her back, burning her sensitive flesh through the lacy cardigan top. Her spine stiffened as she fought the impulse to give in to the strength of his long, slender fingers.
    Instead of waiting for him to pay the cashier, she walkedout of Addie’s and into the brilliant summer sun, blinking furiously while she groped in the bottom of her bag for her sunglasses. She found them and perched them on the end of her nose, spying Logan’s Wrangler in the parking lot.
    “Ready?”
    She jumped at the soft sound of his voice close to her ear. His approach had been so silent that she hadn’t heard him come up behind her. Smiling up at him through the darkened lenses, she nodded.
    For the second time within the span of minutes, Logan’s hand went to her waist as he led her to his parked automobile. The gesture was so natural and anyone glancing their way could assume they were a “couple.”
    He opened the passenger side door. His hands circled her waist, and he lifted her effortlessly off the ground and settled her onto the seat. His ebony gaze bored into hers, he visually measuring her reaction.
    “I thought you would have a problem trying to climb up with your
little
skirt,” he explained when she lifted an eyebrow.
    “It’s not little.”
    He shrugged a broad shoulder. “Well—it is kind of tight.”
    Her sand-colored denim skirt was neither. It was slim, ending just at her knee, and therefore it would not have been difficult for her to raise it slightly to step up into the four-wheel-drive Jeep.
    Giving him a dubious look, Caryn pulled the seat belt over her chest. A hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. Logan Prescott was either staid or very conservative. She’d packed one dress which she was certain to raise his eyebrows or make him stop in his tracks, and she made a mental note to model the garment at least once before he left Marble Island.
    Logan started up the Jeep, slipped on his sunglasses, then maneuvered out of the parking lot, heading southward. The overhead sun beat down on his exposed flesh, and he mentally berated Caryn for refusing to wear a hatto protect her face.
She’s not Nina
, a small voice reminded him. And she was nothing like Nina. Not in looks and not in temperament.
    They rode in silence for twenty minutes, each lost in their private thoughts as a warm breeze caressed their faces and the distinctive smell of salt-filled air stung their nostrils. Seagulls sailed wind currents on a constant prowl for food, while the sun played hide-and-seek with white puffy clouds in a brilliant blue sky.
    Caryn felt alive, physically and spiritually alive for the first time in years. She forgot the bitter words she’d traded with Tom before their idyllic marriage ended, and the months of loneliness she encountered since she’d walked away from the only man she’d ever loved. She forgot the shrouded fear that had controlled her life once she discovered she was being stalked by a student who unknowingly had become obsessed with her. The stalking began a month after she left Tom; a time when she was most vulnerable; a time when she needed the protection of her husband.
    Inhaling, she savored the scent of the salt-filled air and marveled at the crashing waves washing the face of the beach with its incoming tide in the same way she felt cleansed and healed. She turned slightly, glancing at the sharp, distinctive, clear-cut lines