Don’t be an ass, Kincaid. She didn’t know he’d called Mrs. Jankowski and told her to buy ten monitors, one for every room of his home. He’d never known there was such a thing until he’d seen Dani’s.
His mother had certainly never used one, not that she would’ve spent her booze money on one. Besides, who needed a monitor in a one-room shack?
Hell. He was working his way to places he didn’t want to go. Logan lifted his face and breathed in the salty air. Soon he would hold the woman he loved close and finally know the secrets every man but him knew. Nothing else mattered.
Though it was a warm night, he started a fire in the chiminea and lit the candles on the table next to the chaise. Next, he pushed the button on the coffee machine and then flipped the outside lights off. He turned in a circle, surveying the scene. Had he forgotten anything? Christ, he was as nervous as a kid on his first date.
Condoms! Hurrying into his bedroom, he took one out of his night table and then, deciding to be optimistic, grabbed another. He hoped he’d bought the right size. When the girl had asked, he’d felt his cheeks heat. Hell if he knew. Wanting to pay for them and get out of the store, he’d said extra large, his shirt size. Why hadn’t he thought to test one? Practicing putting one on would’ve also been a good idea. The Navy had passed them out, but his had never left his wallet.
Returning to the deck, he put the condoms on the table. Too obvious? He tucked them behind one of the candles. Better. What was keeping her? The coffee machine gurgled, and he made two cups with Baileys in them, adding whipped cream to hers. He took a minute to mentally run down his checklist to make sure he had remembered everything.
The only thing that seemed to be missing was the woman. Too tense to sit, he walked to the railing and looked out over the gulf. The wind was picking up, and there were dark clouds in the distance. Rain was headed their way, but he estimated it was at least an hour away.
Warm hands slipped under his shirt and he stilled. They slid over his sides, up his ribcage, and then over his back. She tugged on his shirt. “Take this off.”
Logan turned. “Well, look at you.” She’d changed into a short silk robe. He didn’t think she wore anything under it, fervently hoped not. The robe barely covered her bottom and was so thin he could see the outline of her nipples. Any minute now he was going to embarrass himself and start drooling.
She tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Logan pulled it over his head and, forgetting he was standing at the railing, tossed it over his shoulder. He leaned back and glanced down. It had caught on the umbrella stand, waving in the wind like a flag.
“I surrender,” he said.
Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “I wonder what Mrs. Jankowski will think about that.”
“That I was struck stupid by the most beautiful woman in the world?”
“I don’t know, are you?”
“Yes.” It was the simple truth. The wind blew the bottom of her robe open and he had a brief glimpse of dark, springy curls. His cock must have a direct line to his eyes because it immediately sprang to attention. Shit, he was going to last all of sixty seconds when it finally happened. He should have jacked off when she was checking on Regan.
Her gaze roamed over his chest, which did nothing to help his condition. “You’re beautiful, too.”
“Men aren’t beautiful.”
“I beg to differ.” She reached up and with one finger traced the dark arrow of hair on his belly, stopping at his waistband and pulling on it. His erection was obvious even with the loose trousers.
She glanced down and smiled. “I think he’s happy to see me.”
Too damned happy. For sure, every drop of blood in his body was now crammed into his cock. If they didn’t slow things down, he really was going to embarrass himself. Glancing over her shoulder, he eyed the coffee.
“Coffee!”
She jumped and he realized he’d yelled it. “I made us a cup with Baileys. Yours is the one with the whipped cream. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”
Logan walked past her, straight to the bathroom, closing and locking the door. Hell, she probably thought he’d lost his mind. He stripped and did what he should have done earlier. Afterward—for extra insurance—he took a quick cold shower. Slipping his trousers back on, he leaned his forehead on the door and took a deep breath. “You can do this, Kincaid. Just muddle your way through it.”
“Are you sick?” she asked when he returned.
“Scoot up.” He slipped onto the chaise and pulled her back against him. “No, why would you think that?”