THANK GOD SHE’D SAT IN THE BACK.
Logan rushed out of the boutique with the image of Angel’s shapely, toned legs peeking out from beneath the hem of his shirt searing his brain and shooting straight to his groin. Yeah, as if the hardening of her nipples from the store’s air-conditioning and that jumble of hair—not to mention the sexy lingerie she’d held against her body and that kiss they’d almost shared—had nothing to do with his condition.
God help him, he couldn’t forget one single detail, and his body’s reaction was making walking damn difficult. He angled away from Michael before adjusting his shorts, not wanting to contemplate what he’d be going through if she’d sat next to him in the SUV, those thighs inches from his—especially after watching them ascend the dock steps, then having her in his arms, almost kissing her… He’d been utterly relieved by Michael’s seating arrangements.
And thank God for the store clerk. If he’d had to spend one more minute with Angel holding lingerie up to that body, it would have been the death of him. Even the hot Florida air felt cool compared to the way his body temp had soared when she’d done that.
Purple. Jeez. Might as well have been black lace.
Or red.
“She’s really cool, isn’t she, Logan?” Michael hopped from sidewalk block to sidewalk block,
bypassing the cracks with the exuberance of the unin-formed and innocent.
Logan had never done that as a kid. Hadn’t known it was something kids did, thanks to his unorthodox upbringing—in the circus.
He would have laughed if there’d been something funny about it. God knew, you couldn’t get more un-orthodox than growing up with carnies. A troupe—not a family.
Logan settled a palm between Michael’s shoulder blades. “She’s definitely cool, but I don’t want you to become too attached. She’s going to have to leave at some point.” Sooner rather than later if he had anything to say about it. For Michael’s sake—and his sanity.
“Nuh-uh. She promised she wouldn’t. Remember?” “I know, but sometimes grown-ups say things they
don’t really mean.” How well he knew that. Firsthand. Oh, sure, Goran and Nadia Harsányis, his “par-
ents,” had said they loved him, but then, they’d said that to all the runaways they’d taken in. Even run-aways’ babies, like him. But it’d seemed to have been more a way to get workers for their shows than any idea of family.
Case in point: he’d been one master prestidigitator until he’d realized that was all there would ever be for him. A nomadic, itinerant, sporadic existence.
He’d wanted more. Roots. A sense of belonging somewhere. Normalcy.
Life with the Harsányis troupe was none of those things. He’d finally done his own running away at fifteen. Run away from the circus. How ironic was that? Gotten himself declared an emancipated minor, changed his
name, and worked his way through school, planning for the day when he could have a normal life.
He was so close. Partner in a venture capital firm that was on the cutting edge of green technology—life expe-riences providing as much of that education as college courses—judicious spending practices, friends, vaca-tions, retirement accounts…
He’d only needed a wife to complete his vision. Enter Christine. They’d been on the right track for a few months, but then she’d broken out the incense and love beads, talked about joining a commune to practice her performance art, and he’d been plunged right back into that insane spiral again. Her name change was proof positive. He’d gotten out cleanly.
Or so he’d thought.
And now here was Michael. Logan was going to give the kid as much Normal as was in his power.
Michael jumped from one block of concrete onto an-other. At least his son was starting out on the right foot. And the left. Then the right… Logan allowed himself a small smile.
Then Michael landed on the block in front of him. “So Rainbow didn’t mean it when she said I might not be here for long?”
Logan’s smile disappeared. “She said what?”
Michael readjusted the baseball cap he hadn’t taken off since he’d arrived and shuffled to another block, no longer paying attention to the cracks. He grabbed a crum¬pled piece of newspaper off the sidewalk and stuffed it in his pocket. “Um, she said you might send me away.”
“What?” Logan reached for Michael’s shoulder. “Where did she think I would send you?”
His son shrugged and pulled away. “I dunno. Wherever they send kids whose parents can’t keep them. There are places, I know. She told me. She said they have lots of other kids and nice houses and good food and stuff, so it wouldn’t be that bad. And I can bring Rocky.”
Logan couldn’t believe it. He didn’t need this. First he had a son he’d never known about show up out of no-where, then a complication at work, a destitute woman show up on his boat—naked—and now his ex had put the idea in his son’s head that he wouldn’t be wanted?
Logan wanted to kill her. He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and choke the life out of her for even putting that idea in his son’s head.
For not trusting in him enough to keep the child they’d made.
She’d known how he’d been raised. What he’d missed out on, growing up with the troupe and then later on his own. How he’d vowed never to do that to another per¬son. One night, after too much wine and a sweet round of lovemaking, he’d opened up and told her about his shitty childhood and everything he’d overcome to get where he was.
Bad enough she’d kept Michael from him; now she’d dared question whether he’d keep his son? The anger and bitterness threatened to choke him, but Logan had to swallow it. None of this was Michael’s fault.
No, the blame rested firmly on the shoulders of the woman he never should have trusted. Just add Christine to the list of people who’d let him down. It wasn’t as if being let down was new, and Logan had gotten over being disappointed in people a long time ago, but he’d be damned if he’d allow anyone to disappoint Michael.
He opened the door to the next shop and motioned Michael inside. Ice cream was the perfect panacea for this conversation. The question was, who was he trying to make feel better?
“Rainbow was wrong, Michael. I’m not going to send you away. Isn’t that why we have Angel? So you can stay with me while I work?”
“Cool!”
So, yes, it was cool that there’d been a naked woman on his boat. Not the optimum way to go about getting child care, but Michael liked her, she was well-educated and ambitious, and seriously, anyone was better equipped to watch Michael than the kid’s own mother.
Aside from the fact that Logan had almost kissed a complete stranger in front of his son, maybe, finally, someone Up There was on his side.