Alone With You (Cabin Fever Series Book 1)

steam, in the light of the master bedroom.
“Logan,” she said, in an uneven voice. “I’m not offended by anything you’ve done or said, okay? It’s clear that I’ve been a willing participant in the…difficulties between us.”
Willing participant. The words made his balls tighten.
“We don’t have to be friends,” she said. “We just have to live together for ten more days. That requires discipline.”
His mind leap-frogged to blindfolds and leather restraints. Would she be game?
“I admit,” she said, “that I’m not very good at being around people. I haven’t had a roommate since boarding school.”
Logan filed that little insight away.
“And certainly not a male roommate,” she continued. “Not since—well, not for a while.”
His curiosity kicked up. How long had it been since she’d been properly aroused?
“It’s just biology,” she persisted, “this physical attraction. Hormones run wild. But we’re both adults here. Are we agreed?”
“On the attraction? Hell yes.” He pushed off the wall, straightening up. “Thus the offer of a date.”
She closed her eyes. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Hanging out with me will cut the shine off the diamond. You’ll get to know the real me, uncluttered by my usual wit and charm.”
She blinked at him. “Charm?”
“I know, it’s blinding. But it’ll dim after a few hours across a dinner table, I can guarantee it.”
She tapped a pen on the wooden surface of the island table. “Familiarity breeds contempt.”
“Exactly. It’ll put both of us off.”
She crossed her arms, frowning as if trying to work out a chemical equation. “That’s almost twisted enough to work.”
It could go the other way.
The unspoken words shimmered between them. He’d been thinking the same thing, too. A date with this bundle of contradictions could end in a temper or tangled sheets. He knew what way he hoped it would go, he’d been thinking about wrapping his arms around her since he’d first seen her walk out of that shower, naked skin beaded with water. In either case, they would work out this thing between them. If it went bad, he’d fly out to stay with Dylan and put Jenny Vance out of his fantasies for good.
“What do you say, Jenny?” He cocked a brow. “You hungry?”

CHAPTER FIVE
Jen jumped at the sharp rap on the closed door. She seized a skirt from the bed and held it against her, as if Logan could see through the solid wood to where she stood in a satin bra and matching lace underwear.
He said, “Ready whenever you are, Jenny.”
She glanced at the clothes strewn about, the shoes toppled across the floor, and the clutter of jewelry on the countertop. “I’m just…drying my hair.” She slipped a bone-dry tress behind her ear. “I’ll be right there.”
His footsteps receded. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sank onto the bed. When she’d packed for this trip, she’d expected to be working in the lab or in the field. At best, she might take an hour or two off for a quick visit to a country-store to shop for her father’s birthday. She’d sworn men off since the breakup with Michael, hadn’t seen the point in disappointing anyone—or being disappointed by anyone, either. How could she ever have anticipated Logan?
A moan threatened in her throat—she slapped the back of her hand against her mouth to close it off. It had been fluke, that kiss in the woods. An alignment of the planets, a phase of the moon, an excess of estrogen in her bloodstream. Some combination of all the above. Her body still buzzed whenever they shared the same air space. His eyes made promises her mind rejected but her body most definitely believed.
Jolting to her feet, she tossed the floral skirt on the bed and grabbed a sleeveless knit top she’d already put on and peeled off twice. She laid her hand on a short skirt with a flirty hem that she’d bought on a whim months ago, encouraged by a well-meaning friend distraught by her abstinent status. She shimmied the darn thing on and strode to the bureau while her mind went through a paroxysm of indecision about lipstick and mascara. Plunging her hand into a make-up bag, her fingers fell upon an old square case. She pulled it out, stared at it, and dug her teeth into her lower lip.
She hadn’t used the diaphragm since Michael had tossed her out for a woman whose blood ran a lot hotter, a fact he took pains to point out. She snapped the case open and flexed the rubber cup between her fingers, lifting it to the light. She wouldn’t need this—Logan would be bored with her by the evening’s end—but, heck, she had to make a choice tonight, and it might be a reckless one.
A few minutes later she flung open her bedroom door and sauntered into the cabin’s living room. Logan stood outside on the red cedar deck, leaning against the railing, staring off into a grove of western hemlock. He’d tucked a button-down shirt into a pair of khakis that his muscled backside pulled taut. He turned around as the screen door wheezed shut behind her.
Goosebumps rose on her skin, and not from the evening breeze, thick with the promise of rain.
“I’m not supposed to say this.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But you look great, damn it.”
A phantom firecracker exploded, showering her with sparks. “I’ll let it pass,” she said. “For now.”
“I’ll be more of a jerk later.”
His lips twitched, warming the current that passed between them, and her knees went a little shaky.
“I’m sure you will.”
“C’mon,” he said, rustling up keys from his pocket as he headed down the deck stairs. “I’ll do the driving tonight.”
She opened her mouth offer up her Saab—which would be a lot more comfortable than Logan’s beat-up hulk of a pick-up truck—but she bit her lip to stay quiet. Better to be battered around in a dirty cab than luxuriate in buttery leather seats. She realized her mistake a minute later, when she hauled herself up into the pick-up and a