Alone With You (Cabin Fever Series Book 1)

to see how you’re doing—“
“Don’t you have a wife and newborn?”
“—only to find the bed unmade and a pair of ladies’ floral underwear spinning from the ceiling fan”
“Enough.”
John stopped talking mid-breath. He let the chair fall back to its four legs as his brows disappeared under the mop of his blond hair “I didn’t think I could be more surprised but, geez, look at your face.”
Logan turned away from John’s perusal and made a beeline to the coffeemaker. He hit the power button, pleased to see the indicator lights go on.
Logan said, “The electricity went out last night. Looks like it’s back.”
“It certainly is.”
Logan frowned at the innuendo as he grabbed a can of coffee grounds. “You should have called before coming.”
“You should have checked your phone. But oh,” John said, gesturing to the counter with the row of spent candles, “there it is, abandoned on the kitchen counter with the romantic remnants of what clearly was an amazing night.”
“You should have called yesterday.”
“I’ve got a house full of women, Logan. My mother, my wife’s mother, my wife’s sister, a German baby nurse who trained in boot camp, and all of them telling me what to do—“
“Why aren’t you there, directing troops?”
“Because when I got a text from the utility company that the electricity had gone out here in the cabin, I seized the opportunity to swing by and see what was going on.” John tapped his fingers on the surface of the table. “Coming to see you and Dr. Vance was as good an excuse as any to take a break from the madness.”
“It’s an hour drive.”
“That’s an hour when I don’t have to look at my lovely wife suckling our newborn child, knowing I’ve got to wait weeks and weeks before I get send her underwear spinning on the ceiling fan.”
Logan’s pulse leapt as he dug the measuring cup into the fragrant grounds, scooping measure after measure into the filter. John’s words rang true: Logan had known Jenny for six days and yet he struggled to wait six more minutes before having her again. Hell, he didn’t even know what to call this thing between them. It sure as hell wasn’t a one-night thing. Because if John wasn’t taking up space in this kitchen, Logan would still be in bed, tangling up those sheets.
Logan slammed the filter of the coffee pot closed and then yanked open the faucet to fill the pot. He’d be damned, but he suddenly he understood why John had arrived so suddenly. Logan knew how difficult a new arrival to the family could be, straining relationships. His friend had bolted here, sleep-deprived and overwhelmed, looking for counsel.
“It’s never easy,” Logan said, forcing his voice neutral. “The first few weeks taking care of a newborn, if you’ve never done it before.”
John sputtered, “I hardly have time to think.”
“Everything will all fall into place,” he said. “It’ll take time, patience, and a new routine. You’ll both be more confident and more connected once you find a new rhythm to the family.”
John bobbed his head, still tracing patterns on the table. “So,” he said, in a more sober voice. “It’s pretty obvious that you and the professor worked things out.”
“Yeah, we did.” Logan clicked the coffeemaker on and leaned a hip against the counter. “Very recently.”
“Ah.”
“It hasn’t been easy, either.”
“Oh?” John cleared his throat. “So things are unsettled here, too?”
“Very.”
“Need some time to find a new rhythm?”
“John,” Logan said, like a warning.
“And here I am, showing up in the middle of all this, Mr. Sunshine.”
“Not good timing.”
“So you want me to march out that door and go back to my wife and child and leave you and Dr. Vance to figure out—”
“That won’t be necessary, Professor Springfield.”
Logan looked up to see Jenny standing in the doorframe. She wore a bathrobe of heavy silk that covered her from neck to ankle. A glow lit her cheeks – a silent flush of embarrassment, Logan figured—but she held her chin level, despite the tousled hair he’d mussed with his own fingers.
She said, “It’s good to see you again.” She stepped into the kitchen and held out her hand.
“What’s this ‘professor’ stuff? You always call me John.” He shot to his feet, leaned across the table, and shook her outstretched hand. “No matter what the circumstances.”
She managed a Sphinx-like smile as she stepped back into the doorframe. “Even these odd ones.”
Logan forced himself to breathe, wondering how he ever thought Jenny was cold and distant, when the act was so clearly a shield, and a brittle one at best, guarding the secrets of a woman who knew what she wanted.
“My apologies about all this,” John said, with a dip of his head. “I should have called first.”
“Nonsense.” She tightened the sash of her bathrobe. “This is your cabin, after all.”
“Not right now it isn’t.” John’s blue eyes danced with humor. “I’ll pass on the coffee, Logan. I’ll head back and leave you to your privacy.”
“Professor—John. Please don’t go.” Logan watched a blotchy flush deepen on her throat. “There’s no use leaving just because my lingerie is decorating the bedroom.”
Logan blinked, not quite believing his ears. John appeared to choke on his own tongue.
“Logan and I,” she continued, with a flick of a glance, “can keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours. Am I right, Logan?”
A surge of electricity passed between them so hard he expected the light bulbs in the ceiling to explode. A few hours? He wanted her now, wanted to tear that satin bathrobe off her as he tore her skirt off her last night. He wanted to burrow his head between her freckled thighs. He stared, lost in a kaleidoscope of fantasy, until he realized that she was expecting him to say something, and John’s ears were all perked in the silent room, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember what she’d asked and how he was supposed to answer.
“Stay for lunch, at least,” she said, looking away from Logan as her throat