Page 14 of Switching Places

“Excuse me. I don’t think I was the one kissing. If anything, I was the kissee.”

“As soon as I get enough sleep that I can think straight, I’ll figure it out, so you might as well tell me what’s going on,” he said a bit roughly.

Emma pushed away, and headed back toward their towels. He’d probably figure it out in two minutes if he wasn’t almost dead from jet lag. And when he did, how would she explain why she’d pretended she was Lily? What a mess. To save herself a flood of embarrassment, she ought to leave instantly.

“Lily?”

“You’re tired. We were playing in the water and what else could you offer as a prize?” she rationalized.

The sun now rode high in the sky, the warm air dried her skin; the sand grew hot beneath her feet. Yesterday she’d brought the umbrella, but she’d left it in the shed this morning. Maybe she should get it. She didn’t want to burn, there was too much yet to do on her vacation to be incapacitated by sunburn. She could use that as an excuse to escape. Come back to the beach after he went home.

“Give me your lotion, I’ll spread it on your back.”

Logan came up beside her, silently. She jumped and shook her head. There was no way she could think with him touchingher, his kisses had proved that. She licked her lips, tasted him on them and felt heat blossom deep within.

They were on a public beach, for heaven’s sake, and she’d almost forgotten that. Actually she’d almost forgotten her name. His kisses had blown a fuse and she needed to get some sort of control over her rampant emotions. Longing went deep. Desire flooded each cell. Need clamored for release.

Sitting on her towel, she rubbed lotion on her skin, her neck and shoulders, each arm, and her legs. Replacing the cap, she lay back and closed her eyes. Even behind her closed eyelids the imprint of Logan standing beside her remained sharp and clear.

“If you had worn your bikini, you could remove the top so not to have lines,” he said lazily. From the direction of his voice, he had apparently sat on his towel.

“Oh, like I’m going topless here,” she muttered, shocked at the suggestion.

“Why not? It’s not as if you haven’t done it before, or was that story about the French Riviera just an exaggeration?”

“This isn’t the south of France.”

“No, but it’s just you and me.” Humor laced his tone.

She opened her eyes, squinting in the sun’s glare, and tried to frown at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

He chuckled and leaned over her. She squirmed away and closed her eyes.

She heard him move, yet his fingers on her jaw were unexpected as he tilted her head in his direction. She opened her eyes a slit. His head blocked the sun.

“I wasn’t the only one in that kiss. I felt your response. You can’t hide something like that.”

Blunt and bold, he stated the fact and nothing more.

Her heart caught, raced. Blood pounded through her. Fire licked through her veins. The sun might burn her skin, but his words melted her center. For one blinding moment shewondered what it’d be like to make love with Logan Beckett. His kisses almost shattered her, making love would probably finish the job. But what a glorious way to go.

Then reality set in. He thought she was Lily. He didn’t even know her.

The reality was staggering. Appealing, exciting, daring. No one had ever found her captivating enough to kiss her as passionately as he’d done. Her heart pounded so hard it shook her body. The delightful images that flooded her mind almost melted her resistance. Would he kiss her again? Push for a closer relationship? Want to make love with her?

Good grief, she’d just met the man. She wasn’t a woman to give in to hot passionate affairs with strangers. She and the man who had proposed to her had never made love. What was she thinking?

That was the problem, she wasn’t thinking. When around Logan Beckett, she discovered she couldn’t think at all. Just feel. And the feelings were outside her normal realm.

But vacation or not, there were limits.

Chapter Five

Emma caught her breath as every nerve ending stood at attention. Swallowing hard, she pushed his hand away and sat up. He leaned too close. She scrambled to her knees, determined not to flee, but unsure she could stay and talk to him. Her thoughts were in turmoil, contradictory feelings surged through her. His green eyes blazed as he stared at her, waiting, watching.

“You’re too close,” she blurted, then wanted to wrap the towel over her head.

The last word in sophistication? No, she sounded like the frightened teenager.

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