Page 40 of Switching Places

“I’ll pick you up around four on Saturday. We’ll drive to Phil’s party and enjoy ourselves, what do you say?”

Emma nodded. This encounter was going better than she’d anticipated. And she’d not been embarrassed, after all, something about Logan made her feel different. Things had to get easier. And she had to decide what she was going to do. She knew Lily would never bolt from a kiss. She probably would institute another one right now and go as far as Logan pushed.

“Good night.”

He gently brushed his lips against hers and turned.

Emma watched him walk away and she sank into a chair. Her knees seemed as weak as wet spaghetti, her heart raced, and her lips tingled. Saturday seemed a long time away.

Logan stepped out onto the patio and walked away from the light. Pausing at the edge, he circled back and stepped close enough to peer in through the window. Lily sat in a chair, staring out at the night. He watched for several minutes, but when she made no move, he turned to head for home. She hadn’t shifted an inch the entire time. He’d give a lot to learn what thoughts tumbled around in her mind. Gloating over gettinghim interested? Or was there something else going through that pretty head of hers?

He tried to remember everything he’d been told about his neighbor. They’d met casually when she’d first moved in, only two months after he had bought his house. Because she traveled a lot, she asked if he would keep an eye on her place, even giving him a key. He’d done a bit more traveling in those days, and had reciprocated. Beyond that, the entire first year he doubted if they had exchanged more than a few words.

After her return from France last summer, she’d invited him a couple of times to parties. Her friends were young and ambitious. Few were connected with the film world, which had surprised him given she played bit parts and given the success of her father.

The people he’d met at her house came from all different professions. He’d had the best conversation with a landscape architect at one party. They really clicked. He should have followed up and called Joel again.

Maybe he would and casually bring the conversation around to Lily.

He hadn’t cared to find out details about his neighbor before. But then, he hadn’t felt this strong pull of attraction. And the odd thing of feeling comfortable around her, feeling connected somehow.

Which showed he was still suffering from the rigors of jet lag.

Lily represented the epitome of the type woman he’d sworn to avoid. Crystal had been the same. Always out for gaiety and excitement. The more money spent, the better. The faster the car, the higher the thrills, the more Crystal craved excesses. Superlatives. And Lily had always struck him as having a similar viewpoint of life.

Yet a lot of things didn’t add up.

And he’d swear the expression in her eyes when she’d bolted from the deck had been sheer panic. Was she leading people on? Creating some sophisticated facade to hold the wolves at bay? Feigning a level of experience to cover a lack? To hide the innocence that peeked through now and then?

Innocence? Lily had been married to that Frenchman. Vacationed on the French riviera. Logan had a hard time convincing himself that she had any innocence left.

He let himself into his house. Stopping only long enough to pour himself a snifter of brandy, he headed for his bedroom. He needed a few more nights of rest before he was operating on all cylinders again. Sipping the brandy, he shed his clothes, his eyes going from time to time to the light shining from her bedroom.

Innocence peeked out now and then. He recognized it, but not the reason. Was it all a game?

He had to admit she totally confused him. Every time he expected her to act one way, she acted differently. Instead of pegging her for another Crystal, she gave off conflicting signals. One moment, brash sassiness. Another, a sweetness that was almost a lost trait with the women he knew.

The thing was, he didn’t care if she were playing a game. He wanted her.

When the ride was over, if he got burned, he’d make sure it was worth it.

He stood by the window, sipping the last of the brandy. One by one the lights downstairs flicked out. He could imagine her progression to her bedroom. Would she go right to sleep, or read for a while? Did she have a television in the room? He wondered about her habits, the patterns and routines in her life. Did they vary when she visited France? Was she methodical about some things or spontaneous in everything?

The bedroom light went out.

Slowly Logan turned and headed for his bed. Flipping on the light by the phone, he looked up her number and dialed.

Out of the service area.

What? He tried again, same result.

Scrolling through his list of contacts, he found her land line and tried that.

It rang for a long time. Had she fallen asleep so quickly?

“Hello?”

“Hey, cupcake, it’s Logan.”

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