“Hey.” His mother’s voice cut into his thoughts, jostling him from his reverie. “Where are you?”
“Sorry.” He flashed a grin. “Just have some things on my mind, got lost in there.”
“You okay?” Tess asked.
“Great,” he assured her. He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips, lightly kissing her knuckles. Her eyes held his for a long beat. An unspoken message passed between them, and a rush of color went to her face. Yeah, she was thinking about it too. A burst of liquid heat swept through him as he contemplated what lay ahead for them . . . the thought of having her . . . maybe even that very night, if she wanted to get started. God, he hoped she wanted to. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
* * *
That evening, Tess had hoped a long soak in the tub would relax her, but it hadn’t worked. Her mind and body were all hyped up, anticipation holding her in its merciless grip. After a nice lunch at his mother’s house, Logan had driven her home.
“Will you come back tonight?” she’d asked, her voice feeling small in her throat.
“You want me to?”
“Yes, I want you to. I think . . . we can get started on our other secret project. If you want,” she added hastily. “If you don’t want to—”
“I want to.” His voice was low and deliberate as he admitted, “I’ve barely been able to think about anything else since we left the clinic.”
“Me too,” she confessed in a whisper. Her heart rate skyrocketed and her stomach did a wobbly flip. “So . . . what time is good for you?”
“Well, I put off work this morning to go to the clinic. I need to do some things now; they’ll take all afternoon, into dinnertime maybe . . .” He gently scratched at his beard as he thought, a gesture that was becoming endearingly familiar to her. “You have dinner without me, do your thing. I’ll come over at eight. Is that good for you?”
“Yup. I’ll see you then.”
All afternoon and evening, Tess’s mind had churned without stopping. So much to think about, so much to absorb. She was going to have her baby. It was so overwhelming and wonderful . . . and now, the icing on the cake, a pseudo-date with Logan. Entering into the process of trying to get pregnant by actually having sex, that was a fringe benefit she hadn’t counted on. To say it was thrilling was an understatement. Simply put, Logan was hot as hell.
She was excited, exhilarated, turned on, and a little giddy. But the nervousness overrode all that, and she wondered why. There was no reason to be nervous; she trusted Logan completely. He was a good man, and he’d be good to her in bed, she just knew that. She supposed it was just basic, anticipatory pre-sex jitters.
She wanted to get pregnant, yes. But she also wanted to please him. If he was going to be doing her the tremendous favor of having sex with her regularly, she wanted him to enjoy it. That was normal, wasn’t it?
She laughed at herself. Nothing about this situation was normal.
Standing in her bedroom in her warm, fluffy robe and slippers, she tried to decide on what to wear. Did she bother to get dressed, knowing why he was coming over? Did she wear lingerie, or was that overkill? Did she just stay naked under her robe, the easy access way? She huffed out a sigh of frustration. Why was this difficult to figure out? It wasn’t like she was going out with him first. They were just staying here, at her house . . . spending the night in bed and having sex.
Her face flamed as she thought about their short but sexy tumble last week on her couch . . . the way Logan’s hands and mouth had felt on her body. A little shiver went through her and she couldn’t help but smile. She turned back to her dresser with determination. Lingerie. Men liked lingerie. He was doing her the biggest favor ever. The least she could do was wrap up the package in pretty and make him smile.
At eight o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. Bubbles barked and did her thing, racing to the door, as a new rush of excitement flooded Tess’s body. Oh God, oh God . . .
She opened the door and a whoosh of frigid air hit her. “Oh!” she gasped. “Whoa, it got cold out there!”
“It did.” Logan’s green eyes glittered beneath his wool cap, pulled low. His words came out on a white cloud. “Luckily, I finished up by seven.”