the closet. Thrusting his arms through the sleeves he hustled downstairs. “’Bout time you showed your ugly—” he opened the door “—Cassidy.”
She stood on the front porch, a tentative smile lighting her face. Then her gaze shifted to his chest—his naked chest. He heard a tiny gasp of air escape her mouth. Logan swallowed a groan. No sense denying they were attracted to each other—the two feet of space separating them sizzled. All Cassidy had to do was breathe and Logan’s hormones went haywire.
“I came at a bad time.” The statement left her mouth in a husky murmur, the sound familiar to the whiskey-laced voice he heard in his dreams. His attention shifted from her mouth to the baby-blue sweater hugging her breasts—breasts he’d already seen, touched and kissed—but damned if he could remember.
“Sorry.” He fumbled with his shirt snaps. “I mucked out horse stalls this morning and…” He sounded like a bumbling idiot.
“May I come in?”
“Yeah, sure.” He stepped aside and she slipped past him, the scent of her shampoo teasing his nose. Today she wore her hair in a ponytail, making her appear almost too young to be having a baby. His baby.
Her gaze roamed the entryway, zeroing in on the dust bunnies in the corners. Aside from washing the bed sheets once a week and cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, the house had remained untouched since his wife’s death. He supposed if Cassidy intended to visit on occasion he ought to run the vacuum more than once every six months.
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