Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3) by Sally Clements Page A

ability to
think clearly evaporated.
    Her hands were on his chest,
tugging his sweater, demanding he get closer.
    He snaked his other hand around
her narrow waist, kissing her as if there would be no tomorrow—would be no
consequences of their actions. As if nothing in the world existed but the two
of them and this moment. Their mouths parted for a split second, then she
moaned and started to kiss him again—as though she was just as intoxicated and
mesmerized by the taste of him as he was of her.
    Intoxicated. Shit.
Intoxicated. He pulled away. Just how much of that wine had she drunk?
    Her eyes flickered open. “Nick?”
Her cheeks were rosy, and the fevered light in them could be desire, or could
be something else, could be alcohol induced.
    “Not like this.” His hands
dropped to his sides and he took a step back.
    And then the lights went out.

Chapter
Seven
     
    Summer could see Nick’s outline, but nothing more. She
swayed, trying to make sense of what had occurred in the last few moments. She’d
been touched by his words—flattered with the idea that he thought she was
gorgeous, especially as she’d looked like the creature from the black lagoon
when he arrived.
    A shadow of the boy he’d been was
in his eyes—the boy who hadn’t laughed like the others, but had run his hands
down her arms when he picked her up from the sand. Disturbed by his touch,
thrown off-kilter by the warmth in his eyes, she’d overreacted.
    She hadn’t owned it, but she
couldn’t forget how she’d pushed him away and diverted attention from her
humiliation. For a mad moment, she’d been thrust back to that time. She’d
kissed him, not just because of his words, but because she remembered what a
bitch she’d been back then.
    An apology, of sorts, but he’d
sure turned that on its head. The moment he touched her, electricity zinged
through her, silencing her voice and frying her synapses. And that kiss…her
bones melted at the memory of it.  The taste of him was still in her mouth. Her
fingers itched to touch him again. But he’d pulled away just before the lights
went out…
    “We need a torch. Or candles.” He
was back to being Mr. Organized, while she stood, still stunned by the effect
of his kiss. “Summer. Focus.”
    She shimmied her head. “There’s a
torch under the sink, and candles on the dresser.” With her hands out in front
of her she shuffled forward until she found the edge of the table. “I’ll get
the candles.”
    She fumbled to the dresser,
located the tea-lights in candleholders that always lived there, and sent
silent thanks to her absent mother for being so organized that a box of matches
nestled next to them.
    By the time she had them lit, a
flashlight’s beam was playing across the room.
    “It might be a fuse.” Nick jerked
open the fridge. “No, the sockets are out as well. We have no power.”
    Outages were common whenever
there was a storm, so she was inclined to agree. “Damn, they’re not likely to
fix it quickly with the snow…” Her mind raced. “The heating system won’t work,
or the pump for the water.”
    She carried two candles to the
table.
    “You should go up and fill the
bath,” Nick said. “I’ll build up the wood burning stove, and bring in some more
wood.”
    “I saw water bottles in the storeroom
earlier.” There were bound to be more candles in there too. She picked up the
candle from the table and went to look. As she filled them at the sink, Nick
trekked out to the woodshed with the wheelbarrow.
    The blast of air from the open
door was frigid so she closed it behind him. The house was warm now, but wouldn’t
remain so for long.
    The dog whined. “Calm down,
Fella.” She dropped another couple of tea-lights into jam jars that she’d found
in the storeroom and lit them. “Everything will look better in the morning.”
    *****
    He’d done the best he could for tonight. They had water, and
the wood stove was fully fuelled.
    Summer had headed up to bed