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Jinx pulled into the driveway of the cottage and walked up to the front door. And stopped.
There on the porch was a beautiful white metal two-person glider bench—just like the one her parents had. The one where she and Logan used to sit and talk on summer nights.
Anthia poked her head out of the front door. “I wish you had told me you ordered this. The deliverymen kind of took me by surprise.”
“I didn’t order it,” Jinx said, and could not help the big smile that spread across her face. “But I know who did.”
8
Logan sat on the plush designer sectional in his office at the Beverly Hills branch of Bennett Meyers, checking his phone. He knew he should be working, but he had spent the morning dealing with a difficult client and decided he could indulge in what had become his favorite game—exchanging text messages with Jinx.
When he had left the East Coast he’d told himself it was over. That it was better to let things quietly die out between him and Jinx and just be grateful he’d had the chance to experience what an amazing woman Victor’s little sister had become. But when he saw the note he’d made for himself about wanting to buy her a glider for her porch, the thought of the smile it might put on her face made him go ahead and do it.
And maybe it was also a test to see how Jinx felt about him. Would she send it back? Accept it silently? Or maybe send a brief sign-off saying thank you and good-bye.
He knew how independent Jinx was and he’d heard from Beau’s wife that she was known as a heartbreaker, so he assumed a couple nights of hot sex was something she might allow herself without wanting any kind of relationship. Except there were moments when he could swear the two of them were not just having sex—they were making love with a capital L.
So, a couple weeks ago when he received a text from her on his private phone with an old photo of him sitting next to Jinx on the glider on her parents’ porch, he knew they were on the same page. What page that was, he could not say exactly, but there was no way he was putting this book down.
He clicked on the latest text from Jinx. A photo of him standing in a swimming pool, Jinx sitting atop his shoulders, laughing, both of them wearing bathing suits. Jinx looked about sixteen or seventeen and already she had a body that would make most men trip over their feet.
Then came the icing on the cake. Her message read only: So wet.
Wicked little vixen. It had begun right from the start with the glider photo and an accompanying message saying: Want a ride?
Knowing Jinx, Logan had been certain it was not an innocent remark. So he wrote back: Any night. All night.
And that was the beginning of Logan’s now-favorite daily routine—checking to see what message came from Jinx. Always a photo of either him or Jinx but mostly they were of the two of them together. Putting up Christmas decorations, washing cars, eating birthday cake. Making him smile. And making him look at their past. And with it came her little one-liners making him look at their present. Making him long to sink into her sweet pussy or feel her lips on his cock. He walked around semi-hard most of the day thinking of her silky smooth skin against his and those beautiful breasts pressing into him.
For the first time in his life, Logan cursed the business that ate up every minute of his day. He thought of asking Jinx to let him fly her out here, but he knew she had a shop to run and jewelry to make, especially since summer was her best season in Greenport. And what would she do on days when he had to be at his office eight-to-ten hours?
He considered Skype sex, but that was just too tacky. He did not even want to talk to her on the phone right now because he felt their mundane conversation would somehow destroy the subtle poetry of these exchanges. Jinx was an artist and sending him her clever sexy messages along with photos from what was obviously her collection from the five years he had been a guest in her family home was pure art, a symbolic representation of their innocent mutual affection mixed with the underlying sexual desire that spoke volumes about the hidden layers of the relationship they’d had all those years.
His mobile rang and he saw it was Deena, his business partner and best friend. “Hey, lady, what’s up?”
“Ranglan wants you here in New York for the final wrap of his contract,” she said, then raced forward without pause. “He sees me as a mere woman and calls the others here underlings, to quote the man himself. Bill can cover for you in LA. Hopefully this won’t take long, but allow for three or four days. It’s a Fourth of July weekend coming up so he will probably be going out of town and who knows when he’ll be back. We’ve been courting Ranglan for months. It would be a shame to throw it all away now.”
“Okay,” he said, not revealing how happy he was at her request. “I need to set up a couple things before I leave, but I’ll be there in the morning.” As soon as the call ended, Logan texted Jinx telling her he would be in New York and asked when they could get together.
Her response was cooler than he’d expected, considering the sweet steam they had been exchanging: Can’t wait to see you, but my schedule is tight this week. Can we play it by ear?
Logan had never in his life been worried a woman he was interested in might shoot him down. Thanks to being born with his dad’s good looks—nothing he could take credit for—even when he was young and green at the whole boy-girl game, females had chased after him. Of course, being wealthy now and considered “important” in business circles, he had women throwing themselves at him all the time.
So, this uneasy feeling he got from Jinx’s luke warm text was something totally new for Logan and he was not quite sure how to handle it. Even though he genuinely liked most of the women he went out with or slept with, his usual indifference around seeing them again was not there when it came to Jinx. He had a strange longing for her that nagged at him. Something much deeper than sexual attraction. A need that cut through to his very soul.
So he swallowed his pride and sent her a quick text telling her what time he would be back at his penthouse after the business meeting.
The next day after he finished his meeting with Ranglan, there was no answer from Jinx. A part of him hoped she would be at his place when he returned, but when it was empty he remembered Jinx had told him she worked until seven in her shop on Tuesdays.
On impulse, Logan got in his Ferrari that he kept in New York—yes, he had another one in Beverly Hills—and headed straight out to the North Fork. He kept his phone next to him in case anything came in from Jinx. But nothing did. Not one of the sexy nostalgic photo poems she had been courting him with. Not a simple text message telling him her schedule. Nothing.
As he barreled down the highway out to the end of Long Island, his mind raced with all kinds of thoughts that he could not seem to stop. He wondered if Jinx was going to reveal that she had a boyfriend, someone she was seriously involved with. She had never spoken as if that was the case, and if it was, where was he the night of that wedding when Jinx was playing with her pick of bedmates?
Or maybe in her mind the “two nights” they had together was all she needed. Her last text said she couldn’t wait to see him, but was she just being polite? If so, why had she been sending him daily photos that she knew would touch his heart combined with her sexy phrases clearly intended to wake up the man in his pants? Could it be Jinx was a nasty cock teaser? No. He did not believe that. She was honest to a fault.
Maybe he was just moving too fast. He and Jinx had only recently reconnected, only recently taken their friendship to a new intimate level.
Friendship, my ass. We’ve been in love for as long as I can remember.
