Free Fiancé at Her Fingertips by Kathleen Bacus Page A

haven’t gotten used to having someone in my life whom I have to answer to, either. But I find I like the idea of answering to you, Debra. I like it very much.”
    Debra swallowed, disgusted by how much noise she made doing so. Lawyer Logan slid across the seat toward her, his body heat filling the suburban despite the air-conditioning operating full power. She pressed her back against the door.
    “That’s it. You know what I’m going to do?” Debra said. “I’m going to pretend today didn’t happen. I’m going to go home and lock myself in my little house. I’m going to crawl into bed, and I’m not coming out until it’s tomorrow. Today didn’t happen,” she repeated. “It just didn’t happen.” Shefumbled for the door handle as Logan caught her arm and dragged her toward him.
    “While you’re at it, Debra Josephine, you can pretend this didn’t happen either.” And with that, he placed his hands on either side of her face and brought his mouth to hers. Once again Debra experienced a surge of energy, the sharp sting of awareness at his tentative touch as he moved his lips over hers in a gentle yet erotic caress. Debra gasped at her unexpected response as his tongue swept the interior of her mouth. The kiss continued until it finally dawned on Debra that she was supposed to be resisting. Shoving the cad away. Raking his handsome face with her nails. Slapping a tanned cheek. Something. Anything. She made a feeble attempt to push him away, but by that time he’d let her go and slid back behind the wheel.
    Debra grabbed the door handle and jerked the door open, and almost spilled out onto the cement drive. She slammed the door and ran to her car, then jumped in and hit the locks. Only when Lawyer Logan had backed out, honked, and left did she permit herself to ponder how the hell his kiss could have seemed so impossibly familiar.
    As soon as the dark Suburban was out of sight, Debra fled the safety of her vehicle and raced for her parents’ front door as if a horde of hand-shaking, campaigning politicians had been set loose on the neighborhood. She catapulted over the yews and ran inside the house, slamming the door shut behind her. Pressing her back against that cold, hard surface, she sucked breath into her needy lungs. When her vitals were out of the danger zone, she turned and peeked through the peephole.
    “Debra! What in heaven’s name are you doing now?”
    Debra squealed and did a one-eighty. “Mother! You scared the living…daylights out of me! Are you all right?” She cast a concerned look over her mother’s shoulder. “Where’s Dad?”
    Her mother frowned. “He’s lying down. He was quite upset, you know.”
    Debra stomped her foot. “I knew it! That…that smarmy, two-bit excuse for a presumptuous con! How dare he bust in here and upset my father!”
    Her mother’s frown deepened. “Your Logan didn’t upset your father, young lady.” Alva sniffed. “ You did. I’ve never seen Stuart so put out. What in the world were you thinking, treating Logan that way? Your own boyfriend, for crying out loud. The same man whose praises you’ve been singing ad nauseam the last two months.”
    Debra began to bang her head against the door. “How many times do I have to say this? That…that…devil’s advocate is not my boyfriend!”
    Debra’s mother gave her one of those looks reserved for occasions when Debra had crossed the line. The same look Debra had received when she’d returned from a fifth-grade sleepover with a black-and-white pet mouse, complete with rodent cage and noisy exercise wheel. It resembled the look she’d gotten when she’d insisted on going out for the high school boys’ swim team. It was much like the look she’d elicited when she brought McGruff along on a family vacation to Branson several years back. Once her mother gave “the look,” it was time to get the heck out of Dodge.
    “Debra Josephine Daniels, stop that this minute. Your Logan is a courteous,