Free Southern Hospitality by Sally Falcon

concentrated on her task. Here’s one unstuffed Yankee to order, and it’s as easy as kneading bread dough.
    She shifted on her knees and moved her hands higher, frowning when Logan tightened up the second she touched his knee. Maybe he’s ticklish there, she decided, and continued to work on the problem area until he suddenly groaned. Immediately, she stopped pressing her fingers against the sensitive spot, wondering if she’d hurt him as she tipped back her head to look up. It was a very long way up Logan’s lean body.
    “I’m sorry, did that hur—” Tory didn’t have to finish the question. The fatuous grin on the man’s face told her that she hadn’t hurt him. Mortification at her naiveté froze her in place, although she could feel her entire body flushing a brilliant red that probably perfectly matched the decor of the sitting room. Her mind was working too well, while her body was at a dead stop.
    She’d never been so embarrassed in her entire life, or felt so stupid. Her brain was screaming, Get up, you silly twit, and her fingers were attached to the man’s thigh as if they’d been smeared with epoxy. If she moved her head ever so slightly to the— No, she wasn’t going to even think it.
    “Did you want to try the other leg?”
    Logan’s husky question thankfully brought life back to Tory’s legs. In a split second, she backed up without caring that she undoubtedly looked like a crab as she shuffled backward on her knees. Logan’s smile and the lazy, sensual message in his hazy-blue gaze made her wonder if she’d ever be able to speak again. She’d just spent the last few minutes feeling up a man without even realizing it; a man who had propositioned her last night after only knowing her for twelve hours. He’d never believe that she hadn’t been aware of what she was doing. She was thirty years old and had been kneeling at his feet like a slave girl offering her services.
    She refused to look at him, getting up and walking over to the open box that Logan had placed on the ottoman. She fiddled unnecessarily with the tissue paper liner until her restless fingers came into contact with the magic book she’d picked up at the library.
    “There’s something else you need to do before the party tonight,” she said quietly, still not looking at him. He was exactly where she’d left him, staring a hole in her back, judging from the discomfort between her shoulder blades. “You’ll have to perform a magic trick before you can eat dessert tonight, or take the consequences. Find a trick in this book and practice it. We’ll leave at six-thirty.”
    “Tory, we’re going to talk about this.” His smoky voice came from directly beside her, his hand snaking out to pull the book out of her hand. He dropped it onto the ottoman and snared her wrist with his other hand, neatly turning her into his arms. “Nothing’s changed since last night, except that I want you more now than ever.”
    The last words were whispered against her lips. Tory had a glimpse of his hazy-blue eyes igniting into diamond fire before lowering her lashes. It was her last coherent thought. While Logan had been gentle the night before, today he was staking a claim. His lips and tongue branding her, swamping her mind as his arms pulled her snugly into his lean, taut body.
    There wasn’t any doubt that he desired her as one hand curved around her buttocks, luring her into the cradle of his thighs with a kneading motion. A smoldering ache began low in her body in response to his growing desire. She moved against him instinctively, not sure in her mind if it was to escape or to satisfy her own yearning. Tory knew she shouldn’t be in his arms, but her hands didn’t agree, moving to circle his neck.
    Settling at the nape of his neck, her fingers repeated the same massage that they had long minutes before. At Logan’s groan of appreciation, she pressed closer, but the movement only intensified her need. Her body was assailed by