The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(52)
Claire had no idea how much time had passed when it finally occurred to her that she’d been so entranced by the self-guided tour, she’d scarcely spoken to Logan. She paused the recording and took off her headset. “You must be bored out of your mind.”
“Moi?” He lowered his camera, wearing a playful grin. “I’ve always been curious about what it’d look like if King Midas threw up everywhere.”
She laughed. “So you have been bored.”
“No.” His expression warmed, surprising her with a quick snap of his camera aimed at her. “Watching you respond to it all has been fascinating. Truthfully, I’m rather pleased with my abduction plan.”
“Abduction?” She elbowed him gently. “Now who’s making your motives sound suspect?”
He leaned close to her ear and said in a low, rich voice, “Well, maybe they are.”
A delicious tingle blossomed in her stomach and traveled a little south, but she forced herself to walk without stumbling.
They entered Mrs. Vanderbilt’s oval bedroom through one of its multiple doors. “I always find it amusing that spouses kept separate bedrooms. I suppose it could be a good thing if your husband snored or drank too much.”
“I’d never put my wife in another bedroom. What’s the point of missing the primary benefit of marriage?”
Claire felt herself blush. “I think the primary benefit is companionship, not sex.”
“Clearly, you’ve not yet had the right partner.” His hot gaze stirred something in her, even as she gaped at his impudence. The memory of the kiss rushed back, putting questions in her mind.
Rather than give him the satisfaction of admitting he might be right, she gestured to the bookshelves. “This room must’ve also served as her study. I wonder what all those discreet passageways are for?”
“Probably for ferrying in lovers after her husband banished her to this room.” He chuckled, his rich laughter flowing through her like hot caramel. If he kept this up, he’d melt all her ice.
“Har har.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m guessing they were for servants to come and go with laundry and such.”
“Come now, Claire,” he clucked. “Don’t spoil my colorful scenarios with harsh reality.”
She liked Logan this way—relaxed, teasing, away from their friends. If they lived someplace far from Peyton and the local gossips, maybe she could let go of her misgivings.
“You’d have made a perfect rake back in the nineteenth century.” She envisioned him as a debonair earl, seducing women who volunteered as subjects for his experiments with the first photographs.
“I don’t know. All those layers of clothing would’ve been bothersome. My father will be the first to tell you I’m neither that ambitious nor persistent.”
Her heart stuttered at the abrupt shift and then ached because his father’s criticisms were always just beneath the surface of his thoughts. “Logan.”
He held up his hand. “Sorry. Ignore me. I think this place is giving me the willies because my dad would sell his soul to be able to leave something like this behind.”
“And you wouldn’t?”
“Never. It’s wasteful and self-indulgent. I can be both—which can be fun for a while—but never to this degree. When I do leave something behind, it will leave the world better off.”
She smiled, glancing at the camera in his hand. “I’m sure it will.”
“Are you?” He removed the long lens and returned it and the camera to the small case slung over his shoulder.
“Of course. You’re talented and passionate. If making a difference is your goal, then you’ll succeed.”
He grabbed her waist and tugged her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, Claire.”
Surprise allowed her to submit to his embrace. “You’re welcome.”
Surrounded by his scent and heat, she worried that she liked being in his arms too much. Her mind raced to piece together what caused him to hold her like she was precious. Could he be that starved for a single word of encouragement?
She closed her eyes to extend the moment in which it didn’t seem impossible that he might, after all these years, desire her. A moment in which she could believe her gentle reassurances formed a foundation for lasting love. In which she could commit to memory exactly how it felt to be surrounded by Logan, how he smelled, how his heartbeat pounded in his chest.
So tempting.
Let go before it hurts too much.
With heavy limbs, she forced herself to ease away and face reality. “We should probably get back soon. I’m meeting Steffi and Ryan for dinner.”
His jaw ticked. “I actually made reservations for us at Cara, overlooking the water.”
That sounded particularly romantic. Thank God for her prior plans, or she’d be hurtling toward certain heartache. “Oh, I’m sorry, Logan, but I can’t bail at the last minute.”
“I’m sure Ryan and Steffi would love a night on their own.”
“But Ben is going, too. If I’m a no-show, he’ll end up a third wheel.” She watched one of Logan’s brows pop up.
He whipped his phone from his pocket. “Wait here.”
He wandered a short distance away. She thought she heard him say Ryan’s name. He stood with one arm crossed over his chest and a conspiratorial smile on his face. A nod and chuckle, and did she hear the words “good luck” at the end?