The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(115)

True enough. Logan’s image flickered through Claire’s mind again, poking at the tender spot of her pointless, girlish longing, like always.

She’d memorized his face so long ago. Sandy-blond hair, worn in lengths ranging from shaggy to shoulder-length just to annoy his father. Piercing green eyes fringed with thick lashes and framed with straight brows. Cheekbones carved to perfection. A patrician profile that befitted his family’s prominence, and a surprisingly generous smile. Logan Alder Prescott. Even the sound of his name belonged on a lighted marquee.

From their very first meeting, when she’d barely been thirteen years old, she’d concocted many adolescent fantasies about him professing his secret love for her. He did fulfill her fervent wish for him to be her first kiss. He hadn’t known that part—at least she hoped he hadn’t. She’d been fifteen, but he’d kissed her only because he felt sorry for her after her surgery. Just thinking of his gentle lips made her pelvic area throb as if the bullet was striking anew.

She shook her head, dislodging all thoughts of Logan. “I’ll catch up with Mrs. Brewster and try to coax her into letting us pitch a proposal for her bathroom. But we have to scrape together funds to advertise, update the website, and you need to find some reno work for us. Promise me we’ll earmark new revenue for cheap retail space—”

A knock at the door interrupted her monologue.

Ryan called down, “Steffi, can you get that? I’m not finished dressing.”

“Sure.” Steffi held up her index finger, silently asking for Claire’s patience, before she rose from the table and disappeared around the corner.

Claire added another dollop of whipped cream to her last bit of cocoa and another splotch to lick off her finger. From the other room, she heard Steffi’s surprised voice say, “Oh, we didn’t expect you so early.”

“Hope that’s not a problem,” Logan replied in his unmistakable baritone.