9

THANK GOD SHE’D SAT IN THE BACK.

Logan rushed out of the boutique with the image of Angel’s shapely, toned legs peeking out from beneath the hem of his shirt searing his brain and shooting straight to his groin. Yeah, as if the hardening of her nipples from the store’s air-conditioning and that jumble of hair—not to mention the sexy lingerie she’d held against her body and that kiss they’d almost shared—had nothing to do with his condition.

God help him, he couldn’t forget one single detail, and his body’s reaction was making walking damn difficult. He angled away from Michael before adjusting his shorts, not wanting to contemplate what he’d be going through if she’d sat next to him in the SUV, those thighs inches from his—especially after watching them ascend the dock steps, then having her in his arms, almost kissing her… He’d been utterly relieved by Michael’s seating arrangements.

And thank God for the store clerk. If he’d had to spend one more minute with Angel holding lingeri