I zipped up my sweatshirt, pulled my hat on, and slid on my sunglasses. “Yeah, let me push that,” I said, indicating the folding contraption she had set Clementine in.

Every muscle in my body flexed as soon as we hit the sidewalk. It was one thing to be alone with Elle; it was entirely another to be out in public. I could feel the thudding in my chest. My fingers were white knuckled wrapped around the handles of the stroller. When a gust of wind blew across my neck, I stiffened even more. With a glance from side to side, I quickly pushed across the street and toward the entrance to the Garden. Making sure Elle could keep up, I stopped and took her hand, placing it with mine on the stroller handle, and she didn’t pull away.

I liked the warmth of her skin near mine.

As soon as we hit one of the entrances and entered the Public Garden, I felt a wave of relief. We looked like every other couple out for a Sunday morning walk to enjoy the breaking weather and admire the early buds of the magnolia trees.

Slowing the pace, I stopped at the first monument we came across.

“William Ellery Channing,” Elle read and glanced at me.

“He was one of our country’s foremost Unitarian ministers.”

She raised a quizzical brow.

I pushed forward. “Hey, I had to come here every year on school field trips. Whether I cared to know or not, I had to learn the name of every monument and why they’re here.”

She laughed.

I liked the sound.

We strolled a bit and stopped at the 9/11 memorial. Knowing that needed no explanation, I let her glance at it for a moment and I looked too. When she was ready, she urged me forward.

I noticed something about Elle: if we pretended to be two people getting to know one another and let go of all the shit that was really going on, she was relaxed. Sure, the sexual tension was still there, but I knew that wasn’t going anywhere no matter what we did unless what we were doing was fucking, which we weren’t. Even now, the way my skin felt heated where her hand was touching mine, I knew she felt it as much as I did.

She leaned in closer when I veered toward the footbridge.

I pointed. “Look, Clementine, the ducks.”

The excitement in my voice had Elle’s head snapping toward me in surprise.

I shrugged. “What? I can’t be excited about ducks?”

She laughed. “I like this side of you.”

I looked at her with an eyebrow slightly tilted. Quizzical. “There’s no other side of me.”

She let her thumb slip around mine, and I felt the intimacy of this minor connection almost as if she’d wrapped her arms around me. “If you say so, but just so you know, I think it’s cute.”

Just yards from the base of the bridge, I stopped and gave her a chaste kiss. It was as if I was compelled. I couldn’t help myself. When we started walking again, I watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as she tried to catch her breath. We affected each other in the most intense way. I, too, had to intentionally relax my breathing.

The three of us stood in the middle of the footbridge and gazed over the railing for the longest time. The joy Clementine radiated at seeing the ducks was contagious, and something inside me had me pulling Elle closer as the little girl stood between us.

Not wanting the moment to end, I led us to a place I thought they would both like—the Duckling Sculpture. And I was right. Excitement gleamed in both their faces and Clementine squealed in delight. The statue was made of bronze and featured nine ducks: Mrs. Mallard and her eight ducklings.

The fact that I remembered that from my childhood blew me away.

But what blew me away even more was that no matter how wrong this thing was between us, right now it had never felt more right.

ELLE

I stared at that mouth. Those lips . . .

Oh my God.

My heart was beating so fast.

My breathing felt erratic.

He was so masculine. So sexy. So attractive.

Did he know it?

I didn’t think he did.

It wasn’t just the way he walked, or talked, or looked. It was his body language. His mannerisms. The ease in which he moved. It was everything.

We were strolling back to the hotel and talking about the Boston Red Sox. Mid-sentence, he looked over at me through the fringe of his lashes and smiled. It was devastating. Charming. “Don’t you agree?” He asked.

I was melting. That look warmed me all the way to my toes. I had to swallow hard to fight off the lustful feelings flowing through my veins.

Logan bumped my shoulder and said, “Should I be worried that I’m boring you?”

“No, not at all.” My voice had dipped low and husky. It was a voice I’d never heard before. “I do think the Sox will turn it around this year.”

A slow, lazy smile spread across his face. “You were listening.”

It was confirmed—he absolutely had no idea what effect he was having on me.

We reached the hotel before I knew it. As we strode through the lobby my mind was on him. On his smile. His scent. His low-slung pants. It wasn’t like I was thinking about some unreachable fantasy. I was thinking about him. And me. And fucking.

As we got into the elevator and it started to move, I became all too aware that my body was humming, buzzing with need. In the confined space, it was taking all of my strength to fight against the lustful desire that was trying to make its way deep inside me. I’d told myself to push him out of my thoughts, but how could I do that when he was right beside me, exuding whatever it was that kept drawing me to him?

Logan glanced over at me and I knew the moment he became aware of my lustful trance. I felt the blood rush to my face, and I swallowed hard. My parted lips and heavy breathing were a dead giveaway. Not to mention my nipples felt like diamonds, and there was a steady pulsing between my legs that was beginning to ache.

He leaned closer.

He knew now what he was doing to me.

My clit was throbbing.

Space.

I needed space.

Thank God, the elevator doors opened and I used that as my cue to put some distance between us. With long strides, I stepped out ahead of him and but then turned back to see how Clementine was doing. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted to the side of the stroller. She’d fallen asleep on the walk back to the hotel.

Why I let it happen I don’t know, but my gaze rose, and again I found myself staring at those lips. Those lips that had to send women everywhere reeling—I knew they did. With a dry throat, I managed, “Looks like she decided it was nap time.”

Logan dropped his own gaze. “Will she wake up when I move her?”

I smiled. “No, she’s a good sleeper. She’ll sleep a solid two to three hours.”

He looked at his watch and seemed to be calculating something, as if time was of the essence. “How about you stay here with her and I’ll head over to the boutique and see if the garage door opener is in your bag?”

I contemplated the suggestion for a moment but found nothing wrong with it. “Sure, but I’m almost certain it must be.”

The more time that went by, the more I began to think I was overreacting.

Logan stopped in front of his hotel room door and pulled his key card out. Intently, I watched him. I couldn’t seem to drag my eyes away from him. Once we were inside, he pushed the stroller to his bedroom. I watched as he transferred Clementine to the crib. He was getting more comfortable with her, although he still looked worried that he might break her.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that thought.

He turned around and peered curiously at me.

With a lift of my brows and a rise of one shoulder, I shrugged it off and then reached for the blanket that was at the end of the bed. As I covered her, I met his eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”