The Long Road Home Page 3

  "Any regrets?" The words popped out before she could bite them back. "I'm sorry. I…"

  "Overall, no. I'd do it again." He took a long drink of his soda. "Just move faster next time."

  Gwen couldn't react to his sad attempt at humor, too busy kicking herself for asking such a ridiculous question. Time for a new bunny trail in the conversation. "What was your major? I forgot."

  "Recreation and physical education." He forked a piece of turkey. "I worked as a personal trainer in college."

  "Now I remember." Oh, yeah. How could she forget those muscles, that flat stomach, the gentle power in his hands as he held her for each dance? She hadn't, in all honesty. Just tucked the memory away until they crossed paths again.

  "How on earth did you get a job as a condom tester? And what, pray tell, does that involve." The corner of his mouth hitched up.

  "I read a listing of local jobs, applied, and to my amazement, they hired me."

  "Uh huh."

  "They liked my biochemistry degree. You have to have an understanding of the compounds and components in order to discover why tests fail. Besides, someone has to come up with new ideas on colors, flavors, thicknesses. All that involves some basic chemistry and understanding of how molecules bond and react in certain environments." She grabbed her glass and took a long drink. "It's pretty interesting, truth be told. The company is good, my boss is easy to work for. No complaints from me."

  "You're the reason condoms don't break and glow in the dark ones are sold at every novelty sex store?"

  Gwen's face heated. "Not me, per se. But, yeah."

  He smiled wide enough to show teeth. "Glad you're on the job. Condom breakage is bad, and glow in the dark condoms are a riot."

  She rolled her eyes and continued with her meal. Logan always had a wicked sense of humor; she recalled that particular trait from her weeks as his dance partner. He had flirted outrageously at times, teased, and poked his nose into her social life, what little there was at the time. Quickly, she'd picked up that all the outgoingness and flippant playboy attributes were simply part of his personality. He was inquisitive, quick-witted with a dirty mind, and a natural philanderer. Something she didn't realize she missed in her mundane life until now.

  "How much do condoms stretch anyway?" he asked while shoveling in a hefty spoonful of mashed potatoes.

  "You'd be surprised." She grinned at him and dug into her vegetables.

  Chapter 7

  Gwen sighed and tossed the dirty dishrag back into a sink full of soapy water. "We did it. Holiday meal eaten and put away, and we still have power." By the chime of four am, they had finished eating, picked up the mess, put the dishwasher to going, and set the kitchen to sparkling. She considered the task not only accomplished but a flying success.

  Ice pellets pattered against the window, reminding her of the storm's fury outside, their electricity held in a fragile balance of power line strength versus weight of the building frozen precipitation. From all accounts, Mother Nature would win. It was just a matter of time.

  Logan walked over, dug around in his duffel bag, then returned with an item in his hand. Opening his palm, he presented her with a small candy cane. "Merry Christmas, Gwen." He grinned at her, full of boyish charm.

  "Thank you." Gracefully, she accepted the traditional treat, shooting him a genuine smile while racking her brain as what she could give him on such short notice. "Oh, I have something for you." Scurrying over to her purse, she frantically dug through, searching for something, anything to reciprocate Logan's thoughtfulness. Her fingers brushed against foil. Without thought, she plucked the items out, walked over, and held out her hand. "Merry Christmas."

  He glanced down at her outstretched palms, a slow grin appearing on his face as his lips twitched. "Condoms?"

  Heat blasted across her cheeks. "Special holiday condoms. Candy cane striped."

  Reaching out, he picked up one package, turning it this way and that.

  "Extra-large, too."

  His gaze lifted and locked on hers. She squirmed. "Not that I checked out your… package, but, well, it just seems reasonable that a big man like yourself would have big endowments."

  His eyebrow shot up as a full-blown smile covered his face. "You learned this in biochemistry class?"

  "No. A human sexuality class taken over the summer." Gwen shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  Logan stared at her with twinkling blue eyes. "What else did you learn in that class?"

  Good grief. How did we get on this embarrassing subject? "Gorillas can have sex face-to-face, men don't particularly care for condoms, there's some weird stuff out there, and consensus states size does matter."

  He threw back his head and laughed, great belly laughs, full of unexpected amusement, sucking in air between bouts of guffaws. After a short time, he faded to chuckles, wiping at his watering eyes. "Damn."

  Gwen tilted her head in question.

  "Babe, of all things to learn in a human sexuality class, I think you missed all the really important bits."

  "Such as?"

  His eyes sparked with mischief as a sultry expression crossed his face. "Hot spots, techniques, and mind-blowing orgasms."

  She blinked. "I don't think the professor taught any of that. Otherwise, the class would be called 'Sex 101, Tab A, slot B, and the various ways they interact'."

  Logan's eyebrow shot up. "Would you sign up for that class if it was offered?"

  "Ummm." She found her feet enthralling, buying time to think of a sufficient answer. When in doubt… Her gaze lifted to meet his. "Would you?"

  "You better believe it. Every guy on campus would be signing up for that class." He leaned in close. "Imagine the group projects."

  A blast furnace blew across her face at the image his words provoked.

  * * * *

  Logan caught the crimson stain on her cheeks and chuckled to himself. Innocent little Gwen. He so loved to tease her. Always did. Watch the blushes appear and wonder how low they traveled down her chest. The flash of her eyes, the nervous wiggling. Everything came back to him like they were back in their dance class, partnering up for the first waltz.

  Too busy sowing wild oats his senior year, he'd never given serious consideration to Gwen. Besides, he had been graduating, moving on with life while she'd just started her college career at the University of Maryland. Any relationship between them carried a mark of future failure. Not that he thought about long-term commitment at the time. Instead, he focused on finishing his last semester, planning for the next stage, and going out with a bang.

  He hadn't laughed this much in weeks. Not since the roadside bomb took his leg and almost his life. Little humor existed when one struggled to survive, to learn to walk again, to read the pity on people's faces as they stared. Yet, somehow, with Gwen, none of that mattered. She returned him to a happier time and paid little attention to his disability. What questions she asked seemed to stem from curiosity rather than anything morbid or malicious. Instead, she rallied his sense of humor, stroked his ego, and, at least for one night, made him feel like a man again.

  Hell, he'd watched Rudolph with her and had a remarkably good time. Who would have thought?

  "Tab A and slot B, huh?" He couldn't resist teasing her a little more.

  Gwen rolled her eyes. "I suppose you have better names?"

  "Oh, yeah. You want to hear them?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  "No thanks. I'm at my allotment of embarrassment for one day." She yawned widely.

  For the first time, he realized the time. Six am. Neither of them had any sleep for over twenty-four hours. No wonder she looked to be wilting, fast approaching fatigue showing on her expressive face.

  "Ready for bed?"

  "I'm afraid so. My second wind is all blown out."

  He could empathize. After the large meal, his body drifted toward relaxation and downtime. "You're welcome to stay here. In my bed or my parents'. Or there's Maria's apartment. Your choice." As much as he want
ed her close by, separated by a single wall, he refused to push. After all, they barely knew one another, and many changes had happened since he saw her last. Like his damned leg.

  "If it's okay with you, I'll borrow Maria's apartment." She focused on the table, not quite meeting his eyes.

  "Sure." Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around hers. "Hey, don't worry. It'll be okay."

  She looked up at him.

  He grinned encouragingly. "You need some privacy, that's understandable. I need to take the prosthesis off anyway."

  "Your injury doesn't bother me, Logan." Truth carried in her words. "The sight of you without the prosthesis would be the same as with it. You're you. Handsome, fun, funny, and a great person."

  His heart buoyed at her words. Still, he didn't want the day ruined by her watching him remove his apparatus, see the pity cross her face, realize his limitations without the metal foot replacement. She might truly believe it didn't matter. He knew better. Besides, he suffered with insomnia some nights, and nightmares visited him now and again. None of that he wanted to expose her to.

  Forcing a smile, he stood and pulled her to her feet. "You probably snore like a grizzly bear hibernating for the winter. I need my beauty sleep, and having such a racket close by might make me wake up an ogre."

  Gwen shook her head. "I don't snore, you ninny. You're just afraid I'll see you with frightening bed-head hair."

  "That's it!" He walked to the front door, hearing her follow along. "I bet yours is ten times worse, though." Opening the door, he led her back into the hallway, then waited patiently for her to slip the key in the lock and push Maria's apartment door open.

  She turned toward him, their gazes met. "Thank you, Logan. You made this a Christmas to remember."

  "Back at ya."

  Another second passed, then she stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind her. He heard the lock click.

  Tiredly, he returned to his apartment, shut and locked the door, and walked directly into his bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his prosthesis, removed the stump sock, and stared down at his missing lower leg. A few inches below the knee, the skin ended, wrapping around the end, pink scars still in the healing process.

  He'd spent hours staring at his new leg, wondering, wishing, and finally realizing the fact that life went on. He couldn't grow another appendage, and moping about his injury did little good. Other soldiers fared worse with traumatic brain injuries, losing arms and legs both, or simply returning home in a vegetative state, totally dependent upon someone else to care for them as a ventilator kept them alive. In the scheme of things, he fared fairly well. Rage came and went as did melancholy. He chalked both up to bad days versus good days as he traveled down a brand new path and tried to cope with such sudden changes.

  Now, he just had to make an appointment with Walter Reed, line up a rehab schedule, and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life as he learned to deal.

  With a sigh, he laid back, rolled over, pulled the covers over his body. First, he had a special guest to enjoy and hang out with. If he was lucky, maybe they could take the first initial steps on the road to romance. Too bad luck failed him lately.

  Chapter 8

  Gwen stretched and rotated her shoulders, trying to work out the kinks from spending the past few hours sleeping on a lumpy couch. Sure, she could have borrowed the bed, but the idea didn't appeal, thus she opted for the neutral sofa in the living room. Tossing aside her borrowed blanket, she glanced at her watch. Noon. She'd slept for almost six hours, enough time to recharge her batteries for the rest of the day. Christmas Day.

  Wonder if Logan's awake. Not willing to rouse him, she opted to take her time getting around, jumping in the shower, and hanging out until she went stir-crazy or heard him rustling next door.

  Standing up, she discovered two things right off the bat. The electricity was off as the appliances no longer showed the time, and the darkened room could have substituted for a freezer.

  "Brrrr." Heading to the nearest window, she looked out, finding no signs of power as far as she could see. "Just great. Well, at least it's not a total surprise."

  Hustling into the bathroom, she prayed for hot water, relieved when she turned the device and within a few seconds steam began to rise. Thank goodness for gas water heaters. Quickly shedding her clothes, she happily hopped under the spray.

  Should she get cleaned up, knock on his door, and see about hanging out with him through the rest of the day? Or say her good-byes, head to her car, and start the long journey home? Stay. What if Logan wanted to be alone? What if he tired of her, needed some space, or was able to catch a flight to Florida today to be with his parents? She couldn't overextend her welcome, stretch his generosity. Yet, her inner voice clamored for her to hang out a while longer with her old dance partner, enjoy the opportunity fate granted.

  What am I going to do?

  Thirty minutes later, still indecisive, she climbed from the shower, dried off, and dressed in the chilly air. Brushing her hair, she simply pulled it back into a loose ponytail, not in the mood for a fancy braid or stylish design. Too cold and no hair dryer. Folding up her pajamas, she stuffed them in her suitcase and cleaned up the bathroom, hanging the now-damp towel over the shower bar to dry since she had no idea how long the owners of the apartment would be gone and didn't want them coming home to a mildew smell.

  One pm. Already lonely, she opted to take a chance next door. Besides, her stomach rumbled in hunger. Heading out the front door, she closed and locked it behind her before walking to Logan's door and knocking.

  The door opened to show Logan standing in a pair of black sweats, his blond hair damp from the shower, a twinkle in his eyes, clean-shaven face, and looking downright lickable. Yummy. Her breath caught.

  Holding the door open, he waited for her to enter, then closed it firmly behind her. "Hey." He grinned down at her and gestured toward her ponytail. "I see you found the hot water, too."

  "Oh, yeah. Felt good getting in but dang cold getting out."

  "Need to cuddle? Share some body heat?"

  Oh my. Do I ever. Grappling with her newly discovered inner hussy, Gwen couldn't quite disregard his offer. "Maybe in a little bit."

  His face lit up.

  "First, I want to eat some leftovers. I'm hungry."

  "Sounds good to me."

  Together, they headed into the kitchen.

  Chapter 9

  "Dating anyone?" Gwen nuzzled his chest. The action made his breath catch.

  After filling their bellies, they headed to the couch, both shivering from the frigid chill in the room. He reclined on pillows, encouraging her to lie down on top. She balked at first, but soon the cold and his encouragement changed her mind. Carefully, she settled between his legs, tilted to the side, and rested her upper body on his stomach. A thick blanket covered them both, encasing them in a cocoon of warmth.

  "Nope. Military kept me too busy. Then the accident. I've spent some time in Germany lately, healing up and learning the basics. How about you?" He wasn't even sure a woman would want to be with him, let alone have a clue how he'd perform in bed without a lower leg for balance. Damn his luck.

  "No. There seem to be a shortage of handsome, smart, and caring men out there. As much as I look for Prince Charming, I keep finding toads."

  He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her under the covers. "Toads, huh? Did you kiss them?"

  "A couple. No prince appeared. Just a warty old toad."

  Never before would he have considered himself a cuddler. Yet snuggling with Gwen on the couch felt pretty damn good. Feeling lazy and content, he didn't want to move any time soon. "Did they give you warts?"

  She snorted. "They knew better. I would have made frog legs out of them."

  He laughed, wrapped her tighter in his embrace, and lightly rubbed his hands up and down her back. Gwen provided a balm to his anger, reminded him of the lighter side of life, and managed to perk up his spirits with he
r bubbly optimism. In her company, he felt hope.

  To come home to this every night…

  "What time is it?"

  He pulled one hand from under the covers and checked his watch. "Three thirty. Why?"

  Her eyes opened wide. "Oh, no. It's late." She sat up.

  "Late? What are you late for?" Concerned at the near panic on her face, he tried to make sense of the sudden change.

  She met his gaze. "I need to go home." Looking down at his chest, she whispered an explanation. "I don't want to overstay my welcome. You're hospitality has been wonderful, but I know you have other things to do than entertain me. Besides, I'm sure the airport will be opening soon, so you can book a flight to Florida to see your parents."

  Reaching out, he brushed a stray chestnut lock from her face. "First of all, I have nothing pressing to do. With the power out, I'm sure the airport still isn't moving planes. You are nowhere near overstaying your welcome. And you're doing me a favor staying here. You're entertaining me. Hell, if you weren't here, I would be eating frozen fish sticks and fumbling around the house, bored out of my skull."

  "But, I…"

  "Shhhhh." He interlaced his fingers with hers. "Even if the ice storm has passed, it will take days for crews to get the power restored. Which means there are probably lines down, even trees lying across the road. Driving conditions will be deplorable with the ice, let alone obstacles along the way." Logan squeezed her hand. "I'd worry about you trying to drive four hours home in such conditions, especially with dark falling soon. Why don't you stay another night?"

  Hope and relief flashed across her face along with a healthy dose of guilt. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive." Reclining, he tugged her back on top of him, snuggling together. "Besides, you have to finish telling me about these toads you dated."

  She curled back in, the tension leaving her body as she rested her head on his chest. "Not much to tell. Once a toad, always a toad."

  He grinned, ran his hand down the length of her hair, and pulled the comforter tighter around her. "Worse than Harvey Dewater?"