Command Control

He ran his hand down over his face. “I’m sorry. Unloading on you like this falls outside the parameters of a fling.”

“So does dinner in a closed bookstore,” she said. “You had a bad day. You’re allowed to talk about it.”

Sadie set her glass on the nightstand. Reaching over, she plucked his empty one from his hand and placed it next to hers. In a short time, they’d become friends who listened, offered comfort and something more.

Placing one hand on either side of his face, she drew his mouth to hers. She brushed her lips across his, softly, gently.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he leaned back, until he hit the pillow. She lifted her head and took in the exhaustion written all over his face. Resting her head on his shoulder, she pressed her body close to his.

Respect, friendship and desire—she felt all of those things for him. She could love this man. But like always, it came down to a simple choice—her career or her personal life. Could she risk her future to follow her heart?

Sadie closed her eyes. If she did, who would support her father and her sister? What about baby Lacey? She had savings thanks to her first book, but there was no guarantee it would be enough.

And in the back of her mind, a little voice said, No, you love your career. And she did. She wasn’t saving the world or teaching special-needs children, but she loved what she did. Part of her didn’t want to walk away from her passion for anyone. She wanted to find a way to be true to herself and fall in love. She didn’t want to choose.

Sadie felt Logan relax as he drifted off to sleep. Either way, she’d probably never have to make that call. There was no sense in risking her heart if his still belonged to someone else.

16

SADIE ARRIVED AT her sister’s cottage the next night feeling like a summertime Santa Claus. She’d brought the food—burgers, fries and apple pie for all—and everything the saleswoman at the baby store two towns over recommended.

“Anything left at the store?” Logan asked, eyeing her bags as he helped her unload.

“She needs these things.”

Logan peered into the bag holding the high-end video baby monitor. “I’m pretty sure Laurel can hear little Lacey cry from anywhere in the house.”

“But now she can see her,” Sadie said, pickin

g up the bag with the baby wipe warmer. She’d been a little unsure of that item herself, especially seeing as it was summer, but she’d purchased all the items the saleswoman had written down. When Sadie returned to New York, she wanted Laurel to have everything she might need.

Logan set the bags inside the back door, took the monitor box out and examined it. “Infrared night vision. Laurel is going to be more equipped than I was on my last mission.”

Her sister burst into the kitchen with a screaming Lacey in her arms. Aunt Lou followed. From the other room, Sadie could hear the television and Greg cursing loudly.

“What is all of that?” Laurel asked, eyeing the mountain of bags.

Sadie shrugged. “I had a few errands to run and stopped by the baby store you told me about. The saleswoman was very nice. She said you needed all of this stuff. I figured since the baby came early, you might not have everything. And you can return what you don’t need.”

“Oh, my God, thank you! Sadie, you didn’t have to buy all this stuff. Having you here—that’s enough.” Her twin looked close to tears.

“Here, let me take the baby while you unpack.” Aunt Lou scooped the crying Lacey from Laurel’s arms and began cooing at her. As if she’d decided Lou had the magic touch, Lacey quieted down.

“Wow,” Sadie said. “Laurel is never going to let you leave.”

Lou smiled. “Logan, why don’t you grab a drink and join Greg in the other room for the end of the game?”

“When it’s over, we’ll eat,” Laurel added, pulling a pack of onesies out of a shopping bag. “These are so cute! And we’re almost out. You just saved me a trip to the Laundromat.”

Logan grabbed a beer and escaped. Laurel followed, insisting she wanted to put the baby supplies away. That left Sadie alone with Aunt Lou and the now sleeping baby.

“I was disappointed you didn’t win my nephew in the raffle,” Aunt Lou said, bypassing pleasantries as if they’d known each other for decades.

“I did my best.”

“Five hundred tickets.” Aunt Lou looked her straight in the eye. “I heard.”

Sadie went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. “It was for a good cause. Literacy.”