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in a petite package. Regardless, his post-Helena burn had yet to heal, and the last thing he wanted was another female complication. Jenna Fordyce didn’t strike him as a one-night-stand kind of girl, and, lately, that’s all that had interested him. No commitments. No promises. Nothing that even remotely resembled a steady relationship.

      He also didn’t need Jenna hurting herself again, exactly what Logan feared she’d done when a clattering sound filtered through the closed door. He rapped his knuckles on the facing and called, “Are you okay in there?” And if she didn’t answer in two seconds, he was going to break down the door.

      “I’m fine,” she said. “I dropped the toothbrush in the sink and knocked over the toothpaste.”

      At least she hadn’t dropped onto the floor. “Do you need anything?”

      “Not unless you happen to have some eye-makeup remover.”

      He very well could. But he was tempted to deny it in order to avoid having to explain. Then again, if she really needed it, he should give it to her. “Are you decent?”

      “That’s debatable, but you can come in.”

      Logan opened the door to find her wearing the threadbare T-shirt that hit her midthigh, standing in front of the mirror and rubbing a washcloth over her face. Ignoring the clothes piled on the marble counter—including a skimpy lace bra—he strode to the vanity, opened the drawer, pulled out the metallic-gold makeup bag and rifled through it. And he’d be damned if he didn’t find exactly what she was looking for.

      He withdrew the blue bottle and put in her hand. “Here you go. Eye-makeup remover.”

      She frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me about yourself, Logan?”

      “I don’t wear makeup, if that’s what you’re asking. It belongs to someone else.”

      “You have a girlfriend.”

      “I have an ex-girlfriend.”

      “I see.” She opened the lid and dabbed the washcloth with the clear liquid. “But you’ve kept a few reminders.”

      “Yeah. To remind me of one of the many reasons why we’re not together anymore. She wore too much makeup.”

      “Okay.”

      Logan expected Jenna to question his other reasons, but she concentrated on removing the mascara. He liked that she hadn’t grilled him. Liked that she’d let past history remain in the past. He liked her a lot and couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way about a woman.

      She blew out a frustrated sigh. “I should never have let Candice put makeup on me. It’s a pain in the butt, and if I don’t get it off, it could cause problems.” Then she turned to him and asked, “Is it gone, or am I ready for Halloween four months early?”

      “Let me help.” He took the cloth from her hand, clasped her chin and wiped at the smudges beneath her lower lids. He was very aware of their close proximity. Aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the shirt, and that particular knowledge was creating major havoc on his body. If he didn’t get away now, he was in danger of kissing her.

      On that thought, he tossed the rag into the sink and backed up a step. “It’s all gone. And you don’t need any makeup.”

      She smiled. “I bet you say that to all the women you rescue from the clutches of evil mascara.”

      “This is a first. I’ve never intentionally taken off a woman’s makeup.”

      “I’m sure you’re very good at removing lipstick.”

      “Could be.” And if she had any on now, which she didn’t, he’d be glad to remove it for her. “Are you finished?”

      She pushed her hair back with one hand. “I believe I am. Are you?”

      When he realized how close he was coming to making a fatal error, Logan took her by the arm and guided her back into the living room to settle her on the sofa. “Stretch out and I’ll cover you up.”

      After she complied, Logan pulled the blanket up to her chin, concealing her body and giving him some much-needed relief. “Is that okay?”

      She worked her arms from underneath the covers. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

      “Yeah. Why?”

      “I don’t know. You sound almost angry.”

      “I’m not angry.” At least not at her.

      She stretched her arms above her head before folding them beneath her breasts. “Then you’re not going to boot me out on my butt after I fall asleep?”

      “You’re safe.” But if she knew what he was thinking—that he’d like to climb on that couch with her—she might be the one doing the booting.

      After grabbing up the remote from the coffee table, Logan switched on the TV. “Any particular show you want to watch?”

      “It doesn’t matter to me, as long as there’s audio. You decide.”

      A return to his regularly scheduled program might offer a solid distraction. “I recorded the baseball game. They were in extra innings when I left to pick you up.”

      “I know. I also know the score. I heard some guys talking at the bar.”

      He set the remote back on the table. “Don’t tell me or you’ll ruin it.”

      “I’ll let you be surprised, then.” She rolled to her side to face him and began twisting the corner of the blanket. “Before you settle in for the night, there’s something I need to ask you.”

      Jenna’s tone was so somber, he worried that maybe she wasn’t feeling well. Worried that he might have to make a trip to the E.R. after all. But her well-being mattered more than the inconvenience. “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing’s wrong.” She closed her lids, then opened them slowly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen myself in the mirror, and I want to know if my eyes—”

      “They’re as beautiful as the rest of you.” And they were—pale brown, round eyes framed by long, dark lashes. No, she didn’t need any makeup. She was perfect just the way she was. Maybe even too perfect.

      Jenna smiled, but to Logan it looked almost sad. “I bet you say that to all the blind girls who end up on your sofa.”

      “You’re the first, and it’s the truth.”

      When she reached out her hand, he took it without hesitation. “Thanks, Logan. I’m glad we met.”

      “So am I.” And he was, more than he cared to admit. “Now, get some sleep.”

      He gave her hand a squeeze and took his place in the lounger several feet away. He tried to concentrate on the game, but he was too busy analyzing the woman on his couch. He wondered if she was as real as she seemed. If everything she’d told him was accurate. If he’d misjudged her due to his own bitter experience. He suspected he had, and he wanted more proof.

      For Logan O’Brien, the night might have begun with an unwelcome interruption, but it had ended with one huge surprise—Jenna Fordyce.

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