Authors: Sally Falcon
Stolen Kisses (27 page)
“Three months in Arkansas.”
The room became very still as the words echoed off the walnut paneling. Steel-gray eyes bored into the startled blue gaze of the younger man. The office staff would have been amazed if they could see “Logan Legree”—as they called him—sitting bolt upright, his mouth hanging open. Enid Macomb Herrington, Logan’s mother, would have been appalled as well. Only Preston knew that the younger man was capable of any expression other than boredom.
“Arkansas?” Logan finally managed, losing the exaggerated New England accent that Preston hated.
“Yes, it’s a state in the South, between Missouri and Louisiana,” his uncle informed him politely, leaning forward to rest his arms on his desk. His eyes were bright with barely contained emotion.
Logan eyed him suspiciously and carefully sat forward himself, propping his forearms on his thighs. “There’s more, isn’t there? What am I going to be doing in Arkansas?”
“You’re going back to reporting again, but not that highbrow tripe you did for
Art Forum,
or that lofty commentary for
Political Scene.”
Preston paused, tightly lacing his fingers together as if to keep from rubbing his palms in glee. “If I’m right, I think you might even get dirty and learn there are sports besides polo, sailing, squash, and rowing.”
Logan knew he was gaping again. Writing and sports meant only one thing to the Herrington group—car racing. Racing that wasn’t Formula One or even contained to a track. This meant SCCA pro rallies, and crazy men who drove on dirt roads; one step above demolition derbies as far as he was concerned. But why Arkansas, a state where he wasn’t sure they spoke recognizable English? The
Rally Driver
was a national publication.
“You’re going to Arkansas for human interest stories, and because that’s where your guardian lives,” Preston answered the younger man’s silent question, adding mind reading to his talents.
“Guardian?” Logan shot up out of his chair as he yelled the word in a roar that anyone who had ever worked for his grandfather would have recognized immediately. “You’re insane. This virus has affected your mind.”
“You haven’t only become a man without emotions, Logan, you have also become what a hapless politician called the press at one time—an effete snob,” returned his tormentor, showing no signs of madness, or even anger. “You’ll be under the guidance of T.L. Planchet to learn some humility and hopefully get back some feelings that I know you had at one time. There is life beyond Boston, my boy.”
“And if I refuse?” Logan leaned over the desk in much the same manner Preston had just minutes before. The low snarl would have intimidated others, but not a Herrington—both men knew it.
“If you refuse, the Herrington trust will be in Babs’s care when I die. You’ll have a moderate allowance, no position in the Herrington group, and the total assets will go to charity eventually.”
“So, if I want to be part of the Herrington group’s future, I exile myself to some godforsaken spot and play out your Victorian morality lesson?” Logan didn’t bother to hide his distaste at the prospect. Three months in a cultural wasteland—no symphony, no ballet, no theater—with people who listened to music that extolled the virtue of loving their trucks.
“Yes, and you had better be more humble Oliver Twist than spoiled Little Lord Fauntleroy, or the second part of the codicil goes into effect,” Preston explained, now grinning from ear to ear with a smile that would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame.
Logan swore again and kicked the finely crafted mahogany desk that had been in the Herrington family for over two centuries. His angular face was flushed in anger, and his hands doubled into tight fists. Staring at his uncle’s face, he was half-tempted to strike the man that he loved above anyone else in the world, unaware that he was showing the first honest emotion Preston had seen from him in two years.
Stolen Kisses
Sally Falcon
She’s going to get that rascally rabbit…
Jessie DeLord couldn’t help but be charmed by the six-foot-tall rabbit she met at a costume party. It took a lot to pull off such an…interesting outfit, and Trevor Planchet definitely had confidence to spare. Before the night was out, she found herself lost in his arms, enjoying more than just bunny kisses. But if there was one thing Jesse knew for sure, it was that a six-foot-tall rabbit was
not
marriage material.
Little did Jesse know that TV sportscaster Trevor Planchet was one of Little Rock's most eligible bachelors. The moment he met Jessie, Trevor couldn't resist her fun, flirty attitude. Trevor was a man who couldn't help but give in to his devilish impulses…and Jessie DeLord was the ultimate indulgence.
But could the love of a good woman overcome this dedicated bachelor’s commitment phobia?
This book was previously published by Kismet Books in September 1992.
eBooks are
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transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Stolen Kisses
Copyright © 2012 by Sally Falcon
ISBN: 978-1-60928-988-1
Edited by Heather Osborn
Cover by Kim Killion
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Original Publication by Kismet Books: September 1992
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: May 2012
