Her Forever Man. Leanne Banks

want to feel. He didn’t want another woman swinging a wrecking ball through his guts. He’d almost convinced himself and everyone he knew that he didn’t have needs anymore.

      As he stood alone in his room, however, he remembered the combination of softness and fire in Felicity’s eyes, her stubborn intention to rid herself of her wealth, and, most disconcerting, her belief in him, his character, his integrity.

      He remembered her sweet scent and sweeter curves. He’d been bred for honor. She was right about that. But when she’d insisted he wasn’t attracted to her and didn’t want her, the woman was dead wrong.

      Even now, though he hadn’t touched her, his body was hard with wanting, with the need to mold her to him and take her, to taste her and take her again. He was alarmingly susceptible to her. A half-hearted flirting remark sent his hormones pumping through his blood like an oil gusher.

      It was raging desire. It was raging insanity.

      He closed his eyes to the unfamiliar sensations coursing through him and mentally snapped his walls into place. He would not have her. Just as Felicity had concluded she wouldn’t love a man because of the curse of her wealth, Brock knew he would never risk loving another woman because of the Logan Curse. Logans never won at love.

      “I’m bored,” Bree said after Felicity finished reading the third book the next morning. The little girl rolled her head from side to side on her pillow. Finding ways to keep Bree occupied was far easier than trying to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. Brock Logan, she’d decided, was honest, honorable and impossible. She rolled her eyes at the assignment he’d given her, then banished it from her mind.

      “You must be feeling better,” Felicity said as she searched for another way to entertain Brock’s daughter. She thought back to her own childhood and smiled. “But just to be sure, I think I’m going to give you Marybel’s cure.”

      “Who’s Marybel?” Bree stopped moving her head and looked at Felicity curiously.

      “She was my very favorite nanny,” Felicity told her, fondly remembering the one person in her life who had made her feel adored. Marybel had applauded when Felicity played “Chopsticks” on the piano and had told her what a pretty girl she was when Felicity wore braces and glasses. When Felicity was sent to boarding school, Marybel had left. She still missed the woman.

      “What kind of cure?” Bree demanded.

      “Wait right there,” she told her.

      “Texans say hold your horses,” Bree corrected.

      Felicity chuckled at Bree’s attempts to Texanize her and waved her hand. “Okay, hold your horses or cows,” she said.

      “Cattle,” Bree corrected again.

      “Exactly,” Felicity agreed and went to the guest room to get a few items from her cosmetic case. Returning to Bree’s room, she lined up five bottles of nail polish on the girl’s bed. “Choose one.”

      Bree sat up and brightened at the sight of the different colors. “This is the cure?”

      “Manicure, or as Marybel used to say, cure for whatever ails you.”

      “I never heard of that.”

      Felicity saw her father’s skepticism creep into Bree’s eyes. “Then it’s time you did. Whether you’re heartsick or body-sick, a cure just helps you feel better.” Felicity thought about her recent disaster with Douglas. “Although if there’s a man involved, you might need a day at the spa. Choose one,” Felicity said again.

      Bree frowned. “Do I have to pick just one?”

      Felicity started to nod, then stopped mid-motion, remembering part of the fun of the cure when she’d been a child was that she’d been allowed to choose and whatever she had chosen was fine with Marybel. “No, you can have all five if you like.”

      Bree gave a slow smile. “That’s what I want.”

      Felicity proceeded to create a rainbow on Bree’s fingernails and toenails. By the time she’d finished Bree was beaming. “Wow. I can’t wait for Dad to see this.”