Follow A Wild Heart (romance,) Read Free Page A

complexes he'd learned to push like buttons.
    And here they were. Here she was. Danny had won his final competition an hour before and gone off to celebrate with a ride on the Ferris wheel.
    Karena heard the announcement for her next heat and shook her head. If she won this phase, and the finals in the ax throwing at the evening show tonight, plus the final heats tomorrow night, Danny would have his books.
    She stepped outside, wanting to cringe at the impact of people, noise and odors. Instead, she forced her shoulders back, her head held high, and walked over to the pool, heart pounding all over again as the short, grizzled announcer began his spiel once more.
    "Sara Wise, from Newfoundland, Canada, wearing black shorts, here on my left, and on my right, our native Minnesota contender and the winner of the last heat, Karena Carlson, wearing red. Sara will warm up first."
    Sara Wise was at least six feet tall, and brawny. She stepped confidently out on the log, almost capsizing it, and gave it a few desultory whirls this way and that with her size eleven cleats before nimbly springing back to dry land. The lackadaisical way she moved and her very size seemed to trumpet the confidence she exuded. She definitely didn't plan on getting wet, and she towered intimidatingly over Karena.
    Logan had watched Karena from the instant she exited the tent, and now he stared at her competitor in disbelief.
    Shouldn't there be a weight or a height handicap in an event like this, for cripes' sake? That Sara was an amazon.
    "Here's your coffee, Uncle Logan. Alexander put two sugars in it. I told him you only took one sugar and one cream, but he wouldn't listen. Uncle Logan?" His niece's fussy voice finally penetrated Logan's preoccupation.
    "Oh, hi, Liz. Thanks."
    He took the Styrofoam cup without taking his eyes off Karena Carlson's form. He couldn't see her eyes from where he was sitting, and it annoyed him vaguely.
    Was she frightened?
    What color were her eyes, anyhow? They ought to be cornflower blue, he decided at last, noting her proud carriage, the way her high breasts and narrow waist and hips were perfectly aligned.
    And those runner's legs. Long, shapely, powerful. A primeval surge of appreciative desire made him shift uncomfortably. She was deliciously lovely, this Karena Carlson, this... lumberjack. Surely not a lumberjack, he corrected. What would a woman who competed in these events be called, anyhow? A lumberjill? He grinned at his own feeble humor.
    "Uncle Logan, you're spilling on me." Liz's aggrieved voice commanded his attention, and he mopped apologetically at her jeans with a Kleenex.
    "Gosh, I'm sorry, Lizzie. It didn't burn you, did it?"
    "No, but that's only because Alexander took forever in the bathroom, and so your coffee got cold. Is it okay to drink?"
    He, who normally abhorred cold coffee, nodded absently and gulped it, his eyes riveted once again on the figure in red shorts now taking her turn on the precarious log in the pool.
    Poor kid, Logan thought protectively. She hasn't got a chance against that giant.
    "One, two, three, go!"
    Two sets of female legs began a cautious, intense and highly skilled exhibition of dexterity. Barely a minute into the competition, however, Karena slipped backward, lost her footing and fell full length into the pool.
    Logan jerked up, half standing, sinking back down as he realized how shallow the water was. She was already hoisting herself up the side and out, obviously unhurt but extremely wet.
    The crowd roared apd a group of exuberant spectators, obviously supporting the Canadian entry, clapped and shouted their approval of Sara Wise. Logan twisted around and shot the insensitive clods a scowling grimace, turning back to the pond in time to see a soaked Karena clamber out, brief shorts and singlet now clinging intriguingly.
    "Best of two heats out of three, first heat to Sara Wise," the announcer blared, and Logan swallowed, stifling an insane impulse to whip off his checked