Strangely, Sabrina didn’t smile at him like she normally would. She walked at a brisk pace and stepped inside, her expression serious. “Claire told me you were staying here. I wanted to stop by.”
“You okay?” he asked. “How was the drive?”
“I’m good.” Her tone brightened. “Drive was good.”
“I was just about to have a celebratory glass of champagne. We got an incredible offer from Elias. Done deal.”
She beamed, and it was like the sun came out. “Oh, Logan! That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you and Ben!”
He smiled back, thrilled to share this with her. “Thanks. Want some champagne?”
She got serious. “Maybe we should talk first.”
His brows drew together in concern. “Did something happen? Is that woman harassing you some more? What a bitch.” Sabrina had been through the wringer with all the media attention.
She bit her lip. “How much time do you have before you meet Olivia for dinner?”
He glanced at his phone. “About an hour.” He studied her. “What is it?”
She went to the overstuffed white sofa and patted the seat next to her.
He took a seat and looked at her expectantly. “Well?”
She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. When she spoke, it was in her reserved professional counselor tone. “I have a theory that people become most upset about what they themselves are guilty of.”
“O-kay,” he said slowly, not sure where she was going with this. He hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about.
“Shit.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes.
“What?”
She met his eyes. “I just realized how that applies to me. I have a thing against commitment-phobes—” her palm rested against her heart “—and I’m a commitment-phobe. That’s why I haven’t had a relationship in years. Ugh. The irony. I’m the person I warn people about.”
He cocked his head. “What? No way. You dedicate your life to helping couples commit to each other. That’s your thing.”
She sighed. “That’s my thing for others, yes. But, for me, I haven’t had a committed relationship since my ex left me at the altar.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was real and raw. “Logan, it was so humiliating, me standing up there in my wedding gown, all of our family and friends there, and then he just walked out the back door of the church and never looked back.”
“Bastard,” he spat. He wanted to punch the guy.
She gave him a tight smile. “Thanks.” She hesitated before saying, “I think it affected me more than I realized. I longed for a relationship, yet did nothing to find a meaningful connection that might one day lead to that.”
His brows scrunched together in confusion. “So you drove all the way up from LA to confess that you’re a commitment-phobe? Don’t feel bad. Obviously you know what you’re doing with other people. Now you can just apply the same advice to yourself.”
She stared straight ahead. “I stopped by the Slater Foundation.”
An uneasy feeling went through him. Olivia would tear sweet Sabrina to shreds. “You did?”
She faced him. “I wanted to fix what I’d screwed up for you. I just wanted to assure Olivia she had nothing to worry about where you and I were concerned.”
He grimaced. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”
“No. It went very, very badly.” She spoke slowly as if trying to ease into treacherous territory. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…my theory that people become most upset about what they’re guilty of…” She paused, searching his expression, before finally saying, “Well, that might apply to Olivia too with her jealousy issues.”
He read between the lines. “You mean her jealousy and accusations are because she’s guilty of cheating on me?”
“Yes,” she said softly. Her eyes were big and sympathetic. “I went to her office, and she was with a man in her private bathroom. They came out half undressed, obviously having hooked up. She as much as admitted—”
“That’s enough.” He stood and walked a few steps away. Could this be right? Olivia was cheating on him after all the fuss she’d made over him having relationships, even friendly ones, with other women? Olivia was the one who had reached out to him. Why would she do that if she was already in a relationship?
Sabrina spoke up. “There’s more you should know.”
He shook his head. “I’ll call her, figure out what’s what, and then you can have some champagne with me. Help yourself to the fridge if you’re hungry.”
He was heading for the stairs to call Olivia in privacy when Sabrina called out urgently, “She was using you to put pressure on her boyfriend, Anil, not to go through with his arranged marriage, but he’s still going through with it. I’m not sure if you were her plan B, or she hoped to marry you to rub it in his face. Maybe both.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Here he’d been thinking they had something real when he’d been played. If what Sabrina said was true. He needed to talk to Olivia and hear it directly from her. He held up a hand in acknowledgment to Sabrina and continued upstairs to the master bedroom, closed the door for privacy, and called Olivia.
“Hello,” she purred. “Can’t wait to see you tonight. It’s been so long.”
“Olivia, Sabrina told me everything. You’re with Anil, using me to force his hand and make him not go through with an arranged marriage. He’s still going to marry this other person. Please tell me if this is true.”
“I ended it, I swear. I was a fool to be with him. You’re my future.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Dammit. He couldn’t believe he’d let it get this far with her. He’d been ready to leave his family and friends behind and move cross-country to solidify their relationship when there was no relationship. He’d let their past connection in college weigh too heavily on their future.
“Logan, please, you and I never explicitly said we were exclusive.”
“Then why the hell were you freaking out that I might be with Sabrina!” He exhaled sharply. “This is over. Goodbye, Olivia.” He disconnected, beyond aggravated. Then he deleted Olivia’s contact info from his phone. A small vengeance.
He stood there for a minute, letting himself cool down before heading downstairs. He found Sabrina in the kitchen, washing some green grapes. He waited for her to turn the water off before saying, “Hey.”
She whirled. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He lifted his palms. “I ended it with her.”
She set the grapes on some paper towels and dried her hands. “I’m so sorry. I know you were hoping things would go very differently.”
He pressed his lips together, still pissed he’d been so fooled by Olivia. “Yeah, well.”
Sabrina spoke in a gentle, soothing tone. “I just couldn’t let you move forward not knowing what she was about.”
He nodded. “Thanks, you saved me from a huge mistake. Want to get drunk?”
Chapter Eleven
“Let’s do it,” Sabrina said and immediately blushed.
Logan studied her. Wait, was she blushing because that sounded dirty? Was she into him?
She fluttered a hand in the air. “I mean, I’ve had a really shitty week. I actually considered flying home early, tail between my legs.”
He knew her week had been filled with malicious gossip. Obviously, it was his own dirty mind turning her words into something more.
He crossed to her and made a show of looking behind her. “Never noticed a tail on you.”
She laughed. “You’re taking this much better than I thought. I was so afraid you’d be devastated.”
He studied her for a moment, all concern for him. She really cared. “You’re a good friend.”
She looked away, blushing. “I try.”
He got the champagne from the refrigerator and opened it, the pop echoing satisfyingly in the large open space. The start of a celebration. Sabrina set two champagne fl
utes on the counter that she’d found in the cabinet. He filled them and lifted his glass in the air. “To Elias!”
She lifted her glass. “To Checkin and all of your and Ben’s hard work.”
They clinked glasses and drank. Damn, this was some good champagne. Leave it to Claire to spring for the good stuff.
He lifted his glass to hers again. “To good friends.”
She smiled, a warm tender smile that reached in and squeezed his heart. He was so lucky to have her on his side. “To great friends.”
They drank to that.
Sabrina set her glass on the granite counter behind her and hopped up on the counter, taking a seat. “Tell me all about your meeting today. I want to hear every detail.”
He sat on the island counter across from her and told her everything, right down to sweating through his first dress shirt.
She slapped the counter. “I love it. I knew you’d kick ass.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. She rarely cursed. Must be the champagne. She’d finished her glass while he was talking. He refilled her glass, finished off his, and refilled his glass too.
He clinked glasses with her. “To kicking ass.”
“I’ll drink to that!” She drank, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and gave him a big beaming smile that grabbed him by the balls. Sabrina flushed pink, relaxed and happy was a sight. A vision of a sated Sabrina in bed, her long dark blond hair spread out on the pillow, relaxed and smiling at him, flashed through his mind. She shook her shoulders out. “Woo! I’m starting to feel the champagne.”
“Yeah? Good.” His voice came out husky. Geez, he wasn’t going to move in on his friend just because he was now a free man.
He was a free man.
Sabrina was single.
Nope. She wasn’t giving him a signal. She was just a little tipsy.
Some lines you couldn’t uncross.
He returned to his safe perch on the island across from her. “Your turn. Tell me all about your talk-show run. I already know the gossip shit, and that, by the way, is no concern of yours.”
She scowled. “I’m so pissed! Half my clients cancelled on me. Tara is running all these local ads, stealing them away. She wants to ruin me.”
“Holy shit. Half? But you got a lawyer on it, right? And I’m sure Claire’s all over it.”
She stared at the floor, her shoulders drooping. “Yeah, but it still sucks.”
His chest ached in sympathy. He left his glass on the counter, closed the distance between them, and tipped her chin up. “We’re not going to let that ruin our celebration. I kicked ass today. You kicked ass all week. You might’ve lost some clients, but you’ll get more. Tenfold.”
Her brows shot up, her eyes big and hopeful. “You really think so?”
“I know so. Time for some celebration music.” He pulled out his phone and cued up his workout music, blasting it. Mostly fun pop songs with a good beat like “Pump It” by the Black-Eyed Peas.
She laughed. “What is this?”
He grinned. “It’s music to get me through my morning workout.”
She hopped off the counter and started dancing, hands in the air, rocking out. He joined her, grabbing her hand and spinning her around. She laughed and he spun her back. She lost her balance and slammed into his chest, giving him a jolt of awareness, soft curves pressed against him. His hands went to her bare arms, warm and satiny soft.
“Sorry,” she said, patting his chest and backing away.
The music kept blasting, but all of his focus was on Sabrina scooting back onto the counter, sipping champagne, her brown eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. He wanted to feel her pressed against him again. The intense need to get closer blocked out the reasons he had to keep his distance. He finished his champagne, watching her, his mind fuzzy, his body warm. Then he turned down the music and joined her.
He sat on the counter next to her, leaving no space between them, his thigh right up against hers, his arm brushing hers. She stayed put, her cheeks flushing bright pink. It must be him that made her blush, not shyness, which meant…she wanted him. He breathed in her sweet scent, honey and flowers and sexy woman. He didn’t have to pretend he didn’t notice anymore. When she wasn’t in her cool professional mode, she was an incredibly sexy woman, warm, open, and soft.
He lowered his voice to a deep husky tone. “I missed you this week.”
Her head shot up, meeting his eyes with a look of surprise. Her voice was whisper soft. “I missed you too.”
He smiled. “You know, there’s no reason for me to move to San Francisco now. Ben and I can handle most stuff online, with a few business trips to nail down the details. Looks like you’re stuck with me in Connecticut. What do you think about that?”
She smiled back. “I’m happy to hear it.”
“So you don’t need to tell me goodbye.” He nudged her shoulder. “You can tell me hello again.”
She laughed. “Hello.”
He gazed into her eyes. “Hello.”
She sighed. “I’m so relaxed now.” She hopped off the counter and pointed at him. “I’m going to make you dinner. You’re welcome.”
“You don’t have to do that. We could go out somewhere.”
She made her way to the fridge. “I like to cook, and you’ve got so much food.” She opened the refrigerator door and started pulling stuff out. “You can make the salad. And, let’s see, I’ll make…” More and more food appeared on the counter as Sabrina dug in. Then she found a pantry and flung the door wide. She turned to him. “I’ll make lemon chicken, roast potatoes, and carrots.”
“Sounds great.”
She beamed. “Awesome. Look around for a big salad bowl and a colander. Oh, and after the salad’s ready, can you set the table?”
“Sure thing.”
She did a little hip wiggle. “Turn the dorky music back up too.”
“Dorky!”
She laughed. “I like music when I cook.”
“What do you listen to?”
“I’m a big Adele fan.”
“I only have real rock music on my phone.”
She waved airily. “Whatever.”
He scrolled through his playlists, looking for something to set the mood. He didn’t have any romantic songs. He wasn’t all that sentimental, but…Sabrina. She was going out of her way to cook him dinner. She was relaxed from the champagne, and the moment was ripe for making a move.
He texted Claire. Sabrina’s here cooking dinner. You have some kind of built-in sound system?
Claire: Yes! The control is over in the sitting area in the white cabinet. Good luck!
He stared at his phone and quickly texted back. Good luck?
Claire: Ciao!
Did Claire want him to be with Sabrina? He hadn’t even told her he’d ended it with Olivia. Or had Sabrina confided in Claire that she was into him?
He glanced over at Sabrina, who was pounding the shit out of the chicken breast with a meat tenderizer.
She looked over at him, smiling. “This is very therapeutic!”
“If you say so.” He headed over to the sitting area in search of the music control.
“Salad is over here!” she caroled.
“I’m getting your music going. Claire told me it’s in here.”
“Okeydokey.”
He chuckled to himself. She was so cute when she was tipsy. A few minutes later, he got the music going. Slow jazz. Aw, yeah. Mood music.
He returned to the kitchen, and Sabrina pointed to a colander on the counter. “Rinse, dry, and rip the lettuce into bite-size pieces.”
“Bossy.”
She used the side of her arm to push a lock of hair out of her face, her hands covered in flour, which she was dredging the chicken in. “Chef rules the kitchen, minion.”
He closed the distance between them and smoothed the errant lock of hair behind her ear before leaning down to whisper, “I get that. I like to be in charge sometimes too.”
Her head whippe
d toward his, her eyes wide. “Are you referring to a, um, different room in the house?” Her voice got high and squeaky at the end there.
He leaned against the counter next to her. “Have you ever thought about you and me?”
She turned from him, staring at the chicken, her cheeks flushed pink. “Have you?”
“I’m starting to.”
“Oh.”
“Well?”
She met his eyes. “I’m not exactly starting to.”
He straightened. “Got it.” Good thing he checked in before crossing that line. That could’ve really backfired on him, tanking their friendship, making everything awkward as hell. He went to the sink and got to work on the salad.
Sabrina wasn’t moving, just standing there, staring at the chicken.
“That chicken’s not going to cook itself,” he teased.
She shook her head. “I spaced out. Lo-o-o-ng day. Back to work.”
They worked in silence, the music relaxing, the champagne having done its part. He caught her watching him several times, probably because he kept sneaking peeks at her. A few times she opened her mouth and then shut it again. Probably trying not to boss him so much since he’d teased her about it. Friends was not the worst thing in the world. It wasn’t like he was desperate or anything. Maybe once the champagne wore off, she’d go back to her untouchable porcelain-doll self and he wouldn’t even be tempted.
~ ~ ~
An hour later, Sabrina served up dinner and carried two plates to the dining area, where Logan was already seated at the round wooden table. She was kicking herself for her completely unflirty response to Logan’s question. Have you ever thought about you and me? Why hadn’t she just said the truth? Yes! Way too much! Her response, while honest, hadn’t moved things forward. She wasn’t just starting to think about the two of them, she’d been thinking about them since the first time he’d stepped foot in her office six and a half lust-filled months ago, leaned one muscular arm against the door frame, smiled his gorgeous smile, and told her they’d be neighbors.
Why couldn’t she be flirty? It was like she had no game. Sadly, the champagne had worn off, and now she was facing another friendly meal with Logan, wishing she could somehow steer the conversation back to the two of them and—fuck it. She was going to have some wine. She just had to stop overthinking everything. She was here. He was here. Both of them single. If it didn’t happen tonight, it wasn’t ever going to happen.
Chance of Romance (Happy Endings Book Club, Book 8) Page 12