by Petrova, Em
She burst into laughter.
“Okay, I do. A bottle of wine, some poetry, and I can be a sure thing.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Are you speaking sarcasm again?” He took a step closer and traced his fingers down her arm. “Say yes. I guarantee you won’t regret it.” At the drawn-out silence, he searched her features. “What do you say?”
I can’t speak now that you’ve touched me again. She cleared her throat, meeting his smoldering gaze. “It’s just… I doubt I’m your type.”
“Type? We’re labeling now? Well, I don’t doubt you are at all,” he countered.
She swept a hand from her neck down. “What you see here is not really me. I don’t wear expensive dresses or go to parties where the lowest bid for the auction is a cool ten grand.”
“This is just a social obligation. We can make it as casual as you’d like. I can eat at a hot dog stand on the corner.”
“You don’t strike me as a man who eats hot dogs out of a cart.”
“I can be.” He cocked his head. “You’re married? You have a boyfriend? Wildly loyal to some drag-racing boy toy? God, I hope not.”
“Ha. No.” She cast her gaze down, reminded of her very single status. A few months ago, if her fiancé hadn’t dumped her, she never would’ve been in the position to flirt with Logan Savant. She would be well on her way to a wedding in the spring with a guy she felt safe and comfortable with. Instead, he abandoned her to go find his spiritual side overseas, leaving Jordana with a pile of credit card debt, heartbreak, and questions of why she didn’t see it coming. “No husband, no boyfriend. I just don’t think we have much in common.”
“That’s very presumptuous of you.”
“I know, but I learned a long time ago it’s important not to get involved with men I have little in common with. Men I can’t handle.”
“How do you know you can’t handle me if you’ve never laid a hand on me?” He dipped a hand into an inner pocket and gave her his card. “Think about it, at least.”
She read the card.
Logan R. Savant, President & CEO, Savant Financial Group, Incorporated.
Whoa. He wasn’t some Joe Blow, randomly dressed up for a cause. In fact, she surmised he wore tuxedos and suits way more than he donned jeans and T-shirts. If he even owned any denim. “What does the R stand for?”
“Relentless.”
“Oh, really? How creative.” Some alarm inside her warned her about getting tangled up with a man like him, even for one night. Bad news bears. Another part told her not to discount him. If sweet, easygoing, predictable Zack didn’t want her but this guy did, maybe she should throw caution to the wind for one night. Although, Logan represented everything she didn’t do: impulsive behavior. One-night stands. Sexy players who made a game of getting women into bed.
Then again, that could be a good thing. To know in advance what a man like him wanted. It was those sneaky, sappy ones who professed love who really ripped a girl’s heart out. Logan probably had one or two ex-wives already in his past. Either that or he committed to nothing but a good time, the eternal bachelor. What harm could come out of having some fun with a handsome charmer like him? “All right. Maybe I’ll take you up on a date some other time. But not tonight.”
“Maybe will suffice. I like suspense.”
She wanted to linger but knew she shouldn’t. “I have to go.” She flicked the bag. “Congratulations on winning. Goodnight, Mr. Savant.”
When she moved to step aside, he mirrored her action, blocking her escape. “Wait.”
She lifted her lashes.
Without another word, he pulled out a velvet box from the bag. He lifted the lid, casting his gaze down to the diamonds.
She became entranced as the gemstones sparkled brightly against the ebony velvet of the lining. What was it about sparkling rocks that could make a woman stop and stare as if spellbound?
He snapped it closed. “You should have this.”
Jerking her gaze to his, she caught herself from snorting with laughter. “Very funny.”
“Actually, I’m being very serious.”
Searching those blue eyes, she could hardly believe it and waited for him to recant it as a joke. He didn’t. “B-but…it’s yours.”
“Exactly. It’s mine to give.” He gestured for her to take the box. “And I want to give it to you.”
Jordana stepped back as if he were offering a hissing snake. “Are you crazy? Why? You don’t even know me.”
He shrugged. “I’ve given much more to people I’ve never met. I just wrote a check for $75,000 for children I’ll probably never know, and I’d do it again. I insist. It was made for you.”
She touched the ornate box with the tips of her fingers, expecting him to snatch it away as a game, but he didn’t. The whole gesture was preposterous. Who gave away high-priced diamonds to a person they’d known less than an hour? She shook her head and took a step back. “I can’t accept a diamond necklace for nothing. Plus, I couldn’t do it justice. I have nothing to wear with it—or any occasion to wear it to, for that matter. Seriously, it should go to someone else. Someone you know.”
“My mind is made up, Miss Shaw. It doesn’t matter to me why or how often you put it on. Wear it washing dishes, wear it to the gym. Bottom line, I want to give the Sigvy to you. You inspired me to bid on it in the first place, so please accept it.”
She eyed him. One of those too-good-to-be-true moments. He wanted something from her. “Are you trying to bribe me into a date tonight?”
“I can see why you would think that, but no. Whether or not I see you in the future, this comes with no strings attached.” He chuckled, grasping the box with both hands. “I have to say, I’ve never had this much trouble giving jewelry to a woman before.”
She didn’t laugh at his quip, still too stunned. “Surely there’s someone close to you who would love to have it. A sister? Your mom? A really deserving personal assistant or something?”
He sighed. “I’m an only child. My mother has her own account at Bulgari, and my assistant is married to a man who knows jujitsu.” When she smiled, he lifted a brow and asked, “Don’t you like it?”
“Silly question. It’s gorgeous.”
“And I want to give it to you. Simple as that.” He opened the box again as if to entice her.
She stared at the Sigvy for a moment then blinked and shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Sure, you can. Okay, if you feel weird because I spent money on it, then let me ease your discomfort. I’ve spent a lot more for more honorable reasons, like helping fund a hospital wing, and for less honorable ones, like at a baccarat table. Before we met, I was planning to bid on the lunch with Warren Buffett. That sold for over five hundred grand, so you literally saved me thousands, and I gave the charity a nice donation at the same time.” He cocked his head. “Are you really going to turn me down? I feel like a real bellend standing here, begging you to take it.”
She laughed with awkward disbelief. He really wasn’t giving her a choice as he gazed at her with those hopeful, sexy eyes. He’d made his case as well, and she could hardly keep turning him down at this point. Later, she’d think about what to do with it. She gave a lilting, almost shy smile. “This is overwhelming. I…don’t know what to say.”
He closed the lid, and after she took the box, he tucked his hands into his pockets and inclined his head. “Keep quotes about gratitude to yourself. The expression on your face says enough.”
This gift deserved a gesture of some kind. With a slight hesitation, she stepped toward him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. He smelled incredible. Warm, virile male with the barest scent of cologne. It made her want to close her eyes and sigh. She came down on her heels.
He smiled. “Worth every penny, Miss Shaw. If I never see you again, tell me you’ll wear it one night and think of me?”
“How could I not?”
He locked his gaze on her lips so long, they tingled from the stare. “
I wish you’d change your mind about tonight.” Moving around her, he walked away, the sound of his steps punctuated by the marble flooring. “You know where to find me if you do.”
She stole a glance behind her, blowing out a pent-up breath, watching him stride away with an air of quiet elegance. She tore her eyes from his broad back and forced her feet to move forward.
Once she entered the models’ dressing area, she hid behind a privacy screen and opened the box, biting her lip with a wondrous smile. The Sigvy glittered, twinkled, and shone under the lights… It did everything extraordinary trinkets were meant to do.
And it was hers.
Received from an overly generous acquaintance who claimed he bid on it so he could give it to her. She closed the lid, shaking her head. She couldn’t wait to share her story with Lucee.
“Jordana?” Felicity called from the other side of the fabric screen.
She slid the box into her bag and then popped her head out. “Hi.”
“You did great tonight. You know, if you want to get into some promotional modeling, I could book some work for you. The Charles Sigvy raked in a big donation.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I could walk around in shoes like this ever again.”
“Yeah, but I do think having two Shaw sisters working a room is better than one.” She pointed a finger at her. “Don’t tell Lucee I said that. Anyway, you’re good to go home whenever. The models are responsible for their dry cleaning, so make sure it’s cleaned and have Lucee drop it off at the agency before next Saturday. Cool?”
“Sure. I’ll take care of it.”
Felicity winked. “I know you will. You’re the reliable sister, through and through. Thanks for stepping in. See you around, girlfriend.”
The reliable sister. How unsexy. However, this reliable sister now had a unique diamond necklace in her possession…not to mention the business card of a gorgeous heartbreaker.
With a smile, she picked up the bag she’d stuffed her clothes in and her purse, deciding not to change out of the dress until she got home. As she walked through the general chaos of the room, she said good-bye to a few of her sister’s friends and then headed toward the restroom.
Every single stall was full, with a line forming. What crappy timing. Unfortunately, her bladder wouldn’t wait for even a minute. She walked farther down the hall until she found another ladies’ room. A sign outside indicated it was closed for cleaning.
She pushed the door open. Empty. Maybe they forgot to take down the sign. There was one row of stalls, a wall of sinks, and another row of stalls on the other side. She disappeared behind one and did her business.
The door to the restroom opened and a feminine voice called in. “Hello? Is anyone in here?”
Jordana bit her lower lip. Busted.
“Finally. Mother, I’m alone… Of course I’m still going through with it! I told you I would.” The woman must’ve been on her cell phone and had been seeking privacy.
Just as Jordana was about to open her door and make a discreet exit, she heard the woman say, “Trust me, it’ll work. It’s got to. Everyone knows Logan Savant would rather cut off an arm than do the less than honorable thing. Especially if he thinks the baby is his.”
Chapter Two
Jordana froze with her palm on the stall door. Logan Savant?
“Mother, for the millionth time, I’m not stupid! No one knows I’m pregnant except you and the doctor. Ben and Logan went to UCLA together, but they haven’t spoken in months, since Ben went to rehab. I’m cutting it so close. I thought it’d be easy. Logan’s a certified womanizer; I didn’t think it’d be so difficult. And I can’t wait another day or the timing will be off once the baby comes. I have to do this. Logan will take care of me, I just know it.”
Jordana turned her cheek and listened. Was she hearing this right? Was Rebecca really planning to trap Logan?
“For heaven’s sake, Mother, I’ve told you a million times. I’m going to drop the stuff in his drink, and the guy said it’ll take fifteen to thirty minutes to take effect. I’ll take Logan to his room, get naked, and when he wakes up, he’ll think we had unprotected sex. Then I’ll wait a few weeks and tell him I’m pregnant. Done and done.”
Jordana’s eyes widened at the manipulative plan coming from this woman’s mouth.
Rebecca went on. “Remember how much he helped Carla after Martin’s heart attack? He’s got a big heart. Especially if he thinks he’s going to be a father.” A pause. “Doesn’t matter if he doesn’t commit. Everyone knows how he feels about marriage. He’s not so old-fashioned to ask me to marry him, but that’s fine. All I’ll have to do is sit back and let him take care of everything. We’ve been friends for a while, he trusts me.” Rebecca groaned. “Of course I’ve thought about the paternity test. By that time, I’ll hire someone to fake the results. It should be pretty simple to do that. All it’ll take is the right amount of money.”
Disgust boiled in Jordana’s stomach. Unbelievable. This woman really had made a mess of things, and now she was going to rope Logan into it.
Rebecca gasped. “I think someone’s coming. I’ll call you in the morning…okay…bye.”
With extreme care, Jordana eased the door of her stall open and looked out to get a better view. It was Rebecca, all right. Jordana watched the blonde uncap a pill bottle and stuff one in her bosom. She then added more red lipstick and winked at her reflection.
As soon as she left, Jordana came out of her stall.
What should I do?
Warn Logan, at the very least. She washed her hands, left the restroom, and headed toward the front desk. “Excuse me,” she said to the distinguished desk clerk. “Could I possibly lock my bag in your safe for a bit?” Best not to have her purse on her with the necklace inside. Less to worry about.
“Of course.” He handed her a ticket.
Jordana set her gaze to the open doors of the ballroom.
Logan Savant was in there somewhere, about to be drugged by a two-faced friend.
She took cautious steps inside. When she saw Rebecca approach him with a drink and a sinister smile, her hopes sank. Oblivious, Logan raised the glass to his lips, taking a long sip.
Jordana cringed with a soft curse. It was too late to run interference on the cocktail. The woman’s eyes gleamed. She was going to get her way, and no one except her equally conniving mother would ever know.
Except Jordana.
She could imagine how he’d react when she said, Hi, Logan. I believe your date is trying to drug and seduce you and then claim she’s pregnant with your child.
Why would he believe her word over Rebecca’s? She stared at him as he laughed at something, his guard down, trusting the woman beside him. He was a virtual stranger to her, but he didn’t deserve this. No one did.
She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d overheard the twisted plan for a reason, and that by doing absolutely nothing, she was indirectly acquiescing to Rebecca’s scheme.
Even if he did think she was out of her mind, she could go home guilt-free. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone taking advantage of someone because they couldn’t handle their own circumstances.
Time to act. Weaving through the crush, she tried to make eye contact with him.
At most, she had half an hour to steal Logan away before the drug took effect. Shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. Their flirtation had been established; now all she had to do was take advantage and make him believe she’d changed her mind about a date.
Dang, she’d lost track of him. He could be on his way to the room with Rebecca already.
“I really hope you’re here searching for me,” Logan drawled.
A shiver sprinkled down her spine. Even better, he had found her. How did Rebecca ever let him leave her side?
She turned around, heart catching. “Hi, Logan.”
He grinned, gesturing to her. “You’re a woman on a mission, I see.”
If you only knew. “Yes…well…” What would her
sister say? Something cute. “Mission accomplished. I found you.”
“And now that I’ve been found, what did you have in mind?”
“Um…” Rebecca stood not too far away, talking with someone, her eyes darting around in distraction. Keeping an eye out for her wealthy prey, no doubt. Jordana looped her arm in his. “I’d like a drink. How about you? Water, maybe?” She led him to the other side of the ballroom.
He leaned an elbow on the bar. “7 and 7 for me, and for the lady?”
“Malibu and diet, please.” She watched him closely. No signs of a drug-induced state so far. Maybe Rebecca’s dosage had been too light, or maybe she hadn’t drugged him after all. Feeling self-conscious as Logan studied her, she pondered her next play.
His eyes slightly narrowed, as if wondering about her motives, but then he smiled again as the bartender slid over the drinks. “What should we toast to?”
She accepted her cocktail. “To truth and justice.”
He chuckled, clinking his glass to hers. “That’s a new one. Truth and justice.”
She took a quick sip and then realized how thirsty she’d become and took several gulps.
He was watching her with rapt amusement. “Are you an attorney?”
“No,” she replied with a bubble of laughter. “Do I look strong enough to uphold the law?”
“You’d be surprised. I know a female judge who’s less than five feet tall but can intimidate a room full of people with an ice-cold stare and three short words.”
“Pfft. I couldn’t intimidate a basket of kittens if I tried. I work in medicine. For an ear, nose, and throat doctor.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he sipped his drink. “I see. I was wondering why you chose to toast to truth and justice.”
Because she wished she could tell him the truth about his friend’s intentions and, at the same time, justify her interference. “Something different other than ye old ‘health and happiness’ toasts.”
“Did you just say ‘ye old’?”
“Did I? I’ve been watching a lot of History Channel lately.” A very uncool confession. Her sister would’ve rather cut her face than allude to any sort of activity that made people think of sitting in flannel pajamas, listening to monotone narratives about war.