by Petrova, Em
Jordana looked at him across the table and knew he meant what he said, though she had no intention of taking him up on it. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to me at all. Really. If Neil had stopped Rebecca’s plan, I doubt you’d expect him to accept a reward of some kind.”
“Are you kidding me? Neil would’ve been the first to demand compensation. Whether he’d choose Super Bowl tickets or a mud-wrestling session with twins, I couldn’t tell you.”
Jordana covered her mouth with her napkin as she laughed.
“You don’t have to think of something right this moment.” He gazed at her, voice softening. “My gratitude has no expiration.”
Gulp. “Okay. If I need a cup of sugar or a ride to the dentist, I’ll keep you in mind.”
“I hope so.” There he was with those smoldering eyes and silken words that always set her pulse to galloping. “We’ll table the subject for now. The conversation is too heavy for lunch anyway. So let’s talk about something else. I feel as though you know a lot about me, but I don’t know much about you. I think I should know more about my rescuer than her name and occupation.”
She half laughed and then shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with where you’re from. I’m sensing you weren’t born a Cali girl.”
She smiled. “You’d be right. I was born in Iowa.”
“Ah, a Midwestern woman. The best kind.” He winked.
They spent the rest of the meal chitchatting. Topics like her job at the doctor’s office, how long she’d lived in the Bay. He asked her all about small-town living, what brought her out West. Mostly, she’d followed her sister out here to keep her out of trouble and then ended up staying, never wanting to be apart from her only living relative if she could help it.
In fact, Jordana realized as the waiter refilled her iced tea almost half an hour later, they had talked exclusively about her. The only part she left out about her recent years in the city was how she had been engaged and then dumped last spring. He didn’t need to know that sliver of shameful information.
“So you came out here to watch over Lucee,” he said after their plates were taken away. “Graduated from Santa Clara, seriously considered working for a cruise ship, got a job with Dr. Palecki instead, and rescue complete strangers from conniving friends in your spare time.”
She laughed. “That’s about it in a nutshell. My life story is a little boring, isn’t it?”
“Whenever I think of you, Jordana, boring is the last thing that comes to mind.”
Smiling, she couldn’t hold his sexy gaze and looked away. “Compared to some, I am. You, for instance. I’d say owning two companies and having your own driver instantly makes you much more exciting to discuss.”
“Believe me, it doesn’t,” he said in a droll tone. “The only reason I have Tom is so I can work on my way to work. And when I’m leaving work, I can continue to work on the way home.” He chuckled at her wide-eyed look. “See?”
“I think you’re wrong. That dedication, ambition, is admirable. I can’t imagine it’s easy, but you clearly like to work—admit it. Or else you’d be in your La-Z-Boy at home, sipping Mai Tais, letting someone else run your company. Am I wrong?”
He laughed again. “No one has ever put it quite like that before.”
Jordana had never had so much fun on her lunch hour and hated for their time together to end. If all he wanted to do was thank her, then there wouldn’t be a next time, unless she ever came to him for that return favor.
“No wonder you ditched me for lunch, Savant.”
Jordana and Logan both looked up to the face of the man she recognized as Logan’s friend. The handsome, witty, unabashedly arrogant Neil. Hard to forget a face like that. With his gorgeous green eyes, chestnut brown hair, and roguish smile, one could easily assume he was Logan’s brother. However, the differences that distinguished them were evident after more than surface observation.
Logan gazed with intensity, walked with an elegant air, and spoke with an unrushed measure. His friend flashed his smile with eyes alight with secret mischief and talked fast with facetious undertones, as though he was the emcee for a headlining act.
“What a coincidence,” Logan spoke in a wry manner. “You remember Neil. My friend who finished magna cum laude at UCLA but still can’t remember the meaning of the word tact.”
With a small laugh, she stood and shook Neil’s hand. “I remember. Nice to meet you. Officially. Would you like to join us?”
Neil and Logan both answered “No” at the same time but with dissimilar inflections: Logan’s with a bit of annoyance, Neil’s with humor.
Neil slanted Logan a look with a half smile. “I only came over to say hello. I have a lunch date of my own.”
“Oh, this isn’t a date—” she started.
“And I wanted to make sure he’s invited you to the party this weekend.”
Jordana looked from Neil to Logan. Other than the barest lift of a brow, Logan’s expression remained steady as he gazed at his friend.
“A party?” she asked.
Neil nodded, tucking hands in his pockets. “Nothing major, just a little get-together to watch a pay-per-view MMA fight and kick back. It’s a good time. Don’t worry, it’s not just a bunch of guys yelling and drinking. Our friend, Miranda, comes too. She’d be thrilled to see another gal in the mix. Wouldn’t she, Savant?”
“She would.” He set his gaze on her. “It’d be great if you could join us.”
Did he really want to invite her or was he just being polite? “I’d love to,” she said, unsure.
“Perfect.” Neil grinned.
Logan was giving his friend a slightly annoyed look, and Jordana decided now would be a good time to give them a few moments alone. “Excuse me, gentleman. I need to run to the ladies’ room.”
Logan rose with a smile. “Take your time.”
After Jordana departed, he gave his friend an admonishing look. “You have no shame, do you?”
“Do I need it?” Neil sent him a smirk and then sat in Jordana’s chair.
Logan suppressed an irritated sigh as he sat back down. “Why did you invite her to the party?”
“I thought it’d be a nice thing to do.”
“Bullshit.”
Neil lifted his brows. “Don’t you want her to come?”
“Answer my question first.”
His friend leaned back, arm over the chair. “You want the truth? Here it is, then. I walk in and I see you. You looked—I don’t know—for lack of a fancier word, happy, enjoying yourself, which is something I have to say I haven’t seen in a while. What’s the difference, I ask myself. Then I see your guardian angel, Jordana, is with you. She’s the difference.”
“Have you been leaving the soap operas on in your lobby again? I feel like I owe her and want to pay her back. That’s it. I’m not starting anything with her.”
“Now I call bull. I see the way you look at her.”
“Regardless of how you interpret my looks, I have no romantic interest in her.”
“Really? You practically tripped over yourself to chase after her when she left.”
“No comment.” He set his mouth in a flat line.
“Right. Well, my mistake.” He planted his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed up. “Just a friend, then?”
Jordana came around the corner from the restroom, smiling as she stepped aside for a server to pass. His heart skipped a necessary beat, but he’d get over it soon enough. “Yes, Caenon, she’s just a friend.”
***
Jordana’s heart sank. He’d meant for her to hear it. Clearly, Neil had questioned their relationship, and Logan had set him straight. So now she knew his only design on her was the friendship kind. A knot of disappointment lodged in her chest.
Neil stepped back as she approached. “Mm-hm. I better get back to my date. You two enjoy yours. Jordana, hope to see you on Saturday.” With that, he sent her a grin and walked away, meandering th
rough the zigzag of dining tables before sitting down across from a voluptuous brunette.
“About this weekend,” Logan said as the server set down the bill, “I really want you to come. I’m sorry if Neil made the invitation a little awkward. He has a tendency to put people on the spot. It’s the lawyer in him. Irritates the hell out of me.”
“I’ll come.” She tried to smile. “I’ve never watched an MMA fight. What should I bring?”
“Just you.” He kept his eyes down, paying the bill, and checked his watch. “We should go. Unless you’re positive you don’t want dessert?”
“Just thinking the word dessert makes me fuller. Usually for lunch, I settle for a yogurt and some Goldfish crackers.”
He smiled at her. “All right, I won’t twist your arm.”
As they walked through the restaurant, Jordana heard, “Savant! Still on for next week, right?” and, “Logan, I owe you for connecting me with that contractor!” and various other comments and greetings that made her want to shake her head in disbelief.
After they were seated in the car, she smiled. “Thank you for lunch.”
“I’m sorry for the interruptions. Next time, I’ll take you to the Ham Hut. Is it more private?”
“Oh, sure,” —she flipped a hand— “it’s the epitome of private dining. I’ll bet none of your friends will be there. Outdoor seating only with picnic tables and plastic cutlery. No bar.”
“Sounds ideal,” he chuckled. “But those men were business acquaintances. I have very few close friends.”
“Oh? I find that hard to believe.”
He laughed. “Really? What’s your idea of a friend, Jordana?”
“Someone you can count on. Tell your secrets to and know you won’t be judged for them. A person who’s loyal, makes you laugh. Who you can count on to get you out of a bind.”
“I agree. Those gentlemen, they’re not the kind I could do any of those things with. I take calling someone a friend seriously. One has to be selective. I can count all of mine on one hand. Well, two hands now that I have you.”
That made her smile, and the disappointment that he wasn’t interested in her shrank a bit. They arrived at the doctor’s office, and as he walked her inside and to the door, her heart pounded at the nearness of him. There was no doubt she liked him—but she was also attracted to him. Maybe that would wear off. In time, it was possible she’d look at the CEO as she did her neighbor, Casey, like a buddy. Maybe Logan could give her 401(k) advice or something.
He reached into his inner pocket for a business card and a pen and scribbled on the back. “This is my home address. The fight begins at nine o’clock, but everyone usually starts filtering in at seven. Feel free to come at any time.”
She smiled, scribbling her cell number on a Starbucks receipt from her purse. “I’ll be there around seven-thirty. In the meantime, feel free to call me if you have any ear, nose, or throat issues. My VIPs always get treated first.”
He grinned, took the piece of paper, and then skimmed a finger under her chin. “I’m glad you called today.”
So am I. While he walked down the hall, one hand in his pocket, his suit unable to hide his muscular fineness, she sighed.
Something told her the night with Logan was just the beginning.
Chapter Five
Logan hadn’t been this excited for a woman to come to his place in ages.
Nevertheless, he needed to quit daydreaming about Jordana as an object of his desire and label her strictly as an object of friendship. A pal. Like Miranda, the sister he never had.
Right. Fat chance of him thinking of Jordana as a sister. Not until hell froze over. But he had to. After some serious introspection, he confirmed his decision not to pursue her, not to treat her like every other female he found attractive. She deserved better than a roll in the sack, and he couldn’t offer more than that.
The doorbell rang, and without him answering it, masculine voices echoed in his foyer. He always left the door unlocked when expecting company, mi casa es su casa when it came to his friends. One by one, they sauntered in with boisterous laughter and testosterone-heavy conversation. While some of his friends gathered in the living room in front of his HDTV, he made drinks and put out snacks. Miranda and her husband, Phillip, climbed on stools at the island along with Neil. Drew, the youngest guy in the group, followed suit with a case of beer.
Logan checked the time. Almost seven-thirty. Jordana would be there any minute. He’d have to make mention of her quickly so they wouldn’t aggravate him with curious looks when she arrived. Only Neil had met her.
While mixing a drink for Miranda after the usual chitchat, he cleared his throat at the lull in conversation. “Someone new is joining us tonight.”
“Oh? Who?” Miranda raised a brow, popping a chip into her mouth.
“Her name is Jordana.” He avoided his friend’s probing brown gaze as he handed her a margarita. “I met her at the children’s benefit. She was one of the auction models.”
Miranda, Phillip, and Drew all rolled their eyes in unison, as if to say Great, another flighty model for Logan, and he felt compelled to defend her. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re all wrong. She was only standing in for her sister.” He looked at Miranda. “Remember the girl who corrected Lancaster’s quote?”
Miranda perked up. “The cutie wearing the Sigvy?”
He smiled. “That’s her.”
“Oh, that was hysterical. Wait. Is she the one you disappeared with that night?”
Neil coughed, giving a pathetic effort to hide a smile.
Groan. “Yes, she’s the one. Now that you’ve put her on blast, I might as well tell you nothing happened. We danced, had a drink, and then fell asleep in my hotel room.” He sent Neil a quick glance. It was the truth; he’d only left out some unnecessary details.
Miranda made a face. “You mean to tell us you were a complete gentleman with a pretty girl in your suite and nothing happened at all?” she joked, looking at the others, who joined in with exaggerated dubious looks.
“Yes,” he replied sardonically, “As hard as it is to believe, I’m not a wild animal in heat. I can control myself. Anyway, Neil and I invited her to join us. So be nice.”
Phillip grabbed a buffalo wing and gave a helpless gesture. “We’re always nice.”
“Is she cool?” Drew asked, twisting the top off a beer bottle. “She’s not going to get bored and whiny when the fight starts, will she?”
“She’s more than cool. Ask Neil.”
All eyes were on his oldest friend. Neil nodded with a thumbs-up.
“Is she hot?” Drew inquired, arching a brow.
“Er—”
“Is she single?” Miranda asked.
He recapped the top on the margarita mix. Single, funny, genuine, and pretty…all those things and others he could barely resist adding. The door chime went off and he suppressed the need to grin, ignoring Miranda’s question. Since everyone else was accounted for, it had to be Jordana.
“Remember what I said,” he reminded them as he strolled away. As soon as he rounded the corner to the foyer, he swallowed at the ridiculous pounding of his heart. When he opened the door, she stood on his steps, chin up, mouth agog. She held a giant, plastic-covered bowl at her waist. When her eyes finally met his, she shook her head. “Wow. ‘Nice house’ is such an understatement.”
He grinned. “Thank you. Come on in.”
She took cautious steps inside, looking around his entryway. “Here.” She thrust the bowl in his arms.
“What’s this?”
“Guacamole. I made it.”
Must’ve taken at least a dozen avocados. “I’m impressed.”
“Wait ’til you taste it.”
I wish I could taste you.
Miranda’s voice cried out, “Logan! Come introduce us to your new friend!”
He sighed inwardly at their impatience. “Thanks for coming. It’s good to see you.” So this is what she looks like in her own clot
hes. She wore her long, wavy, brown hair loose; the locks were a little windblown from the breezy night. He liked her style of snug jeans and knee-high boots, plain black long-sleeved top, and sparkly scarf. Sexy. While her back was turned, he got a great view of her ass, and he had the compulsion to bite on his fist and moan.
I want her. What’s stopping me?
“Logan?” she asked as he stood there staring.
He snapped out of it. Right. Friend-only zone. Friend-only thinking. “This way.”
Everyone greeted her with hellos and welcomes, and each surveyed her as though they’d expected someone else, not the pretty, normal young woman who enchanted them with her artless smile and firm handshake.
Neil came around, grinning. “Your timing is perfect, Jordana. We were just talking about you.”
“Oh?” she asked.
Logan glared at him over the top of her head.
Neil ignored him as he slung an arm around her. “In a good way, of course. You look ready to party. I love to see a woman in leather.”
“With or without you chained to the bed?” she joked.
Logan and Neil burst out laughing. Who didn’t like a woman with a good sense of humor?
After the introductions, he presented her homemade offering. As promised, his friends were friendly. Very friendly. And when they tasted her guac, each exclaimed it was the best they ever tasted.
He had some. Yeah, they weren’t wrong.
As he shoveled another chip full of her guacamole into his mouth, the doorbell rang again, and this time, he didn’t know who it could be. Swiping his hands of crumbs, he went to answer it.
To his surprise, it was Ashtyn.
She smiled, clutching a file and her slim laptop to her chest. “So sorry to bother you at home, Logan, but this couldn’t wait. I tried calling your cell phone.”
Damn. For once, it wasn’t in his pocket. “It’s probably buried somewhere in the living room. Come on in.”
She stepped across the threshold, straight to business as usual. “There are a few discrepancies regarding the residential land in Dallas we’re acquiring. Since it’s a top priority, I thought you might want to look over the contract again before I send it to Mr. Hutchings.”