“After the electrics and plumbing,” he replied, distracting his wandering eye by throwing another swallow of scotch down his throat. “Any earlier than that, and they'll just be in the way. You know how designers are, Paul. Floating around in a cloud of their own importance, with nary a thought for whomever else has work to complete.”
Sophie gasped beside him and he had to stop himself from taking her mouth and making it repeat the sound. He cleared his throat. “No offense, Ms. Ellis.” Ms. Ellis, Jesus it sounded so formal. And having had the pleasure of her body, a small dark part of him found it thrilling and dirty to call her by it when it obviously made her sound unimportant to him.
“None taken, I assure you, Mr. Castle.” She returned her attention to Paul, her hazel eyes fixed on his face. He quashed the attention seeking bastard inside him that told him to say something else to draw her gaze back to him. Mr. Castle. Shit. Well, he'd started it, hadn't he?
They were stepbrother and stepsister, best friends, lovers, and now strangers. The realization caused a painful tightening in his chest where his heart used to be.
How he sat through the entire meeting, he didn't know, but by the time they all stood up and said their goodbyes, Logan felt as if he were broken, and wanted only to sink into the willing arms of some floozy for the night. Casual sex wouldn't fix him, but it might help him to forget the parts of him that were broken. He shook her hand, and it was just as soft as he remembered. She looked at him with reluctance in her gaze as he held on a little longer than was perhaps necessary.
He didn't want the meeting to end. Shit, he was so confused. She whispered a demure goodbye and clicked away on a pair of blood-red killer heels that made her legs look longer and more toned than he remembered them being. Her damp skirt clung to the curve of her ass as it swayed from side to side following the motion of her hips. Hit throat went dry.
“Logan?”
“Sorry, what?” He dragged his attention back to Paul's face.
“I said, I like her. What's up with you? You look like you've seen a ghost. How do you know her, anyway?”
“I don't,” he replied. “She's just somebody I used to know.” It felt like forever ago that they would curl up together and watch a movie, or he would hold her in his arms at night as she cried with grief and pain. Was it really just a year and a half ago?
“Well,” Paul replied, hefting the weight of a coin purse. “You'd better run after her – she's left her change purse behind.”
Damn. Figured. The day had just gone from bad to worse. “Give it here.”
~
Sophie
The walk back to her car was filled with uncertainty and haunting memories. He'd been so aloof, so untouchable with all that 'Ms. Ellis' crap. She'd wanted to reach out so many times and just smack his face for treating her like some stranger when he'd been closer to her than anyone, and that included her own mom, for which she felt an answering twinge of guilt.
She'd gotten only a few yards from the hotel door when she heard steps running behind her and whirled. Logan. She smiled, thinking he'd come to his senses and regretted his coldness earlier. In confusion she watched as he pressed a coin purse – her coin purse – into her hand and turned around without saying a word, heading back towards the hotel.
“Logan?” Damn her mouth.
He turned around, his eyebrow raised in slight query. “What is it Ms. Ellis?”
Fury took hold of her mouth, forming her words to her shock. “Will you cut all that 'Ms. Ellis' crap? I'm Sophie. Just Sophie.”
“You're not the Sophie I thought I knew,” he told her, his expression tight and closed.
“Don't do this,” she begged in a ragged whisper. “It's Tuesday.” He stalled for only a fraction of a second, a heartbeat, but ultimately kept going, leaving her standing there like a fool. Her legs took off of their own accord, pumping quickly as she caught up to him and whirled him around with a hand on his sleeve. “Talk to me.”
“There's nothing to talk about. Not anymore.”
“Really?” That hurt. She'd thought they were stronger than that. She'd thought that with time they could get back what once was theirs – the friendship at the very least. But when she'd tried getting in touch after a few months, to touch base and see how things between them lay, a simpering girl had answered his phone, and primly told her not to call again. “Nothing at all?”
“Soph,” he cleared his throat. “No, there's nothing we need say to each other, unless it's about work. Don't push me on this. I can talk Paul out of his choice of designers faster than you could imagine.”
Her jaw dropping in astonishment she lowered both arms, her briefcase swaying at her knee. “I guess you're right. There's absolutely nothing left...to talk about.”
That he would threaten her contract, and in turn her livelihood stung more than he knew. She'd worked damn hard after everything to set up and establish her partnership with Alexis, and that he could so casually threaten everything she'd worked for... He wasn't the Logan she remembered either. With that thought echoing in her mind, she focused on his silent expression.
His jaw was clenched, which went well with his clenched fists. His nostrils flared in temper or impatience, she couldn't tell. When her gaze rose to his eyes, she could see that he was staring at her chest. The cheek of him.
Oh, God. The rain. The see-through blouse. Crap. She crossed her arms, again blocking the view of her goodies with the briefcase. The spell broken, Logan's gaze relocated to her eyes. She felt sure her face was as red as a tomato, and with something like amusement glinting in his eyes, he turned on his heel once more. This time, she let him go. He wasn't her Logan anymore. A fresh layer of guilt settled on her conscience as she thought she might have been responsible for the new level of meanness in her stepbrother's demeanor.
~
“It was awful, I tell you,” she went over the meeting again, describing her state of appearance by the time she'd arrived at the hotel for her meeting. “I swear Alex, if you'd been with me,” she went on, glaring at her partner's short skirt and skimpy top. “We'd have been arrested for public indecency. God.”
“It can't have gone all that badly,” Alexis replied with a smile. “Mr. Hoster called before you'd arrived back in office to say the contract is ours if we still want it, on two conditions.” She frowned. “Quite odd conditions.”
“What?” her heart in her throat, Sophie questioned Alex. “What are the conditions.”
“One is that you are personally available at all hours day or night to liaise with the project manager.”
“Okay, I can do that,” she expelled on a breath. Making herself available to clients was the thing she did better than anyone, Alex included. “The second?”
“See now this is where it gets a bit freaky-deaky.” Alex picked up her jotter pad, and stared at it. “I made sure to take it down directly, so I know I didn't garble it.”
“What does it say?” she shrieked. Would Logan require her to perform circus acts in order to keep her contract in place? What? What was it?
“It says, and I quote, 'Ms. Ellis will make herself available every Tuesday night to speak with the project manager, at his leisure. And she will wear Chanel.' What the fuck? Are these guys some kind of perverts or what?”
Omigod. It was Logan. It was a code. He wanted to start their Tuesday talks again. The Chanel thing was obviously a reference to their old joke about what she was wearing, but she didn't understand the context in which he'd used it. Unless he was saying he'd like that brother-sister relationship back. Her heart tripped up her throat as she snatched the pad away from Alexis and stared at the words as if they would offer more insight than they already had.
“What's going on?” Alex demanded, a hand on her hip. “There's something weird going on here. Tell me.”
“Remember I told you about my stepbrother a while back?”
Alexis' face lit up, her entire posture changing to that of someone who is about to hear a huge secret
. “Yes, you told me you'd had a bust up with him. Don't tell me Hoster is him?”
“Well it was a bit more than a bust up. And no, Mr. Hoster is definitely not my stepbrother. But he's involved. I think,” she admitted, again thinking about the stipulations. “I think he may be the project manager.” They hadn't mentioned it during the meeting, but what other reason could Paul Hoster have for inviting the architect to meet the designer in the first place?
“Why does your brother want you to wear Chanel?” Alexis tipped her head in perusal. “Is there something kinky going on that you're not telling me?”
“Kinky?” She tried to laugh but it came out as a bubbly cough. “No. It's just an old joke between siblings.”
What could she tell her? That her stepbrother made her so hot that even had she not been soaked through from the rain that she'd have had to stop by her apartment on the way back just to change her underwear? Certainly not. Alex would think she was disgusting. It was disgusting, she guessed. But it seemed less disgusting to her now that she'd read her mom's birthday letter to her.
~
Logan
Her blouse had been completely see-through. She'd been wearing a red bra the same shade as her fuck-me-shoes. She'd had a tattoo inked on her navel. A daisy chain. The blouse had been so sheer that he'd seen everything, down to the funny-shaped little birthmark under her ribcage.
He blamed that hot little flash of underwear and inked skin for the fact that he'd told Paul everything. Paul had immediately suggested they call the whole thing off, but the primal urge to kill that had arisen in him at that suggestion had changed Paul's mind. And so, the plan had formulated in the darkest part of his mind. He would have Paul stick certain stipulations on her contract. Something that only she and he would know about.
Firstly, he'd picked Tuesdays because Tuesdays had always been their day – it would just be theirs in a whole new way now. He'd mentioned the 'what are you wearing' joke to let her know it wouldn't be just a normal 'how was your week' chat. Fuck no. This time, he was the one in charge and things would go exactly as they always should have.
Seeing as today was Tuesday, and he hadn't given her a week's grace, he supposed they were going to be seeing each other tonight. Flick, flick, his thumb went on the edge of her business card. Sophex Designs, it said. For all your redecorating and designing needs, we aim to please. He wondered if she'd stand by that motto. Shit, he shouldn't have been so hasty. The thought of having her here in his hotel room made him hard as a rock, while at the same time, it put a tremor in his hands.
Sophie. Soph. His stepsister. After over a year of wondering and worrying, he would see her again, and this time on his terms. Flick, flick, his thumb again sounded against the edge of her card and in a fit of anger, he flung it away, where it fluttered to a rest on top of his bed. Prophetic, he thought, shoving his slacks down his thighs. He needed a shower. And after that, maybe a shrink. He remembered Jan calling him a sick puppy years ago. He guessed he was, after all. One very sick puppy.
When he stood naked and aroused in the middle of his hotel room, he lifted his phone and used the number he'd already memorized from the card.
Tonight @ 8. Same hotel. Rm 108. Don't be late.
~
Sophie
When Sophie read the text that had just come in and realized it was from a number she didn't recognize, her stomach clenched. It had to be him. Logan. He wanted to meet her in his hotel room. Sweet Jehova Joe did he think she was some sort of super woman to resist him in that atmosphere? Why not the restaurant or the bar? Hell, even the lobby would do in a pinch. She did not want to be alone with him in a bedroom. She swiped her thumb across the screen, forming her reply.
Restaurant looks fab. I cud hold off on dinner and eat at 8.
Fine, came the swift reply. We'll eat first.
First? What the hell did that mean? He wanted to eat and then...talk? They couldn't do both like civilized people? Her thoughts interrupted by a shrieking in the outer office, Sophie rose from her desk to see what was going on. A darkly attractive man stood in the middle of the office, glaring. His dark eyes settled on Sophie and she felt her stomach contract in fear. Who was this man? He looked fit to kill.
“Where is she?” he bellowed. His black oil-slick of an eyebrow rose when Sophie stayed silent. “You think I won't find her? Make it easier on me and I might not throttle her.”
“Wh-who?” She jumped when he swore in a language that sounded like Italian.
“ALEX!” he shouted. “Where is she?”
“And who are you?” asked Jake, a swagger in his step.
“I,” he indicated at himself. “Am the guy who will knock you on your ass if you take one step closer to me.” He smiled as Jake stopped dead. “I also happen to be Alex's doctor. Now where is she?”
It occurred to Sophie that perhaps Alex might need a different kind of doctor after Dr. Cain caught up with her. “She's gone home early.”
“Thank you,” he replied, inclining his head.
“What's she done?” she couldn't help but ask.
He afforded her a long considering look. “Changed doctors.”
Oh, dear. It looked like Alex had finally had enough self-inflicted guilt and was ready to move on, just as Joshua decided he liked her exactly where she was. She watched him storm out with a look of empathy. It sucked, finally realizing who you wanted only to also realize it was too late for you to have them. It sucked big time.
When she returned to her desk, it was with resolution – she would do whatever it took to seduce Logan tonight. It was a low-down cheap-shot, but she wanted him back. In every way. Seeing him today, after recently reading that letter from her mom, had only cemented her feelings for him. She loved him. She always had.
With a smile, she mentally selected her underwear. He'd already seen her in red, she thought with her cheeks warming. But he hadn't seen the emerald ones she'd recently bought in La Senza. Nobody had – she hadn't been with anyone since leaving him. Tapping her pen against her desk in thought, she decided that he wouldn't know what hit him during dinner, and if after dinner he wanted to take her to his room as originally planned, things would work out quite differently than he was perhaps thinking. She didn't want to be his sister again. No. She wanted to be his lover.
~
Logan
Pacing his room, trying not to wear too deep a path in the thick carpet, he decided he had to man up if he was to go through with this crazy plan. He'd treat her to dinner like she wanted, but after, she would be dessert, whether she knew it or not. The thoughts of having Sophie in his bed again, maybe not quite willing, but she wouldn't refuse either, had him hard as steel.
His phone buzzed as he turned on his heel to march in the opposite direction. Ripping it from the top of the dresser, he read her text.
I'm early. Didn't think u wud mind if I came.
Oh, man. He'd make sure she came in every way before the end of the night. Grabbing his room key, he closed the door behind him after making sure the bed was neat and the room tidy. She was downstairs, right now, and his stomach did a flip thinking about seeing her face again. This time without a witness to their interactions.
Chapter Four
The elevator arrived with a ding, and he stepped between two women who spent the entire ride down looking at him from under their lashes. When the doors opened and he saw her – dressed in a thigh-high skirt, with emerald stilettos on her dainty feet – he felt his mouth go dry. Her top was the same shade as her shoes, tucked into the waistband of her tiny black skirt so that he could see and drool over every damn curve the girl had.
“Sophie,” he said, motioning with his hand towards the restaurant door. “I have a reservation for us.”
“Logan,” she swallowed, seemingly with difficulty. Her eyes took in every inch of him from head to toe, to settle on the breadth of his chest. Not meeting his eyes, and with a blush on her cheeks, she allowed him to steer her to the door. “It was nice to get your m
essage.”
“Was it?” He frowned. So she didn't mind that he was practically forcing her into his bed? Interesting. “Good. Let's have dinner and get on with things.”
She did look him in the eye then, a little crease between her brows. Her nose wrinkled as she had a thought that didn't appeal to her. He'd know that look anywhere. “Get on with things?”
“Yes,” he grated. Again resentment threatened to engulf him, so he just opened the door and guided her through, finding the hostess and asking for their table.
The woman gave him a sly look and directed them to a table for two intimately set apart from the hustle and bustle of the larger tables. There was a candle lighting in the middle of the table and with a small grunt, Logan licked his fingers and extinguished it. Not need for pretense. They were both under no illusions. The hostess gave him an odd look before leaving them with a menu and wine list to peruse.
“Do you want wine?” he asked Sophie.
Shaking her head no, she whispered, “I'd much prefer a gin and tonic, please.”
Gin? Since when did his stepsister enjoy gin? She'd been more a wine spritzer girl when last they'd seen each other. “Alright.” He guessed everyone changed. Take him for instance. He'd spent his entire early adult life doing everything he could in order to either hold her away or somehow earn his place in her life. Now, he couldn't give a flying fuck past getting what he wanted.
He ordered her gin and tonic and asked for scotch for himself. His nerves could do with something to settle them. Shit, she looked so good sitting there, her legs crossed primly and her hands playing with the stem of her empty wine glass. The waitress returned with their drinks and removed the unwanted glassware from the table, leaving Sophie with a lost expression as she chose something else to use her slender fingers on.
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