Made to be His (The Archer Family #1)

by Allison Gatta

  When the coast was clear, Logan glanced up from his menu, his eyebrow cocked. “So, I didn’t realize we were moving so fast. Were you planning on picking china patterns after this?”

  Andy rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dumb. I’m just…irritated.”

  “And lying to waitresses does what? Helps you ease the stress?”

  She blew out a breath. “Look, do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be seen in public with you?”

  When he lifted his second eyebrow, she rushed to continue. “Not like, you know, you. You’re fine. I mean being around you around other women.”

  “This must be making a lot of sense in your head right now.”

  The waitress reappeared with a pitcher of water to fill their glasses, and Andy couldn’t help but notice that her make-up looked freshly reapplied. Was it her imagination, or was the hem on her skirt several inches higher, too?

  They placed their drink orders, and when the woman left, Andy gestured after her. “I mean that. That is frustrating.”

  “Um…ordering?” Logan frowned.

  “Come on, you didn’t see her with her hitched up skirt? She sat us back here to find out if we were together. And then there was Pam from the store—“

  “She was helpful.”

  “She was thirsty.”

  Logan stopped in the middle of sipping his water. “What?” He laughed.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s the only way to say it. She was looking for, you know.” She glanced around and then whispered under her breath, “She was looking for a ride on your night train.”

  "God, I wish I could record you saying that.”

  “Be serious.” Andy picked up her glass and took a swig.

  “Fine, I’ll be serious. I didn’t actually notice any of that, but even if these women were—what was it you said? Thirsty? Why should that matter to you?" he asked.

  She'd expected him to tease her mercilessly, to make her want to crawl into a hole made of her own humiliation and rot there until she couldn't remember what had put her there to begin with. Instead, his gaze was tender and almost...

  Well, if she didn't know any better, she might have called it intrigued.

  "It's just rude. I mean, what if I was your, you know, lady friend? And she was hitting on you like that in front of me? It's like she knows you could do better."

  One day, she would think before she spoke. That day was apparently not today.

  To her surprise, though, Logan didn't respond with his usual mockery. Instead, he focused on his menu and said, "Believe me, she would not be a trade up from present company."

  Heat stole over her and her chant of "he's just not that into you" faded away.

  "Thanks," she said.

  Shortly after placing their order, their food came out and they tucked in. Andy was surprised by the ease of conversation. In a lot of ways, it was like they were back in college again in the months before the disastrous Halloween party—arguing over statistics and which team was best. If she let herself, it would have been easy to forget that Logan was not only out of her league, but beyond off limits. Easier still to pay credence to the way his gaze roved over her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Before eating her last piece of sushi, she blew a strand of hair from her face and said, “I’m telling you, one day, the Cubs are going to win the World Series. What will you do then?”

  “If that ever happens, I’m sure I’ll be long dead.” He laughed. “You’re not even from Chicago. What’s with the love?”

  “Everyone likes an underdog.” She grinned. “That’s why people pay attention to anything.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Oh, yeah? Why do people watch reality shows? Underdogs. Why do people watch romantic comedies? To see the disenfranchised girl get the guy. Why do people watch sports?”

  “I think I’m a pretty big part of why they watch sports.” He flashed her a heart-melting grin.

  “Like I said, underdogs,” she shot back and he threw a napkin at her, pegged her on the bicep.

  “See? If you were that great, you could have hit me square in the face.”

  “I didn’t want to mess up your perfect make-up.” Logan stood from his cushion, holding his hand out to her as he towered over.

  She stared at his outstretched palm, but didn’t take it. “I don’t want to put the shoes back on. Can’t we stay for a little while longer so I can work up my fortitude?”

  He let out a gruff laugh, then pulled her Reeboks from one of the shopping bags on the floor and handed them to her.

  She tied her laces in an instant, and when she was finally set, Logan dropped money onto the table and held out his hand again. Steeling herself, she closed her fingers over his and allowed him to hoist her onto her feet. Was it her imagination, or did he hold her hand for the slightest bit too long again?

  She shook her head. What happened to her mantra?

  They headed onto the street. The sky was orange now with the setting sun, and all of downtown was abandoned in favor of the beach. For a second, she almost suggested that they make for the shore and walk along the current, but she bit back the request. That would be too much. Too romantic.

  They were only friends. He just wasn’t that into…

  “So, you don’t really have a ticket to that gala, huh?” he said and she pulled herself back to the present.

  “What? I totally do. I said—“

  “I always know when you’re lying, Andy.”

  She could only hope that was a gross overstatement. “Okay, so maybe I don’t have a ticket as yet, but I know people. Believe me, I’ll find a way.”

  “I know someone,” he offered.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but he might be a little overwhelming for you. Sexuality just sort of rolls off him in waves. Sort of like a sexier Fabio, you know?”

  She quirked her mouth to the side, despite the dull pang she felt at the memory.

  Logan said, “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just come out and ask me for these things.”

  She opened her mouth to explain herself, then closed it.

  He wouldn’t understand. How could he? He had no way of knowing that the idea of close proximity with him made her heart nearly explode. Even now, strolling beside him on the sidewalk, she could sense the heat on his skin. Her fingers itched to close the distance between their hands, to feel the place where his batting gloves had calloused his palms.

  No way in hell could she explain to him that being in his debt or signing on for an entire evening with him was more than her self-control might be able to bear. Worse, if she was offered the chance to spend an entire day with him, she couldn’t imagine turning down the opportunity.

  So she opted for vagueness. “I like to pave my own way.” She halted, surprised to find that they’d made their way to her car.

  Logan leaned against the Jeep’s bumper, surveying her for a moment before he spoke again. “Well, how about this? Come with me to the gala.”

  He reached into his wallet and pulled out a ticket. To her mind’s eye, though, the shiny golden invitation looked much more like a deal with the devil than a divine intervention.

  Not that it stopped her from reaching for the ticket.

  Just before his fingers closed around the shiny edges, though, she pulled back again. “What kind of weird bargain am I signing on for if I accept? Do you want to like, Frankenstein me? Make me do more shoe shopping?”

  He grinned. “You still owe me my photo shoot. This ticket has no strings attached. Promise.”

  She frowned, considering her options. In all likelihood, he just wanted a date that the media wouldn’t speculate about. Him showing up with her was the public equivalent of bringing his mother along on the red carpet.

  But then…could she really afford to say no?

  “Deal,” she said, and her fingers brushed slightly against his, the sizzle of his touch lighting its way down her spine and spreading through her body. God, she had t
o end this night. Had to get the hell out of there and focus on finishing this deal of theirs once and for all.

  He’s just not that into you. He’s just…

  “Thanks for coming out,” he said, tossing her bags into the hatch.

  “Thanks for teaching me…you know, the art of womanhood or whatever.” She wanted to kick the ground beneath her. Do something to distract herself from the electricity crackling between them and that constant, all-consuming urge to touch him. To be with him.

  He was so close. Close enough that she could feel his body heat and smell his spicy cologne.

  Any other time, she could have convinced herself that this was all in her head. That he didn’t feel the tension in the air, couldn’t taste it as he breathed in the way she did. She was simply playing into her own fantasies. But right now?

  Some part of her knew this wasn’t a figment of her imagination. There was a dark intrigue in his eyes she’d never seen before. Or, at least, never seen directed at her.

  She held her breath, and when he began to lean in, all of her doubts shattered into a million pieces. Logan Grant wanted to kiss her. The Logan Grant. The man who once turned over five girlfriends in two weeks. Her brother’s best friend.

  He was centimeters from her and she was even closer to a full-on panic attack. What would happen if she went through with this? If she finally felt the full force of his mouth on hers?

  All my dreams would come true.

  For a while, maybe. But eventually her heart would get broken. Things would be weird with Matt. She’d see Logan with other women in magazines, women who actually belonged with a man like him…

  No, no, no. This was a slippery slope and she wasn’t about to fall down it. So she took a step back, her heart breaking, and said, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He looked dazed for a moment, but nodded. “Yeah. Cool.”

  “Right.” She climbed into her car and revved the engine, all too eager to get away. When she finally pulled into the street, she refused to look behind her.

  Because what if she saw Logan disappearing in her rearview?

  She’d probably hate herself even more than she already did.

  Chapter 5

  Andy stared blankly at the queue of unanswered weekend emails, then sat back in her desk chair and sighed.

  Shay had been out of town for the past week—something to do with needing to talk her mom out of yet another spur-of-the-moment marriage—and Andy'd been on her own to handle the business.

  For the most part, it had been simple enough. Cold calling potential clients, following up on scheduled interviews, and checking in with physical therapists to make arrangements for Matt, but when push came to shove, the vast majority of nearly every day had been devoted to Logan.

  With a little coaxing from most of her connections, Andy had him on the fast track to becoming the next big media darling. All he had to do was comply.

  But this was Logan¸ so, of course, that was easier said than done.

  He did go to all the interviews, that much was true, but he had persisted in requesting that she attend each of them, and when she refused he wanted to know why.

  It was all a charade, though. He knew why she couldn't be around him just as well as she did. He was a toxin, one so potent that once he got under her skin and entered her blood stream, he'd be sure to strangle the life from her. Or, at the very least, her self respect.

  Thank goodness she hadn't kissed him the last time she'd seen him.

  Her heart flipped over just thinking about the way he'd leaned in toward her, his soulful eyes half-hooded as he surveyed her. If she'd only closed her eyes, she would have been lost. She would have—

  "What. The. Hell."

  Andy brought the room into focus again and found Shay standing in the archway of the glass wall, her heart-shaped face tilted to the side.

  "What?" Andy asked.

  "What do you mean, what?" She stalked into the room and plunked into the red acrylic chair across from Andy's ultra-modern, white desk. "You're...so different."

  "No, I'm not." Self-conscious, she ran her fingers through her bangs, then shook them out of the way again.

  "Are too," Shay countered, then she stood again on her stilt-like, electric green stilettos. "Is that a dress?"

  She said the word "dress" like it was code for "nuclear bomb," but Andy nodded all the same.

  Sure, she'd worn a dress. Big deal. People in professional environments wore dresses all the time. It wasn't even like Andy's dress was particularly fancy. It was just a simple, red slip of a thing. Forgettable. And very, very comfy.

  "Oh my god." Shay covered her bow of a mouth with a slender, perfectly manicured hand. "I don't even know what to say. Have you been doing this the whole time I was gone?"

  "I'm not doing anything." Andy rolled her eyes. "Now will you quit acting like I'm dying? I'm wearing a dress. Yes. Now can we—"

  "And make-up. Nice make-up." Shay craned her neck. “You don’t even have any smudges under your eyes.”

  Andy pursed her lips.

  Apparently she'd have to resort to distraction. "Did you make any progress with your mom?"

  That sobered her up quick enough. In an instant, all the wonder drained from Shay's face, leaving behind a cool annoyance. "Not this time. She's convinced he's the one."

  "And is he?"

  "How should I know?" Shay opened her clutch, then closed it again. It was a shade of green just as vivid as her shoes, and both did wonders to accentuate the pretty, white, bandage dress she wore. "The whole thing makes me want to smoke."

  "But you didn't?" Andy asked.

  "No, Mother." Shay rolled her eyes. "Anyway, they're gonna get married in a few months, so odds are she'll find someone else before then. Or come to her senses."

  "That sucks," Andy said.

  "Yeah, well. Mothers. What can you do? You can't raise them forever." She opened and closed her bag again, then looked up so quick, it was like she'd been jolted by a cattle prod. "By the way, I saw the interview with Logan in the paper. Good job. Very charming."

  "Thanks," Andy said.

  "You coached him for it, I'm guessing."

  Andy's shoulders tensed, and she glanced at her computer screen, willing it to create some kind of distraction. "Not really. He's a natural with stuff like that."

  "You...didn't coach him?" Shay eyed her. "I thought—"

  "I knew he didn't need it."

  There was a slight pause, then Shay said, "So, his case is pretty much ready, though, right? You talked to him about goal setting and—"

  "Actually, I'm glad you mentioned that. I was hoping you could take on his case from here on out. Things are getting a little touch and go with Matt and the league, so I'm going to be really, really busy with negotiations."

  Another pause. "Right."

  "Good, I knew you'd understand."

  "Actually, I'm not sure that I do."

  Andy's heart gave a little squeeze, but she didn't say anything.

  "You want me to take on Logan as a client...” Shay’s mouth quirked to the side. “But you're his friend."

  "Exactly. Conflict of interest."

  "If a conflict of interest bothered you, you wouldn't be handling your brother's case, either." Shay pointed out. Annoyingly.

  "Well, that's different. He's family."

  "You know that makes no sense, right?"

  "It does make sense. Really. Come on, can't you just do me this favor?" Andy asked.

  "Only if you admit the real reason for needing the favor to begin with."

  "And what's that?"

  Shay sighed. "You're afraid."

  "Afraid?"

  "That's right. You're afraid to be alone with him. You still love him."

  "I never loved him," Andy practically guffawed.

  "Infatuated, enamored, whatever. You don't want to be near him because you want to have his gorgeous blond babies."

  "I do not. I'm just—"

  Shay shot back
. "Don't lie to me. I've been your friend for too long to fall for whatever cock and bull you're telling yourself. I know how you feel about him and god knows you haven't bothered with anyone else."

  "What do you mean—?"

  Shay rolled her eyes. "Oh please, half the time when a man starts talking to you, you walk away. You're not interested in men. You're interested in Logan Grant."

  Andy pursed her lips, and then steepled her fingers together and surveyed her friend from over her fingertips. "I just can't be around him, okay?"

  "But why not? Did something happen?"

  "No.” Andy said too quickly, then amended, “I mean, not really."

  "There's a hell of a lot of difference between 'no' and 'not really.'"

  "We sort of, kind of, had a moment." She stopped, but when Shay continued to look at her expectantly, she added, "Where I thought he was going to kiss me."

  "That's amazing! How was it?" Shay asked.

  "I didn't kiss him."

  Her smile waned. "Why not?"

  "He's a client. And, you know, he's Logan."

  "All the more reason to kiss him. Did you see the way he talked about Matt's accident in that interview? Talk about a sweetheart." Shay smiled.

  "That's just it. He's all tied up with Matt, and then there's his history."

  "His history?"

  "Oh, like I have to tell you how many girls he plows through. And yes, I do mean 'plows.'"

  Shay rolled her eyes again. "You're not worried about Matt."

  "Yes—"

  "No, you're not,” She said again, more firmly this time. “You're just using it as an excuse to protect yourself. You've never thought you were good enough for Logan, but before you had the very convenient caveat that he never looked at you sideways before. Now, though—"

  "Nothing has changed."

  "No?” Shay raised her eyebrows. “Then why do you need me to cover for you?"

  Busted.

  "Okay. Okay. I'm..." What was the right word for this feeling? This gnawing need to both be with him and never see him again? "Nervous. Can you just handle things for him until I'm in a place where I can sort out my feelings?"

  "Sure thing." Shay grinned. "Just do me a favor and take a little less than a decade this time."