by Elise Noble
“Still there, kitten. Figure he’ll get bored after an hour or two.”
Oh, Logan was gonna go to hell for this.
CHAPTER 15 - SLOANE
I SAT ON the sofa and ran my fingers across my lips. Had I been dreaming or did Logan just kiss me? My lips didn’t feel any different, but judging by the clink of dishes I could hear in the kitchen, Logan was definitely in my house, which meant I hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Half of me wanted to freak out, and the other half wanted to send Kenneth a golf towel and a six-pack of organic smoothies as a thank-you gift for being in exactly the right place at the right time. The only question was, how could I get him to come back tomorrow?
“Did you find a movie?” Logan asked from the doorway.
I snatched my hand away from my mouth. Don’t let him know how much he affects you, Sloane. The last thing I wanted to do was scare him off.
“What? Uh, no, not yet. Did Kenneth leave?”
“Still there, kitten. Figure he’ll get bored after an hour or two.”
Thank goodness. Did that mean Logan would stick around for two whole hours? I fumbled for the remote and clicked the TV on, cursing my lack of channels.
“What do you like watching?” I asked.
“I don’t watch much TV. Just football occasionally.”
“I really hate football.” The mere thought of sitting through a game left me cold. “Sorry.”
“Then pick anything. I’m not bothered.”
Oh, that was helpful. What if I chose the wrong thing? A game show, some reality singing thing, a documentary. Nope, nope, nope. Aha! An action movie. Gunfights, fast cars, a few explosions… That would make Logan feel right at home, wouldn’t it? I mean, nobody told us PAs everything about Blackwood’s operations, but I gleaned enough details to get nervous every time Logan left the building.
But for now, I tried to put work out of my mind. Tonight, Logan was here with me, and I wanted to enjoy every minute of his company, even if I did feel guilty for him giving up his evening to help me out.
“This movie?” I read the details from the guide. “‘The year is 2023. When a crazed serial killer escapes from his high-tech prison, only three deputies stand between his murderous tendencies and the sleepy town of Westbrough. Can they recapture the notorious criminal before it’s too late?’”
“Sounds good. You want ketchup?”
I loved ketchup, but I’d probably get it on my face and end up looking like one of the serial killer’s victims as well as being utterly mortified. Spending time around Logan left me giddy, a weird, visceral reaction I still didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t as if I’d never had a boyfriend. I’d had several. And I’d eaten dinner with overly hot guys on more than one occasion, albeit mostly as a seat-filler when Blackwood had booked a table at a fancy event and somebody dropped out at the last minute. I’d even coped with Emmy’s ex-boyfriend Jed acting as my escort, and until he’d met The One three years ago, he’d been a smart-mouthed man-slut with octopus arms and hands that got everywhere. But just being in the same room as Logan left me tongue-tied.
So I shook my head. No, I didn’t want to risk ketchup.
And that decision paid off when Logan finished his last mouthful, stretched his legs out, and settled back against the cushions with one arm behind me. His fingers brushed against my shoulder, burning through two layers of fabric, and I dropped a handful of fries in my lap. Shoot.
I must have stared at Logan’s hand for a beat too long because he answered my unasked question.
“Just in case Kenneth decides to take a closer look. We should go for realism, and if I was spending the evening with my girl, we wouldn’t be sitting at opposite ends of the couch.”
“Realism. Yes.”
I threw the fries back onto the plate and pushed the whole lot to the other side of the coffee table. One grease splotch was quite enough.
“You’re not gonna finish that?” Logan asked.
“I’m full.”
He gave a little shrug then jerked his head at his arm, raising one eyebrow as he did so. Blood rushed south, taking the last of my sanity with it. This might be the only chance I ever got to curl up on the sofa and watch a terrible movie with Logan. I was almost certain Kenneth wouldn’t look through the windows, and he probably wouldn’t come back again either after tonight’s stunt.
I leaned back gingerly, and Logan curled his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. My pulse raced, blood whooshing in my ears, but Logan just grabbed the remote from my lap and turned the volume up a notch.
“This is a sequel. Did you see the first one?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much. It was so bad, it was funny.”
On screen, a man got shot with a pistol, flew three feet in the air, and his severed leg landed on top of a car. I’d only fired a gun twice, but even I knew that didn’t happen. And beside me, Logan burst out laughing.
“See?” he said. “Shoulda brought popcorn.”
“Do you want popcorn? I’ve got some of the microwaveable stuff in the kitchen.”
“Why not?”
I levered myself off the sofa, and Logan’s arm fell away. Muttered curses escaped my lips as I hurried to the kitchen—why on earth had I suggested an idea that involved moving from my happy place?
Good going, Sloane.
Sweet or salted? Sweet or salted? Sweet or salted? Oh, what the heck—I shoved both kinds into the microwave and grabbed a pair of bowls. Logan had better be hungry, but judging by the speed with which he’d eaten his burger, he’d undoubtedly inhale this lot too.
Three minutes later, I speed-walked back towards the sound of gunfire and screeching wheels emanating from the living room, but on the way, I snuck a glance out of the hall window. Dammit! Kenneth was nowhere to be seen. I paused, juggling the popcorn and two cans of Coca-Cola. Should I come clean to Logan? He probably had loads to do at home. Laundry, weightlifting, entertaining a supermodel… The sensible thing, the right thing, would be to fess up and thank him for his time, then put his popcorn in a doggy bag and wave as he drove off down the street.
But tonight, Sloane the shameless hussy made an appearance, and I did my best to look innocent as I sauntered back to the sofa.
“Here you go. I might have made too much, but I can just throw the extra away.”
“Nah, I’m starving. I ran sixteen miles this morning, and Toby was on the warpath so lunch was a chicken breast with organic spirulina, sprouted millet, and sautéed kale.”
Toby was Emmy’s nutritionist, and every so often, he’d get it into his head that the Special Projects team wasn’t being healthy enough and go on a bit of a rampage. Out would go the cookies, the donuts, and the leftover pizza, and in would come the activated almonds, the organic apricots, and the coconut chips.
“I keep a stash of chocolate bars in my desk. Bottom left-hand drawer in the box marked ‘Monthly Management Accounts.’ Feel free to help yourself if Emmy hasn’t got there first.”
Logan’s arm tightened around me, and I vowed never to let supplies run low.
“Thanks, kitten. I might just take you up on that offer. If you ever want dinner from the Brotherhood, just get what you want and put it on my tab. I’ll let them know to expect you.”
Dinner for a chocolate bar? That hardly seemed fair. And besides…
“I’m not sure I’d want to go there by myself. Not again.”
“Christian runs a tight ship. That was the first problem we’ve had in months.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I’ve already told you—I’m not exactly your usual clientele.”
“Thank fuck for that. If all the women looked like you, I’d spend half my life there and never get any work done.”
Was he joking? He had to be, and yet he didn’t sound like it. “You don’t have to gush fake flattery. I doubt Kenneth’s listening at the window.”
Especially as he was most likely tucked up in his apartment several miles away with a bottle of low-alcohol beer and some boring documentary. Or the news. He watched it constantly on a loop. Over and over and over.
Logan just tilted me back and I tipped right into him as I overbalanced. My left hand almost went into the popcorn, but I managed to redirect it to his thigh at the last second. His huge, well-muscled thigh that twitched under my fingers.
And no, hussy Sloane didn’t take her hand away.
“Good,” Logan said.
Good? Good what? Good that he didn’t have to flatter me? Or good that Kenneth wasn’t listening? As Logan caressed the top of my arm, I decided I didn’t care. Instead, I leaned into him and pretended to watch the awful movie, all the time thinking of the man beside me, my real-life hero, and mentally undressing him rather than watching the shirtless wonders on-screen. His body heat seeped into me, and I might even have sighed.
Oh, Sloane, you’re gonna go to hell for this.
CHAPTER 16 - SLOANE
THE NEXT MORNING, I floated into work. Freaking floated. Like a feather, or a swan, or a… Emmy glided past on four-inch heels, waving as she headed towards the coffee machine. Okay, so beside her I was more of an empty oil drum bobbing around in the ocean, but I still felt pretty darn good.
Logan had stayed until the end of the funny-not-funny disaster of a movie, and when the credits rolled, he’d surfed through the channels and stopped on Dirty Dancing.
“Wanna watch this?”
“You like Jennifer Grey?”
“Who?”
“Baby.” I pointed at her on the screen as she carried her watermelon.
“She’s kind of skinny. I thought all chicks loved this movie?”
“We do.”
Logan leaned forward, and there must have been something funky in that popcorn as well as all the bits of husk that were now stuck in my teeth because I could have sworn he kissed my hair. I didn’t dare to move. Or breathe. And I almost choked when Logan’s other arm wrapped around me. He didn’t say a word, and I desperately tried to act as if this were perfectly normal.
Normal. Right.
Last night, I’d won the man-candy lottery. The male equivalent of chocolate truffles and jelly beans and Starbursts, especially compared to Kenneth, who was the slightly shrivelled apple some joker snuck into your bagful of Halloween goodies.
“Where are you going?” Emmy asked from over my right shoulder.
Too late, I realised I’d walked right past my desk, done a lap of the office, and now I was heading for the fire exit.
“Uh, I ran out of staples.”
“Staples?” Emmy asked as I veered left towards the stationery cupboard. “You didn’t think much of Nate’s ‘let’s go paperless’ idea, then?”
“No, I think it’s great, but you know how Mr. Johnson always likes a printed report.”
Emmy grimaced because Mr. Johnson also liked her to turn the pages for him while he stared at her cleavage.
“Don’t remind me.” She held out a box in my direction. “Could you do me a favour after and take this down to Luther? It’s my new pistol grip, and he said he’d fit it.”
“Sure.” I grabbed the box, only too happy to escape. “I’ll do it right away.”
Luther, Blackwood’s armourer, had been a fixture at headquarters for as long as I’d worked there. In fact, I remembered him making me a cup of coffee on my first day, and I’d spilled half of it because my hands had been shaking so much. He must have been nearly sixty by now, and despite the fact he’d lost a leg in Iraq, he still moved around faster than I did.
I took the stairs down to the basement in an effort to fit a tiny bit of exercise into my day, springing along, happy, but I soon stopped short when I heard voices ahead. Luther’s Southern drawl and Nate’s low-pitched mutterings.
“…and Sloane?”
What? Why had Luther mentioned my name? The package slipped out of my hands, and I only just caught it before it hit the floor and gave me away. Yes, yes, I knew it wasn’t polite to listen in on private conversations, but I couldn’t help myself, okay? Not that I could hear everything they said, only the odd snippet here and there.
“Twenty bucks says he will,” Nate said.
He? Who was he?
“Not doubtin’ that. For some reason, ladies find that asshole irresistible.”
Nate bit out a laugh. “Never understood it myself. The first night Black and I met Logan, he showed up with three women and lent us the spares.”
Logan? They were talking about Logan? And me? Tell me they weren’t… I knew the Special Projects team wagered on all sorts of stupid things, office romances included. But the idea of them betting on me and Logan to do the nasty, as Emmy would put it, left me shaken. B.E.T. Three tiny letters, but they cut me to the core. B, and my breath stuttered. E, and the voices of my high-school classmates echoed in my head. T, and the blade thrust into my heart.
I retreated back to the stairwell on rubber-soled ballet pumps as memories came flooding back. My final year at Allenvale High, and the last time I’d gotten involved with a man way out of my league. Reach for the stars, my mom always told me. Well, I did, and I got burned. I’d been in love with Joey McManus, and he’d claimed to feel the same way, right up until the moment he’d taken my virginity. Stupid. I’d been so, so, stupid.
Never again, I’d vowed. Never again would I fall for one of those oh-so-perfect men because it only led to heartache. When I stuck to the Kenneths and Lyndons of this world, a break-up became more of an inconvenience than a tragedy.
But for the last few days, I’d let my heart rule my head over Logan. I’d got caught up in a fantasy world of taut buttocks and sweet words and charming heroes who rode motorcycles and brought me cheesecake.
No more. No more.
I needed to throw a bucket of water over my libido and get back to reality. Logan was a nice guy. Kind. But even if his actions last night had been anything more than a show for Kenneth, which I found hard to believe and still felt kind of guilty over since Kenneth hadn’t even been there for half of the evening, nothing could ever happen between the pair of us.
At that moment, following Lyndon’s lead and doing a runner to South America seemed like the most sensible option.
“Planning a vacation?” Leah asked as she slid her phone into her bag at the end of the afternoon.
“Huh?”
She pointed at my computer screen. “You’re looking at flights to Ecuador?”
“Oh, yes, right. That’s for Emmy.”
“Are you okay? You’ve been distracted all day.”
“Fine. Absolutely fine.”
“I thought you might still be mad at me for the online dating thing.”
Only a little. “Not at all. I’ve just got other things on my mind.”
“Like Logan Barnes?”
My head swivelled in her direction so fast a nerve in my neck twanged. Ouch. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
“The way he looks at you? The way you look at him? The fact that you’re both single and his ass was sculpted by Michelangelo himself?”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Logan.”
“Yet.”
“Nor will there be.”
“So you say.” She glanced over my shoulder, grinned, and waved. “Speak of the devil. Don’t worry, I’ll make myself scarce.”
“There’s no need…”
Too late, she’d gone, and Logan was there in all his hotness. My resolve almost cracked, but I dug my fingernails into my thighs under the desk and forced what I hoped was a convincing smile.
“Hi.”
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Five minutes?”
“Sure. Wanna stop for food again on the way back?”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
Surprise flashed across Logan’s face. I doubted he got many knock-backs, and even I was having second thoughts as my mind warred with my body.
“I promised Edna I’d eat dinner with her tonight.”
“That’s a first—being ditched for a septuagenarian. How about tomorrow?”
“Maybe.”
Maybe? Sloane, you’ve got to get a handle on this. Or at the very least, think up a more plausible excuse.
“Maybe?” Logan asked.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do, and it might spill into the evening.”
His raised eyebrow asked, Seriously? but he didn’t push me any further, and for that I was grateful.
“Okay. Five minutes, and I’ll see you home.”
Second thoughts? Now I was having third thoughts. Logan was no Joey McManus, and last night, I’d managed to be jittery and comfortable all at the same time. But tonight, I’d be dining alone because Edna went to the seniors’ movie evening on the second Thursday of every month and she never came back before eleven. She had more of a social life than I did.
Part of me wanted to tell Logan not to worry about following me and avoid any temptation, but although I hadn’t had any more strange messages, worry still niggled at me. How did other women manage to find their perfect matches online? Because surely quite a few of them must, or all of those dating sites would have gone bust years ago. Or were the testimonials they splashed across their front pages fake? Was the whole online dating scene just one big sham, a self-perpetuating myth sold to desperate souls who longed to find happiness?
I wanted to believe in the concept, because without hope, what did I have left? But I shuddered at the thought of clicking on DateMe.com again. No, I’d carry on looking the old-fashioned way—you know, common interests, a shared connection. Except all I really did was work, wasn’t it? Which brought me right back to Logan again. Gah.
I slammed the lid of my laptop down and shoved it into a drawer. I’d think about this tomorrow. Tonight, I’d devote my time to a good movie and possibly a pint of ice cream.