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Logan sat at his desk, nodding at his assistant who was telling him something. But he was not listening. “Uh, Risa, I need a minute to read it over.”
“Oh.” She stopped, obviously not used to Logan not being on top of things. Trouble was, all he wanted to be on top of right now was Ms. Gianna D’Alessio.
“Just send it all to me as a revised file. I’ve got a couple calls to make, so it will have to wait.”
“But yesterday you said—”
“That was yesterday,” he said, his tone, his look making it clear his orders were not to be challenged. More like his usual self.
And that seemed to calm Risa, the familiarity of it. She said something else he missed and left his office.
At which point Logan swiveled his plush leather chair around and gazed out the tall twenty-third-floor windows of his corner office and indulged in recalling the image of Jinx squirming beneath him, of her expression when she came, of her mouth on his cock, of her beautiful face on the pillow next to his.
He could not remember ever being that excited, ever having sex that good. And he’d had plenty with some of the most beautiful women in the world.
But it was dangerous, this. A man needed focused concentration to run a business, and Logan’s mind was out to lunch today. Was this what happened to his father when he got so obsessed with Miranda he let her take him for a ride? Let her ruin him? She could lie to him and cheat on him and he still took her back every time.
Logan stood up, fuming. No. No way was Jinx anything like that conniving bitch. Jinx had a loving heart.
He began pacing back and forth across his large office, grumbling. And Logan was nothing like his father, nor would he ever be. If Logan had a son, he would love him and treat him as a precious gift. Not a pain in the butt who was in his way.
And Jinx would never try to take advantage of anyone. Ever. She did not have once ounce of evil in her. Mischief, yeah. He grinned at the thought of how naughty she could be.
But when it came to her heart and soul, her moral character, the big important stuff—Jinx was pure gold.
Which was why he could not drag her into a conflict that would make her have to choose between him and her family. He knew how much they all meant to her. And what kind of life would someone like Jinx have with a guy like him anyway? He traveled across the country and to branches in Europe all the time. Worked all the time. Partied for the purpose of networking or as a favor to a client. A wife would only be—
He froze in place. “Wife? What in hell am I thinking? How did my mind go there?”
He sat back at his desk, determined to get some work done, but then he noticed a few texts had come in on his private phone, and one was from Jinx. They had agreed to make this a “one night only” thing, and he had worried that she might want more. Now, here he was hoping she did.
He picked up his phone, and went right to her message.
WHERE IS MY PURSE?
Oh shit. He’d had to leave before the grocery delivery would arrive, and he did not trust his doorman to watch the delivery person carefully. Her small beaded purse would be an easy thing to pick up and leave with, so he had stuck it in a kitchen drawer, meaning to add that to her note. But he’d forgotten to do that.
Logan closed up a few things, then hurried past Risa’s desk, telling her he had to be out of the office the rest of the day. Yeah, he often stayed until ten at night unless he was meeting a client for dinner, and it was only four thirty.
He raced the six blocks to his apartment building, completely turned on at the thought that Jinx might still be there if she had no money or ID or anything, thanks to his dumb move.
Sure, he could just call her and tell her where the purse was, but he had to admit he wanted to see her again. He cursed at the voice in his head that told him what a wuss he was acting like. That this woman had him by the balls.
But no, he just needed one more taste of her and he would be back to normal again and they could go their separate ways as they had planned.
When he got to his penthouse and it was empty, he sank onto the sofa feeling like a fool. Not only for the way he’d rushed over here, but also for not even checking what time her text message had come in. Where was his mind?
Up your ass, man.
Actually, it was on her ass. He pulled out the phone and saw she had sent the message around noon. Over four hours ago.
He typed in, Where are you?
Within a couple minutes his phone buzzed. My question came first.
Wiseguy. I put it in a drawer so the deliveryman would not be tempted to take it.
A reply came: Your deliveryman likes beaded purses?
