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“I’m smart enough to know you’d never enter a contest to meet some stranger for a possible romantic connection. Give me a fucking break. Somehow, you learned Brandon Ethridge was going to be here. Eric saw through your con weeks ago.”
Elle decided to appeal to Logan’s sense of fair play. “Don’t you dare screw this up for me. I promised Nan I’d either figure out a way to get her money back or gather enough information to put Ethridge in prison.”
“You have no idea what you’re up against.” Logan’s jaw muscles twitched, making Elle want to smooth her hand across the stubble on his cheek. “If the FBI can’t prove Ethridge is an investment scam artist, what makes you think you can?”
“Because I have a personal interest, and I’m not some branch of the government with other priorities.”
“The Feds are working the case, but they need proof. You know...evidence.”
“Don’t be a smartass.” Elle wasn’t backing down. His frown relaxed. Had she softened his always-by-the-book approach to life? “I’m asking you not to interfere.”
“Let’s get you warmed up.” He took her hand and led her into her bedroom, stopping at the bed.
Again, Elle had gone speechless. Had she won the argument or been ignored? Exactly what did he have in mind? Whatever it was, her hormones had immediately come to life and were running wild. He’d definitely piqued her interest.
He knelt and looked up at her through thick, dark lashes. “Have a seat.”
As if hypnotized, she obeyed. Curiosity had taken control of her brain. He removed her shoes, catching her instep in his hand.
“Your feet are like ice.”
Lightning bolts shot up her leg as his fingers kneaded and soothed her foot. Parts of her body instantly warmed and tingled under the pressure of his hands. Parts that shouldn’t heat up at his touch. Falling for Logan’s Prince Charming routine would be as smart as playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. She’d heard a lot of stories about the broken hearts he’d left in his wake. Self-preservation kicked in, and Elle pulled her foot from his grasp.
“You are not going to stop me. Sending you was a waste of time.”
“We’ll talk about this after you’ve had a warm shower and changed into dry clothes.”
Logan’s audacity brought her out of her hormonal fog. He’d always ordered her around as if he, too, were her brother. “I’m not too cold to listen.”
“Shower first.” Out came that damn frown. “Want me to help you undress?”
A nervous laugh burst from Elle, embarrassing her. She quickly regained her composure. “Now you’re being funny. I’m waiting for you to leave. Go home and tell my brother to mind his own damn business.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed to slits. He stood and silently left the room, closing the door behind him.
The tension in Elle’s neck tightened. No way was Logan leaving. She’d have to come up with a plan to gain his help. He’d have to get his own room. The owners of Castle Alainn had provided her and the male co-winner with a luxurious two-bedroom suite. Each side could be locked off from the rest of the unit, satisfying her wariness of sharing space with a stranger. She couldn’t help but worry about what would happen if the guy turned up to find Logan in the common area.
She wasn’t concerned that Logan would blow her cover. His loyalty to her brother went back many years. Eric had brought Logan home to play the day after Elle had turned thirteen. She’d immediately developed a crush on him. Not that he’d ever given her a second look. For the next nineteen years, the only physical contact she’d had with Logan was when he’d held her down and scrubbed his knuckles across her head.
Her nerve endings had fired and tingled for all the wrong reasons today. She’d breathed in his scent and felt the strength of his body. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach set off warning bells. Logan had no interest in her. He’d proved that in high school by treating her as if she’d had the plague. Still, standing on Ethridge’s balcony, staring up at Logan, she’d thought a spark of interest had flared in his eyes. No doubt, it was just concern for her safety.
Shaking off those thoughts, Elle stripped and walked into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, stepped under the warm water, allowing her bones to thaw. She toweled off, dried her hair, and then applied makeup.
Elle slipped on a simple black dress and a pair of heels. She’d blown her budget on clothes for this trip. Her new dress, cut low in the back, accentuated her every curve, but she only gave the mirror a quick glance. She had to bring Logan over to her side.
She entered the common room to find him standing in front of the fireplace. On the mantel sat two glasses of red wine. His usual unruly shock of black hair had been conquered and combed into place. In typical Logan style, the two-day-old stubble remained in place as it had for years. Black slacks and polished shoes had replaced his jeans and boots. The white button-down, open at the neck, highlighted his tan skin and dark eyes. Her mouth watered. He looked more like a professional model than a firebrand Texas police detective.
Elle sank down onto the plush couch. “Why are you still here and dressed like you’re ready for a photo shoot?”
“Does my look impress you?”
“Answer my question.”
“I’m the co-winner you’re expecting. Randall Newman.”
A heavy weight took up residence on her shoulders. “For real?”
“For real.” Logan smiled the kind of smile you’d give a petulant child.
