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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.
