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It was only when there was a noise down the hall, and Logan excused himself to check on his sleeping son, that Kat finally thought to check her watch.
She’d been here for hours.
Hastily, she reached over to place the wine—her third glass, already half-empty—on the coffee table and stand up. She’d lost all track of time.
Truth be told, she’d lost all track of herself. Long since ceasing to recognise the woman who was chatting about her life in Seattle, her globetrotting family.
She could even pretend that it didn’t hurt to talk about her family. And, oddly, in a way it didn’t.
And even though all the topics steered carefully away from anything really personal—like her childhood in hospitals, Kirk, or Carrie—it had nonetheless been the closest she’d come to removing the smiling, happy mask she was sure to always wear.
Their conversations had weaved together. Light and easy one moment, more personal and revealing the next. And all the while she watched his mouth, altogether too sensual as she told herself that it didn’t do things to her. Observed his hands and pretended she wasn’t imagining them all over her body. Roamed his body with her eyes and battled not to imagine it naked beneath hers. Or on top of hers.
Or any way he wanted it at all, actually.
It was definitely time to get out of here.
Softly, not wanting to disturb Jamie any more than he might already be stirring, she moved through to the hallway, plucking her scarf off the coat hook and winding it around her neck once, twice.
She was just swinging her coat on when she heard Logan coming around the corner.
‘You’re leaving?’ his low voice rumbled down the hallway.
She painted a bright smile on her lips and was careful to be quiet.
‘I had no idea of the time. I hope we didn’t disturb Jamie.’
‘He usually wakes up around now and needs to go to the toilet. If you can call that dreamlike state waking. But he’s already back asleep now.’
‘That’s good.’ She nodded, still with her coat half-on.
‘You don’t have to leave.’
You do, she told herself sternly. This is your boss. And you’re already having inappropriate thoughts about him. What is another hour going to do?
‘I really ought to,’ she hedged.
‘Sure,’ he agreed, and she told herself she’d imagined the fraction of a second of hesitation in his voice. ‘Let me help you.’
And then he was striding towards her, helping her with her coat and lifting her bag off the hook to pass it to her.
The worst of it was the feeling of deflation. The realisation that she would have readily stayed, if only he’d insisted. That she’d hoped that was exactly what he’d do.
‘Thanks,’ she managed, her tone more clipped than she might have preferred.
It was impossible to shake the impression that he was trying to distance himself from her, and she had no idea why. Inside, she sagged even further, though she kept herself standing tall and upright, even as she lunged for the door...at exactly the same time that he lifted his arm around her and leaned across to turn the latch.
She backed up rapidly, but there was nowhere to go and suddenly she was sprawled against the wall with Logan’s body pressed against hers.
Hotter, and harder, and so much more...male than even her fervent imagination had fancied.
Kat froze. She felt edgy. Jittery. Like she was standing on some precipice and the slightest thing—even a hint of a breeze—could make her topple over.
All she could feel was those acres of muscle pressed against her, and all she could hear was her breathing, growing more ragged, more telling by the second. She never moved her hands and yet, without warning, her bag thudded to the floor and there they were, splaying over his impossibly solid pectoral muscles.
‘Logan...’
