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“You’re hilarious.”
Logan grinned. “Any specific suggestion on how your good ‘ol brother can look his hottest, with clothes on, then?”
A beat of silence passed before she said, “Dark-wash jeans and that charcoal t-shirt you have that almost looks faded and soft to the touch, with a fitted black sports coat. H-O-T,” she said, making Logan chuckle.
“Got it. Any other suggestions while I’m at it?”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
Okay, he’d bite. Forcing down his smile, he asked, “And what would that be?”
“Kiss her. Good. Until her toes curl and she questions why she ever wanted to be single.”
Logan laughed. “You’re insane.”
“But smart.”
Logan said nothing in reply. But when Marti’s sweet face and sharp mouth flashed in his head, he thought, Maybe she’s right.
LOGAN PAUSED JUST INSIDE the gallery entry, slightly late. Still, he was in no rush as his gaze caught Marti standing farther inside the room, studying a canvas encased in light by an installation above it.
With her back turned to him, Logan took advantage of her ignorance to drink her in before she saw him.
Her auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a thick wave trailing down her back. She wore a fitted black cocktail dress that skimmed the tops of her knees and set off her milky-white skin. Shifting his gaze down, he took a slow perusal of her long legs, made even longer by a pair of sky-high red heels.
Something tugged at his chest. He shook it off and released a shallow breath. There could be worse ways to drum up PR for his charity.
Slowly, he made his way toward her, watching her as he did, noting her bright smile at the passing cocktail waitress. They spoke for a brief moment before she handed Marti a glass of wine and laughed at something she said, staring at her with stars in her eyes. All the while, a man sidled up on her other side and blatantly checked out her butt while she was turned.
It reminded him of the gala. When all eyes were on her. Despite her popularity, he didn’t even think she was aware of how beautiful she was, which made her even more attractive. People watched her, fixated on her graceful form as she shifted to a different painting and lifted her wine glass to those pouty lips.
All the women wanted to be her—or, at least, be her friend—and all the men wanted her. Logan wondered what it must be like. To be that enamored in a city filled with people. To have all eyes focused on you in a crowded room.
When the waitress left and Marti’s gaze shifted back to the painting in front of her, the man trained his gaze on her face with a lecherous smile.
Logan didn’t like that smile.
He picked up his pace, weaving through the people socializing in the small gallery and closed in on them just in time to hear the guy making some lame joke, to which Marti responded by saying nothing, flashing him a polite smile in favor of words.
Logan stepped in front of the guy, blocking his view of Marti, not giving two craps whether it was rude or not, and taking satisfaction in the fact that he towered over him. Fake or not, if Marti was supposed to be his, she wouldn’t flirt with random men any longer. And that smile and those eyes, they didn’t know how not to flirt with a man.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He leaned in and kissed Marti’s cheek—just a quick brush of the lips—satisfied when they turned a pretty shade of pink.
Behind him, the guy muttered something under his breath along the line of, figures, then shuffled away. The surge of joy Logan felt at his departure was probably over the top, considering the situation.
“You’re welcome,” Logan said with a smirk.
Marti’s eyes flashed. “For what exactly?”
“Getting rid of that tool.”
“I don’t need you or any man to save me, Love. I can handle myself.”
“Right.” A pregnant silence followed, then as if he couldn’t help himself, Logan added, “Usually, when women have a random dude hit on them, they tell him to get lost, instead of flashing him a sexy smile.”
“Do you really think I don’t deal with this on a regular basis? Men hitting on me? Trust me. I shut down more come-ons than you could ever dream of.”
