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“Tomorrow night, then,” she said, taking a step toward him to place a soft kiss against his cheek. He closed his eyes, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. “I’m counting down the minutes.”
“Tomorrow night,” he repeated, piercing her with an intense gaze.
Rachel couldn’t wait to finally melt into Logan’s arms without the pressure of the world upon their shoulders. Michael would see how much better they were together. She’d waited all her life for something as real as this. Something that wasn’t constrained by greed or a checkbook. And someone who would put her first.
Logan was the real deal and tomorrow night, he was all hers.
Chapter Nine
Logan shifted uncomfortably next to Darren while the crowded room swirled around them. The Whitmore Mansion had been decked out with white and silver balloons, strands of white tulle wrapping around the banister of the grand staircase, and delicate papier-mache balls hanging from the ceiling. Its grand ballroom had been set with two dozen round dining tables and a small stringed quartet playing in the corner.
So far, there had been no sign of Rachel. She’d texted him, telling him that she was spending all day at the mansion to prepare the catering team and for him to meet her there. Her absence had only made his longing for her grow stronger.
Logan wasn’t even sure how he was going to behave when he saw her. His brain screamed at him to keep his cool. They didn’t know how Michael was going to react to their news. But his heart swelled with the knowledge that she was somewhere in this building, wanting him.
“Think they’re going to serve the good booze tonight?” Darren asked, rubbing a hand across his red hair. He’d worn a brown suit that made his freckles pop out on his face. “The last one I went to didn’t even have beer.”
“I’m not sure,” Logan muttered, tugging at his black tux.
He sincerely hoped that Darren wasn’t planning on getting wasted tonight. That was the last thing he needed on his mind. His old teammate had a way of becoming nasty when he got too much alcohol in him.
As he scanned the crowd for a sign of Rachel, his eyes fell on a familiar sight, making his whole body clench with nervousness. Michael had just arrived in the well-lit ballroom with Emily, who was wearing a cream chiffon dress, on his arm. Michael spied them and waved, immediately directing his fiancé across the room toward them.
Logan worked his jaw, hoping he didn’t have guilt written all over his face.
“Logan,” Michael said, patting him on the back and taking his hand to shake. “I hear the restaurant is going very well.”
Emily gave him a beaming smile and did a little jump. “We heard you’ve even managed to snag Mary Prescott for a review. She’s my favorite southern queen of food!”
Michael nodded his head toward her. “Yes, it sounds like things are looking great. Rachel told us everything.”
Logan resisted making a face. He very much doubted Rachel had told her brother everything.
“Yes, it’s gone better than I even imagined,” he replied, trying to smile. “I keep waiting for the floor to drop out on me, but so far, we’ve been very blessed.”
“Lucky by my accounts,” Darren interrupted, his voice too loud even over the noise of the crowded room. “This boy has some kind of lucky charm, I tell you. For some reason, everything he touches turns to gold.”
“Not luck.” Michael set his jaw into a grim frown. “Hard work and determination. He’s had it since we were kids. That’s what separates the boys from the men. The winners from the failures.”
Darren scoffed and rolled his eyes. He turned to stalk off into the crowd, no doubt in search of the bar.
“Sorry about that,” Logan said to his friends. “He gets weird around crowds. I shouldn’t have invited him.”
In truth, he’d invited Darren to act as a sort of buffer between him and Rachel. Someone to help him stay cool and collected, just as he should, until the time was right to take her into his arms. But he could see now that his friend was going to be no help.
“It’s fine,” Emily said, lightly touching his arm. “Frankly, I can’t wait for dinner to sample some more of your fare. Did Rachel really handle all of the arrangements?”
“Yes.” His eyes shone with pride. “She took to this job like a fish to water. She’s a natural.”
Michael cracked a smile on his stern jaw and stood a little taller. “I’m glad to hear it. I knew pairing her with you would be a good deal. I told you, I was a natural matchmaker.”
“Of course you are,” Emily replied, trying to suppress a smile. She poked him in the stomach. “You just have to excel at everything, don’t you?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Logan caught a flash of red. As Michael teased his fiancé about his many skills, Logan leaned slightly to the left to peer over his shoulder. There was the flash of red again. Except this time, he could clearly see the woman wearing it.
Rachel stood framed by the door to the ballroom, her chestnut hair cascading down her bare shoulders in soft curls. Her narrow curves were wrapped tight in a gorgeous crimson satin gown that trumpeted at her knees toward the ground. A hint of silver heels peeked from below the hem of the dress.
Logan felt his pulse quicken as his jaw slackened. His eyes trailed back up her body and met with her gaze. She was looking at him, her crimson lips curved into an alluring smile. Pressing a single finger to her mouth, she nodded toward the hallway and disappeared, taking with her any self-control he had left.
