Chapter Eleven
“Let’s do it,” Sabrina said and immediately blushed.
Logan studied her. Wait, was she blushing because that sounded dirty? Was she into him?
She fluttered a hand in the air. “I mean, I’ve had a really shitty week. I actually considered flying home early, tail between my legs.”
He knew her week had been filled with malicious gossip. Obviously, it was his own dirty mind turning her words into something more.
He crossed to her and made a show of looking behind her. “Never noticed a tail on you.”
She laughed. “You’re taking this much better than I thought. I was so afraid you’d be devastated.”
He studied her for a moment, all concern for him. She really cared. “You’re a good friend.”
She looked away, blushing. “I try.”
He got the champagne from the refrigerator and opened it, the pop echoing satisfyingly in the large open space. The start of a celebration. Sabrina set two champagne flutes on the counter that she’d found in the cabinet. He filled them and lifted his glass in the air. “To Elias!”
She lifted her glass. “To Checkin and all of your and Ben’s hard work.”
They clinked glasses and drank. Damn, this was some good champagne. Leave it to Claire to spring for the good stuff.
He lifted his glass to hers again. “To good friends.”
She smiled, a warm tender smile that reached in and squeezed his heart. He was so lucky to have her on his side. “To great friends.”
They drank to that.
Sabrina set her glass on the granite counter behind her and hopped up on the counter, taking a seat. “Tell me all about your meeting today. I want to hear every detail.”
He sat on the island counter across from her and told her everything, right down to sweating through his first dress shirt.
She slapped the counter. “I love it. I knew you’d kick ass.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. She rarely cursed. Must be the champagne. She’d finished her glass while he was talking. He refilled her glass, finished off his, and refilled his glass too.
He clinked glasses with her. “To kicking ass.”
“I’ll drink to that!” She drank, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and gave him a big beaming smile that grabbed him by the balls. Sabrina flushed pink, relaxed and happy was a sight. A vision of a sated Sabrina in bed, her long dark blond hair spread out on the pillow, relaxed and smiling at him, flashed through his mind. She shook her shoulders out. “Woo! I’m starting to feel the champagne.”
“Yeah? Good.” His voice came out husky. Geez, he wasn’t going to move in on his friend just because he was now a free man.
He was a free man.
Sabrina was single.
Nope. She wasn’t giving him a signal. She was just a little tipsy.
Some lines you couldn’t uncross.
He returned to his safe perch on the island across from her. “Your turn. Tell me all about your talk-show run. I already know the gossip shit, and that, by the way, is no concern of yours.”
She scowled. “I’m so pissed! Half my clients cancelled on me. Tara is running all these local ads, stealing them away. She wants to ruin me.”
“Holy shit. Half? But you got a lawyer on it, right? And I’m sure Claire’s all over it.”
She stared at the floor, her shoulders drooping. “Yeah, but it still sucks.”
His chest ached in sympathy. He left his glass on the counter, closed the distance between them, and tipped her chin up. “We’re not going to let that ruin our celebration. I kicked ass today. You kicked ass all week. You might’ve lost some clients, but you’ll get more. Tenfold.”
Her brows shot up, her eyes big and hopeful. “You really think so?”
“I know so. Time for some celebration music.” He pulled out his phone and cued up his workout music, blasting it. Mostly fun pop songs with a good beat like “Pump It” by the Black-Eyed Peas.
She laughed. “What is this?”
He grinned. “It’s music to get me through my morning workout.”
She hopped off the counter and started dancing, hands in the air, rocking out. He joined her, grabbing her hand and spinning her around. She laughed and he spun her back. She lost her balance and slammed into his chest, giving him a jolt of awareness, soft curves pressed against him. His hands went to her bare arms, warm and satiny soft.
“Sorry,” she said, patting his chest and backing away.
The music kept blasting, but all of his focus was on Sabrina scooting back onto the counter, sipping champagne, her brown eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. He wanted to feel her pressed against him again. The intense need to get closer blocked out the reasons he had to keep his distance. He finished his champagne, watching her, his mind fuzzy, his body warm. Then he turned down the music and joined her.
He sat on the counter next to her, leaving no space between them, his thigh right up against hers, his arm brushing hers. She stayed put, her cheeks flushing bright pink. It must be him that made her blush, not shyness, which meant…she wanted him. He breathed in her sweet scent, honey and flowers and sexy woman. He didn’t have to pretend he didn’t notice anymore. When she wasn’t in her cool professional mode, she was an incredibly sexy woman, warm, open, and soft.
He lowered his voice to a deep husky tone. “I missed you this week.”
Her head shot up, meeting his eyes with a look of surprise. Her voice was whisper soft. “I missed you too.”
He smiled. “You know, there’s no reason for me to move to San Francisco now. Ben and I can handle most stuff online, with a few business trips to nail down the details. Looks like you’re stuck with me in Connecticut. What do you think about that?”
She smiled back. “I’m happy to hear it.”
“So you don’t need to tell me goodbye.” He nudged her shoulder. “You can tell me hello again.”
She laughed. “Hello.”
He gazed into her eyes. “Hello.”
She sighed. “I’m so relaxed now.” She hopped off the counter and pointed at him. “I’m going to make you dinner. You’re welcome.”
“You don’t have to do that. We could go out somewhere.”
She made her way to the fridge. “I like to cook, and you’ve got so much food.” She opened the refrigerator door and started pulling stuff out. “You can make the salad. And, let’s see, I’ll make…” More and more food appeared on the counter as Sabrina dug in. Then she found a pantry and flung the door wide. She turned to him. “I’ll make lemon chicken, roast potatoes, and carrots.”
“Sounds great.”
She beamed. “Awesome. Look around for a big salad bowl and a colander. Oh, and after the salad’s ready, can you set the table?”
“Sure thing.”
She did a little hip wiggle. “Turn the dorky music back up too.”
“Dorky!”
She laughed. “I like music when I cook.”
“What do you listen to?”
“I’m a big Adele fan.”
“I only have real rock music on my phone.”
She waved airily. “Whatever.”
He scrolled through his playlists, looking for something to set the mood. He didn’t have any romantic songs. He wasn’t all that sentimental, but…Sabrina. She was going out of her way to cook him dinner. She was relaxed from the champagne, and the moment was ripe for making a move.
He texted Claire. Sabrina’s here cooking dinner. You have some kind of built-in sound system?
Claire: Yes! The control is over in the sitting area in the white cabinet. Good luck!
He stared at his phone and quickly texted back. Good luck?
Claire: Ciao!
Did Claire want him to be with Sabrina? He hadn’t even told her he’d ended it with Olivia. Or had Sabrina confided in Claire that she was into him?
He glanced over at Sabrina, who was pounding the shit out of the chicken breast with a meat tenderizer.
She looked over at him, smiling. “This is very therapeutic!”
“If you say so.” He headed over to the sitting area in search of the music control.
“Salad is over here!” she caroled.
“I’m getting your music going. Claire told me it’s in here.”
“Okeydokey.”
He chuckled to himself. She was so cute when she was tipsy. A few minutes later, he got the music going. Slow jazz. Aw, yeah. Mood music.
He returned to the kitchen, and Sabrina pointed to a colander on the counter. “Rinse, dry, and rip the lettuce into bite-size pieces.”
“Bossy.”
She used the side of her arm to push a lock of hair out of her face, her hands covered in flour, which she was dredging the chicken in. “Chef rules the kitchen, minion.”
He closed the distance between them and smoothed the errant lock of hair behind her ear before leaning down to whisper, “I get that. I like to be in charge sometimes too.”
Her head whipped toward his, her eyes wide. “Are you referring to a, um, different room in the house?” Her voice got high and squeaky at the end there.
He leaned against the counter next to her. “Have you ever thought about you and me?”
She turned from him, staring at the chicken, her cheeks flushed pink. “Have you?”
“I’m starting to.”
“Oh.”
“Well?”
She met his eyes. “I’m not exactly starting to.”
He straightened. “Got it.” Good thing he checked in before crossing that line. That could’ve really backfired on him, tanking their friendship, making everything awkward as hell. He went to the sink and got to work on the salad.
Sabrina wasn’t moving, just standing there, staring at the chicken.
“That chicken’s not going to cook itself,” he teased.
She shook her head. “I spaced out. Lo-o-o-ng day. Back to work.”
They worked in silence, the music relaxing, the champagne having done its part. He caught her watching him several times, probably because he kept sneaking peeks at her. A few times she opened her mouth and then shut it again. Probably trying not to boss him so much since he’d teased her about it. Friends was not the worst thing in the world. It wasn’t like he was desperate or anything. Maybe once the champagne wore off, she’d go back to her untouchable porcelain-doll self and he wouldn’t even be tempted.
~ ~ ~
An hour later, Sabrina served up dinner and carried two plates to the dining area, where Logan was already seated at the round wooden table. She was kicking herself for her completely unflirty response to Logan’s question. Have you ever thought about you and me? Why hadn’t she just said the truth? Yes! Way too much! Her response, while honest, hadn’t moved things forward. She wasn’t just starting to think about the two of them, she’d been thinking about them since the first time he’d stepped foot in her office six and a half lust-filled months ago, leaned one muscular arm against the door frame, smiled his gorgeous smile, and told her they’d be neighbors.
Why couldn’t she be flirty? It was like she had no game. Sadly, the champagne had worn off, and now she was facing another friendly meal with Logan, wishing she could somehow steer the conversation back to the two of them and—fuck it. She was going to have some wine. She just had to stop overthinking everything. She was here. He was here. Both of them single. If it didn’t happen tonight, it wasn’t ever going to happen.
“Sabrina, this all looks fantastic,” Logan said, staring at his plate.
“Thanks. You want some wine?”
“Sure, if you’re having some.”
“Oh, yeah.” She headed toward the kitchen, where she’d spotted a small wine refrigerator.
“Oh my God,” Logan said loudly from the dining area.
She froze. “What’s wrong?”
“This is amazing! I didn’t know you could cook like this! It’s better than a restaurant.”
She beamed. “Glad you like it.”
He took another forkful of chicken. “I love it.”
She smiled to herself and continued on to the wine refrigerator. At least she’d done that right. A few minutes later, she returned to the table with an opened bottle of some very expensive sauvignon blanc and two wineglasses. She poured some for both of them and took her seat.
“Claire has really good taste in wine,” she told him.
He kept eating, ignoring his wine. “Money’ll do that for you.”
She sipped the wine, savoring it for a moment, and then she chugged. So sue her. She had a lot riding on this. She cut into her chicken and took a bite.
Logan was really into his food and didn’t even look up when he said, “You leave on Sunday, right?”
“Yup. Sunday morning.”
“You can stay here if you want. There’s plenty of room. Four bedrooms upstairs.” He glanced up at her. “Unless you have other plans.”
My plan is to seduce you. “I’d planned a solo trip down to San Diego, but…I’m flexible.” She tossed back her wine while he devoured his meal. “So if I stayed here, what would we do?”
His head jerked up. “Whatever you want.”
She traced a circle on the table with her index finger, trying to figure out the best way to suggest they return to that whole you-and-me thing.
Logan took a sip of wine. “This is good wine. If you’ve never been to San Francisco, I could show you around. I went to college out here.”
“Mmm, maybe,” she said noncommittally.
“Or we could just hang out. Watch a movie or something.”
She studied him. He gave her a quick smile and went back to eating. He wasn’t giving out a flirty vibe at all. It was like he’d shut the whole thing down and was firmly back in friend territory. She’d appreciate his respectful boundary if she wasn’t so mad at herself for blowing her chance.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked. “It’s so good.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I thought. I keep spacing out.” She went back to eating.
Logan refilled her wineglass for her and grinned. “I gotta admit I find a tipsy Sabrina very entertaining.”
“Why? Do I say stupid things?”
“No.”
“Well, do tell, what do you like about a tipsy Sabrina?” She leaned across the table, smiling at him. See, she could be flirty.
He chewed and swallowed. “You’re much warmer. Usually you’re like an untouchable porcelain doll.”
Stung, she leaned back, her stomach souring. “Oh.” Untouchable. Maybe that was why she hadn’t been with a man in so long. She gave off an untouchable vibe. The label hurt. Probably because the one man she really wanted to touch her had said it. That whole flirty thing earlier had been because they were both tipsy. Now Logan was stone-cold sober and thought she was…untouchable.
“Sabrina, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
She shook her head, staring at her plate, telling herself just to move past it. So he thought she was untouchable. Big picture? No. There was no bigger picture where she could see any sunnier side to this. It just sucked.
“Hey,” he said gently, “maybe I just don’t know you well enough. I mostly see you at the office.”
She clenched her jaw. You know what? She was very touchable. She had a lot going for her—a loving, empathetic nature, good friends, a career that helped a lot of people. At the thought of her career and losing half her clients, she totally lost her cool. Enough already!
She took a big swallow of wine and jabbed a finger at him. “Here’s what I think about you.”
He pounded his chest with one fist. “Let me have it.”
“Never mind,” she said quietly, looking away. She shouldn’t take out her frustration on him. “It’s uncharitable.”
He laughed. “Great! Insult me so I can stop feeling like a jerk for calling you a porcelain doll, which can be quite pretty, by the way. Not that I ever had one.” He lifted a finger. “But I have seen them.”
“Yes, but porcelain has negative connotations when applied to me.” She exhaled sharply. “You really want to know?”
He spread his arms wide. “I really want to know.”
She crossed her arms. “I thought you were a commitment-phobe.”
“Oh, boy. Number one on your shit list.”
She inclined her head. “But then I found out about Olivia.”
He speared a carrot. “So I guess we both misjudged each other.”
“I guess.” She sighed, ate a little more, and finished her wine. She had just enough of a buzz to drown out her earlier regret. It wasn’t too late. She just had to make one move, one lusty signal, to prove to him she wasn’t an untouchable porcelain doll. She was sure he’d take it from there. Hadn’t he implied he liked to be the boss in the bedroom? That had to be what he meant about being in charge sometimes. Otherwise, why would he have whispered it in a husky voice that sent shivers through her? She really hoped that was what he meant because it would be so much easier for her. She wouldn’t get worked up so much, wondering how she was doing. She’d only been with her ex. None of her other dates since then had progressed past the second date. Sure, she’d kissed a bunch of guys, got felt up, but as to the actual deed, not so much. That was on her. She’d been afraid to have a real meaningful connection. Now she was ready. And she trusted Logan.
She watched him finish his dinner and wipe his mouth with a napkin. He’d cleaned his plate.
He looked up at her and flashed a smile that made her heart kerthunk. “Amazing. Compliments to the chef. I’ll wash the dishes since you cooked. And by wash, I mean I’ll put them in the dishwasher.” He winked.
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
He stood and took both their plates. “You spending the night?”
Now or never. “Yes.”
“Awesome. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable upstairs. All the bedrooms are ready for guests.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Thank Claire,” he said and headed to the kitchen.
“Thanks, Claire!” she sang to the ceiling.
He stared at her. “Are you tipsy again?”
“A little,” she admitted. “I’m trying to lose my untouchable porcelain-doll image.”
He gave her a sympathetic look. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to get my suitcase.”
She returned with it a few minutes later, went upstairs, and scoped out the bedrooms until she found the one with his suitcase. She went right on in. Maybe her suitcase would do the talking for her. Ha-ha. She pulled out her phone and cancelled her hotel reservation. There. No going back. Next step, seduction readiness. She dug her toiletry bag out of her suitcase, went to the en suite bathroom, and freshened up.
Deep breath and go!
She went downstairs and took a seat at the island, watching him clean up. Nothing sexier than a man cleaning up the kitchen. Seriously, this could be porn for women. Boom-chicka-wow-wow. Watching his broad back in a white dress shirt, tapering to a trim waist and very nice ass showcased beautifully in suit pants, as he loaded the dishwasher made her want to rip his clothes off.
He finished up and turned to her, hands on his hips. “You tired?”
Tired? No. Determined? Yes. “I’m not a doll, Logan, and I’m not delicate. I won’t break.”
He rubbed his light brown beard. “I get that now.”
She shared some more, making sure he got that image out of his head for good. “I grew up in a Manhattan loft surrounded by erotic paintings of couples and threesomes.” She lifted her palms. “That was my childhood. So if I seem, I don’t know, reserved, it was only my act of rebellion against my embarrassing mother.”
He crossed to the island, leaning one hand on the back of her chair, looking down at her and grinning. “Learn anything?”
She shuddered. “More than I ever wanted to know.”
“So-o-o,” he drawled, “ever try that stuff?” A smile played over his lips, his brown eyes dancing with amusement. God, he smelled good. He always smelled fresh and clean, but today he had on some kind of woodsy cologne that made her want to lick him from head to toe.
“The point is…” She had a point, didn’t she? Her mind was fuzzy with his proximity and too much wine. “I am not my mother. Thank God!”
“Amen,” he returned. “Not that I know your mother. She might be a very nice woman. So were the threesomes two women and a guy, or two guys and a woman?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Does it matter?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, like duh.
“It was two guys and a woman. I think it was her fantasy.”
“Or her reality.”
Sabrina held up a palm. “Moving on! Here’s what else I used to think about you.” Almost there. She was building her case.
“Hit me. I’m loving an unfiltered Sabrina.”
“I thought you were a risk taker.”
“It’s not like I jump out of airplanes. Ty’s the risk taker in our family.” His brother, Ty, used to be a stuntman.
“I realized I was wrong about the risk-taking,” she said with a smile, hoping it was clear that she wanted him even more now that she knew him better. “You’re actually quite stable and nicely risk-averse.”
His brows scrunched together like he wasn’t following her very important point. “Okay.”
She suddenly wondered where he was on the Olivia thing. It had just happened. “You must really want to—” she jabbed her finger in the air “—stick it to your ex.”
He chuckled. “Guess I’m not that vengeful. I’m more the type to cut someone out of my life and never look back.”
“Not true. You looked back to Olivia.” Not that the lying cheating bitch deserved him.
He smiled ruefully. “Guess I’m the forgiving type too. Maybe I was at a place in my life where I was ready for a relationship, and it just seemed like an easy fit.”
Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! “Why were you ready for a relationship now?”
He walked around her and took the seat next to her at the island. “Because before I was working my ass off, and now I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, finally making it. I guess my mind just jumped to the next step. I’ve got one of those analytical brains that organizes and implements.”
“I guess that makes sense. Things are falling in place for you at work, and now you’re ready to get your personal life in order.”
He inclined his head. “It wasn’t that well thought out, but, yeah, something like that. So how about you? You want to stick it to your ex?”
She slapped the island counter. “Absolutely. I’d love to send him a wedding invitation. You know he sent me one? That’s what spurred me to write my goodbye commitment-phobe article.”
“So vengeful,” he teased.
“A revenge wedding,” she said, a new idea taking hold. “Let’s get fake married.”
He tilted his head. “Come again?”
She blustered on, her enthusiasm building. This was just like what her friends had suggested with the fake fiancé and would surely bring her close enough to Logan to make a move. After all, a fake wedding should have a fake honeymoon. “If we get fake married, it’ll fix my rep as a flaky, lonely relationship counselor and be a big FU to our exes. There’s so much gossip speculating about our relationship already. Wouldn’t that be so fucking—” Oops! The fucking had slipped out. She was getting ahead of herself. First kissing, then fucking. She stared at his mouth; his lips looked so damn kissable. His neatly trimmed light brown beard was driving her crazy, imagining what it would feel like against her fingers, her lips, her bare body. A hot shiver ran through her at the thought.
He was quiet. Maybe he was confused since she’d never quite finished her sentence before. Her gaze dropped to the open top of his dress shirt revealing a hint of manly chest. “I meant, faking great,” she said. “It could be great to fake. And fun!”
She finally met his eyes, intent on hers, and licked her lips. “Really fun.”
He turned her swivel stool to face him, his eyes suddenly hot on hers. Her stomach dipped, heat rushing through her. His voice was low and deep. “You realize a fake revenge wedding comes with strings attached.”
She stared at his mouth. “Yes,” she breathed. “A fake honeymoon.”
His lips curved into a slow sexy smile.
She stopped breathing.
His hand slid under her hair, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her in. His words ran hot over her lips. “Sabrina, are you propositioning me?”