I pull away from the kiss, breathless and knowing only one thing for certain.

I will not sleep with Logan Cartwright, no matter what my body might have to say about it.

Without thinking, I touch my fingers to my lips. They feel tender and bruised and tingly. Logan watches me do it, his eyes dark and fiery. Predatory, almost. I’m reminded again of the lion, a wild animal caged in the backseat of a Cadillac Escalade.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. I hate how breathless I sound. I don’t know why I’m apologizing, either. After all, he’s the one who kissed me. “That should not have happened.”

“Hmm,” is all he says.

“Hmm?” I repeat. “Is that it?”

This time, he doesn’t say anything at all. He’s still got those dark irises trained on me. My body feels drawn towards him. Pulled. Instead, I scoot over closer to the door, practically clinging to the handle, waiting to leap out of the vehicle the second it stops moving. Maybe even a little before.

Logan is still watching me. He leans back casually, angling his body towards me, studying me. Now I’m the one who feels like a caged animal. I feel like prey.

The car finally crests to a stop in front of the Cartwright building, and I’m out the door quicker than a slung arrow.

“Bathroom emergency,” I call out over my shoulder as I rush into the building. Great cover, Blake. That definitely didn’t make this situation any more awkward than it already is.

I don’t look to see if Logan is following me. Of course, he is, because this is his building, and where would he be going besides his office? My only goal is to make it to the elevator before he does so that I don’t have to ride up thirty floors with the man who looks like he wants to devour me.

It works. I hit the elevator bank just as a door is sliding closed. I launch myself through the sliver of an opening and sigh in relief as the doors slide tightly closed behind me.

My relief is, unsurprisingly, short lived. I’m not at my desk for five minutes before Logan re-appears. I obviously didn’t think this plan through. I doubt I’ve even lost the redness in my cheeks yet, or the hitch in my breath.

“I hope your bathroom emergency has been resolved,” he says slowly. He isn’t smiling, but I can tell he’s making fun of me.

“Yup. All good.”

“I’m ... relieved ... to hear it.”

It takes me a second, and then a grin stretches over my lips, even though I wish it wouldn’t. “Did you just make a joke?”

“I am capable of them, you know.”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“Now you know.”

He continues to stand there. I look up at him and get lost in those dark blue eyes again. Goddammit. My mind immediately goes back to the moment in the car — the moment right before he kissed me. God, the way he looked at me. The way my whole body went rubbery. The way everything inside me hummed with anticipation as he leaned towards me...

“Well?” Logan says, snapping me back into the present.

“Well what?” I huff.

“My mother’s gift,” he says. He sounds impatient. I get whiplash trying to keep up with this man’s mood swings. Hot and then cold and then oh so hot again. Now we’re back to cold, I see.

“What about it?”

“You said you’d picked out something other than the gloves. Let’s see it.”

“Oh. That. I don’t exactly have it yet.”

Logan’s eyes narrow. “Where is it?”

“It needs to be assembled.”

His brow furrows even more deeply, if that’s possible. Unfortunately, it does nothing to diminish his attractiveness. In fact, the man somehow looks even hotter when he’s mad and-or slightly confused.

“Just leave it to me,” I assure him. “I promise I’ll have it by the end of the day.”

He hesitates, but, to his credit, only for a second. He gives me a quick nod. “Alright. You have until the end of the day.”

“I promise I won’t disappoint you.” There’s a slight note of sarcasm in my voice, which I really should do a better job of tamping down, especially considering the man just had to bail me out of Barneys’ jail.

Luckily, there’s a slight twinkle in his eye. He doesn’t smile, of course. But there’s a twinkle. “Good,” he finally says, with one curt nod. “I’ll expect you back before five.”

He turns on his heel, just as I realize I still need one thing from him.

“Oh, hold on.”

He turns abruptly. There go the eyebrows again. I swear they have a mind of their own.

I grab a pad of Cartwright Diamonds notepaper off my desk and click open a pen. “What’s your mother’s name? Full name, I mean.”

The eyebrows are deepening into impossible directions now. “Why?”

“For the gift.”

“Are you … signing her up for something?”

“Not exactly.”

Logan scrubs his face, as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of this. Or of me. Finally, his shoulders drop half an inch, and I know he’s decided to let it go. “Eleanor. Eleanor Rose Cartwright.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“I look forward to it,” he says, but before I’m fully out of earshot, I hear him mutter, “I think.”

Almost exactly two hours later, I have everything sorted. But by the time I get back to the office, I’m starting to doubt my plan. What if he thinks this is totally corny? Despite what Emma said about Logan’s mother wanting something personal from her son, I’m sure the woman is expecting a pricey piece of jewelry or, I don’t know, a new solid gold tea kettle or something. Whatever rich old ladies like.

I clutch the bag nervously and head over to Logan’s office. Part of me is praying that it’ll be like last time, and he’ll have already left for the day. Yet an undeniable part of me is anxious to see him again. Yes, it’s a tiny, traitorous little part of me, but it’s there. I feel it in every click of my heels across the lacquered office floor.

When I get to his door, I find him sitting behind his desk, deeply focused on a stack of papers in front of him. For a second, I just stand there, watching the way he works with such concentration, such single-minded efficiency. He doesn’t see me standing there or even sense my presence, and I let the minute stretch out longer than I should. There’s something about him that’s so mesmerizing. It’s hard to look away. My eyes are drawn to him, like he’s a great artwork or a natural wonder.

“What can I do for you, Blake?” he asks, after another long minute.

I snap to attention. He still hasn’t looked up, and now I wonder if he knew I was standing there the entire time.

“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I, um, have the gift ready if you want to see it.”

He doesn’t answer or even look up, just reaches his hand out in the universal ‘gimme’ gesture. I loop the handle of the bag over his hand, careful not to let my skin touch his. I watch as his fingers close around the bag, straining at the weight of it. He looks up in surprise, and then down at the bag.

It’s almost funny, watching the genuine curiosity that comes over his face as he reaches into the bag. Or at least, it would be, if I wasn’t so worried that he’s going to hate it.

Logan pulls the heavy frame out of the bag. He studies it for a minute. My pulse pounds in my throat, almost as hard as it did when he kissed me in the car earlier. If possible, I feel even more terrified than I did then.

Logan blinks. Once. Twice. His jaw ticks. He looks at me and then down at the frame and then back at me. A wave of bile starts to claw its way up my throat. He hates it. He thinks it’s stupid. God, Blake, what were you thinking? Of course a woman like Logan’s mother isn’t going to be happy with something this corny. Oh, and don’t forget cheap.

But when Logan looks at me again, there’s a softness in his expression. “This is magnificent,” he says, finally.

My face twists into a wonky smile-that’s-trying-not-to-be. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I did good?”

“You did good, Blake.”

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just turns to look at the frame again. I stay standing at the door, until I realize he has nothing else to say to me. I turn to go.

“Blake?”

The sound of his voice twists something in my stomach. Something that feels altogether too light and fluttery. “Yes?”

He’s put the frame back in the bag and is now holding it out to me. His gaze has already returned to the laptop. “I’ll need this gift-wrapped, of course.”

“Of course,” I say, biting back something that’s half a laugh, half a silent scream.