This Heart for Hire Page 10

  Chapter 8

  The thin, tuxedoed waiter looked to be around thirty and seemed to possess no hips to speak of. He looked patiently at Logan. “May I take your order now?”

  “Yes.” Logan closed his menu, placing it on the table. The candle in the round, rose-colored bowl flickered. This had been one of their favorite restaurants when they’d been together, and he’d brought her here in hopes of stirring up old memories. “The lady will have—”

  Jessica raised an eyebrow. “The lady hasn’t made up her mind yet.”

  “The lady hasn’t made up her mind yet,” Logan echoed with a smile. Looked like he’d overstepped himself again, he thought. “We’ll need a little more time.” He waited until the waiter withdrew before leaning over to Jessica. “The menu’s basically the same as when we used to come here.”

  She’d lowered her eyes again and resumed perusing the menu. Nothing tempted her appetite. Thanks to her nerves, no doubt.

  “But I’m not.”

  He laughed out loud, catching her attention. “Feisty and independent. I like that.”

  Maybe, maybe not, she mused. “We’ll see.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “We will.” Logan took a long sip from his drink, then set it down again.

  Settling on a Caesar salad, she looked at the glass he’d just put down. “I don’t recall ever seeing you drink ginger ale before.” When they had been together, he’d favored scotch and sodas, and meals were always accompanied by glasses of vintage wines.

  Ginger ale was a habit he’d made himself acquire. Logan raised the glass, holding it to the light as if to examine what he already knew to be true.

  “The color’s right to keep people from asking questions.” This was a drastic change from his partying days. He set the glass aside. He’d much rather look at her. “I find myself wanting a good, strong drink occasionally, but for the most part, this’ll do.”

  Jessica couldn’t help being surprised. “Why the change?” She saw the faraway look in his eyes. “Was it your father?”

  He didn’t really want to get into that tonight. It was far too serious a topic to discuss when seduction was on his mind.

  “You do like playing detective, don’t you?”

  He hadn’t said it to demean her, only to deter her, so she took no offense.

  “Being, not playing,” Jessica corrected.

  “As you wish,” he allowed indulgently. If pressed, he would have said he really didn’t like the idea of Jessica being a private investigator, but he’d lost the right to have any say in her life. “And yes, it’s because by the time dear old dad was my age, the doctor said his liver was more pickled than anything you could find in the condiment section of your friendly neighborhood supermarket.”

  And he was determined not to follow in his father’s footsteps. It was an admirable notion, except that his father’s example, she knew now, was also what kept Logan from ever getting serious with a woman. Because his father had become serious with every woman. And had his heart broken by each one.

  “But you feel free to go right ahead and order something stronger for yourself,” he said, pointing at her drink. When the waiter had taken their order for cocktails, Jessica had echoed his choice. He remembered that she usually consumed colorful concoctions served in tall, frosty glasses with thin straws. His smile unfurled like warm vapor along the moors. “As a matter of fact, I insist on it.”

  Jessica toyed with her straw, poking at the cherry she’d requested. It bobbed elusively in the amber liquid. “Trying to ply me with liquor to get me drunk so you can have your way with me?”

  Logan snapped his fingers and sighed heavily. “Damn, am I that obvious?”

  She laughed at his performance. “Only when you want to be. Ginger ale’s fine with me.” As far as she was concerned, she was on duty. “I like having my senses sharp, not dull.”

  He studied her for a long moment, playing with the words in his mind. He set them free. “That’s how I felt when we made love. You were far headier than any alcoholic drink I ever had.”

  The comment warmed her and she knew she was swiftly headed for very dangerous ground. She stopped toying with her straw and looked at him seriously. “Let’s make a truce. I won’t upbraid you for the past if you don’t bring it up.”

  Had she successfully hardened herself to him? Or was the opposite true. Was he getting to her? Was she trying to keep him from gaining ground? The thrill of the game filled him.

  “Any of it?” he wanted to know.

  Her eyes met his. She meant business. “Any of it.”

  Had she stopped caring the moment they’d broken up, or had it taken her time to get over him? Over them? He wanted to know because seeing her had convinced him that he’d never gotten over her. Not really.

  “There were some good moments, weren’t there, Jessi?”

  If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn that there was a genuinely tender note in his voice. And that he wanted to go back to that time in their life. If he did, it was only to bed her again. They’d been good together in bed. Very good. It was only when they were out of bed that the problems began.

  “There were a lot of good moments, Logan, but I don’t want to go over them.” Assignment or not, maybe she should have gotten something stronger to drink, she thought. Just a little to fortify her against him and harden her resolve.

  She doubted if there was that much alcohol available in the world.

  “Why?” Covering her hand with his own, he stroked it lightly with his thumb. “Afraid you might want to relive it?”

  Shock waves raced up and down her arm, spreading from there.

  “No,” she lied, and fought to keep a steady gaze. “I’m not afraid. And I don’t want to relive anything.” Withdrawing her hand, she picked up her glass. “Been there, done that. Besides, I like me a lot better with a backbone.”

  Her self-image didn’t jibe with what he knew of her. “You always had a backbone, Jess. The way you stood up to your parents would have made James Dean proud.” He toasted her with his ginger ale. “Rebel with a cause, that was you.”

  He was right, but she was surprised that he’d noticed that about her. It was only around him that her backbone seemed to dissolve.

  He raised his eyes from her face, looking behind her. Making eye contact, he nodded. “I think our waiter’s hovering again. Made up your mind, yet?”

  She looked at him. “Absolutely,” she declared firmly. I think.

  She felt strange returning to Logan’s house after dinner, knowing that nothing would follow. That she would go to her room and he to his until daylight made its appearance again. Strange and oddly lonely, even though this was exactly what she wanted. Getting involved with Logan, any more than she already was, would only be allowing herself to retrace steps she’d already taken once. A summer rerun.

  She wanted the impossible. A first-run feature.

  When they walked in, Julia informed them that “Mr. Dane” had taken the red-eye to San Diego, then, with no further instructions to follow, she withdrew for the night. Maxine, she’d added as she left, had already gone to bed an hour ago.

  They might as well have been alone in the house. Life, Jessica thought, was made up of many tests. This was one of hers.

  He brought her to her door, then lingered. She wondered if he was trying to see if he could talk his way into her room. She was determined not to succumb, and clung to her shredding work ethic as if it were a life preserver.

  The window at the end of the hall was open, stirring the warm spring air. Bringing her fragrance to him. He figured it went under the heading of cruel and unusual punishment.

  He could feel himself getting aroused.

  Indulging himself, Logan toyed with a wisp of hair at the nape of her neck.

  “Well, one day down, four more to go. Think you can put up with me for that long, Jessi?”

  It was only because she’d stiffened her shoulders that she’d successfully squelched the shiver th
at wanted to shimmy down her spine, taking possession.

  “I’ll manage.”

  A smile teased his lips. “I’m not sure I can, knowing you’re just half a hallway away.”

  “You’ll manage,” she assured him. And just in case he couldn’t, she intended to use the lock on her door to keep him out...and herself in.

  “You do know where to find me if you need something?”

  He didn’t want to “manage.” But he didn’t want to force himself on her, either. There was no satisfaction in that.

  Whether or not she needed something was her own problem, not his. “Just as long as it’s not at my door,” she told him.

  She knew him better than that, he told himself. She knew he wouldn’t push.

  Just coax.

  He skimmed his fingertip along the outline of her throat. She pulled her head back, but he’d seen her pulse jump. “Aren’t you afraid someone might shoot me in your sleep?”

  She smiled at his choice of words. “If that happens, I’ll just have to refund your brother’s money.”

  “You could avoid that problem if you just stayed in my room for the night. Or let me sleep in yours.” His innocent expression clashed with the wicked look in his eyes.

  “And find a whole new set of problems? No, thank you.” Though she smiled, her answer was firm and nonnegotiable. “We’re supposed to do it my way, remember?”

  Hand on the wall above her head, Logan leaned in closer to her, cutting off her air supply. His face was only a few inches from hers.

  “Nothing I can do to change your mind about the sleeping arrangements?”

  Her smile froze in place. Her eyes were steely. “Nothing.”

  Denied access at the gate, he tried another avenue of approach. “Then is the condemned man allowed one last request?”

  She wasn’t about to be suckered in. “That depends.”

  “On what?” he asked innocently.

  There was nothing innocent about him. There never had been. “On what it is.”

  He laughed, conceding the round to her. But not the match. “You play dirty, Jessi.”

  Jessica inclined her head. He’d get no argument from her. She played to win because the stakes were too high for her to lose. She’d already used up the warranty on her heart.

  “I know my playing field.”

  “Touché.” And then the teasing smile faded, turning into one that was far softer, far gentler. His eyes touched her as he asked, “May I kiss you, Jessi? Just once, for old-time’s sake?” He saw his answer in her eyes, but waited, anyway.

  It was exactly for “old-time’s sake” that she didn’t want him to. Because it would make too many old feelings surface.

  But he’d never asked to kiss her before. Never had to. They’d been drawn together with the force of an attraction that was far too great to resist from the first instant their paths had crossed.

  Jessica knew that she should say no. Shout it and slam the door shut. But something within her wanted to see if she was up to the challenge. To see if part of her was really over him the way she’d told herself she was. The way she wanted to believe.

  She debated a minute, then acquiesce. “All right, but no hands.”

  “No hands?” He loved touching her, framing her face with his hands, feeling her skin beneath his fingertips. “I’ll be thrown off balance.”

  But she wouldn’t be moved on this. If he touched her face, she’d been a goner.

  “That’s my deal, take it or leave it.” She fully expected him to leave it, to reject the offer and walk off, annoyed that she should put conditions on his request.

  He surprised her.

  “I’ll take it.”

  The moment his lips touched hers, Jessica knew she should had added “no lips” to her clause.

  She wasn’t over him. Oh, God, she wasn’t over him. Not by a long shot.

  If anything, this kiss, so gently petitioned, so tenderly executed, made it even worse. It reminded her how much she missed him. And how undone she became whenever he kissed her.

  Logan felt his heart begin to pound so hard it almost made him lose his balance. God, but he’d missed her. Kissing her only made him more acutely aware of the lack of her in his life.

  Hardly more than a whisper across his lips, her kiss hit him with the force of a one-two punch to his stomach, threatening to take him all the way to a technical knock-out—a TKO in every sense of the word.

  Hunger clawed at him until he felt nothing but a vast yearning in every part of his body. Every part of his soul.

  Without fully knowing what he was doing, Logan slipped his hands up around her face, framing it. Drawing her slowly to him as she just as slowly drew out his life force.

  Jessica was stumbling, stumbling badly and headed straight for the abyss that was gaping in front of her. How could she have said yes?

  How could she have said no?

  But no was what she should have said.

  No.

  In an eleventh-hour attempt to save herself, Jessica jerked her head back, away from his mouth. Away from her impending downfall.

  Her body ached. She could have wept with vexed frustration.

  “You cheated.” The words were hoarse, having fought their way up a throat that was bone dry and aching. Just like the rest of her. “You used your hands.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured, only half-aware of what she was talking about. He hadn’t cheated, he felt cheated. “I lost my head.” It took a minute before his pulse stopped vibrating sufficiently for the beats to actually separate themselves enough to be counted. “I’ll do better next time.”

  She dragged a deep breath into her lungs. It didn’t help. She felt no calmer, no more composed. “No next time. Once is enough.”

  Once is more than enough, she added silently. She was surprised she was standing.

  His smile enveloped her, drawing her perilously close again. “That’s not what you used to say.”

  The break had to be clean, quick, before she weakened altogether. “Good night, Logan.” Jessica firmly closed the door in his face.

  Logan stood staring at the barrier for a moment, then slowly smiled to himself just before he turned away. He could still taste her on his lips. She was just as heady as ever.

  Maybe even more so because now she was forbidden fruit by her own decree.

  He doubted very much if he was going to get any sleep tomght.

  With the door closed between them, affording her some respite, Jessica finally unlocked her knees. She’d done it to keep from literally melting into his arms. The man’s mouth should be registered with the local police department as a lethal weapon.

  Her back pressed against the door, she literally felt herself pour down to the floor, temporarily drained.

  One day down and four more to go, her brain echoed. Four very long days and four even longer nights. The distance from here to there seemed almost insurmountable right now. Jessica touched her mouth with her fingertips. She could feel her lips still tingling. Hell, she could feel her body still tingling.

  She doubted very much if she was going to get any sleep tonight.

  “Just like old times, eh, Jessi?”

  When she shook her head uncomprehendingly on the dance floor, then cupped her ear, Logan raised his voice and repeated the question. Even though it was a Wednesday night, the noise in the nightclub, The In Place, was close to deafening. It was hard to believe that he’d thrived on this, night after night, not that long ago.

  “Not quite,” she all but shouted back.

  She’d hoped they would have called it an evening, after Logan had accompanied her to question another member of the board. It was well after eight when they’d arrived back at his house. But he’d turned around and told her that he was going out for a few hours to unwind. It didn’t surprise her. He’d always seemed limitless when it came to energy. Unable to talk him out of it, she’d had no choice but to change and go with him.

  The look in his eyes when
she’d come down the stairs wearing a very short silver dress almost made it worth it for her.

  They’d come here against her wishes and her advice. She couldn’t protect him in a crowd, and she didn’t like the idea of having him exposed like this. But he had insisted. It was almost as if he was determined to go over all the old ground they’d once covered together, frequenting clubs and restaurants where once they’d come as lovers. It wasn’t going to do him any good, she swore.

  Right now, it wasn’t doing her much good, either.

  Just before he’d asked her to dance, she’d caught him looking at her in that old way of his, the way that used to make her think he could read every stray thought in her head. But he couldn’t. Not now. She wasn’t that transparent anymore.

  Oh, wasn’t she? The question throbbed in her mind, imitating the beat of the music.

  “It could be like old times.”

  He didn’t have to elaborate. She knew what he meant. They’d capped off every evening the same way. In each other’s arms.

  “You’re forgetting why I’m here.” She intended to do her job and let it end there. Anything else wasn’t possible. And definitely was not wise.

  “I’m trying to.” And doing a damn fine job of it, he thought to himself.

  The song ended. Another took its place instantly, one piece hardly discernible from the next. Logan took her hand and then began weaving through the throng of moving, pulsing bodies. Places like this didn’t really stir him the way they once had. But he thought that reliving this with him might make her remember the way they’d once been. Partying was almost all they’d done when they were together. That and making love. In his mind, he supposed, the two were still linked. No one could fault him if he hoped it was the same with her.

  Because he found himself wanting her more and more with each passing hour.

  Even as she followed him from the dance floor, Jessica could feel the music throbbing in her body. Or was that her own growing desire, demanding to be freed? She was beginning to feel she couldn’t tell the difference. Which was a very bad sign.

  Turning to look at Jessica now, Logan allowed his eyes to sweep down the length of her slowly. The light in the nightclub was fairly sparse, but what there was of it was gathering around her, its beams scattering off her dress and making it flash with every movement she made.