Hell, they had a following on Facebook with a dedicated page.
Just as he turned to walk away, the door opened and Willow stepped out.
“Logan? What are you doing here?” she asked, her big, blue eyes wide. He’d always liked her eyes. They were expressive and pretty, the color of the hydrangeas his mother planted in the front flowerbeds of the house he’d grown up in.
Shoving the small envelope back into his pocket, he gave her a friendly smile. “I came here to apologize and take you to dinner.”
Her lips formed a perfect O.
A red, perfect O.
The sexiest O he’d ever seen in his life.
Damn if the sight didn’t get his body going, even more than it had been at the pool with her small, inquisitive hands on his chest. If she had wanted to, he would have let her strip him to his bare ass in front of God and everybody.
“You’re really here?” she asked.
He let his gaze rove over her, noting the white sundress that clung to her curves as well as the nude heels that made her a couple of inches taller. Her hair was down around her shoulders in curls that begged to be touched. “Said I would be.”
Those red lips of hers pulled into a frown. “You did not.”
“Okay, so I didn’t, but I’m here... with your hat.”
Narrowing her eyes, she snatched the hat out of his hands and made to go back in her room. “Have a great night.”
He caught her elbow at the last minute. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Relieving you of duty,” she said.
“I want to be here.”
“Only because of this stupid hat.”
“Fuck the hat,” he said, his voice mostly a growl. “Look, I’m not drunk anymore, but I’m having a really hard time following why you’re still pissed at me.”
She turned to face him. “Because... you’re not acting like you should.”
His brows almost rose to his hairline. “Come again?”
Crossing slender arms over an impressive rack, she repeated, “You’re not acting like you should. This isn’t you.”
Not him. What the hell was he supposed to act like—his twin? “I’m not Luke.”
“Oh my gosh.” She rolled her eyes. “I know you’re not Luke. Unlike your ex, I don’t have a problem with being able to tell the two of you apart, nor would I accidentally crawl into bed with the wrong one.” A horrified look covered her face. “I didn’t mean to bring her up.”
Logan flushed hot. Was anything that had happened while he dated Corinne kept private? “My brother didn’t sleep with her,” he said tightly.
“I know he didn’t, but my point is...” Making a small noise, she shook her head. “Never mind. I’m sure you have things to do.”
“Yeah, I have to eat and I want you with me.”
“Even after I put my foot in my mouth?”
He titled his head to one side, studying her very serious expression. “Even after that.”
Her face softened, as did her tone. “I really am sorry.”
In his gut, he knew she was, which was why he needed to spend more time with her. After years of lies and deceit, he wanted honesty. He wanted a woman who blurted out what she really thought. That was Willow in a nutshell.
“I appreciate it, but you don’t have anything to apologize for—I do, which is why I’m here to take you to dinner.”
Willow glanced down at the hat, then back at him. “Let me put this up and grab my purse.”
Letting go of her, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Take as long as you need.”
She disappeared into the room for less than a minute, letting the door shut behind her. “Ready.”
Taking his hand out of his pocket, he offered her his elbow instead of placing his hand on the small of her back. It was time for him to be a gentleman in every sense of the word.
“I thought we could try this steak and seafood place the concierge recommended,” he told her.
Seafood and steak seemed to be a safe bet. Besides, the concierge assured him that the menu had something for everyone.
Willow smiled up at him as they stopped at the elevator and he pressed the button for the lobby. “Sounds perfect.”
She was perfect.
The doors slid open, but he didn’t move to get in.
Why in the hell would he think that about her? He barely knew her. Yeah, he’d rescued her from the craziest of accidents over the years, but that was it.
Okay, so that wasn’t only it, and he knew her more than barely.
Logan knew from his sister-in-law, Haven, that Willow was kind-hearted, would bend over backward to help her friends, and had successfully started up her wedding planning business from nothing.
In his opinion, those were the best damn compliments anyone could get.
However, he didn’t know the private side of Willow. He had no clue about her favorite food, song, or color. Was she a breakfast person or a night owl? Did she sleep bare-assed like him or did she wear cute pajamas?
He wanted to know those things, he realized.
Glancing at Willow’s profile, he almost nodded. He wanted to know everything about her that he didn’t.
Chapter Four
This had to be the strangest date she’d ever been on. Logan kept peppering her with personal question while not giving her the chance to do more than reply before he asked another. It was making her head spin.
Even their Uber driver kept giving Logan a weird looks in the rearview mirror.
“Favorite time of day and color,” he all but barked at her.
“My favorite time of day and my favorite color?” Willow said slowly, scrunching her nose. She’d never had a guy ask her that before. “Um... afternoon and red.”
“Not mornings or late nights?” Logan asked.
Willow bit back a smile. She wasn’t sure why he was asking her so many get-to-know-you questions on the way to the restaurant.
“Well, my mornings are fairly busy, and if I don’t have to prepare for a client’s wedding, I try to go to bed at a decent hour. Afternoons are my favorite because they usually mean lunch with friends or clients... or even potential clients.” She shrugged a little. “I guess it’s when I have my work groove going the best—the most. You know what I mean, right?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“What about you?” she asked, determined to keep their conversation going.
“What about me?” he replied, his voice sharp.
“Your favorite time of day and color...”
He huffed. “Don’t really have one.”
“Sure you do. Everyone does.”
“Not me,” he said firmly. “Anyway, what do you like to do for fun?”
She shook her head. “I’m not answering another question until you answer mine. It’s only fair.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, then muttered something in Spanish. What, she wasn’t sure since she didn’t speak the language. Maybe she could learn. Ugh, maybe she should have already attempted to learn. “My favorite time of day is when I don’t get shot at and my favorite color is black or red.”
Were all military men like him? Or just the ones recently returned home? “Why those colors in particular? Favorite sports team?”
“Doesn’t show when you’re bleeding.”
“Oh,” she said, nonplussed. “That’s... good to know.”
“Damn morbid if you ask me,” he replied.
“I did ask you,” she pointed out, then sighed. “Sorta. Well, I asked you about your favorite color.”
His gaze slid to hers, then away, like he was a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess you did. Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” She gave him a tentative smile, even though he couldn’t see her. “Small talk is not easy for everyone.”
“Used to be easy for me.” He sighed thickly. “That’s not your fault either. No one’s fault but mine.”
Willow knew he’d just gotten back from yet another s
tint in the Middle East. Maybe that was part of the reason why Corrine’s betrayal had hit him so hard—not that finding your fiancée with another man wasn’t already suckville.
“Hopefully,” she began slowly, “Vegas can bring back your old self.”
“Maybe my old self is what got me in trouble in the first place.” He glanced over at her from his side of the backseat, then back at the window. His wide legs spread, nearly touching hers.
She wished they were touching hers.
With one last, lingering look, she turned her attention to the Vegas skyline. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the hotels and casinos were already lit up. As soon as it got dark, there would be a veritable light show.
Her favorite spectacle was the fountains of the Bellagio. She also loved the Eiffel Tower replica. Las Vegas was busy, colorful, and vibrant—the perfect place for a small-town girl to visit. If there were a wedding planner’s convention held here, she would have to book another trip just to attend.
The car slowed down, coming to a full stop by the curb.
Logan got out first, then helped her out of the four-door sedan. While she was perfectly at ease walking on not-so-smooth terrain in her heels, she didn’t bother to let go of him once they were safely at the entrance of the restaurant.
“Hope you brought your appetite,” was all he said to her as they walked inside
“I always bring my appetite.”
He laughed low in his throat—a good sign in her opinion—and headed to the hostess to check them in.
“She said we have a ten-minute wait. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she said, taking in the décor of the restaurant. The color scheme was red and black with accents of chrome. All the seats looked like leather, while the walls were made of dark-colored wood. It was like the ultimate guy place—a place to have a bachelor party. “No wonder you picked this place.”
Logan quirked a black brow at her. “Come again?”
She waved at the décor. “Your favorite colors.”
“Yours, too.”
She shook her head. “No, my red is a happy red. Like Christmas red.”
“Like your lipstick.” He reached out, touching her bottom lip with his thumb, and she stood stock-still. Her mouth parted and her nipples hardened. “Will it come off if I kiss you?”
“No, it’s a lip stain.”
“Good.” He leaned in close, his hand slowly gliding around her cheek and making her shiver. “Close your beautiful eyes.”
“But I don’t want to miss anything.”
He smiled, so genuine and oh-so-sexy that her heart thudded hard against her chest. “Then keep them open.”
The second his mouth touched hers, she got all unsteady and grabbed him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her so tightly against him that she could feel every hard inch.
A small moan escaped her lips and he drank it right in, uncaring that they were standing in front of the entire world kissing.
Well, if he didn’t care, then neither would she.
Willow kissed him back just as passionately, just as heatedly... letting all the years she was unable to say how she felt channel through her into him.
All the missed opportunities.
All the times she should have spoken up and never said a word.
Could he feel how much she wanted to say with a kiss?
Was she even making sense?
He broke their kiss, and her eyes fluttered open. His were dark, bottomless pools of desire. “Want to do right by you, Blue Eyes, but your lips are making me stupid.”
She grinned, kissed him once more, and said, “I know exactly how you feel.”
“Mr. Ambrose, your table is ready,” the hostess said.
“We should follow her,” Logan said, but didn’t make a move to go anywhere.
Willow nodded. “Yes, we should.”
“Walk away from me, baby, because I can’t let you go right now.”
His words were the most thrilling, possessive thing she’d ever heard in her life. “I’m only walking away because you need me to and we need to eat, not because I want to.”
His eyes gleamed. “Will you let me feed you dessert in private?”
Her thighs clenched. “Yes.”
Logan spun her around, smacked her lightly on her tail, and then grabbed her hand. “We’re ready,” he said to the hostess, who looked bored as anything.
Heck, she’d probably seen more explicit behavior in a place like this. It wasn’t seedy and it wasn’t inexpensive... it was just Las Vegas.
“How’s this?” the hostess asked, a broad smile on her face. She held her hand out to a table for two tucked out of the way.
Logan approved of her choice, and he’d also paid for a more private spot, too.
“Works for me,” Willow said, and he had to fight back a grin. He was pretty sure that if the hostess had tried to seat them on the roof in the middle of a storm, Willow would have still been agreeable.
He liked that about her, liked how she didn’t pout or throw at fit—that he’d seen anyway. She’d called him out on his behavior.
He could respect that.
Hell, he did respect that.
Willow sat down first. He took the chair across from her, scooting it around so that his back was against the wall. It probably looked odd, but he didn’t care. There was something disconcerting about sitting like that out in the open, without being able to see who was behind him.
He grimaced.
The hostess handed over their menus, listed the specials, and assured them that their server, Lisa, would be with them momentarily.
“Do you want to switch places?” she asked, her blue eyes shining with concern.
Logan almost said no, but decided to man up and tell the truth. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Thanks. I’m having a hard time concentrating with everyone walking in and out. I’m like squirrel—shiny!” Quickly, she stood up and waited for him to come around her before she put her chair back in its original place. “It’s the curse of being nosy.”
Something sweet twisted inside of him, and his grimace gave way to a smile. “That so?”
She waved an airy hand around. “Unfortunately, it’s very true. Whenever I meet with clients, I have to make sure I’m not distracted, else they could end up with roses instead of lilies, or I’ll seat their favorite uncle with their least favorite cousin. Things of that nature set brides off.” Abruptly, she stopped talking. A hint of pink appeared on her cheeks as her gaze skittered away.
“You didn’t have to stop. I like hearing about your job.” He truly did, and he also didn’t want her to feel bad. “You keep talking, and I’ll keep listening.”
Her dark brows rose. “Are you sure? Because once I get on a roll, there’s no stopping me.”
He bit the side of his lip. “Fairly sure. How about you start talking and when I get... overwhelmed, I’ll let you know.” He wouldn’t get overwhelmed by listening to the pixie sitting across from him. The sound of her voice really did make him think of home, made him think of sweet tea and hot summer nights. Made him think of family and holidays that, before he’d come home, he wasn’t sure if he’d fly back to in a body bag.
Nothing was guaranteed in this life.
Hadn’t he been stacking the deck by going back to war, over and over again? Hadn’t he already gotten his get-out-of-jail free card the moment he and his twin were put on an airplane, to go home to a place where they were never hungry, never abused, and had a roof over their heads?
“Did you know my brother and I were adopted?” he suddenly asked, then felt dumb for even asking. “Never mind, I know you do. It’s obvious, and everyone who has lived in Holland Springs longer than five minutes can figure out that the two of us have brown skin year round.”
Willow’s mouth parted, then she said, “I had no idea. It seems so hard to believe, considering you and Luke have Mr. Lawton’s exact smile.”
He didn’t know wh
at to say to her at first. “You think so, huh?”
She nodded, leaning forward in her seat. The movement made her dress gap a little at the top, and he could see the tops of her breasts. He swallowed hard at the sight, then jerked his gaze back to her face.
No reason to be rude to the woman. If she wanted him to ogle her, then she’d let him know.
“And your brother’s—Carter’s—cockiness.” She tilted her head to one side. “Your brother Heath’s not much better. Pretty sure that’s an Ambrose trait you’ve inherited.”
“You think I’m cocky?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest like he was insulted, but he wasn’t. He was enjoying himself.
She rolled her pretty eyes. “You showed up at my hotel room all ready to go out. Of course you’re cocky. It didn’t cross your mind that I’d tell you no.”
He gave her a pointed look. “You are here.”
Before she could answer, their server showed up and took their orders, then left with a promise to bring their drinks and appetizers as soon as possible.
“See, even your answer is cocky.”
“It was killing you to wait to tell me that, wasn’t it?”
Grinning, she nodded. “Dying.”
True to the server’s word, their drinks came out a minute later, followed by a plate of fried calamari and prawns. Willow sucked hers down, then started eating the calamari.
“Good?”
“Very.” She covered her mouth with her hand as she spoke. Such a prim little thing. His mother would love her.
That was a thought out of left field.
He knocked back his scotch.
Two more drinks were brought to the table before he or Willow could ask for another.
“Are you really here for a convention?” he asked.
Her pink cheeks turned almost as red as her lips. Man, she tasted sweet. “No. I’m, uh... here because I’m tired of being good. Predictable. Not that I want to start robbing banks or become unreliable for my clients.” She sighed thickly. “I just wanted a chance to let my hair down in a place where no one knew me.”
“Guess I ruined that.” He was half-joking, but he was serious as well.
The Christmas Bride (Brides of Holland Springs Book 4) Page 4
