Claire was beginning to suspect that Amy and her Creative partner, Leo, had finally consummated their flirty relationship. She’d never seen Amy look so out of breath, so rumpled. “What do you need, Amy?”
Amy flushed a bit, looking sheepish. “Mr. Monroe asked me for a finalized proposal for the Scrubby Soap account this morning, but I got, um, waylaid, and I’m running late to a lunch date, and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind terribly?” She pulled a folder out and held it toward Claire. “I would have emailed it, but my computer’s down, and Leo’s crashed yesterday. I think the system’s a little haywire today. Would you mind taking it to him?”
Claire resisted the urge to sigh yet again. Whenever Amy was embarrassed, she out-talked even Jamie. Yep, something was definitely up between her and Leo, Claire decided. Logan would take one look at her and know it too.
But Logan was really the last person she wanted to see right now. Even so, Claire couldn’t, in good conscience, turn poor Amy loose to face Logan’s wrath alone. It was without question that he wasn’t exactly in one of his better moods today.
“No problem,” Claire found herself saying, reaching out to accept the folder.
“Thanks.” Amy flashed her a smile and disappeared into the elevator that had just arrived for Claire. She waved as the doors closed.
Grumbling to herself, Claire hit the up arrow.
When she finally made it to the hallowed tenth floor, Mindy looked up from her computer and the half sandwich she was munching. “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Monroe?” she asked, her superciliousness obviously in overdrive today.
Claire tilted her head and gave Logan’s assistant her best don’t-you-know-I’m-important look. “Why don’t you just buzz me in, Mindy?”
It was a command, not a polite request. Mindy’s mouth scrunched up into a tight little circle, but she picked up the telephone and announced Claire. “Mr. Monroe says he’ll see you now,” she informed Claire rather frostily after she had replaced the phone in its cradle.
Claire grudgingly thanked her and swept into Logan’s office. He looked up from a sheaf of papers he’d been examining when she entered the room. “Ah, Claire. How efficient of you to appear in my office before I can send for you.” The hard tone in his voice was not lost on her.
Logan was still furious, there was no mistaking it. Every inch King Monroe. She decided to throw him off balance a bit.
She marched across his office and seated herself before sending him a disdainful look. “You know, you really ought to do something about the disposition of your assistant. She’s not exactly a sweetheart.”
Logan raised a brow. “She was rude to you?”
“She’s rude to everyone. Except for you, of course.”
“That’s not really what’s bothering you, is it, Claire?” He was as insufferably perceptive as ever.
She shrugged, uncomfortable under his sudden scrutiny. “If you want a bitchy assistant greeting all the clients, it’s not my problem.” She slid Amy’s almost forgotten folder onto his desk. “Amy asked me to bring you this. Her computer is down and she was late for an appointment.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Would that be a second appointment for a quick screw with Leo?”
Claire’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Apparently your little Creative duo has been exploring all the meanings of the word ‘teamwork’. In the men’s lavatory.” He pulled the folder toward himself, a grim cast to his features.
Claire had a horrible thought. “You didn’t catch them, did you?”
“Christ no.” He paused, his mouth kicking up into the barest trace of a smile. “Thank God. I’ve received several disgusted emails from poor shits who apparently did.”
“What are you going to do?” Claire worried her lower lip. “Amy and Leo are our best team.”
“Now we know why.”
Claire laughed at his quip despite herself, and Logan did too for a moment, before apparently thinking better of it. An awkward silence hung between them. Claire suddenly regretted pushing him away that morning. The urge to skirt his desk and kiss his sullen mouth, to coax him back into the softer Logan she’d seen glimpses of, was strong. She hated when he retreated to King Monroe mode. The gap between them seemed to widen to an enormous chasm.
Logan cleared his throat. She noticed he was tugging absently at his earlobe, a habit of his when he was agitated. “Claire, I want to make a deal with you.”
The abrupt change in subject matter startled her, as did the edge in his voice. Her response was hesitant. “What kind of deal?”
“I’ve realized you and I do best in a business relationship.” He slid a stack of papers to her. “My lawyer drew this up for me. Why don’t you take it with you, read it over, and get it back to me by Monday?”
Claire stared in disbelief down at the papers he’d given her. It was a contract, she realized, and Logan’s lawyer had emailed it to him just that morning. Her eyes skimmed over it quickly. When she finished, Claire didn’t know whether to tear it up or punch Logan in the face. Maybe both. She’d never been more enraged.
She stood. “You want me to stay on at LM, to live with you for a year, to inform you of every doctor’s visit I have, to agree to shared custody. This is absolutely ridiculous. You can take your stupid contract and shove it.” Angrily, she picked it up and tossed it at his chest. “I won’t sign it.”
Logan remained implacable, the arrogant, cold veneer firmly in place. “Naturally, I don’t expect you to sign it without consulting your own counsel. I’m sure we can iron out a mutually agreeable arrangement.”
Part of Claire, the part that had traitorously developed feelings for him, couldn’t reconcile this Logan with the other Logan she’d gotten to see. The Logan before her was the man she’d always assumed he’d been. Icy, hard, all-business, emotionless. But she’d been given a precious peek beneath that exterior and she knew there was more to him.
Unless she’d merely been deluding herself.
She searched his face for clues. “I thought you wanted a relationship with me. Something more, you said. Now you’re foisting this contract on me like this is some kind of business deal.”
He shrugged carelessly. “I thought it over and realized you and I only work well in business terms. Claire, the contract’s a formality. For peace of mind. Eventually, you and I will bring other partners into our child’s life. I want him or her to have as stable and normal a life as possible.”
Other partners.
Claire hated admitting it, but the idea of Logan’s future wife really, really annoyed her. Okay, she didn’t like it at all.
She forced that errant thought from her mind and turned it instead to the current conversation. “People provide their children with stable lives all the time, and they don’t need contracts to do it.”
God, how could he be so suddenly blasé about this when he’d been laying those smoldering kisses on her only this morning?
Logan slid the contract back across the desk to her. “My top priority at this point is our child.”
“And mine isn’t?” Totally outraged yet again by his I-wish-you-could-be-as-selfless-as-me attitude, she stood. “God, you can be such an unfeeling jerk sometimes. I’m not going to let you play corporate games with my life.”
“You’re the one who plays games.”
“Oh really? And what do you call shredding up my two weeks’ notice?”
His mouth kicked up in a semi-grin. “Clever.”
Oh, he could really be so annoying. And somehow sexy at the same time.
Claire sighed. “You know what? I’m tired of fighting with you all the time. Like it or not, we’re going to be parents soon, and we’ll have to get along. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we do need a contract.”
She couldn’t believe she was relenting, but Logan had this way of charming her out of being furious with him. All he needed to do was flash her a half-smile and poof. Anger instantly dissipated. Her weakness where he was c
oncerned troubled her.
“Or some time together,” he suggested, his tone smooth, silken. “We can put the contract on hold. My offer for next week still stands.”
So they were full circle, exactly where they’d been this morning. She had to wonder if this wasn’t exactly what Logan had planned with his little “contract.” He was definitely that underhanded, but to accuse him of it now would only incite another prolonged bout of arguing. And hadn’t she just decided to avoid arguing with him for the baby’s sake?
Even so, accepting Logan’s proposition would have a lot of ramifications. For one thing, she’d be forced to delay her departure from LM. For another, being alone with him for a week would seriously jeopardize her ability to resist him. And when her mother found out about it, she would have to go into the Witness Protection Program.
“Claire?”
She studied him. Logan looked tense as he awaited her decision. He cared more than he liked to admit or demonstrate. His reaction to her refusal this morning seemed ample proof of that. And that errant, traitorous part of her that had led to her sleeping with him in the first place longed to find the real man behind all his trappings. He’d been a rejected foster child, and that part of him, while long buried, still remained. It was probably stupid and definitely self-destructive, but she wanted to heal him.
“Fine.” She yielded. He broke out in a smug grin. “As long as you agree to throw away your stupid contract,” she warned.
Logan reached for the contract and tossed it immediately into his stainless steel trashcan. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Claire got out of bed with a groan, feeling as if she were ten pounds heavier than she’d been the day before. Her first stop was, naturally, to empty her painfully full bladder. As she washed her hands, she caught a glimpse of her bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror.
“Ick.” She issued another groan, combing a hand through her atrocious bedhead. “I look like hell warmed over.”
Even so, she couldn’t quite muster the desire to shower, brush her teeth, comb her hair. Heck, even changing out of her pajamas was asking too much at this point. Thinking herself fortunate that it was Saturday, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
Sophie was seated at the table munching on toast, her pregnancy crave food, and reading the paper. She looked up with a bright smile as Claire shuffled into the room.
“Good morning.” Sophie’s voice was cheerful, borderline chirpy.
How could the damn woman be so apparently immune to jet lag? She’d been home for only a few days, and never seemed tired. Every day Claire expected her sister to look exhausted, the jet lag and the hours spent redecorating and refurbishing her new home catching up to her at last. And she was always disappointed.
Claire grumbled a response to Sophie’s greeting as she rummaged through the fridge in search of her staple raspberry yogurt.
“You seem tired.”
Understatement, Claire thought as she scowled at her sister, pulling a mug from the cabinet above her head in the process. “You don’t.”
“You’re grouchy,” Sophie pointed out in that common-sense-laden, sisterly way she had.
“You’re superhuman,” Claire countered. She’d seen very little of both Sophie and Trevor since their return, since they seemed to spend morning, night, and day at the house they were set to move into in two weeks. The sprawling farmhouse, circa 1789, had been a true diamond in the rough.
Claire went to the sink and filled her mug with water before plopping a teabag in it. “Look at you, all smiling and wide awake when you just got back from Paris and you’ve been working your tail off at your house all week. How do you do it? I feel like I have a hangover every time I get out of bed.”
Sophie laughed lightly. “Pregnancy is different for every woman.”
Claire grumbled again as she popped her mug into the microwave and punched in the time before pressing the start button. “Where’s Trevor, anyway?” At least he wasn’t so damn radiant all the time.
“He went out for a jog.” Sophie crunched on her toast, eyeing Claire speculatively. “I think you and I need to have a talk anyway.”
“It’s too early for talking,” Claire argued. The last thing she felt like explaining this early in the morning was the convoluted logic and pure stupidity that had led to her agreeing to both stay on at LM and go away with Logan tomorrow.
She grabbed a spoon, peeled off the yogurt lid and plopped on the chair at Sophie’s side. “Why don’t we save that for later?” Or even better, never.
“Nice try.” Sophie finished off her toast and sipped her orange juice. “I can’t wait any longer. Tell me what’s been going on. I’ve really been dying to know, but you’re always in bed by the time we get back home, and you leave for work before I can get a chance to corner you.”
The microwave beeped loudly, sending Claire to retrieve her tea. She took her time draining the teabag and adding sugar—four heaping spoonfuls this morning—before heading back to the table again. She looked at Sophie and tried to hedge. “It’s a long story, actually.”
Sophie raised a dark brow. “I’ve got plenty of time. So start spilling.”
Claire sipped her tea, knowing truth was inevitable, but uncertain of where to begin. “Well, Garrett agreed to sign the divorce papers last week.”
“That’s great.” Sophie searched Claire’s face. “Isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.” She made a face. “Of course, Mom will hate it, but I can’t stay in a loveless marriage to please her, now can I?”
“No.” Sophie reached out and patted Claire’s hand consolingly. “I’m sorry. I know how hard this whole thing must be for you, and I just wish I could have been there for you sooner. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed—”
“Don’t,” Claire stopped her. “You had your own things to work through, and you’ve always been there for me when I needed you most.” Sophie’s depression following the deaths of her husband and daughter had left her broken, a shell of her old self until she had finally come to terms with the loss and moved forward with Trevor. It really was amazing to see her sister so happy, so vibrant with life once again.
“Garrett and I just weren’t right for each other,” she continued. “We convinced ourselves it was right, but in the end, it just didn’t work anymore. I’m happy it’s over, that we can’t hurt each other again.”
“What about you and Logan?” Sophie asked worriedly.
“I don’t know. He and I are so opposite. He’s everything I don’t like. He’s arrogant, unpredictable, cold one minute and soft the next. I never know where I stand with him. Who knows how next week will go.”
“Next week?” Sophie frowned, confusion evident in both her tone and expression.
Claire swallowed another groan. Now it was time for the explanations. “Logan and I are going on vacation next week.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “Together?”
“Together.” Claire sipped at her tea again. “We’ve leaving tomorrow for Maryland, but that’s all I can get him to tell me about it. Can you believe that? He always has to be in charge of everything.”
Claire broke off, noticing the odd way Sophie was suddenly looking at her. “What is it, Soph?”
“I can’t believe it,” her sister said, still eying Claire like she may sprout a second head at any moment. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you? I thought it was a rebound, that he was available and you were hurting, and I thought it was just a one-time thing. But that’s not all there is to it. I can see that now.”
Sophie’s observations made Claire very uncomfortable. In fact, she longed to squirm a bit in her chair. Because no one could render her as transparent as her sister could, and because Sophie was absolutely right.
“I don’t know, Soph,” she admitted. “I’ve been telling myself I care about him only as the father of my child, but it’s not true anymore. I’m not even sure if it was ever true. The more I spend time with him and the more he opens
up to me, I find myself drawn to him. I try to keep my distance, to push him away, because in the end I’m afraid he isn’t the right man for me. And I know I’m so stupid to feel this way about Logan Monroe, of all people, but…”
“But you can’t help it,” Sophie finished for her. “I know what you’re saying. I’ve been there, believe me.”
“You and Trevor are so perfect for one another though,” Claire argued. “Logan and I aren’t.”
“You’re two people who are going to have a baby together,” Sophie pointed out. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea for you to listen to your heart instead of your head. You might regret it later if you don’t.”
Claire considered Sophie’s words, afraid to even ponder their consequences. “I might regret it if I do.”
Sophie sent her a small smile. “But you’ll never know unless you try.” She squeezed Claire’s hand. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
Three hours into their drive Sunday morning, a right turn off the highway led them to an utterly picturesque little town. The streets were narrow in an ancient European fashion and lined by imposing red brick buildings that had retained their old-world elegance. It was like driving into a time warp. Claire half expected to see horse-drawn carriages for opposing traffic.
“Thank God,” Logan murmured. “If I was forced to buy one more fast food breakfast item, you would’ve had to roll me into the hotel for check-in.”
Claire cast him a sidelong glance of censure, distracted for a moment from her scenery ogling. “You don’t understand what it’s like to have someone lying on your bladder. Besides, it was only three stops.”
“Four,” Logan corrected instantly. “But who’s counting?”
Okay, so they’d hit a few fast food restaurants for pee breaks. Once inside, both felt obligated to buy some sort of food item. After all, it was an unwritten traveler’s law that stopping to use a restroom without buying anything was a no-no.
“You really should try to be more accommodating,” she informed him.
Logan grunted in response, braking at a stop sign and waiting for the VW across the street to make a right turn. “I don’t know what you’d call more accommodating than two hash browns, an egg Mc-something, and a cinnamon roll. Not to mention the shitty-tasting black liquid they passed off as coffee.”
Perfect Persuasion (Love's Second Chance Book 2) Page 10
