“What?” Anne looked back at Claire, aghast. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” Claire affirmed, looking back at Logan. He, however, refused to look at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Claire?”
“Yes, Claire,” Logan chimed in, his voice sounding rather nasty. “Why didn’t you?”
“I…” she faltered. “The timing never seemed right.” As excuses went, it was a lame one, and she knew it, but it was really the truth. In a way.
“The timing.” Anne gestured wildly. “You’re five months pregnant. When was the timing going to be right?”
“I was going to tell you in the kitchen,” Claire defended herself, “but then you stormed off into the hallway to attack Logan.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I really have to be going,” Logan broke in tonelessly. “It was nice meeting you all.”
With that, he spun on his heel and strode out the front door. Claire rushed after him, knowing she needed to explain. She knew he’d been hurt by her mother’s revelation, and she knew she couldn’t let him leave like this.
She slammed the door behind her, hoping her mother would take the hint and butt out of the situation, and rushed after him as fast as her condition would allow. “Logan,” she called out. “Wait.”
He was already at his car, the door open, but he didn’t get inside. She slowed down and approached him hesitantly, uncertain of what reaction to expect from him.
“Tell me one thing, Claire,” he said, his voice low, almost guttural.
“What?” She wanted to reach out to him, touch him, smooth the hardness from him.
He skewered her with a glare. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“No.” She did reach out to him then, unable to help herself, taking his hand in hers. He didn’t pull away, but he remained unresponsive. “God no.”
She knew how much that question must have cost him, and she knew too where it had come from. For all his outward show of aloof calm, he was still uncomfortable with his past. That he was so vulnerable touched her beyond measure.
“You know me better than that,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand.
Logan’s jaw clenched. “Then why? Why keep it a secret from your own mother?”
“It’s complicated, but it has nothing to do with you,” she assured him. “My relationship with my mother is difficult to explain. I just didn’t know how to tell her that I was having your child and not Garrett’s. But it has nothing to do with—”
“Claire, just shut up.” Tightly restrained fury tinged his voice. “I have to go now before I say something I’ll regret.”
“Logan,” she implored, hating to allow him to leave when he was still so angry with her.
He tore his hand from her grasp. “I have to go. Now.”
With that, he slid into his car and slammed the door closed. She flinched, stepping back as he revved his engine and all but peeled out of the driveway. Claire watched him leave. He didn’t look back. Not once.
Claire was utterly miserable. She’d been calling Logan since his departure that morning, but he didn’t answer his cell and it was always Derek who answered the home phone, not Logan. He was avoiding her, and he was doing a good job of it.
Absently, she twirled her spaghetti on her fork and stared down at her plate. She’d completely lost her appetite, quite a feat, given her usual state of constant hunger, and didn’t even bother attempting conversation with Sophie and Trevor anymore. The two were so nauseatingly, disgustingly in love that they even made eyes at each other over the dinner table. It made Claire envious, she had to admit, though she certainly didn’t begrudge her sister’s newfound happiness. She only wished she could procure a little of her own.
At least her mother had left. She’d been in a huff of disappointment, completely ignoring Claire but for the I-am-so-ashamed-of-you look she sent her before climbing into the Volvo. But she was gone and could wreak no more havoc.
“Claire, are you finished?” Sophie asked, cutting abruptly into Claire’s somewhat morose musings.
“Yes.” She dropped her fork and pushed back her chair. “I’m not really hungry after all.”
“Let’s go sit in the backyard and talk for a bit,” Sophie suggested, giving Trevor a look that said he wasn’t invited. “We can finish off the sparkling cider while we chat.”
Claire didn’t really feel like chatting. She felt like moping, and her face must have shown it because Sophie gave her a pointed look. “You don’t really have a choice.”
Claire looked at Trevor. “Is your sister this bossy?”
“Even worse,” he said with a wince.
“Sisters.” Claire shook her head. “You have my sympathy.”
Sophie gave an indelicate snort. “You’re the one who’s going to need sympathy if you don’t get your butt out onto the back porch.”
“Fine.” Since Sophie was right and Claire didn’t in fact have a choice but to obey her command, Claire grabbed the bottle of sparkling cider and two glasses. It was a sister thing.
When the two were comfortably ensconced in Sophie’s patio furniture, Sophie turned to Claire. “Let’s start at the beginning. How did your trip go?”
Claire sipped her sparkling cider and watched for a moment as a moth fluttered about the flame on a nearby tea light. “It was amazing. The trip wasn’t the problem. The part where we got back here and Mom attacked him is where everything went straight to hell.”
Sophie made a face. “It was bad,” she agreed. “But I think he’ll forgive you for it. Eventually.”
“Thanks,” Claire grumbled dryly. “I should have told Mom about it, I know. But I couldn’t ever bring myself to say it.”
“You have to admit, that’s not exactly flattering for Logan,” Sophie pointed out reasonably.
“I know, and it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with Mom. I guess I hated the thought of disappointing her, as juvenile as that sounds.” She sighed. “I didn’t know what to say to her, so I didn’t say anything at all.”
“You could have told her the truth.”
Claire groaned. “It seems so obvious now, but the truth isn’t always easy to say.”
“I know.” Sophie reached out and squeezed Claire’s free hand. “But if you tell her, she’ll understand. Right now, she thinks you’re the one in the wrong. You have to explain the whole thing to her. Believe me, once she finds out Garrett cheated on you, she won’t think him the perfect son-in-law anymore.”
Claire drained the remainder of her drink. “Maybe you’re right,” she grudgingly agreed. “But before I fix things with her, I have to fix things with Logan.”
Sophie tilted her head to the side and considered Claire for a long moment. “I think you really want to make this work with him, don’t you?”
“I do,” Claire said, being completely honest with both herself and her sister. “God help me, but I do.”
“Then go find him.” Sophie smiled. “Don’t let him stew. Believe me, every time I let Trevor stew, it only takes longer to make him see reason again.”
“I think I will.” Claire rose and gave Sophie a quick hug, laughing when their bellies bumped. “We’ll soon be too fat for this.”
Sophie patted her round belly and laughed too. “Bite your tongue, woman.”
When Logan finally made it back to his house, the moon was a thin sliver of silver in the sky. The clock on his kitchen stove told him it was past two in the morning. God, had he really been gone that long?
After leaving Claire’s, he’d headed straight for LM, throwing himself into catching up on the work he’d missed last week. He’d desperately needed distraction from the unsettling emotions piercing his gut after discovering Claire’s secrecy. Only distraction had been a hell of a hard thing to achieve. After poring over an excessive backlog of emails and listening to his nearly endless voicemail since he hadn’t checked either on his cell, he threw himself into examining all the accounts LM currently handled.
And still
, his mind wouldn’t allow him to forget the sickening feeling of realizing Claire was too ashamed to tell her own parents he was the father of her child.
Over and over again, he relived the scene at Sophie’s house, the shame on Claire’s face, the horror on her mother’s. Until a migraine hit him with the force of a freight train pounding into his skull. It had laid him low for quite some time. He hadn’t been aware of just how much time had passed until he stepped into the kitchen. Christ, but he needed a drink. If only he hadn’t gotten rid of all his alcohol after Derek’s arrival. He’d sell his soul for a shot of whiskey right about now. Anything to make him forget.
Damn it, he couldn’t take it anymore.
Logan tossed his keys onto the counter, wincing slightly at the way they jangled on the hard marble surface. His headache still hadn’t completely abated, but it almost felt good to be in pain. It matched the bleakness threatening to consume him. He’d come so far, had made a name for himself. He’d thought he was beyond anyone making him feel unworthy. Somehow, Claire had the power to strip him right down to the bone and make him feel like nothing.
Hell, who was he kidding? He was nothing. A zero dressed in designer suits, masquerading behind his CEO’s desk. The awful truth had hit him tonight at the office. He couldn’t blame Claire for not wanting to tell her mother about him. After all, the pregnancy had been an accident. Claire would never have chosen him as the father of her child and she was now merely making the best of a nearly impossible situation. What could he offer her, or a child, for that matter?
Disgusted with himself and still furious with Claire, Logan strode from the kitchen into the main hallway. He heard the low rumbling of the television in the living room and assumed Derek was still awake. He paused, weighing the pros and cons of unloading his problems on his friend.
“What the hell,” he muttered after a moment of wavering. His feet carried him to the living room, expecting to find Derek the night owl grinning crookedly from the couch.
Instead, he saw Claire curled up on the sofa, the soft light from the flat screen illuminating her in an ethereal light. A throw was draped over her and her blonde hair fanned out in glorious disarray over a pillow. Logan’s reaction was immediate and instinctive.
What the hell was she doing here? How had he failed to notice her car when he’d pulled up? Infuriated, Logan stalked over to the sofa, determined to shake her awake and tell her to leave. But when he reached his destination and looked down at her, something inside him shifted, softened. He was captivated by her striking features. The small, pert nose, her lush, pink lips, high cheekbones, thick lashes. In any light, Claire was beautiful. Tonight she was gorgeous. The slight swell of her stomach was visible beneath the blanket and Logan clenched his hands to keep from reaching out and touching her.
He wanted to so badly he shook with it.
God.
She had brought him to his knees this morning, and now here she was, quietly snoozing on his sofa, looking like an angel when she had no goddamn right to. Making him want to carry her to his bed and lose his anger in incredible sex instead. What was it about this woman that rocked him, made him weak in ways he’d never dreamt possible?
She sighed softly in her sleep, burrowing down into the cushions. Before Logan realized what he was doing, he sank to his knees. His resistance left him in the same instant. He reached out with a trembling hand and brushed a lock of golden hair from her face, his hand lingering to caress her cheek. Her skin felt like hot satin against his fingertips and it amazed him that just this simple touch could send hot sparks shooting through his blood. He wanted more.
His questing fingertips traced a light path to her jaw, then slid over her slightly parted lips. She sighed again, nestling the curve of her cheek into the palm of his hand. Logan inhaled sharply, lust burning a path through him. It was utterly ridiculous, but Claire’s innocent, unconscious gesture aroused him. He wanted to claim her, to brand her with his kiss and with his body, to make her realize she needed him as fiercely as he needed her.
Damn again.
With great difficulty, he withdrew his hand and gently shook Claire’s shoulder. “Claire.”
She moved and made a mewling sound of protest in the back of her throat. Logan swallowed and tried again. “Claire. Wake up.”
Her eyes flew open and she blinked drowsily, an adorable look of confusion marring her features. “Logan? What took you so long?” Claire’s voice was husky with sleep and too damn sexy for his peace of mind.
“I was working,” he said, forcing his voice to be as curt as possible.
“Working? Why?” She sat up, a red line running across her right cheek where it had been pressed to the pillow. It shouldn’t have been endearing to him, but somehow it was.
“The usual reason. I had work to do.” Logan’s gaze slid inexorably to the neckline of her dress. As she leaned toward him it gaped, giving him an enticing view of creamy cleavage. Damn, damn, damn.
He stood abruptly, towering over her, determined to cling to his anger. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize.” She frowned, her lips pursing in a way that made it impossible for him to look at them without wanting to kiss her. “Derek let me in and we were talking. I think I must have fallen asleep on him after a while.”
“His ego will live to see another day,” Logan assured her dryly.
Her impossibly blue gaze met his. “But will yours?”
“Jesus.” The word felt torn from him. “You have to know this is different.”
She nodded and tossed back her blanket, standing before him. She was so petite that he still towered over her like a bear. “I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry with me, but I want you to know why I didn’t tell my mother about you.”
He plastered a careless smile to his face. “Don’t bother. It’s obvious.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“Well I do,” he growled. “So if that’s all you have to tell me, then I see no reason for you to stay.”
“Logan, don’t shut me out,” she pleaded, those eyes riveting him.
The tenuous thread of his civility snapped. He raked her body with a hot look, deliberately lingering on her breasts. Her nipples hardened, forming stiff peaks beneath the thin layer of her dress. She’d changed, he noted, to a billowing dress that made her look like a goddess. The knowledge that he had such an instantaneous effect on her made him even harder than he already was.
“You have two choices, Claire,” he told her, just barely keeping himself from grabbing her up and taking her straight to his bed. “You can walk out the door and go home, or you can stay here tonight. But if you stay, it’s on my terms.”
She watched him warily, and he could almost see the wheels spinning in her mind. She didn’t know what to expect from him. Hell, he didn’t know what to expect from himself these says.
“What are your terms?”
A feral grin curled his lips. “I think you know.”
Claire swallowed, her eyes widening, pupils dilating. “Oh.”
“You’re still standing here,” he pointed out. It took all the willpower he possessed to keep himself from reaching out to her. But he refused to bend tonight.
“I know.”
Satisfaction, primal and heady, unfurled low in his belly. “Then you’re willing to abide by my terms?”
She licked her lips, drawing his attention back to her sexy mouth and tearing a groan from him. “Yes.”
“Come here,” he commanded.
Claire obeyed, moving closer to him, stopping when their legs brushed tantalizingly together. Logan’s every pore screamed for him to take her right there, on the floor or the sofa, whichever they reached first. But the tiny portion of his mind that had retained its sanity reminded him that he couldn’t, not with Derek staying in the guest bedroom. So he scooped Claire up in his arms instead and headed for the door.
She squeaked and began squirming. “Logan. Put me down. I’m too heavy.” He
ignored her, so she continued protesting. “The television’s still on.”
“Screw the TV.” He didn’t break his stride.
“Logan.”
Logan spared her a glance. “If you keep yammering, you’ll wake Derek.”
That effectively silenced her until they reached Logan’s bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind them and set her on her feet. “Take off your dress,” he ordered without preamble.
“Logan,” she objected. “I want to talk about what happened.”
“No talking.” He had her exactly where he wanted her now, and he wasn’t interested in impediments to having her. Repeatedly.
“But—”
“No buts. My terms, remember?” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her intently. “Now take off your dress.”
Claire’s lips tightened and he could discern from her expression that she was rethinking her compliance. But in the end, she seemed to realize that what was about to come was inevitable for both of them. She placed her hands on her thighs and clenched the fabric of her dress, bunching it. Inch by inch, it raised, revealing an ever mouthwatering expanse of silky-smooth ivory legs. His mouth went dry. The hemline continued its northward crawl, unveiling the tiny scrap of her red satin underwear.
She paused, the expression on her face suddenly hesitant. “Logan, I—”
“Go on,” he said, tone impassive. Logan knew her little belly was at the root of her trepidation, but her fears were groundless. He wanted her just as much and she remained every bit as beautiful, if not more so, now that she carried his child. He’d told her as much. She didn’t believe him.
But when this night was over, there would be no more doubts left in her mind.
Claire began raising her dress again, making his fingers itch to take her hem in his own hands and yank the damn dress right over her head. Instead, he forced himself to remain calm and still, a silent observer. Soon, the indentation of her bellybutton was revealed, along with the upper swell of her belly and the lower swell of her breasts. Though they were concealed beneath a red, lacy bra, Logan knew their every curve. He knew how they rose and fell with each ragged breath she took when she was aroused, or when she was angry. He knew the pink-peach tint of her nipples and the way they hardened when he simply looked at them, the way she moaned when he sucked them.
Perfect Persuasion (Love's Second Chance Book 2) Page 15
