by Amelia Judd
Decision made.
Next step: seduce Logan. Which would likely be as difficult as convincing him to take his next breath of air. After all, how hard could it be to strike up a game with the world’s biggest player?
•••
“I heard you asked my daughter to live with you?”
“Not exactly,” Logan said, wondering how the news of his offer could travel faster than the tricked-out sports car he’d leased for the summer. He’d arrived at Richard Bennett’s spacious corner office at Bennett Industries less than an hour after his talk with Kat.
“I called to find out how Kat was doing this morning. She informed me that you asked her to move in.”
Ignoring the accusation in Richard’s tone, Logan shrugged. “She needs a place to stay. I have the space. I told her she could crash there if she wants. Not sure what she’s decided.”
Richard took a deep breath and stared him down, looking like an older, pissed-off version of Pax. Logan sat back in one of the deep leather chairs in front of Richard’s dark wood desk. He stretched his legs out in front of him and adopted a disinterested expression. Logan had mastered the skill of playing things cool years ago, a skill he would need to convince Richard that he didn’t give a shit if his daughter stayed with him or not.
Truth was he did give a shit. In fact, he hoped she turned him down. He’d always been damn attracted to her, but he didn’t do long-term. He wouldn’t ruin his friendship with Pax by messing around with his little sister. While he enjoyed flirting with Kat and seeing how fired up he could get her with an outrageous comment or two, he would never touch her, at least not the way he’d wanted to since the first time he saw her.
If she moved in with him, he would be taking a lot of cold showers this summer. He should have left her along the side of the road yesterday. Okay, he couldn’t have done that, but he sure as hell didn’t have to tell her she could live with him. But his sense of self-preservation had momentarily crumbled when he’d heard her say she didn’t have the money to get a place of her own.
Richard pushed back from his desk, stood abruptly, and began pacing his office. “Something is going on with Katherine that she refuses to share with any of us.” Frustration shook his words. “It has been almost a year since she walked away from her career in DC. We know something happened there to send her life into this perpetual holding pattern. Her mother thinks she may have broken up with some guy or maybe loved someone who didn’t return the sentiment.”
Grimacing, Richard stopped pacing and kneaded the back of his neck. Logan could practically hear tendons cracking under the assault. Totally understandable. Talking about your adult daughter’s love life could suck the joy out of any man’s day.
“Unfortunately,” Richard continued, “Kat overheard me say I didn’t plan to enable the destructive lifestyle she’s settled into any longer. She can’t keep floating through life without any goals.”
Logan tapped the chair’s armrest with the fingers of his right hand. That explained Kat’s search for a place to stay. It didn’t explain where Richard was going with this conversation. “Do you want me to take back my offer?”
Richard returned to his desk, sank into his chair, and exhaled a frustrated sigh. “She’s an adult. I’m not going to pretend I have any power over where she sleeps. With that said … ” He leaned forward in his chair and locked a steely-eyed gaze on Logan. “Katherine is fragile right now. The last thing she needs is to become romantically involved with a man who’s only in the country for a few months. I’m afraid another heartbreak would do irreparable damage.”
Ah, shit. Logan clenched his jaw as a feeling of dread landed heavy in his gut. So now if he didn’t keep his hands off of Kat, he would piss off both Pax and Richard, as well as hurt Kat while she was struggling to get her feet under her again.
“I hope you understand my concern,” Richard said. “And I hope I can trust you.”
“I won’t do anything to hurt her,” Logan said, for once grateful for Kat’s open animosity toward him. She’d do all the heavy lifting in making sure he kept his word. After all, the little tiger would likely bite off his hand if he ever tried to touch her.
Chapter 4
RELAXING on a kitchen barstool, Kat took a sip of her crisp Pinot Grigio and congratulated herself on a successful day. In less than twelve hours’ time, she’d cleared her stuff out of her parents’ house, moved into Logan’s spare room, taken Mrs. Dobolek to a doctor’s appointment in Sheboygan, and filled the cottage with a plethora of tasty groceries.
She’d even managed to swing by Danny’s garage to make an appointment to fix Bruno’s air conditioner tomorrow. Poor Mrs. D. had looked miserable on the blazingly hot drive to her orthopedic surgeon. Kat couldn’t keep chauffeuring the elderly in a heatstroke-inducing car.
And it seemed another senior citizen was joining her crew. Mrs. D. had asked her to take one of her friends, Harry Wilkinson, to his chiropractor’s appointment in Green Bay tomorrow. Kat couldn’t make the poor old guy sit in a pool of his own sweat for the hour-long drive. It figured the biggest heat wave in years would hit the same week her car’s air conditioner crapped out.
She looked up at the sound of the front-door knob rattling, then smirked at the muttered oath that quickly followed. She rolled her eyes and strolled toward the door. About halfway there she heard a heavy thud—most likely a bulky shoulder—slam against the door. “Chill out. I’m coming.”
“Kat, the bloody door is stuck.”
She flipped the bolt, opened the door, and shot Logan a you’re-an-idiot look. “It’s not stuck. It’s locked. And you better get used to it because I’m not living in a cottage where anyone can come and go on whim.”
“So you’re moving in?”
“Already have.” She smiled. “I like to move fast.”
He gulped. He actually gulped, and he looked nervous. She cocked her head and studied him closely. His blue eyes flitted around the cottage as he tapped his fingers against his leg.
“I’ve never seen you fidget before. Are you still okay with me living here?”
“Of course. And I don’t fidget.” Logan towered over her as he moved into the kitchen and sniffed. “Are you cooking?” He looked her way with an eyebrow raised.
“Yep. Glazed salmon with a smoky artichoke salsa.”
“Huh. I didn’t figure you as domestic.”
“Everyone has to eat.” She shrugged. “Might as well make the food taste good while you’re at it. Would you like a glass of white?”
“Sure. I could use one after today.”
Kat poured a glass of wine for Logan and gestured to one of the barstools stationed around the kitchen island. “Have a seat and tell me about it.”
Logan lowered himself onto a stool and accepted the glass she offered him with a grateful smile. “Before today, I’d only met with your mum to talk about the social outreach program. Today, I met with your dad. He can be very … ” Logan paused and blew out a long breath. “Challenging.”
“Sounds like Dad,” Kat said, nodding her head dramatically.
“Both of your parents envision a program that creates solidarity in the community. They want local volunteers to perform the majority of the work, but they don’t know what the volunteers should be doing or who they should be helping.” Logan paused and took a drink of his wine. “I threw a dozen different ideas at your dad today, and he shot down every single one of them.”
Kat thought for a moment. “How about building houses for the poor?”
“There’s already a local charity doing that work. Your dad wants to be unique.”
“Maybe you could do something for kids.” Kat rummaged through the cabinets, gathering what she needed to chop the ingredients for the salsa. “Or people with disabilities.”
“Both good causes, and both have heaps of charities or organizations already established to help them.” Logan dipped his head and rubbed his fingertips against his forehead, a careless curve of hair nearl
y covering one of his crystal-blue eyes. “Your dad vetoed both. He wants to be unique.”
“I sense a theme.” Kat grinned and began chopping the artichoke hearts, tomatoes, and red onion and scraping them into a large glass bowl.
Logan snorted and took another drink of wine.
“What about helping the elderly?” she asked nonchalantly, well aware that there were many seniors in Silver Bay who could use a little extra help from their neighbors. “Your volunteers could assist them with everyday tasks they can no longer do themselves.” She dumped the remaining ingredients into the salsa and gave everything in the bowl a few good turns with a wooden spoon. Stepping away, she checked the salmon in the oven.
“Is there a need for that?” he asked, his tone skeptical.
“You bet. There are people all over town you could help,” she said, her back still to Logan. There. She’d planted the seed. He could decide whether or not to run with her suggestion without her admitting to her recent philanthropic activities.
Despite being outspoken at times, Kat didn’t share her own personal information easily. The thought of telling Logan, or anyone, about helping Mrs. Dobolek and friends made her squirm.
She took a deep breath and turned around. Logan was leaning his elbows on the island and toying with the stem of the wineglass with one large hand. He looked so damned oversized sitting on the small stool she nearly rolled her eyes. While she could still ride in her niece’s battery-powered Barbie car if she folded her body into it just right, Logan dwarfed normal-sized furniture.
The thought ticked her off.
Scowling, she flicked her hand toward his body. “You’re ridiculously large.”
Logan blinked. A beat later, a slow, devilish smile curled his lips upward. “Thank you, darl, you’ve mentioned that before.”
“And it’s still not a compliment,” she growled, surprised he recalled the conversation in Costa Rica when she’d grumbled about his overwhelming size.
Logan laughed—a deep, rumbling thing that turned her insides to liquid. “Ah, Kat, you really are a tiger.”
She scooped up her glass and drained the rest of her wine, attempting to will her temper under control. If she planned to seduce this guy, she should probably be a little nicer.
Sure, she knew why he put her on edge, but she didn’t like what it said about her, so she usually chose to ignore it. The truth was, being so physically pulled to a horndog like Logan didn’t sit well with her, but no matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t able to rein in her pulse-racing, body-tightening, lip-biting, pupil-dilating attraction to him.
But that no longer mattered. Claire’s brilliant suggestion to have a short-term affair with him meant Kat didn’t have to control her desire or fight her attraction any longer. Finally, the lust humming through her veins complemented rather than complicated her plans.
She licked her lips and tried not to grin. Now seemed like the perfect time to initiate her seduction plan. Considering Logan was her target, it shouldn’t take much effort on her part.
She slipped on an oven mitt and pulled the glass dish holding the fish from the oven. “The salmon is ready, but I’m going to change before we eat. I spilled a little salsa on my top.” She pointed to drop of tomato juice on her shirt.
“Righto,” Logan said, standing from the barstool. “I’ll set the table.”
Kat hustled into her bedroom, kicked the door shut with her foot, and stripped the loose-fitting shirt over her head. A quick rifle through her closet revealed a complete lack of seduction-worthy clothes. She grunted in annoyance and searched through the closet again, hoping the slutty-clothes fairy had made a magical delivery without her noticing.
Damn. No such luck. There were no short skirts or plunging necklines in sight. Time to improvise.
The snug-fitting denim capris she already had on would be fine if she could find a lust-provoking top to pair with them. She glanced back to the closet and spotted a simple black tank top she used for layering under other shirts. A smile curved her lips. Bingo.
She slipped it from the hanger and held the thin, silky material in her hand and considered her options. Should she change into a bra designed to lift and shove her breasts to a position just below her chin, or should she go the more natural and more daring route?
Enjoying a surge of feminine power, Kat undid the front clasp on her bra, dropped it to the floor behind her, and slipped the form-fitting tank over her head. She quickly adjusted her unrestrained breasts to their full and upright position and turned to the mirror hung on the back of the door.
Her breasts weren’t overly large, but they were full and perky as hell. Even without a bra, they were right where they needed to be to get a guy’s attention. And if the rounded cleavage above the neckline didn’t catch Logan’s eye, the outline of her nipples under the tight black material should do the trick.
She removed the clip holding her hair in a ponytail and finger combed the waves into a sexy, tousled look. After a quick application of black mascara and shiny red lip gloss, she took a deep breath. One look and Logan would know exactly what she had in mind. She grinned in anticipation. Unless the big guy had an unlikely aversion to easy brunettes, the rest of her clothes would be tossed to the floor faster than she could say “g’day, mate.”
•••
Logan placed the neatly folded napkin across the dinner plate and stepped back to admire his work. It’d been a lot of years since he’d set a table with such care and attention to detail.
When he was old enough, his mum had gotten him a job at a fancy country club just outside of Sydney that only the elite of Sydney’s society could join. His mum worked there as a server, and he’d started out as part of the waitstaff, mainly clearing and setting tables. Eventually, he’d moved up to a server too, then a lifeguard, and eventually an instructor in the club’s high-end fitness center.
The wealthy families had been kind and generous to him the first few years. The mums and their daughters had flirted with him, and the men had loved to hear about his latest victory on the rugby field. Even though he’d only been an employee, Logan had felt like he fit in there.
But it had all been an illusion. In the end, he’d learned the bloody truth. The rich would never truly accept a kid who lived in a tiny house and rode a beat-up motorbike to work. Athleticism and charm could never replace a fancy education or family money.
It had been a valuable lesson. He’d learned what he had to offer a woman worked best in the short run. A woman might love having her panties charmed off her for a one-night stand. But when it came to her future, she would damn well want a bloke who could provide her with more than a wink and a smile.
“Are those napkins folded into the shape of the Sydney Opera House?”
Logan chuckled at the sound of surprise in Kat’s voice behind him. “I’m good with my hands.” He shot her a cocky look over his shoulder and then did a double take.
Holy shit.
Kat had transformed from tiger to sex kitten. She tipped her head to the side and ran a hand through her long dark hair. It was framing her face in an I-just-got-laid kind of style. Her lips looked wet and full, like they would if they’d been pashing for the last hour rather than talking about work. The black top hugged her slender frame tightly and spilled her firm breasts over the top into a tempting display.
“What a coincidence,” she said, walking to stand directly in front of him. “I am too,” she purred, tip-toeing her fingers up his chest.
“Good to know,” Logan said, his voice thick. He gulped to clear his throat, stared at her hand on his chest, and tried not to look down her top. He failed miserably. And that’s when he spotted the pert outline of her nipples under her painted-on shirt.
Shit. Damn. His body tightened and blood rushed south. What was she up to? He thought she would be the one to make sure their relationship never advanced. How the hell was he supposed to keep his hands off her if she kept putting hers on him?
“Let’s eat
before the fish gets cold.” He moved into the kitchen and gratefully used the island as a barrier between them. Eyes down, he fumbled through plating the fish.
“Are you okay?”
“Me? Yip. I’m ace.” He cringed at the unusual rush to his words and kept his eyes averted while he walked past her, set the plates on the table, and took a seat in one of the far chairs. “Smells great. I’m starving.” He could feel her staring at him. Tension hummed through him.
Damn. He hated tension.
“You forgot the salsa.” Kat retrieved the glass bowl from the kitchen and sauntered toward him. She stopped next to him, her sweet scent intoxicating him. Holding the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, she leaned over his right shoulder. Her breasts inches from his face, she tipped her head to look back at him, causing her hair to fall like a curtain, wrapping them in an intimate cocoon. Her lips curved into a sexy smile. “I like it on top,” she murmured, paused a beat, and then poured a spoonful of salsa over the fish.
Logan jumped up, bolted to the opposite side of the table, and shoved a hand through his hair. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he snapped.
Her blue eyes flashed with irritation. “If I have to explain it, then I must be doing it wrong.”
He blew out a breath. “That depends. If you’re trying to drive me out of my mind, then you’re doing just fine.”
“I’m not trying to drive you out of your mind. I’m trying to drive you into my bed. I want to have a no-strings, enjoy-the-moment fling. And you, Logan McCabe, are perfect fling material.” She scanned his body and crossed her arms over her chest, effectively boosting her breasts even higher and further out of her top.
