Diamonds & Desire: The Priceless Collection

by Gill, Angelita

  Jordana sensed almost at once that they’d been in some sort of relationship in the past. A hot, physical relationship, by the flirtatious look in the woman’s brown eyes. Logan set his hand on Jordana’s lower back. “Whitney, this is Jordana.”

  The actress grinned. “Pleasure. What a beautiful name,” she said, and shook Jordana’s hand with a tight grip.

  There was no reason to be jealous of a woman in Logan’s past, but as Whitney and Logan resumed their conversation and chuckled with inside jokes, Jordana watched the two with curious awe. They must’ve made a striking duo.

  Nonetheless, Logan was hers.

  Or was he?

  Come to think of it, all night Logan had introduced her to at least three dozen people, but not as his girlfriend, as…well, as no one in particular. This is Jordana, he would say. Let me introduce you to Jordana. And I would love for you to meet my date for the evening.

  Never once did he say what she was to him.

  Should it matter? Did she require a title?

  No, she was being ridiculous.

  But yet, the question nagged at her, where did they stand?

  So lost in her compounding thoughts, she didn’t notice when Whitney and Logan said their goodbyes until he touched her shoulder. She jerked.

  “How about a dance?” he asked.

  She struggled for composure, attempting to hide her sudden vexation. “Uh, maybe in a minute. I could really use some water.”

  “Of course,” he said, studying her with concern, as if she might faint before his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

  Now that the seed had been planted, Jordana couldn’t stop its growth as she mentally weighed their relationship. She used her clutch to fan her warm neck. Over the last couple weeks, she’d learned being with Logan would be unlike any relationship she’d ever experienced. He was a man, not a boy, and as everyone who knew her would probably point out, she’d dated nothing but boys.

  All she did know for sure was that Logan wanted her, in bed, as a party escort, but beyond that, she didn’t know what he truly felt, if anything, for her. As much as she didn’t want to think about it and spoil the happiness she’d known for the past few weeks, the grip of unknowing tightened around her throat.

  Were they really just friends who hooked up on weekends?

  As he made his way toward her with bottled water, stopping to say hello to a couple people, a hard ball formed in her stomach. She thanked him for the cold beverage.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, tenderly rubbing her bare arms.

  “Yes, it’s just a little stifling in here,” she fibbed.

  “Then let’s get some fresh city smog air.”

  “No.” Cupping his cheek, she attempted to keep her tone neutral, a smile on her lips. “I’m just going to run to the ladies. I won’t be long. Maybe you should look for your mother. I can’t believe we haven’t run in to her yet and I’d love to meet her.”

  His brow knitted together, and no doubt he wondered what was wrong and why, but the understanding man that he was, he didn’t ask.

  The powder room had been easy to find and there were a few plush rotund chairs to sit on. Other women were in there, gossiping and checking their makeup. Jordana took a few clearing breaths and checked her cell phone.

  Casey had left a text:

  Green with envy right now. Try to get a pic with any young guy from General Hospital. And I do mean ANY of them.

  Smiling, she replied: I’ll do my best. I think you were right about me wanting more. I do. But I don’t think he does.

  Casey: He’s good to you, Jordana. Enjoy the here & now. A handsome rich guy wants to spend time with you for a reason. Stop analyzing and have fun with him. That’s an order.

  She took a deep breath. Casey was right. Her irrational panic from earlier began to give way. Enjoy the here and now. Right. She went to the mirror to refresh her lipstick. Time to stop acting like an insecure downer.

  ***

  Where was she?

  Logan sensed a change in Jordana’s mood, but couldn’t determine what could’ve caused it. Had he said or done something? Tucking his hands in his pockets, he went off in search of his mother. If Jordana had had her fill of this soiree, all she had to do was say the word.

  As for him, he was more than ready to bid this party adieu. Ready to fly home and show her how a mortal man would make love to a goddess in white. Strolling through the crowd, he finally found his mother surrounded by a group of attentive and seriously young male actors. Her scene of choice. When he shouldered his way through, she broke into a perfectly white grin.

  “Logan, darling!”

  She only called him “darling” in public or when she had too much to drink. He smiled at his mother, ever the refined lady in her blue-colored sequined dress and long gold necklace. “Mom, you look like a million bucks,” he greeted, bending down to brush a cheek to hers.

  “Thank you, thank you. I can’t believe it took you this long to find me. I haven’t moved from this spot all night,” she spoke with underlying skepticism. “Did you just arrive?”

  “No, we’ve been here a while.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, Jordana and I. She stepped away to the powder room, but I want to introduce you to her when she comes back. She used to watch the show and she’s eager to meet you.”

  His mother flipped a hand with a dismissive expression. “Some other time, darling. Come, I want you to meet someone.”

  All of a sudden his mother didn’t care to know who Jordana was? Had she not grilled him to the nth degree when she thought he’d married the woman? She hooked her arm around his shoulders and tried to lead him away, but he kept his feet planted. “I’d rather go back and wait.”

  “It will only take a second.”

  He cast a glance behind him, not seeing Jordana. “Fine.”

  Halfway across the room, and the instant his mother called the name Rachel, he realized he’d been duped into a blatant set-up. Rachel was a fair, statuesque, strawberry-blond, maybe in her late twenties, with flawless skin and light brown eyes. No wedding band on her finger. Of course.

  “Sweetheart, this is my son, Logan, the genius philanthropist of the family,” his mother said, presenting him as if he were veal on a silver plate. “Logan, this Rachel Garner. A bright, shiny star on Heart’s Horizon. She plays my granddaughter on the show, reading my character’s diary and finding out everyone’s secrets now that I’m gone. I just love her storyline.”

  Rachel apparently knew the game his mother played, too. She gave an amused, hesitant laugh at the obvious introduction. “Nice to finally meet you, Logan. Your mom talks about you all the time.”

  Funny, she’s never mentioned a word about you, he had to check himself from retorting. Meanwhile, his mother wrapped an arm around Rachel’s shoulders, grinning, with a secretive glint in her eye. “I’ve been mentoring Rachel. Isn’t she lovely? We’ve been having a ball! We’re practically twins. She so reminds me of myself when I first started on television.”

  “Oh, Deidre, you’re so sweet,” said Rachel, patting his mother’s hand.

  Conniving is more accurate. Only his mother would try to fix him up while his date freshened up. He didn’t buy a word of the twins comment either. Knowing his mother very well, she was likely trying to live vicariously through yet another actress. She’d done this several times over the years, claiming the role as mentor to seize familiar glimpses of her former glory days. No doubt his mother envied Rachel’s youth, her whole acting career ahead of her. Perhaps, before he was born, his mother had once been resembled a girl like Rachel, but that was a long, long time ago. “Lovely to meet you, Rachel. My mother wouldn’t spend one minute giving you advice if she wasn’t sincere to see you succeed. I wish you the best with the show.”

  The girl beamed. “Thank you.”

&nbs
p; “Now if you’ll pardon—”

  His mother’s brows shot down in disapproval. “Don’t be rude, Logan. Dance with Rachel. She didn’t come with a date, you know.”

  “If you’ll recall, I came with one.”

  “Your Jordana won’t mind an innocent little dance, will she? Don’t tell me she’s immature.”

  He kept himself from openly expressing his annoyance. A stupid turn on the dance floor with Rachel, then he was taking Jordana out of here. If he didn’t amuse his mother with this dance, she’d only become acrimonious. And if he attempted to introduce her to Jordana when she was displeased, who knew what condescending comment she would give, so he’d do it some other time. She’d sense Jordana’s sweet nature like a hound smelled blood and would find some way to make Jordana feel uncomfortable, as retaliation for not getting her way. Unfortunately, he’d been playing this game with his mother all his life.

  “That’s okay,” Rachel said, freeing him from the obligation. “I’m not much of a dancer, anyway.”

  “Let Logan lead then. Now go,” his mother ordered.

  Burying his reluctance, Logan crooked his arm and, feeling sorry for the actress, gave a disarming smile. “Come on, Rachel, let’s bust a rug.”

  With a laugh, and an appreciative smile, she took his arm. “I think you meant bust a move or cut a rug.”

  He chuckled. “I think you’re right.”

  “Oh you make a beautiful couple!” He heard his mother’s parting voice as he took Rachel to the middle of the floor and held her as he would his grandmother.

  A nice girl, and attractive too, but Logan bore no interest at all. A dread came over him, knowing how this would look to Jordana, dancing with another woman when he said he’d wait for her.

  ***

  Jordana lifted the hem of her gown with a smile as she re-entered the gala. Shifting her gaze around, she finally spotted Logan. Slow dancing with a beautiful redhead.

  Oh. Well, no big deal. They were just dancing. And not very closely.

  He certainly didn’t embrace the woman the way he’d done with her the night they met. Struggling ever so slightly with indifference, she moved her gaze around the room, blindly admiring the decorations, the costumed band members, the dripping ice sculptures, but like a magnet, eventually her gaze returned to Logan.

  She couldn’t help it.

  Logan met her stare over the pretty woman’s shoulder. He sent a sensual wink along with his heart-fluttering crooked smile, and her stomach dipped.

  The nameless woman would get a couple of minutes to dance with him; Jordana would have him in her arms all night.

  ***

  “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Rachel asked him as they swayed to the music.

  Caught off guard, he tore his gaze from Jordana. “Pardon?”

  “The woman you came with. The one you can’t stop looking at behind me. You’re caught,” she teased. “I’d pay to have a man look at me like that. What’s her name?”

  “Jordana,” he said, clearing his throat.

  “No wonder you didn’t want to dance with me,” she added, a hint of tease in her tone. “Here your mom is trying to play matchmaker when you’re clearly in love. You should bring her up to speed!”

  Love. There was that word again. He contained the urge to roll his eyes. Actresses. Always so dramatic. Why else would she say something like that? She didn’t know him. He had a firm grip on his emotions, and knew whatever way he looked at Jordana, it wasn’t love. More like pure, insuppressible, needful, cell-sucking lust. It never failed to amaze him how women had such a hard time distinguishing the two. “I’m not in love,” he uttered, more to himself than in response to her.

  She still heard him. “Oh? Well, either you’re falling in it or you give the best impression of someone who is. Especially for a guy who’s known for lovin’ and leavin’ them with short notice. Even your mother can’t gloss over that reputation.” She flinched. “No offense. Things just come out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. I didn’t mean to sound like such a witch. Living in Hollywood makes you crass after a while.”

  Now he understood why his mom saw herself in Rachel. She had spunk. “No offense taken. My mostly inflated reputation doesn’t bother me at all. Never has.”

  “Good,” she laughed, “Because although it doesn’t bother you, it definitely precedes you.”

  Nothing ever bothered him except lately, people’s uncensored observations of him when it came to Jordana. First Neil, then Mr. Redgrave, now Rachel.

  This pattern annoyed him.

  The song ended, and he politely disengaged from Rachel. “I appreciate the honesty. Thanks for the dance.”

  “She’s a lucky girl, Logan,” she smiled as he strode away. “I’ll be sure to remind your mother you’re very, very taken.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As they sped down the highway after leaving the executive airport, Jordana flicked another questionable, disconcerting glance at Logan.

  He’d been very quiet since they left the party, but not in an impolite or cold manner, more…distracted. As she watched the glow of the streetlights stream over his profile again and again, his sharp, impassive features were almost statuesque. When he set his hand on her knee and squeezed, she concluded he wasn’t mad or upset, but he without a doubt had something on his mind. She wished he would share it with her.

  They pulled in the drive. “I was thinking,” he said as the garage door lifted, “Your car could probably use a tune-up.”

  “With a new engine.” She bumped his elbow playfully.

  He cast her a wan smile. “It doesn’t sound safe, especially for the long commutes you do every day between home, work, and here.” He pulled in the garage and parked. “Borrow one of mine in the meantime. As long as you need.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got three cars. Take the Jaguar or the Mercedes. It’s up to you. Or take this one. It’ll cost you nothing in gas.”

  Uh, yeah. It was a Tesla Model S, at minimum, an eighty-thousand dollar all-electric car. She almost choked on the idea. “I couldn’t. I’d have nowhere to plug it in,” she joked.

  “Take the Jag then. I hardly ever drive it.”

  She looked at him, agape. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. Think about it.” He climbed out without another word.

  No way would take one of his cars, even if they sat in his garage most days. “My car’s just needs a new muffler. I’ll be fine. I plan to trade it in soon anyway. I have no business driving around a Jaguar.”

  He sighed. “It’s only a car. And that it was only a suggestion.”

  Inside the house, Logan was quiet again, the silence strained. Jordana felt desperate to lighten the mood, even though she didn’t want to ask if something was wrong. If he wanted to discuss it, he would. Whenever she probed, he pulled away. Keeping her voice soft, she said, “I had a wonderful time.”

  He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, and tugged at his bow tie. “Good.” Then shrugged out of his jacket.

  Maybe he was simply tired and she mistook fatigue for something else. After all, he’d worked long hours all week, and had only left the office early tonight because they had to fly to Los Angeles. Though she yearned to make love, the mood had shifted completely, and she didn’t know how to restore it.

  At the start of the party, she imagined their evening would unfold with him marching after her to the bedroom with the impatient passion he’d displayed earlier.

  Now, nothing about him gave the impression he wanted to tear her dress off.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and squeezed his eyes shut a few times as he checked the messages on his phone, and her selfishness melted away to compassion.

  How narrow-minded and greedy of her. Only thinking of her desires and what she wanted from him. I’ll fi
x this. She discarded her shoes and removed her earrings. He didn’t once look up, frowning into his missed messages.

  It wasn’t until she lowered the lights and switched on the fireplace that she’d caught his attention. Squinting in the semi-darkness, he set down his phone. “What are you doing?”

  Reaching her hand out, she silently asked him to join her. His expression unreadable, he came toward her, and took her hand.

  “Come here,” she said sitting in the corner of the leather sofa, her back to the arm, and tugged him down. She patted her lap, and he looked at her as if she was acting strange. To her surprise, he relented. Stretching out on the sofa, he lay down on his back, the back of his head on her lap. When she began massaging his shoulders, he caught her hand. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to. Doesn’t it feel good?”

  “Feels amazing, but you don’t have to.”

  “Something tells me I do.”

  He didn’t stop her a second time. She rubbed his muscles until her fingers ached. There were so many knots, even a professional massage therapist would have a hard time. She then started running her fingers through his silken, wavy hair, and gently rubbing his temples. His soft moan said he approved.

  “I should really get up,” he spoke in a tiresome voice, but didn’t make a move, and sighed long. “I have things to do.”

  Leaning over, she started unbuttoning a few buttons of his shirt, and sensually slid her palms over his warm, muscled chest. His breathing went shallow as she lightly massaged his pecs, her breasts grazing the top his head. She smiled, tenderly kneading his chest muscles with her fingertips, moving lower to his abdomen, and sliding her hands back to his shoulders. “Then get up already.”

  His hand came up and cupped the nape of her neck. Her lips kissed his once, then again, and when she kissed his chin, he nuzzled his face between her breasts. She laughed softly, sat back, and resumed her massage, but it seemed she’d awaken the desire in him as well.

  Logan got up and faced her, bracing one hand on the back of the couch. With his handsome features cast in half-shadow, he never looked more arresting, or more dangerous. There was no tiredness in his eyes now. She grazed the sides of his face with her fingertips, traced down his jaw, and drew him in. With a sexy half-smile, he moved forward and brushed her lips.