He walked up to her. “No other men for you either.”
“Fine. No problem.”
“Six months of celibacy?” he questioned, eyebrows raised again. “No problem?”
“Of course.” She shrugged. “You really think you’re going to manage that?”
“I can if you can.” His voice dropped.
She licked her lips. “Of course I can.” She’d done twice as long already.
“Okay so we’re agreed there’s no other women for me or you. Or men for that matter.” He inwardly chuckled at the startled expression in her eyes. “But I do think we should practice.”
“Practice w-what?”
He stepped closer—invading her space but keeping that smile on his face.
She backed up a pace but further retreat was blocked by the doorjamb. “I’m not kissing you.”
“Who said anything about kissing?” he asked, oh-so-innocent.
He was baiting her. She was overly aware of his reputation as a playboy slayer and he knew it. He’d had more women than she’d had cartons of ice-cream. But she wasn’t going to let him win.
“I was thinking about our story,” he said with a benign shrug. “How we met. How long we’ve been keeping this under wraps. We need to practice the answers we’re going to give people when they ask. Rocco almost caught us out already. If he’d seen me move you into another room it wouldn’t add believability to our story.”
He honestly thought they could make this believable? Min curled her toes in amusement as she thought of some ‘story’ he could peddle. “You can tell them I’m planning on being a virgin on my wedding night.”
A shocked look entered his eyes and his jaw slackened. “Are you?”
She inwardly chuckled at his floored expression, but she shrugged and answered more smoothly than she’d ever done in her life. “That’s not something you’re ever going to know.”
He studied her. Clearly thinking. Then his wicked grin returned. “You’re my angel.”
She rolled her eyes, her innards set to simmering again. “So you’re going to paint me as some ‘light of purity’ whose mere presence cleanses you from your past sins?”
Damn, who’d known she could talk so sharp, so fluent? She grinned, relishing her inner evilness.
His eyes gleamed. “Would you rather be more of a tart?”
“No,” she said, totally tartly. “I don’t like that d-d-dichotomy at all. Virgin or whore? Girl, mother, crone? I d-don’t like the stereotypes you’ve got going on.”
“You can be all of them rolled into one,” he said soothingly. “The lovely girl who turns dirty after dark. The one with the magic pussy that compares to no other...”
She gaped at him. “You are such a j-j-jerk.”
And damn him, he’d taken her stereotype argument and gone one further with it. He could so go one step further than her in the shock talk.
“And you’re so determined to think the worst of me,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I think you’re one of the most judgmental people I’ve ever met. Is it the sex tape? Is that what you’re holding against me?”
She drew breath. Oh it was so much more than that. The guy was sex personified and she had no real idea how to combat him—or, more to the point, her attraction to him.
“I’ve never met anyone else who’s been in a sex tape,” she commented blandly, determined not to shy from discussing it. Determined not to blush.
“Are you a virgin?”
He was really hung up on that idea now, wasn’t he? “Not every one who’s had sex has had their performance broadcast around the world,” she said, failing not to sound indignant.
His demeanor relaxed and he laughed. “If you’re not a virgin, you ought to know different people like to do different things. I don’t know that your discomfort is because you’re truly disapproving, or whether it’s because you’re secretly turned on by the it.” He edged closer. “Don’t you like the idea of being the only woman able to tame the wild Logan Hughes?”
“Could you be more of an arrogant jerk?” she asked. “Maybe you’re the one who tamed me.”
“Because you’re such a wanton hussy?” He grinned wolfishly.
“Except I won’t be,” she ignored his comment. “You won’t be tamed. A couple weeks and you’ll be off the rails again.”
“No.” He shook his head with a pious expression. “I’ll be crying into my beer, heartbroken about being dumped by the one and only woman I could ever love and resigning myself to a life of celibacy.”
“As if. You’ll be celebrating your single status with a series of meaningless sexual escapades with a wide variety of women. Multiple women.”
He laughed. “This could be an interesting six months, Min.”
“It’s not going to be six months. It’s not even going to be six days.” She’d never survive six months. Not without killing him. And not without kissing him first.
Just once. Just to know.
“And let’s be honest,” she muttered. “I don’t need to stay here. We can still be engaged but I’d prefer to live at my place. It has soul.”
“It has damp rot.”
He’d noticed that? Damn. “It has personality.”
“It might be growing things, but not personality.” He shook his head. “You’re staying here. I can protect you here.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need protection.”
“No? Then what was all the hyperventilating in the elevator? You want to deal with the jackals alone? You’re happy to cope with photographers and people prying into your trash can? People asking you questions, shoving cameras and microphones in your face at every opportunity?”
She blanched. But it wouldn’t happen again, right? “They won’t do that,” she insisted. “I’m not interesting enough. Even you’re not interesting enough. That was just for tonight—”
“I’m a Hughes from the ski-slope empire, that means money, babe. People will be all over you and I’m not leaving you to face them alone.”
She gritted her teeth, annoyed because he was right, and because he was being too damn nice. “How heroic of you.”
“I’m no hero.” He shook his head, his expression suddenly sober. “Just a realist. I know what they can do to people. And I wouldn’t want them doing that to you. Or anyone for that matter.” He paused. “Not me either. Not again.”
Min drew in a breath.
“Trust me on this,” he said softly. “Hide here ‘til the storm blows over.”
He was right. Those few moments had been terrifying. She felt like she had very little control over what they would do or say—what they’d want from her. She wasn’t the kind of person to court publicity for herself. She needed to hide. And frankly, hiding here was a pretty fine option. Stupidly, for some unknown reason, she did feel safer with him. At least in that respect. She turned and walked down the length of the hallway and opened the door to the guest bedroom farthest from his. “Alright, but you’re at one end of the apartment, I’m at the other.”
“No need to meet in the middle?” He followed her right to her door.
“No need at all.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be quite like that,” he said softly.
“Why n-n-not?” She leaned into the doorframe for support.
“Because,” he said slowly, carefully. “What we have, Ms Jones, is chemistry.”
“Oh please.” She tried to bring back her earlier anger. “What we have here, is a horndog guy who can’t help trying it on with the one woman he currently has access to.”
He shook his head. “No. We have chemistry. You and me.”
She didn’t try to deny it. She stuttered badly when she tried to lie. But she tried to side-step it again. “You have chemistry with anything that breathes.”
“Insulting and incorrect. I have standards. And so do you. But even though you don’t want to want me, you do. Want me to prove it?”
Oh hell, how did he plan to do that? Her heart raced
as adrenalin surged through her body. “You think I c-c-can’t resist y-y-you?”
His lips quirked. “You up for testing it?”
She’d never met a man so forthrightly outrageous. So determined. And so sexy. Damn it. “I c-can resist.”
She hoped.
“Probably.” To her surprise he agreed with her.
“That’s what makes us human, right?” he added. “Free will. Or will power. Mind over matter. But that doesn’t change the fact that the matter—the body—wants. Your body wants mine.” He ran his fingers down her throat, tracing the tide of color washing her head to toe. Gently he pressed his fingers against her thudding pulse at the base of her neck, then slid them a fraction up to that column that so often tightened and rendered her mute. “And mine definitely wants yours.”
“Sssstop,” she hissed. She needed him to be silent.
“It’s a good thing. Going to make the engagement more believable.” He chuckled. “The way you look at me.”
“The way I—” She registered the laughter in his eyes and with sheer force of will, quelled her explosion. She lifted her chin instead. “What about the way y-you look at me?”
“Yeah, everyone is going to know how badly I want to drag you into a corner and kiss you ‘til you come,” he nodded.
Kiss her where? She squeezed her thighs together as his words ignited want within her. Oh yes, she wanted to come. She hadn’t come in so long. And she only had to look at him to—
Hell, the man was impossible. “And that d-doesn’t embarrass you?” she asked weakly.
“I’m beyond embarrassment.”
Indeed. Well it was okay for him. He was a man. He didn’t get slut status assigned because he’d been filmed having sex.
“Don’t you want to know if it’s true?” he asked, his fingers still gently stroking down the side of her neck. “What I’m thinking when I look at you?”
Wordlessly she shook her head. He was playing games with her. But she was responding like it was real. And she wasn’t beyond embarrassment. “D-d-do you honestly think we can get away with this?”
Could she get away with staying here and survive this kind of tease?
“Sure.” He nodded. “I don’t think there are going to be any problems at all.”
Chapter Seven
#NeedAColdShower
Cold shower. Now.
Logan locked himself in his bathroom and turned the faucet on full. As he stripped, his skin tingled at the thought of her undressing in the room down the hall. He stepped under the stream of water, soaped his straining cock with a grimace. So turned on.
Min Jones was sexy as—the way she’d eaten him with her eyes when he’d touched only her neck? He hadn’t felt sexual attraction—or amusement—like this in longer than he cared to admit.
But if he acted on impulse now he’d only prove her poisonous judgment.
Sex addict? No Ma’am. He’d gone days, weeks even, without sex. Much of the scandal surrounding him was exaggerated. Well, some of it. But damned if he was going to try to convince the uptight Victorian Miss of that. Why should he have to?
Because she’d also looked like she expected him to pounce on her like a lascivious villain in an off-Broadway musical. She’d been waiting for him to.
Well she’d be waiting a while. He might be attracted to her but he wasn’t an animal. He had control, didn’t he? Clearly she didn’t think so. For that, he was going to have to tease her—teach her not to judge.
In those first few hideous days after the sex tape went viral he’d lain low. He’d not shaved, had super-glued a cap to his head and worn it tugged low over his brow the few times he’d ventured out. It hadn’t been fun. But the prospect of staying indoors now?
Lots of fun.
Stepping out of the shower he hooked a towel round his hips and went through to his office. He picked up the phone he’d been ignoring for hours. Hundreds of messages waited but he didn’t stop to read any. As he walked back to his bedroom, he touched a name.
“It’s me,” he said.
“Finally.” Connor spoke abruptly. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m fixing things.”
“Fixing things how?”
“My way. It’s okay.” He didn’t need his kid brother riding in to take care of the situation. Not this time. Connor had enough to do. “How are the plans for the weekend coming?”
Logan was dreading that freaking anniversary party. Dreading seeing his father for the first time in years. His mom. How hideous they were together.
“Okay I guess. With this old trouble rearing up with dad... it’s a sensitive time Logan, we don’t need any distractions.”
“I know that.” Logan’s hackles lifted at the mention of his father. At the implication that Logan would only exacerbate those problems. “This won’t be a distraction.”
He’d be super good. Stay in the background, quietly show his lovely fiancée around the family estate. All lovely and proper and scandal free.
There was silence. A sigh. “So, a fiancée?”
“You’ll like her.” Logan figured that’d be true. Min appeared to work hard and Connor was all about work ethic.
“Will I?”
Logan went to the door, opened it to look down the hallway. Dark. Silent. Min Jones was probably already in bed and asleep. He closed the door quietly again and headed to his bed. “Yeah. Hold tight with me on this Con, it’s gonna be fine.”
He’d keep his head down over the engagement nonsense until the interest died down. Then he was moving on. No more ‘public persona’ crap. He’d oversee the clothing company, invest in other projects he liked to find, hang with the guys. Be normal. And that was it.
“You’re really engaged? Like, for real?”
It only just seemed to dawn on Connor now.
“You’re really surprised?” Logan mimicked his brother. He lay on his bed, flicked off his light and grinned bitterly in the darkness. Yeah, Connor would never believe it. No one would.
“It’s very… unexpected.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”
“I’m not worried about you letting me down. I’m worried about whether you’re happy.”
No Connor wasn’t. What he cared most about was keeping Summerhill going from strength to strength. Logan understood that drive—it was what Connor had poured himself into to avoid the hell at home. Logan had simply run away. But Logan owed Connor.
“I am happy,” he aimed to reassure. “Be happier once your deal is done and the weekend’s over.”
“I think we’re going to pull it off. As long as there are no unforeseen dramas.”
Logan didn’t need Connor to spell it out yet again. “No dramas this end, I already told you. Think about it Con, what better what to keep everyone distracted than with my happy news?” This way no one would notice the underlying tensions. “The rest of the photoshoot went well by the way.”
“Okay,” Connor sighed. “I appreciate that.”
“Yeah well, we have to make the most of our assets, right?” He flexed his tense shoulders. To be the pretty face? So not fun.
“You know they’ll want a glamour couple.” Connor said. “Your girl up to that?”
Yeah, everything in the Hughes empire was about appearances. Even for Connor.
Logan thought about Min’s ancient tee-shirt and stained fingertips and bit back a smile. But every woman wanted a makeover, right? To be a princess for a night. She’d love it. And if there was one thing Logan could do, he could manufacture an appearance. “Sure. Leave it to me.”
“Okay then. See you Thursday night.”
“You really need me a whole day and a bit early?”
“Logan—”
“Alright fine, I’ll be there,” he interrupted, guilty already just from the tiredness in his brother’s tone.
“Thanks.”
Logan ended the call. He was the one who ought to be offering the thanks.
An h
our later he shifted position for the fortieth time, trying to find a comfortable way to get to sleep. Impossible given the hard-on he had—and the inappropriate thoughts. Min Jones occupied his mind. Min with her expressive eyes and amazing hair and unrepentant distain.
In the end he gave up trying to restrain his mind and just fantasized about everything he’d do to her if she ever said yes. If he ever decided to forgive her judgment.
Four hours later, when dawn was still a good hour away, he texted Rocco. He needed to burn energy. Badly.
Running now. 15 miles. Usual circuit.
Fifteen minutes after that, three of his best friends caught up with him.
Rocco, Xander. Hunter.
Loyal. Reliable. Competitive.
A pre-dawn race? No stopping them.
“No turning up unannounced for the next few days.” Logan instructed them and pushed his legs harder. He felt like crap. Hadn’t had anywhere near enough sleep. Hadn’t had any.
“You can’t announce your engagement to the world and not expect us to be curious,” Rocco answered running way too easily and fast for Logan’s inner wanna-be-the-winner.
Logan glanced at Hunter who was running on the other side of him. Hunter had prepared the background security check on Min. Or at least one of his minions had. But Logan knew Hunter would’ve read the report at least three times in the twelve hours since the news of Logan’s ‘engagement’ broke. Their eyes met. But the security specialist said nothing.
Good man.
Hunter would take other people’s secrets to the grave. That’s why he was so good at what he did. Because no one knew for sure just what he did. Not all the time.
“I need some space,” Logan puffed.
“We need answers first.” Xander, Logan’s cousin, piped up.
“We met and that was it. Love at first sight.” Well the other ‘L’ word was true.
“You really expect us to believe this. Twenty-four hours ago you were looking like some vagrant who was trying to evade the authorities. I had to bribe you to agree to go to that party last night. You’ve hardly been out wowing the ladies. Where’d you meet her?” Rocco demanded answers.
“Through Tyler.”
Beg for Me Page 8
