by Coleen Kwan
“You might find I have more than just a sense of humor,” he said, wanting a return to their banter. “You did in the past.”
But she stiffened and crossed her arms defensively. “Logan,” she said warningly, “let’s not revisit old history.”
Perversely, he didn’t want to agree. When it came to women, he wasn’t one to dwell on past mistakes, but with Amber there was unfinished business.
“We should at least talk about it.”
She walked over to a tree and pulled at a low-hanging branch, playing with the leaves. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He followed her. “Isn’t there?”
“For God’s sake, it was years ago. I’ve forgotten all about it.”
“Swear jar,” he said, wanting her to smile. She didn’t. “I don’t think you’ve forgotten it.”
She let go of the branch, the leaves swishing past his face. “Are you under some delusion that I’m still holding a candle for you just because we made out one time in the back of your Mustang? You sure have a high opinion of yourself.”
The memories of that night came roaring back to him, and he acknowledged that no other night had ever stuck with him like that one.
“It might have been only one night, but it was highly memorable, you have to admit.”
“I admit nothing except that I was probably drunk at the time.”
“No, you weren’t drunk and neither was I. We were both stone-cold sober.”
“Were we? I can’t remember the details.”
She shrugged, and that made him even more determined to wrestle a concession, any concession, from her.
“You remembered my Mustang.”
“Oh, yeah, the Mustang. That must be why I made out with you. Because I was a sucker for fancy cars, that’s all.”
“No. You’re not that kind of girl.”
Her eyes blazed with unexpected fury. “That’s right. I’m the kind of girl a boy makes out with and then doesn’t bother to call. I’m the kind of girl who stupidly thinks he will call. I’m the kind of girl who finds the boy having a romantic dinner with his girlfriend and has to serve them. Yes, I guess that’s the kind of girl I am.”
…
Amber fought against the quivering inside her as she waited for Logan to respond. Why was he forcing her to remember the gory details? Why couldn’t he leave them in the past, where they belonged?
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. A few minutes ago she had sensed an unbelievable, undeniable pull of attraction from him. She’d felt like an iron filing helplessly drawn to his magnet. For a moment she’d thought he was going to touch her, and her hunger rose, powerful and terrifying, but then a child had cried out, and the moment had vanished, leaving her aching and unfulfilled.
Logan stared down at her, the white T-shirt emphasizing the heft of his biceps, his faded, rough jeans clinging to lean hips. Out of his slick business suit, he was earthy, swarthy, and dangerously attractive.
He thrust a hand through his silky black hair, his eyebrows drawing together. “Since you’ve brought up that incident in the restaurant, you’ll recall that you blew your lid, and I ended up bearing the consequences.”
His irritated snarl burrowed under her skin, exposing her nerves. She shivered. “It’s my fault you failed to tell me you already had a girlfriend before I got into the backseat of your car?”
God, how she hated the tremble in her voice betraying her need, making her sound weak.
He inhaled sharply. “I didn’t—” he began before cutting himself off. He glanced away, his expression grim, before his eyes refocused on her. “Tatum and I had already broken up.”
“Tatum, huh? But a week later you were back with her again, so I guess it was one of those on-again-off-again relationships, and I just happened to catch you in the off-again stage of one of your cycles. It wouldn’t have mattered who I was, is that it? You just wanted a girl—any girl—to take your mind off Tatum for a few hours.” She didn’t know why she was saying this, why she wanted to torment herself all over again.
Logan’s head jerked up. “No. It wasn’t like that at all. I knew exactly who you were. That night—” Once more he paused and looked away. He shook his head before continuing. “It took me by surprise, you and me. But then Tatum called, and, well, I don’t want to go into the details, but I had to see her that night at the restaurant.”
“So she was telling the truth when she called you her boyfriend?”
He hesitated. “It’s complicated, but in her eyes, yes…”
Hurt ripped through Amber, surprising her. After all these years, why did it still sting so badly? She knew why. Because Logan had affected her like no other boy had. She’d dreamed about him for months, secretly, hopelessly, hiding it all behind her tough exterior. Then that night in his Mustang had happened. One kiss from him had reduced her to a quivering romantic. In the heat of the moment she’d confessed that she’d secretly crushed on him for months. Why had she done that? Why had she laid herself bare? At the time, he’d seemed moved by her admission. He’d even said that he’d liked her for months, too. But of course it was all a lie, something he’d said just to keep her there. She’d been nothing but a passing amusement, and a week later he was back with his rich, snotty, popular girlfriend.
She pulled away from him, desperate for him not to witness her hurt. “Well, I guess that clears that up.”
She started to walk away, but he curled a hand around her upper arm. “Wait, we’re not done here yet.”
“I think we are. It happened years ago when we were just teenagers.”
“You don’t know the full story.”
The warmth of his fingers was beginning to do strange things to her, making her go all soft and mushy inside. She couldn’t allow herself to weaken, couldn’t afford to let down her barriers again. She jerked her arm free.
“Look, I’m not interested in dealing with this post-mortem, okay? I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your girlfriend. Let’s just leave the past where it belongs and get on with the task at hand.” She marched away from him, not even sure where she was heading.
Logan quickly caught up with her. “All right, if you don’t want to discuss it, fine by me. So we’re calling a truce, then?”
A truce meant moving on, forgetting the past. But that was easier said than done.
What if she hadn’t lost her cool? Would he have broken up with Tatum for good and gone after her? No. He might have enjoyed kissing Amber in the back seat of his car on an isolated street where no one could see them, but that was all. She couldn’t imagine him asking her out on a date, holding hands with her in public, kissing her in front of his friends. And as for taking her home to meet his parents and introducing her as his girlfriend, the idea was ludicrous.
After the restaurant incident, they had both avoided each other. A few weeks later they had graduated, and Logan had left for the summer—backpacking in Europe, she’d heard—before going to Harvard. They hadn’t spoken again until last week. So much time had passed, and yet the hurt still lingered.
She hardened her heart and pushed the silly pain away. “Sure, over the past we can call a truce, but the future is another matter. I won’t give up my store without a fight.”
“I never thought you’d give up,” he said, making it sound like a compliment. “If there’s one thing I learned from our English class, it’s that you’re a serious competitor.”
But this wasn’t high-school English. This was her livelihood, her independence, her means of supporting her mom. To Logan it was a game; if he lost, there’d be other multi-million dollar deals, other mega centers to occupy him. But it would be foolish to let him see exactly how much it meant to her, or he’d use that against her. She couldn’t afford to show him any weakness.
“That’s right. So this kit of yours had better work out. I’m not putting my name on a pile of crap.”
He cocked his head at her. “Swear jar. I think I’m ahead on that score.”
Damn. She managed not to add another contribution to the swear jar and smiled sweetly at him.
“Do you need any help with those measurements? I’d hate for you to order the wrong size playhouse.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d love a chance to crow over me.”
“Wouldn’t you, if the circumstances were reversed?”
He flashed his killer grin. “Let’s face it, we’re both competitors, but that’s a good thing. It’ll keep us on our toes.”
That wasn’t the only thing to keep her on her toes. She’d have to be on her guard around Logan. They might have called a truce on the past, but the memories she’d just relived were too vivid for comfort. A long time had passed since she’d fallen for Logan’s charms, but the attraction was still there, as potent as ever. Only, this time, she had to resist.
…
Logan glared at the pile of wood lying on the ground before snatching up the piece of paper listing the contents of the kit. The flat-pack had been delivered to the daycare center this morning, several hours ago, and by now he’d expected they would have finished the floor joists at least, but all they had managed were the footings, six timber posts set into the ground with fast-drying concrete. The problem was the list of contents didn’t match what had arrived, and the instructions were even worse, with mystifying diagrams and unintelligible sentences.
Logan threw down the list. “This is total bull”—Amber gave him a warning look, tipping her head toward their audience of curious kids—“gobbledygook! Nothing makes any sense.” Rising to his feet, he whipped his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.
“What are you doing?” Amber asked as she straightened.
“I’m going to call my supplier and give him hell. I can’t believe he shipped me this…this”—he struggled for a word that wouldn’t earn him a swear jar fine—“pile of garbage.”
“And I’m sure he deserves every word, but that’s not going to help us. We need to start erecting this today. I can’t afford to take too much time off from my store. Why don’t we use what we’ve got and figure something out?”
“You mean wing it?” He didn’t like that. He preferred plans and order.
“Sure. Wait here one minute, and I’ll be right back.”
He gazed after her as she wriggled past the fence that ringed the construction site and ran to the daycare center. He had to admit that watching Amber’s denim-clad butt did wonders for his irritation. Not that working with her was smooth sailing. While setting the footings, they had already bickered over numerous things, like how long to stir the concrete mixture and the best way to level the six wooden piles. To be honest, he hadn’t expected her to be so savvy when it came to home improvements. Maybe that was sexist of him, but none of the women he knew enjoyed messing about with wood saws, levels, and bags of cement.
Amber came back, her ponytail swinging in the breeze, clutching several reams of white paper and a handful of crayons. She dumped the lot on a clear patch of grass and knelt down, beckoning him to join her. On the other side of the fence a group of kids crowded closer, craning their necks to see what she was drawing.
A rough sketch of floor, walls, and roof emerged on the paper in bright red, blue, and green as Amber explained her plan.
She sat back on her heels when she was done. “Well? What do you think?”
“It’s pwetty,” a sweet-faced little girl lisped. “But where is the butterfwy?”
“A butterfly? Here it is.” Amber drew a butterfly on one of the walls.
“And a lookout!” a boy with a pirate hat said. “We gotsta have a lookout.”
“Um…” Amber sketched a crow’s nest on the roof. “Something like that, maybe?”
The children leaned in eagerly.
“Can I have a slide?”
“A swing.”
“A choo-choo train.”
“A heffalump.”
Logan stepped in before Amber could give in to all these demands. “Maybe we can include a few of these things,” he said to the children. “We’ll see.”
A tiny little girl stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s what Mom says when she means no.”
The girl drifted away, and the other kids followed her.
Amber lifted her eyebrow at him. “You’ve pissed off our clients.”
“Swear jar,” he said automatically before focusing on her colorful scribbles. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”
…
The sun was lowering in the sky, and all the kids had left for the day when Amber wiped the back of her hand across her brow and stood, stretching the kinks out of her spine. She scowled at the structure before her.
“It sucks,” she declared.
From above, Logan poked his head out of a hole in the roof. Bits of sawdust clung to his hair and sweat gleamed on his forehead. “Don’t say that,” he groaned. “We need to start painting tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Come down here, stand back, and take a look.” She waited until Logan had jumped to the ground and walked to her side before she waved her hand at what they had constructed. “The deck is too narrow, there’s no space for a slide, the roof is a disaster, and I think we need another door.”
“Why another door?”
“For safety. Just think if the playhouse gets too crowded and kids can’t get out because there’s only one door.”
“Mm. You’re right.” He inspected it again. “And I guess you’re right about the other stuff, too. But if you’d listened to me about the roof…”
Her chin lifted. “And if you’d listened to me about the deck…”
They eyed each other, the air heavy with recriminations.
Then Amber groaned. “It’s too hot to argue anymore.”
Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, we’ve been squabbling all afternoon. You’re a very opinionated person. But then, so am I.”
“You seem to bring out the worst in me.”
“The worst? Is it bad to have a strong opinion? I would’ve thought that’s a good thing.”
She laughed, her stomach fluttering uncomfortably. Hearing compliments from Logan made her uneasy, not just because she had to stay on her guard, but also because she found them so flattering.
“Are we agreed that we can’t present this shambles to our kids?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “We can’t. And we can’t let them see this in the morning. We need to fix this today. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure, no problem.” She’d have to call her mom and tell her she’d be delayed. Cristal had had one of her bad days. Unable to work, she had stayed home and slept. These bad days didn’t happen so often now, but they still rattled Amber. She’d planned to spend the evening with Cristal, but now she might not get to the trailer until late, if ever. “I just have to make a phone call and cancel something.”
She walked away, had a brief conversation with her mom, and returned to the site.
Logan was already dismantling the roof. He glanced down at her. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You looked a bit tense. Did you have to break a date?”
“Yeah, something like that,” she said, not wanting to tell him about her mom.
He hefted up a roof truss, his biceps gleaming in the slanting rays. “So you’re seeing someone?”
She frowned at his question, wondering if there was something more behind the casual enquiry. “I’m not dating anyone at the moment, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Logan climbed down and set the truss on the ground near her. He flicked the hair from his eyes and gazed at her. “That’s good to know.” His words and his look seemed loaded with meaning.
She pursed her lips, trying to fight the allure of his green eyes. “Why? What’s it to you whether I’m dating someone or not?”
“It means I don’t have to feel guilty about this thing between us.”
Heat rose in her and spread through her body. “Th
is thing?”
“Yeah, this…connection. Don’t try to deny it.” He was standing very close to her now, and his physical presence began to overwhelm her. His vitality was as palpable as the warmth of the sun, sinking deep into her pores, combining with her own volatile heat.
“Let’s face it, Amber,” he said, his voice a husky invitation. “It’s always been there. It was there in high school, and it’s still present. I think it’s even stronger.”
She should take a step back. She should smirk at him and make some smart-aleck comment. She should treat his remark with the contempt it deserved. But she didn’t do any of these things. She just stared at him, allowing him to weave his web, drowning in the depths of his moss-cool eyes.
He touched her arm. Just one finger, trailing delicately up the soft, sensitive inner side of her arm. She shivered, startled by the pleasure of his touch. Even though the sting of the past still lingered, she couldn’t resist the hold he had over her. Her brain told her to pull her arm away, but her body refused to obey.
Swallowing, she finally found her voice. “Why are you doing this?”
On and on his finger delighted her, tortured her. His fingertip lingered on the pulse at her wrist, making her feel as if he had a direct line to her heart.
“Because it’s too big to ignore.”
She didn’t even try to deny his words. Her senses leaped at his slow caress. Her fingers twitched, eager to touch him, explore him, but she bit down hard on the impulse. “Try harder.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
“It’s a distraction.”
“Don’t we need a distraction from time to time?”
She took a breath. “We don’t even like each other.”
“I disagree.”
“We’re competitors. We want different things.”
His fingers curled around hers. He rubbed his thumb slowly against her palm, and it was the most erotic handholding she’d ever experienced. Desire pooled in her, the measured stroke of his pad triggering sensual fantasies.
