Good. He liked it when she got a little lippy at him. So much better than the scared look he’d seen a couple too many times for comfort.
“A fossil. You can’t carry that thing out of there. It’s like Sputnik.”
He picked up the ice-cream carton near the keyboard and lifted off the lid. His body tightened. This was it, the source of her edible, sweet scent. He read the label and put it back down.
She reappeared wheeling a suitcase behind her, her cheeks slightly flushed like she’d been in a hurry. The pink suited her.
“It’s not that big.” She frowned at him.
Well no, not big in a good, million pixels screen big. He shook his head. “You can use my computer.”
“You can’t bear to have a gadget less than a six months old in your presence?”
“Actually, I quite like retro,” he said loftily. “But that’s just garbage. I won’t put it in my car.” There was a hell of a lot of garbage in this place.
“Then I’m not coming with you.”
“Yes, you’re coming,” he said sending her a pointed look. He had to bite down on both his smile and the urge to set about making her come here and now. His body was tight and jumpy. He ached to haul her to him—feel those curves pressing close.
It had been too long. And it was so, so wrong.
Her eyes widened. He realized the silence between them had become epic, and he was staring at her like he was a blind man granted vision for only a minute and he was drinking in the most beautiful memory.
Shit. It really had been way too long.
“That computer might look old.” She suddenly moved forward, her gaze lowering. “But it’s been totally rebuilt on in the inside. It’s faster than any of your gleaming shit.”
“Looks are deceptive, huh?” He glanced down at her old clothes and then waved her ugly slippers at her. “Good to know.”
Abruptly she turned away and picked up a school exercise book from underneath the keyboard. He felt disappointed that she hadn’t risen to his challenge. Then he read the large block letting on the front of the book with growing horror.
PASSWORDS.
Seriously? Hunter would have a fit.
“I didn’t think you were supposed to write passwords down,” he commented, once more unable to resist the urge to bait her.
She rolled her eyes. “You clearly don’t think at all.”
He chuckled, pleased that she’d bitten back this time. “I can’t help it, it’s the model in me.”
“All beauty and brawn, no brain?”
“So it would seem. I take it you’re not impressed by my modeling.” He sure wasn’t. But today’s exercise in agony was the last photo shoot. It was time for the professionals to take over.
The active-wear company had been his brainchild after the accident that had ended his skiing. The accident that in many ways he was glad off. He’d finally gotten away. The business had been something to put his time, energy and yes, money into. He’d needed to do something that would help support Connor, but that he could do miles away from Summerhill itself. “You think it’s vain of me?”
“No. I understand why you do it, for the business. You’re the b-brand. The lifestyle. ‘Buy my clothes and you can be like me’,” she said in that soft voice.
“And that’s a bad thing?” he queried. Her disapproval was far too thinly veiled and annoyed him more than it should.
“I imagine lots of young m-m-men would like to be like you.”
He turned away but she must have caught his grimace because she followed him.
“You don’t like being you?” she asked.
Her green eyes were too cool. Too piercing and he wasn’t admitting to anything.
“My life is amazing,” he said blandly. “I have no complaints.”
“So why push this ridiculous engagement then? If you’re not embarrassed.”
“Stop trying to make me change my mind, it isn’t going to work. In fact...” he turned and looked at her, amusement and attraction thrumming through his veins. It felt good. He felt good for the first time in months. “The more you talk, the more convinced I am this is the best course of action.”
“This isn’t going to limit your lifestyle?” she asked, a whisper again.
He knew what she meant. Other women. She had no idea he’d been off the boil for a while. And he wasn’t about to tell her. He liked teasing her too much. “Why should it?”
She sent him a foul look and he laughed. “I’m happy to be ‘off the market’ for a while.”
“I didn’t think you were on the market—not for real. You’re more of a toy, aren’t you?”
“I’d be careful if I were you.” He walked up to her, had to get close. “You might find out how dangerous a ‘toy’ like me might be.”
Her eyes widened. The pink in her cheeks deepened. But she held her ground. He smiled. He could feel the sparks shooting between them, it was a wonder he couldn’t see them. He was sure she was aware of it as he. At the very least he was going to have to make her admit to this attraction.
“You play games in every aspect of your life?” she asked. “You like to take risks?”
Oh yeah, she was very aware of the pull between them.
He took another slow step closer. “I’m decisive.”
“And you never concede a mistake?
”
“I make mistakes.” So many. He was probably making one now. “But I refuse to regret them.”
“And you find that easy?”
Logan stared at Min. His progression towards her halted. How had she done that—flipped this from the beginnings of let’s-get-busy flirt, to a serious, pointed, personal question that struck too close to the bone? One he couldn’t answer glibly.
Because, no. It wasn’t easy. He didn’t like the lump of ice carving into his heart. He didn’t like to remember he had a heart. What he was best at, was teasing fun and taking risks. At keeping things playful.
“You really don’t think you like me.” He deliberately spoke as softly as she did.
“I don’t think?” Her brows shot high.
“You don’t know me well enough to form an opinion yet.”
“I know you’re arrogant, spontaneous, demanding.”
True. “Surely all good things.”
“A fantasist,” she added quickly. “An egotistical idiot who thinks of no one but himself.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not insisting on this engagement for myself.”
She took a step closer in surprise. “You’re doing it for me?”
“Partly,” he nodded. “So some gratitude might be nice. If I tell the truth, let the world know how badly you’ve screwed up, then your business is dead in the water. I’m protecting you. And I’m protecting my family from further embarrassment.”
“You care about your family?” She looked diverted.
He hesitated. Hot damn, she was persistent with the personal. He turned away and picked up her bag. “I care about my brother and sister.”
“But not your parents?”
Logan didn’t answer the question. “You’ll have to use my shiny, crappy computer. You forgot to mention that I’d need a truck to get yours out.”
“Fine,” she answered, way too meekly for comfort.
He followed her out of her apartment, happily slamming the door behind them and trudging slowly down the stairs. How the hell had they gotten to talking about his frigging family? He never discussed them—not beyond a brief upsell of the resort if he had to. But anything personal about them?