The sooner he flew home the better. Boston. That was reality. This was just a fantasy for the both of them. A respite from the crazy busy lives they led.
Even if his heart wanted it to be something more than that.
Chapter Four
“The zoning committee has turned our late license down,” Paris told Logan, gritting her teeth as she stomped into his makeshift office at the back of the restaurant they were renovating.
Logan looked up from the table he was using as a desk, his laptop open in front of him. “It’s been a bad day here, too. The electricity in here is kaput. They’re gonna have to rip out the walls to see where the loose connection is. And the shelves we ordered from Italy are stuck in customs. I’m trying to work out who to bribe.”
Paris leaned on the wall and let out a long sigh. Her long dark hair was pulled back, revealing her exotic bone structure and almond shaped eyes. As always, she was exquisitely dressed, wearing a pair of black cigarette pants and skyscraper green stilettos, along with a gauzy white blouse that left nothing to the imagination.
He’d met Paris five years ago, when he was looking at opening his first restaurant and needed investors. They’d been introduced by a mutual friend and they’d hit it off immediately. It was crazy really. She was a trust fund baby born and bred in exclusive Beacon Hill. Had been to prep school followed by Radcliffe and then a year traveling Europe.
He, on the other hand, had scraped his way through college thanks to a small scholarship and financial aid. He hadn’t planned on that. An accident at sixteen had ended the football career he’d planned to share with his brother. His vision of a full sports scholarship followed by a lustrous career had disappeared in one horrible collision followed by an eight hour surgery.
A different man might have looked at Cam’s glittering career and wondered what could have been. But Logan didn’t have time for that. He was too busy trying to rise to the top of Boston’s restaurant industry. As though he needed to prove to himself he was still somebody, even if he wasn’t the somebody he thought he was going to be.
“I’ve got a contact on the zoning committee. I’ll see if they’re free for dinner tonight to help that issue along,” Paris said, tipping her head to the side. “You look tired. Have you been getting any sleep?”
Her voice had the short clipped vowels native to New England. She’d teased him about his southern twang when they’d first met, and he’d teased her right back. Maybe that’s why they worked together so well. Neither of them took themselves too seriously.
And they both worked like dogs.
“We had the inspectors stop in at Touch of Class yesterday,” Logan told her, referring to their restaurant in Back Bay. “I want to make an action plan to address their concerns.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Was it bad?”
“Nah. But I don’t want to give them any reason to come back. It’s disruptive. That place is fully booked for the next six weekends. I want the staff to concentrate on the customers.”
Paris walked around the table and put her hands on his shoulders, digging her fingers in to loosen the knots. “You need to relax.”
“I’m okay,” he told her. “I’ll probably go to the gym later. Box it out.”
“Well it’s either that or sex.” Paris laughed, tossing her long, sleek ponytail over her shoulder. “You’re just as bad as I am. Though I’ve got my eye on this guy from Beacon Hill.” She glanced at her watch, then brushed her lips against his cheek. “Don’t work too hard. I need you alive for our next project. There’s this amazing warehouse in South End that’ll be coming on the market soon. They’ve promised to let us see it first. It’s the perfect location for the next restaurant.”
He felt a little tingle in his spine. They were expanding aggressively, but he liked that. Growing their empire made him tick. It was who he was, what he did.
For the past five years it had defined him.
“Send me the details when you have them,” he told her with a nod.
“Of course.” She gave him a grin. “Now go and sort out that customs problem. I’ll talk to you later.” She blew him a kiss and walked out of the door, pulling it closed behind her.
Logan collapsed back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled. For the past few weeks he’d felt on edge, and it had nothing to do with the restaurant or the electric or even the damn customs problem. He dealt with that stuff every single day. He was good at what he did – one of the best, and that wasn’t boasting. It was just the reality of working eighty-plus hours a week in the industry he loved.
He let his head fall back, his eyelids closing as he took a deep breath. And in the darkness of his vision he saw her. Courtney. The way she’d looked beneath him in her bed. With her dark curls spilling out across the sheets and her piercing blue eyes trained on him. Almost immediately the strange twist in his gut relented, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed.
She was fresh air. The light to the shadows of his life. Maybe that’s what he needed to make himself feel complete again.
A night with the country girl who made him think life could sometimes be simple. If only he’d let it.
Logan pulled the phone from his pocket and quickly tapped out a message.
I’ll be in town the weekend after next. Are you free to meet?
It took five minutes for the reply to come back. Five minutes of him shifting in his seat and trying to concentrate on the laptop in front of him. And as soon as his phone buzzed, he snatched it up and stared at the screen.
Yes I am.