For Kicks Page 7

  “And why is that a bad thing?”

  “We’ve been over this, but if you’d prefer I can do a bullet point presentation.” She clutched her mug tighter and prepared to make her escape.

  “Tell me again. We’re two responsible adults, so attracted to each other we’re having a hard time thinking straight. But you keep coming up with all these hurdles. Saying we work together, which we don’t. Saying you don’t usually date when I’m not concerned with usually, I’m concerned with now.”

  “And what about later?” she asked, her voice betraying her by cracking.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You love the chase, Logan. I think that’s what is making you feel this way. What happens when you catch me? Then what?”

  Silence hung between them, like the squiggles of dust dancing in the streaming sunlight. Her skin chilled as her heartbeat slowed. She waited.

  For words that never came.

  “It’s nice of you to offer to have dinner with me, but I have a lot of work to do.”

  “You mean the progress meeting with me? We can do that over dinner.”

  “I’d rather not.” Act casual. Don’t let him know he just crushed my hopes like an ant under his thumb. “Besides I need to do some laundry, repack and get the concierge to ship the other suitcase back. I don’t want to lug them both around.”

  “I’ll take one back with me on Monday.”

  She grabbed a handful of muffins. “You’ve done too much already.”

  Breeze marched to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She set her breakfast on the desk, the books and flash cards taunting her. She knew exactly what she thought of them now.

  With one fell swoop, she cleared the desk, tossing her dreams in the garbage.

  Then what? What next? Damned if he knew. Logan liked playing things by ear, doing what felt right at the time. And right now Breeze just felt right.

  He sat frozen on the table, trying to force his mind to think long term. Past the end of this visit, this project, this year. He knew he wanted to keep feeling the way he felt around her. A strange blend of calm and excitement, relaxation and exhilaration.

  Unexplainable, but undeniable.

  He listened to every subtle sound as she showered and prepared for her day. Long hours away from him, where they’d both have time to talk themselves out of what they both wanted.

  He wanted her. On a level he had no frame of reference for and was more than a little uncomfortable with. He couldn’t rein it in or rationalize it the way she did. But then, he had a hard time putting anything off until tomorrow. He’d learned too soon that sometimes tomorrow never came.

  Sliding off the table, he walked silently across the floor. His hand stalled on her doorknob and then rose to rap his knuckles on the hard wood.

  She ignored his first attempt at knocking. By his fourth try he’d switched from knuckles to the side of his fist.

  “Would you stop that.” Breeze pulled open the door as his fist was about to connect, freezing his hand in midair. She stood before him, mountains of curls piling over her head. “With all that racket, someone is going to complain.”

  “Your hair.”

  She capped her head with her hands, pressing down the mass. “I know. This is what happens when I blow it dry. I become a poodle.”

  “It’s neat.” He reached out and wrapped a silken curl around his finger. “You should wear it down more often.”

  “I hate it down.” She turned on her heel and marched back to the bathroom. He followed as far as the perfectly made bed and perched himself on the edge.

  “I like it.” He stopped short of telling her why, that it looked perfect for tangling his fingers in, that it looked like they’d just gone a couple rounds the fun way.

  “It’s a lot of work,” she said from behind the partially closed door.

  “You could cut it. That would be faster.” But please don’t.

  “No, that would be curlier. I have to keep it long to weigh down the curl.”

  “Lucky me.”

  He waited for her to emerge from the bathroom, looking around her room at the neat piles of clothes. When did she find the time to completely organize every moment of her life?

  This must be how she got so much done. She didn’t stop to think or, God forbid, feel. The desk where her books were stacked yesterday was clear and clean. Even that bit of clutter exorcised from her life.

  “Did you call your mom?” he called into the abyss, hoping it would get a reaction from her big enough to enter the room.

  “Not yet.” She emerged from the bathroom, her hair subdued into a French braid.

  Logan couldn’t stifle his laughter.

  “What is it?” She put her hand on her hip.

  “I feel like a cradle robber. You look about fifteen in your sundress and cardigan with your hair pulled back.”

  “I know, I hate it,” she grumbled, stepping around to the other side of the bed and surveying the piles of fabric.

  “You could take your clothes off. There’s nothing childish about the body underneath.”

  “Logan.” She gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You’ve never seen me naked. And you won’t either.”

  “Sure I have.” He tapped his temple. “Let me tell you about my dream last night and then you can make it come true.”

  Both hands flew to her hips. “You know what—”

  “I answered your question wrong out there.”

  “You answered honestly. That’s all I can expect.”

  “No, I was scared to say what I wanted to because you’re stomping all over me at every turn.”

  “Well, I have to. Your behavior is unprofessional and inappropriate. And what you keep pushing for, if it got out, it would ruin me.”

  “How?”

  “How? People will say I got this project on my back.”

  “You’re here because you are more prepared than anyone else. It has nothing to do with me.”

  “The truth and what people believe are often two different things.” She sorted through the clothes, placing them in new piles. “And if Mendelssohn’s loses another chance at exclusivity with Nitrous, and my managers believe a personal relationship had anything to do with it, I’ll be fired for fraternizing with a vendor.”

  “Nitrous is a multi-billion dollar international footwear conglomerate. I’m one link in the chain. I couldn’t affect the relationship with Mendelssohn’s either way.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why—”

  “You’re not hearing me. It’s not reality that matters, but perception. And I’ve worked too hard to be perceived as someone who lies down to get ahead. Once you are labeled that way, it’s the only way to move ahead. And so my career would be permanently stalled.”

  “So no one can know.” Logan nodded, wishing she weren’t so preoccupied with her wardrobe. But then, he guessed she was trying to keep busy, trying not to think about everything he was. About how much she was really risking. “I don’t like it, but I get it. For how long?”

  She hugged the folded sweater against her middle and finally lifted her gaze to his. “After the product launch, at least. When I get back you can give me a call. If you’re still interested.”

  “I don’t think so.” He slid off the bed and stalked to where she stood. So close he could smell the grapefruit of her shampoo. In a few hours it would blend with her to a crisp citrus smell, but now he could discern her from the fragrance.

  “Logan,” she warned and stepped back, almost falling backwards on the bed. Too bad.

  “I won’t wait that long.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you.” Her hissed whisper held her fear.

  “Fine. But you’re not putting me off either.” An almost violent surge of need filled his chest. He reached out, framed her face in his hands and tilted her mouth up.

  She turned her face and squeezed her eyes shut tight. “Please, don’t kiss me.”

  His heart hicc
upped. “I can’t make you do anything. But I want you to take a chance, live in the moment, forget all your rules and trust me to keep you safe.”

  “I can’t.” Her chin quivered and he released her face and pulled her against his chest, engulfing her tiny frame in his arms. “It’s all I have left.”

  “What is?”

  “My work. I don’t expect you to understand, but I can’t risk it. If I lose it, I have nowhere to go.”

  “Work is too important to you. You have me, and a family and friends.”

  “I work with my friends.” This conversation had taken an entirely too personal, almost intimate turn. She wriggled in his grasp. He let her break free and step to the side. The river of emotions between them was running too fast to try and cross.

  “I can keep a secret. And show you that you are more than just your job title.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “No, you think too much. This will work out fine, you’ll see. Starting with dinner. Tonight.”

  Chapter Seven

  Brilliant. Or it would be if she’d thought of it sooner. Breeze typed up her daily progress report at top speed, the tapping of the laptop keys echoing in her ears. She’d decided to train all the footwear department managers in the district at once instead of traveling to their individual stores and training the floor staff. She had to trust the department managers to train their own teams, but she had faith that they could do the job. And the process could be used whenever there was a major training event.

  The class took longer to show the different training strategies, but it would save her a lot of time in the long run. If it worked, she’d give almost half the number of training sessions. She’d still have to travel to all the best-sets, but after the initial classes, her job would be done.

  Her heart sank as her fingers flailed. More time on her hands was not what she needed. She was bored out of her mind already. But this would be much more effective. Giving the department managers ownership would instigate a pride in the project, making it a success.

  She needed it to be successful. Good numbers and an exclusivity renewal from Nitrous would all but guarantee she’d be promoted. And she needed the validation like she needed to breathe. She needed every personal sacrifice to be worth something.

  The front door opened and she straightened in her chair at the dining table. Though she’d wondered where Logan was when she arrived back at the hotel an hour ago, she appreciated the reprieve from his constant onslaught. Even when the man did nothing she felt his desire for her. It was as if she could read his mind.

  Which of course she couldn’t. Didn’t want to. She didn’t need this complication in her life. And Breeze was through using up her emotional energy on the situation. She forced her fingers to continue typing, though her pace slowed. Too much of her mind was caught up in counting the steps he made to the table, to listening to his shoes against the floor, to the rustle of whatever it was he must be holding.

  “What are you working on?” His words vibrated through her, his voice light and happy. Was that what so captivated her about him? That he was intrinsically happy?

  She blinked hard. No more mental energy. “My progress report. As soon as I’m finished, we’ll go over it.”

  “Good. Let me get this out of the way.” She turned her head to see his meaning. In his hands were two huge white bags. Her eyes widened with each step he took towards her bedroom.

  “What are you doing?” Trying not to show her rising panic at his silence, she finished the last two sentences of her report and pressed save.

  Then repeated the question.

  No answer.

  E-mailing the report would have to wait until she got a response from Logan.

  In her bare feet, she tried not to run through the open door. Piles of neatly folded laundry covered her bed. Logan pulled a white mesh bra from the bag and added it to a pile of unmentionables.

  “What are you doing?” She resisted the urge to hide her underwear beneath a pillow.

  “I’m not packing for you.” He turned to the closet and pulled open the door. “I can barely fit my stuff into one of those tiny cases you use.” Grabbing a handful of hangers he turned back to the bed. “How you plan on getting all this into two is beyond me.”

  “Do you not hear me, or are you trying to be annoying?”

  “What?” He raised his gaze to hers, his smile making her stomach quiver.

  “What are you doing?” Besides mixing the clean smell of laundry with your sexy cologne so that I’ll be able to smell you and think of you every time I get dressed?

  “Eliminating an excuse. You said you didn’t have time for dinner because of laundry. Laundry done. Now you can go to dinner.” He turned back to the closet and pulled out a red dress. One of Anthony’s bright ideas. Dim bulb. “Wear this.”

  “I don’t wear red.” Or anything with a neckline that low. High hemlines she could handle in the sake of seeming taller. But plunging necklines held no redemptive value.

  “Why?”

  “It makes people look at you. And I hate that.” She stepped to the bed and surveyed his work. Everything washable was now clean, giving the room that fresh laundry smell.

  “Ah.” He tucked it back into the closet. “That’s why you twist up your hair.”

  “No, that’s practical. Did you charge the laundry service to the room?”

  “They couldn’t guarantee it would be back in time. But they have two machines in the gym area and little vending machines for soap and everything.”

  “Wow.” He’d done her laundry. Personally touching her things. Sweet and a little scary.

  “So you owe me two hours.”

  She looked away from his possessing grin, busying her hands with laundry.

  “And I’m going to start collecting as soon as we’re done with the report.”

  “Logan, I really appreciate the help.”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t you but me.”

  “What?” She stifled her laugh and walked to the closet, pulling out Anthony’s floral suitcase and her plain black one.

  “You were about to but. You’ve had all day to come up with a new set of excuses. I don’t want to hear them. What I want is for us to have a nice meal. Relax, laugh and enjoy each other.”

  “I don’t want you to think—”

  “I don’t want you to think either. I’m going to shower.” He brushed past her, so close she felt his warmth even though he didn’t touch her.

  Laundry was a welcome diversion. She sorted everything into place, deciding what could go back and what she’d need for the next leg of the trip. Zipping the cases shut, she tucked them away in the closet and returned to her computer.

  She proofed and e-mailed the report, using the printer in the office area to make two copies. Logan hadn’t emerged from his room yet, and there was no way she was going into his bedroom after him, so she went through her e-mail.

  One by one, she went through two pages of questions about the roll out, floor-plan questions from Anthony, scheduling issues from Christy and Glen. Her mind was so submerged in work, she didn’t know Logan was there until he placed his broad hands on her shoulders and dug his thumbs gently into the muscles that held the weight of her world.

  “Are you always this tense?”

  Only when I’m around you, she thought about saying. But it wasn’t true. He did everything he could to make her life easier. Conversation, a nicer room, laundry.

  Why was she fighting him so hard? When he was this close she could barely remember. Her reasons for fighting him seemed to be blowing away with every exhale.

  She allowed her head to droop ever so slightly, showing a tiny hint of surrender. Sometimes she found the façade too hard to keep up. Her head drooped farther as she allowed herself the decadence of his hands on her. Closing her eyes, she soaked him up like the thirsty sponge she was, feeling his hands, smelling his scent, sensing his breath nearing her neck.

  How easy it would b
e to simply melt into him. But that would get her nowhere. She had willpower, was strong enough to resist the temptation he offered. She took one last deep breath and slowly straightened back up.

  “Thanks,” she said, trying to shrug him off. His fingers continued to work.

  “Almost done?”

  “The e-mail is never ending when I travel. But I’m at a stopping point.” She tried to straighten, to show him she didn’t want the massage to continue. But her body had other plans, tilting her neck to the side so he could work on the knot in her shoulder that felt like a rock.

  “Okay. So tell me the progress.”

  “I printed out copies for us to go over.” And she should pop up and get them, but his hands felt amazing, better than in her dreams, and she’d been dreaming of him a lot.

  “You’re right here. You don’t need to read it to me, and I don’t need to look at your bar graphs and pie charts. Just tell me.”

  Her eyes closed involuntarily as his thumbs dug into the knot. She gave up her formality and recapped the report without thinking, almost like emptying her mind.

  “That’s a smart idea. It would give you more time to yourself.”

  The pressure on her shoulder grew warmer, wetter. Breeze sat up with a start, realizing it wasn’t his hands working on her muscles anymore. His mouth trailed to her ear, nibbling on the lobe.

  “Logan, we can’t.” No matter how badly she wanted to right now. She’d hate herself later, when everyone was snickering at her.

  “We can. And we will.” Hot breath puffed against her ear. “But you have to wait.”

  “Wait?” The word escaped her before she realized it proved her compliance.

  “I’m going to make you beg.”

  “This isn’t what I expected.” Placing her napkin in her lap, Breeze opened the menu.

  “And what were you expecting, Miss Cohen?”

  “From you? Candles, roses and strolling violinists.” She peeked over her menu and watched him laugh. “You try very hard.”

  “This place wasn’t easy to find. Lexington isn’t known for its vegetarian fare. It’s not like the West Coast, where an avocado sandwich is a menu staple.”