Once I caught my breath and my legs stopped shaking, I shifted my stance. I didn’t want this moment to end, but I knew it had to. Logan pulled out of me and I turned around. Perhaps conveniently, perhaps not, he twisted to take care of the condom.

I leaned against the table and watched him. I thought about gathering my clothes. I should have been embarrassed standing there naked, but I wasn’t.

He wrapped the very used condom in a napkin and tossed it in the trash can near the bar. Focusing on the task at hand, he slipped into his boxers and started to gather the rest of our clothes. I should have helped him, but something kept me glued to where I stood. I thought now that the act of intimacy was complete and the tension between us eased, he’d just toss me mine.

Imagine my surprise when he crossed the room. That tension that I thought was gone was stronger than ever. We both felt it. I know we did. The draw to touch other, the need to feel each other, to somehow know each other, was stronger than ever. Denying it would be futile.

With the same tenderness I’d felt from him earlier, Logan tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and then shocked me by looking into my eyes. I didn’t know what I saw in this, but I wanted to know.

I opened my mouth to say something. What, I had no idea. Before I could, he broke our intense connection by lowering his lips to mine in a soft kiss. His lips lightly moved against mine. There was no tongue, no clashing of teeth, and still it made me shudder.

When he broke away, he handed me my clothes and started dressing himself. “I need to get to the boutique. I don’t want you to leave and go to O’Shea’s until I’m back. Okay?”

The room smelled of sex; we smelled of sex. We weren’t even fully dressed and he was leaving? I wasn’t needy by any means, but I felt a little disappointed. I stared at him as he shoved his legs through his pant legs. “Yes, of course. We’ll wait for you to get back.”

Pulling his shirt over his head, he paused before tugging it all the way down. “Are you all right?”

I snapped out of my daze and started dressing. Not really. I didn’t know what I was, but what else could I say? “Yes. I just feel ridiculous about this whole missing-garage-door-opener thing. I doubt it’s in my other purse. You’re probably wasting your time.”

He zipped up his sweatshirt and picked up his keys and mine. I thought he’d head toward the door, but instead he strode over to me. When he was standing right in front of me he said, “No, I’m not. Just because a few hours quietly passed doesn’t mean anything has changed. O’Shea is in a load of shit and there will be consequences if things don’t go the way Patrick wants them to go. That’s why we need to get ahead of this.” He put his hands on my upper arms. “You need to find out what O’Shea has promised to deliver.”

I nodded. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

Seemingly satisfied with my response, his expression changed. Logan was now looking at me in a new and different way. It was that way men look at women when they know they have a hold on them—half boyish charm, half devilish mischief. “Then we’ll talk even later tonight.”

I got the look then.

And I was more than up to a late-night “chat.”

“I’d better go,” he said.

I nodded. “Wait,” I called.

He froze at the door.

Not certain what he thought I wanted, I tossed out, “Don’t you want your hat and sunglasses?”

“No, I’m good.”

And then he was gone—out the door without a single glance back.

Again, I felt disappointed.

What did I want from him?

Nothing, I told myself.

But I knew it was a lie.

LOGAN

I was like a junkie.

I knew I should stop, but I just couldn’t seem to get enough. She was a drug and I was hooked. Withdrawal was going to be a bitch when this was over. She’d gotten under my skin. In my head. It was a fact I couldn’t ignore. It was a fact I needed to be mindful of.

I sniffed and cleared my mind of all thoughts of her—for now.

Pulling out my phone, I looked at the three missed calls and called my father.

“Logan?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I’ve been calling you.”

“Sorry. I was kind of tied up.”

“We need to talk.”

“I know. Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

There was a closing of a door. “Don’t worry about it. Listen, I just got back from Brighton Place. Killian was a little wound up.”

I held my breath, hoping my father hadn’t told him what we discussed. “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. He seemed restless. The nurses said he’d been put on a new medication and that could be why.”

Phew. I took the turn a little too fast and had to lay on the brakes. “Are you going to be in the office in the morning?”

I could hear the sound of bags rustling through the line. “Yes, I have a nine A.M. meeting.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I just went grocery shopping. I figured you’d be in town all week and hoped you’d come for dinner a few of the nights. How about we start with tomorrow night.”

Guilt nagged me. I shouldn’t have taken off on him yesterday. “I’ll try, but listen, we need to discuss O’Shea. I’ll be by in the morning after your appointment.”

“Okay, Logan, but nothing has changed.”

Traffic was light and I got to Charles Street fast. “Let’s talk then. ’Bye, Pop.”

“Goodbye, son.” He sounded worried. I hated that he did, but I also knew it wasn’t going to get any better anytime soon.

What we had to do wasn’t going to be easy.

Most shops at this end of Charles Street were closed on Sunday, so the area was pretty deserted. As soon as I put the SUV in park and glanced up, I saw movement inside Elle’s boutique.

Gun ready, I crept down the empty street until I got to the window where a sign read, closed. Peering in, I rolled my eyes and relaxed. Peyton was hunched over the counter, staring into a box.

Relieved, I tucked my gun back inside my waistband and rapped on the door. She didn’t look up and I noticed a pair of earphones in her ears. The door was unlocked, so I walked in.

“Peyton,” I called casually. I didn’t want to frighten her, but she was so absorbed in her work, she still hadn’t looked my way.

She had a yellow pad of paper to her side and a pencil tucked behind her ear. She glanced up and practically jumped. Realizing it was me, she pulled her earphones from her ears and placed a hand over her heart. “Logan, you scared the living shit out of me.”

Feeling bad, I raised my hands to ease her fears. “Sorry about that. I knocked.”

She took off her red-framed glasses and set them down. “What are you doing here?”

“Elle asked me to stop by and grab her purse. She left it here and needed something from it.”

Peyton pulled her lip into her mouth and mischief glimmered in her eyes. “Did she now?”

The diamond chip in her nose sparkled. I had to give it to her—she was a spunky little thing. She couldn’t be any taller than five foot three nor could she weigh more than a hundred pounds, but her presence wasn’t one anyone would look past. With a grin, I answered. “Yes, she did.”

She raised her brows in suggestively, practically wiggling them in a way that let me know she was assuming that we’d got it on and was happy about it.

I wasn’t a kiss-and-tell kind of guy, so I gave her nothing more.

Still, she waited until it was clear there would be no further information, then sighed and circled the counter to open a drawer. Setting the black bag in front of her, she smirked. “Look at that—it appears she did leave it here.”

Feeling validated that she believed me, I walked toward her.

The pencil that was behind her ear was now tapping the counter. “Since you’re here, could you help me with something before you leave?”