For Kicks (9 page)

“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 hiccupped. “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 be 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.”

“I wish.” She returned to her menu, her mouth watering at all the choices. So often she was relegated to a salad. Though even these salads looked tempting.

“Why are you a vegetarian?”

“I don’t like meat.” A tempeh sandwich sounded heavenly. But then so did the curry.

“What kind?”

“Any of it.” Tamales with blackened tomato sauce. We have a winner. She closed it and examined the dessert menu on the back side.

“Even fish? A lot of vegetarians eat fish.”

“Oh.” She looked up at his quizzical expression. “It’s not a political thing. Eat a cow, I don’t care. I don’t like the texture or flavor really. I think you have to be exposed to it when you’re young to like it.”

“Your whole family is vegetarian?”

“They were. I don’t know if my brothers still are.”

“You haven’t asked lately?” He cast his gaze at his menu, hopefully missing the look of panic that must have crossed her face.

When was the last time she had talked to River? They’d been so close until she left home. She couldn’t remember a word passing between them since. Sky would sometimes answer the phone when she called home. But that was before he moved out. It had been three years since she’d spoken with him. Maybe four.

“Breeze?” Blinking to awareness, she realized Logan and the waiter were both waiting for her to order. She did, smiling at Logan’s choice of the only chicken dish on the menu.

The waiter scrambled away and she followed him with her gaze, taking in the bustle of the kitchen, laughing families and couples surrounding them, and the paintings by local artists hanging on the wall.

“What’s your plan for Tennessee?” She liked the sound of his smooth, deep voice. He made even the most polite of conversations seem interesting.

“I think I’ll follow the schedule next week. I don’t want to cut back the training until after I hear back from corporate. But since Nitrous is on board with the idea, I think they’ll agree with it.”

The waiter returned, setting bread on the table along with the beer and iced tea Logan ordered. An odd combination. Until he slid the tall glass in front of her and told her to try it.

“I never have caffeine after lunch.”

“Never say never. Just try it. You can only get sweet tea in the South. I don’t know why, but it never tastes right anywhere else.”

“Sweetened iced tea?” Breeze pulled a face, but decided it would be much faster to take a sip than argue the point. The mellow sweetness slid over her tongue. “That’s not bad.”

“Drink up. After Friday you won’t be able to get it made right.”

“What’s Friday?” she asked, taking another long sip.

“Your tour of the Southwest. Why do they have you bounce from the Midwest to the South, and then the Southwest to the East? And why does California take a week?”

“Oh, my itinerary. Each region has their own schedule, so I’m at their mercy. And we have forty stores in California. Though only four best-sets. If management agrees to the new training program, I’ll change my flight and go home a day early.”