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“I’m forty-one. How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
I purposefully place myself ten years below him. If he knew I was only twenty-two, he’d probably run for the mountains.
Not that I’m expecting anything to happen, but he’s good for my ego at the moment.
“Thirty-one?” He looks me up and down. “You must have some good genes. You don’t look a day over twenty.”
“Thank you.” I take another sip of my drink.
“Garrett, I’ll have a scotch, neat. Macallan if you have it.”
“Anything for you, Mr. Templeton.” Garrett gets to work on the drink.
Logan’s not wearing a wedding ring, which doesn’t surprise me, given how strong he’s coming on. But if he is out of town on business, he may have just taken it off.
“Are you married?” I ask blatantly.
He lifts his left hand. “You see a ring on this finger?”
“No, but that wasn’t the question.”
He chuckles softly, a low rumble. “I’m not married, beautiful. Are you?”
“Do you see a ring on this finger?” I hold up my hand in front of his, allowing our fingertips to barely touch.
No ring, but I am wearing the pendant Dave bought me in Paris. Right now it’s burning as if it’s branding my flesh.
Logan grins. “No, I don’t.”
I take another sip. “I’ll be honest with you, though. I just got out of a relationship.”
“Now that is interesting.” He trails his finger over my forearm. “Because I did too.”
Again a tiny spark skitters across my flesh, but it’s nothing compared to the fireworks that erupt inside me when David Simpson is near.
But Dave Simpson isn’t here. Something came up—something clearly so important that he couldn’t even bother to text me and tell me he had to break our date.
Garrett slides Logan’s scotch in front of him.
“Thank you.” Logan slides a hundred-dollar bill across the table.
Maybe I’ve been hanging around with the Steels too much, but the hundred-dollar bill doesn’t even make my eyes widen.
“So you want to get out of here?” Logan asks.
I swallow, tamping down the nervousness erupting in me. “I think I’d like to finish my drink.”
“Okay. Let’s finish our drinks.” He looks out a nearby window. “The night is young, after all.”
“What are you suggesting?” I ask.
“Maybe some dinner?” he says. “And then who knows?”
“Dinner sounds nice,” I say.
“There’s a great restaurant here in the hotel. Would you care to join me?”
