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“I mean, if you were my girlfriend …”
Logan’s gaze takes a slow tour of my face, then down my neck—veering back up just before it dips below my collarbone.
Aaron Wagners of the world, take note! A man does not have to have a staring contest with a woman’s boobs to make her feel wanted. I feel more desired from one hot but PG-rated look from Logan than Ieverhave.
Not that Logandesiresme.
I’m sure he’s just, like … scoping out the territory of his potential fake girlfriend. Or something.
“If you were my girlfriend,” Logan says then, his voice gravely and low, “there would be alotof physical contact.”
I tap my pen on the sticky pad, trying to look serious and thoughtful. Like a scientist doing research. Not as though my insides are melting down like a nuclear reactor with an unstable core.
Is hetryingto make me react? Logandidalways like to tease me. Though it was nothing like this.
This feels less like teasing and more like … flirting.
Wait—is Logan flirting with me?
Doesn’t matter! It does not matter if he’s flirting because this is serious, fake-dating business. Focus, Parker!
“What kind of physical contact do we need to discuss?” I am proud of how steady and even my voice is. My pen is poised over the sticky note, ready to write. Hopefully Logan doesn’t notice how hard the tip is pressing into the paper. Or see straight through me to see how woefully little physical contact I’ve done in my life. “Maybe you should be specific so we can make an informed decision.”
Logan’s lips twitch in a half smile. “You want me to be specific about my physical contact with my girlfriends?”
I can’t help it. I physically recoil. So much for poise.
“Ew—I mean,no. I don’t need details aboutthat.” It takes great effort not to throw up in my mouth at the idea.
Logan laughs, and I want to punch him. “You look like you want to barf. Is the idea of getting physical with me so revolting?”
The opposite, actually. Thankfully, I’ve regained some small modicum of poise and don’t blurt that out.
But not enough poise to keep me from saying, “No! Just the idea of you with all those women is … unpleasant.”
“Calm down. I didn’t datethatmany women, Pete.”
“Whatever.” I wave a hand. “I don’t want to talk about your dating history.”
Yourlongdating history. With women who are or look like models or actresses and make good eye candy.
“Actually, there’s not much to talk about.” Logan crosses his arms over his chest.
I raise one eyebrow. An accusing one.
“Ah,” he says, nodding. “You’ve seen pictures in the tabloids. And you assumed any woman photographed with me waswithme.”
“I try not to assume anything.” But yes, actually, I did assume the pictures were telling a thousand words I didn’t want to readorsee. “Can we get back to our physical boundaries, please?”
“Absolutely. But, since you brought it up and seem bothered, I’d like to clear the air.” Logan waits until my gaze snags on his before he continues. “You can’t believe most of what you see or read in the gossip magazines. I really haven’t dated all that much. And I’ve never had a serious girlfriend.”
I wave a hand. “Don’t care.”
Oh, I care. A lot.
And I am more relieved than I’ll ever admit knowing Logan wasn’t really romantically involved with the women he’s been pictured with over the years. At least, notallof them. Now I’d love tonevertalk about this subject again.
But Logan keeps going. “I actually haven’t dated at all since my injury.”
