She felt a similar feeling when she saw Logan waiting for her on the other side of the doors. He was wearing a dark blue suit and lighter striped shirt, his phone in one hand as he scanned the incoming arrivals.
As soon as he saw her, his lips lifted into a grin. He shoved his phone into his pocket and raised his hand, and she found herself smiling back at him.
“Hey,” he said when she reached him. He kissed her cheek, his lips soft. “How was your flight?”
“It went quick,” she told him as he took the handle of her suitcase. “It felt like I barely sat down before we landed. I didn’t even get a chance to finish my book.” She patted her purse, where she’d put the paperback when the pilot announced their descent. “Hopefully I will on the way back.”
He hooked his arm around her waist, leading her toward the exit. “I thought we’d drop your things off at my apartment first. Then we can head somewhere for dinner.” God, he smelled good. Warm and woodsy and so very Logan. She loved the way she could feel his warm skin through his thin shirt when she slid her hand beneath his jacket.
“My car’s in the lot,” he said, as they walked through the glass doors. “And you probably shouldn’t move your hand any more, or I’ll end up taking you against the terminal wall.”
She laughed. “Is it wrong that I want you to?”
He moved his hand up, his deft fingers feathering her neck. “Not wrong, no. But potentially illegal.”
“I guess we should avoid jail for the weekend.”
“I’m thinking so.” He tipped his head until his eyes met hers. “My place is only twenty minutes away. I think we can manage.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What is this magic? Every time I see you it’s like there’s this magnet inside me. Is that normal?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never felt it before.”
Her gaze locked with his. “Me either.”
Surprise washed over his features, and this time she was the one doing the mind reading. “Never,” she repeated. Not with Shaun or anybody who came before him. It reminded her of those metal snake eggs she’d won as a kid at the annual fair. She used to pull them apart and they’d rush together again, hitting with a clang. She’d walk around with them in her hand, moving them in her palm. But even as they moved, they didn’t part.
That’s how she felt whenever she was near him. Like there was something deeper than either of them could conceive, pulling them together. As though their meeting on the road last September wasn’t an accident. It was the magnets finally getting tired of staying apart.
An inevitable clash that would change both of their lives.
Logan swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the taut skin of his throat. There was a dark shadow of beard growth there. She wanted to run her lips along it, let the roughness scrape against her.
She blushed as she thought about his face between her legs.
“Are you thinking about what I’m thinking about?” he asked her, his voice thick.
She exhaled softly, her lips slightly parted. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I think I am.”
He lifted her luggage, as though he didn’t have time to pull it along the blacktop any more. “Come on,” he said, pressing his palm into the small of her back. “Let’s get you back to my place.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Logan held the door open, and Courtney climbed out, grabbing her purse from the floor of his Lexus. She was wearing a black mini-dress with billowing sleeves and a velvet collar that she and Logan had gone out to buy this morning. She hadn’t brought anything dressy to wear, and upon hearing that they’d be eating out at his latest restaurant tonight, she’d panicked.
She felt better now, though. The dark fabric skimmed her body, revealing only a hint of the swell that was getting harder to disguise. Her hair was down, gleaming curls tumbling over her shoulders. While Logan had worked on a few things in his home office, she’d spent some time applying the make-up she only wore occasionally, and she liked the result.
Tonight, she felt almost like she belonged in a city like Boston.
“You ready?” Logan asked, his eyes roaming her appreciatively. Like her, he was dressed up, but unlike her it wasn’t unusual. She’d never met anybody who rocked dress pants and a shirt like Logan Hartson.
His latest restaurant was a converted warehouse in the seaport district. On The Water overlooked the harbor, with views of the stunning Museum of Contemporary Art. Logan had already told her how long it had taken to convert, along with all the hoops they’d had to go through to get it ready to open. She looked at it with wide eyes, taking in the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass that allowed diners to enjoy the view while they ate upmarket American cuisine. Seafood and steak, is what Logan had described it as, but she knew there was so much more to it than that.
“It’s beautiful,” she told him, turning her head to smile at him. “You must be so excited it’s nearly ready.”
He grinned. “It’s been a long time coming. And we’re fully booked every weekend for the first two months.” He put his hand on the carved metallic handle affixed to the smokey glass door. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
The interior was just as elegant as the outside. Soft lighting illuminated the designer chairs with their low curved backs and buttery-soft cream leather upholstery. The wooden tables were so dark that they almost looked black. Every detail was perfect, from
