welcome.’
SEVEN
Logan’s week at Evie’s passed in a blur of easy smiles
and sweat-slicked nights. Life was good but there was no denying that he had put
the real life on hold in order to be here. Work was piling up back in London and
his executives had taken to calling him in the middle of the night—his time—with
increasingly urgent questions about the running of his business and
opportunities arising. His executive assistant was ready to strangle him. On
Friday she’d not so politely told him that if he didn’t have his surly self back
behind his desk come Monday, she wouldn’t be there either. Apparently she’d had
quite enough of his executive employees begging her for word on decisions that
no one but Logan had the power to make. No one else sat at Logan’s desk while he
was away. He’d never stayed away for this long
before, had never needed to structure his organisation so that he could.
Something to consider.
As for Evie, she was being very...understanding. She didn’t
push for him to stay and, apart from that time when she’d talked about lunching
with his mother, she’d made no reference to where their relationship was headed
at all. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to breeze into
and out of Evie’s world and make barely a ripple.
Not meek when it came to everyday living—Evie knew how to stand
her ground and more. That message had come through loud and clear. He’d watched
her putting the brakes on a new project Max had wanted to bid on—a bread and
butter project that Max figured they could turn a quick profit on. Evie begged
to differ. The client was dodgy—notoriously late with payments and not above
changing specs mid build and expecting the builder to wear the cost. There were
jobs worth taking, Evie had told his brother bluntly. This one wasn’t worth
their effort.
Max had thrown up his hands in a sulk. Evie had lifted one
eyebrow, folded her arms in front of her and murmured, ‘Really?’
And half an hour later Max had been back, the dodgy bread and
butter bid abandoned, head down alongside Evie’s as they nutted out an
alteration to the civic centre plans that scattered her kitchen bench.
No wonder Max had refused to let her go.
But Max wasn’t here now and Logan had to be at the airport
early in the morning and, dammit, Evie could at least acknowledge that fact with
more than a nod.
And then she pulled down a bottle of tequila from a shelf in
the kitchen and two shot glasses and poured until tequila threatened to spill
over onto the bench.
‘Got any salt?’ he said.
‘Happens I do.’ Evie had lemons too, and he felt all of sixteen
as Evie told him to make a fist. He did and watched as Evie’s hand circled his
wrist and she brought his fist to her mouth, a tiny, knowing smile on her face
as the tip of her tongue dipped into the V between his forefinger and thumb.
She had his undivided attention as she pulled away, poured salt
over the wet part and set her mouth to him again, licking the salt off in one
long, lazy swipe before picking up the shot glass and swallowing the contents
fast.
Lemon came next and she scrunched up her eyes and shook her
head as the lemon juice went down. Party.
‘Hard day at the office?’ he asked as she licked then at her
own hand and poured salt on and offered it to him. Logan’s body kicked as he
took her wrist and guided it to his mouth. He took his time, his thumb stroking
slowly over the pulse at her wrist, and then he rubbed his lips along the edge
of her thumb and then his tongue. And then he took teeth to her skin and nipped
and felt Evie’s pulse kick and her eyes glow golden.
‘Ordinary day at the office,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m hoping for
an extraordinary night.’
He licked at the salt and she downed his tequila and he slammed
his lips into hers and drank it straight from her mouth and chased it down with
the sweet taste of her until the salt was all gone and the tequila was gone and
all he
SEVEN
Logan’s week at Evie’s passed in a blur of easy smiles
and sweat-slicked nights. Life was good but there was no denying that he had put
the real life on hold in order to be here. Work was piling up back in London and
his executives had taken to calling him in the middle of the night—his time—with
increasingly urgent questions about the running of his business and
opportunities arising. His executive assistant was ready to strangle him. On
Friday she’d not so politely told him that if he didn’t have his surly self back
behind his desk come Monday, she wouldn’t be there either. Apparently she’d had
quite enough of his executive employees begging her for word on decisions that
no one but Logan had the power to make. No one else sat at Logan’s desk while he
was away. He’d never stayed away for this long
before, had never needed to structure his organisation so that he could.
Something to consider.
As for Evie, she was being very...understanding. She didn’t
push for him to stay and, apart from that time when she’d talked about lunching
with his mother, she’d made no reference to where their relationship was headed
at all. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to breeze into
and out of Evie’s world and make barely a ripple.
Not meek when it came to everyday living—Evie knew how to stand
her ground and more. That message had come through loud and clear. He’d watched
her putting the brakes on a new project Max had wanted to bid on—a bread and
butter project that Max figured they could turn a quick profit on. Evie begged
to differ. The client was dodgy—notoriously late with payments and not above
changing specs mid build and expecting the builder to wear the cost. There were
jobs worth taking, Evie had told his brother bluntly. This one wasn’t worth
their effort.
Max had thrown up his hands in a sulk. Evie had lifted one
eyebrow, folded her arms in front of her and murmured, ‘Really?’
And half an hour later Max had been back, the dodgy bread and
butter bid abandoned, head down alongside Evie’s as they nutted out an
alteration to the civic centre plans that scattered her kitchen bench.
No wonder Max had refused to let her go.
But Max wasn’t here now and Logan had to be at the airport
early in the morning and, dammit, Evie could at least acknowledge that fact with
more than a nod.
And then she pulled down a bottle of tequila from a shelf in
the kitchen and two shot glasses and poured until tequila threatened to spill
over onto the bench.
‘Got any salt?’ he said.
‘Happens I do.’ Evie had lemons too, and he felt all of sixteen
as Evie told him to make a fist. He did and watched as Evie’s hand circled his
wrist and she brought his fist to her mouth, a tiny, knowing smile on her face
as the tip of her tongue dipped into the V between his forefinger and thumb.
She had his undivided attention as she pulled away, poured salt
over the wet part and set her mouth to him again, licking the salt off in one
long, lazy swipe before picking up the shot glass and swallowing the contents
fast.
Lemon came next and she scrunched up her eyes and shook her
head as the lemon juice went down. Party.
‘Hard day at the office?’ he asked as she licked then at her
own hand and poured salt on and offered it to him. Logan’s body kicked as he
took her wrist and guided it to his mouth. He took his time, his thumb stroking
slowly over the pulse at her wrist, and then he rubbed his lips along the edge
of her thumb and then his tongue. And then he took teeth to her skin and nipped
and felt Evie’s pulse kick and her eyes glow golden.
‘Ordinary day at the office,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m hoping for
an extraordinary night.’
He licked at the salt and she downed his tequila and he slammed
his lips into hers and drank it straight from her mouth and chased it down with
the sweet taste of her until the salt was all gone and the tequila was gone and
all he
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