Don’t forget dinner,it said,five-thirty.That was it. Nothing more, not even a signature, the arrogant man. He just assumed she would obey him the same way he assumed that if he decided they were going to be in a relationship, they would.
Arrogant, arrogant, arrogant.
“Claire?”
Jamie’s expectant voice tore Claire’s attention away from the provoking email and back to her assistant. Damn. Jamie had asked her a question, hadn’t she? Claire felt guilty about her absentmindedness, so she tried to answer the question without asking what it had been.
“I’ll have to make a decision about that later,” Claire told her with a forced bright smile. There. Delaying tactics usually tended to subvert all unknown questions.
Jamie looked nonplussed. “But I’m leaving now.”
“Right.” Claire bit her lower lip pensively. Clearly, her answer hadn’t achieved the desired subversive effects.
“You don’t know what I said, do you?” Her assistant’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “What’s going on with you, Claire?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, her voice an octave higher than normal. Jamie couldn’t find out about Logan and the baby. Not yet, anyway.
“Fine.” Jamie looked annoyed that Claire chose not to confide in her. “Last chance for an escort to the parking garage.”
“No thanks.” Claire flashed her a smile. “I’m meeting… I have plans. ’Night, Jamie.”
Jamie studied her, clearly sensing some choice gossip to be had, sizzling beneath the surface. Claire chastised herself for her pathetic attempts at a cover-up. She’d always been a dismal liar.
In the end, Jamie gave up and left Claire to pack up her laptop, a few files, and her purse, and make her way to the tenth floor. Mindy the mousey robot had already vacated her post, leaving Claire free to walk into Logan’s office unannounced.
She blinked twice to make sure her gaze wasn’t deceiving her when she walked through his ode-to-a-diner kitchen door and into the brightly lit confines of his office. Logan was seated, his dark head bowed and resting on his desk, and he appeared to be sleeping. Could it be possible for Logan Monroe to fall asleep at his own desk?
No, she decided, dropping her things to the floor and crossing the room in hasty strides.
“Logan.” She gently touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Worry laced through her, surprising her with its intensity. What was the matter with him?
He whispered something then and she bent close to him to catch it. “Bug green,” she repeated.
No, that couldn’t be right. Unless he was delirious.
She leaned closer, inhaling his familiar, heady scent. “Migraine,” came his hoarse whisper.
Ah. That made much more sense, but it still left Claire feeling quite helpless, staring down at an unmoving, debilitated Logan. She searched her mind for ways to ease the pain that had him in its grip. Crossing the office again, she flicked off the harsh overhead lights before returning to his desk once more. Thin shafts of light streamed through the partially closed blinds at his big window, bathing Logan’s back in a soft, golden glow.
Acting on instinct, she laid her hands on the skin exposed at the back of his neck. He flinched and tensed initially, but relaxed as she began massaging the taut muscles beneath her fingertips. His skin felt hot and smooth against her hands and sent a wave of longing crashing over her body. She’d been wanting to touch Logan, to initiate contact with him for so long now that doing so felt good, right. But it still left her wanting that elusivemoreLogan had alluded to earlier. She realized that massaging him hadn’t been an entirely altruistic act, much to her dismay.
She continued kneading the stress and tension from his neck and shoulders for an indeterminable length of time. Her fingers were beginning to get tired when Logan finally raised his head from the desk.
“Thank you.” He kept his tone low, cocking his head to look at her. His face looked haggard, depleted of some of its usual vitality. “It’s starting to fade.”
She pulled her hands back immediately, awkwardness descending. “I’m glad.”
His gaze scorched hers. “You don’t have to stop.”
“Yes I do.” For her sanity’s sake. She moved away from him, circling his desk to the opposite side, needing suddenly to put a physical distance between them. “How often do you have migraines?”
“Here and there,” he said lightly, wincing and pressing a hand to his temple.
“Have you seen a doctor?” Claire couldn’t keep the concern from her voice, no matter how much she wanted to. She told herself she cared for him only as the father of her child. But secretly, that oft-repeated mantra was beginning to lose its efficacy.
Logan noticed it too, the wicked man. “Worried about me, Claire?”
“A little,” she admitted. Okay, a lot, but she didn’t have to tell that to Mr. Pomposity.
