So he tamped down the unease and forced himself to continue eating.
Claire felt like scum for lying to Logan so directly. She glanced over at him in the dim confines of his car. His handsome face was illuminated by a glow from the dashboard screen and, as if sensing her regard, he looked over at her. She did her best not to flinch and look away.
“Thanks for agreeing to dinner,” he said. “We’re almost at your street. Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “It’s late.”
She didn’t want to be forced to talk to him more, not when she felt so terrible. Claire hadn’t planned on having to lie to Logan. Ever. He wasn’t supposed to suspect her pregnancy. He wasn’t supposed to find out. Maybe she hadn’t exactly thought things through since her life had gone into meltdown mode, but her plan had been to leave LM and Logan both and never look back. Now she was realizing how foolish she’d been to think she could so easily extricate herself from this horribly complicated situation.
“Just for a few minutes?” Logan pressed. “I’d like to discuss that business we never quite got to at dinner.”
“Why bother?” His persistence frustrated her. Whenever they were alone together, bad things tended to happen. She couldn’t afford to allow that to happen now.
He pulled into the driveway at Sophie’s house and slid the car into park. “I’m determined, Claire,” he told her, unhooking his seatbelt. “I’ll get the door for you.”
Claire’s fierce sense of independence wouldn’t allow her to wait in the car for Logan to come and open her door. So she ignored both him and the look of annoyance he gave her as she passed him and made her way to the front door. He stood behind her, a large, unsettling presence waiting as she fished through her oversized bag.
As her fingers closed around her keys, she turned back to him. “Thanks for dinner, Logan,” she managed politely. “Good night.”
“Nice try.” He plucked them from her fingers and brushed past her, unlocking the door and gesturing for her to enter first.
“I’m afraid your skills as hostess leave something to be desired,” he drawled as he followed her inside.
“And I’m afraid your skills at taking a hint and leaving stink,” she countered, deciding that maybe if she counteracted his rudeness with some of her own, she could actually win this battle.
He merely raised a brow at her. “Is there some place we can sit down and talk like two rational, levelheaded adults? Bickering with you does have its merits, but…” He shrugged.
“Fine.” She stalked into the living room. Logan Monroe had a patent way of making her feel two inches tall. “In here.”
She seated herself on a loveseat, hoping he would at least take this hint and settle for the sofa opposite her. Claire should have known better. Being deliberately obtuse, he sat next to her, crowding her with his large body.
She scooted over an inch or two until her right thigh pressed into the arm of the loveseat. Logan scooted closer, eating up the space separating them.
Even more annoyed than before, she rose and sank down into the blessedly empty sofa. Logan sent her a knowing look.
“Don’t trust yourself, Claire?”
She snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to think so? Look, Logan, enough of the games. You hate me. You’ve hated me for years, ever since I first started in the Creative Team at LM eight or nine years ago.” Claire crossed her legs, awaiting his answer.
“It was nine years ago,” he corrected, eyeing her with that intense stare she found so unsettling. “And I never hated you.”
“You did give me the creative director’s position,” she acknowledged, still baffled that he had, given his obvious dislike of her. “But other than that, you’ve always had it out for me.” She thought of all their workplace battles over the years. She had loved her job, but there was no denying he was an arrogant control freak at times, and they’d done their fair share of clashing.
“If you’re an asset to the company, that’s all that matters.”
“I’m not staying, Logan,” she said quietly, holding her ground.
“I’d be willing to let you buy into the company,” Logan continued, as though he hadn’t heard her rejection. Maybe he hadn’t. Those ears probably no longer processed the word “no” since he was so accustomed to hearing only “yes.”
“No.”
“A share of the company, a twenty-five percent raise, more vacation time, a redecorated office, a company car.” Logan ticked the items off on his fingers.
They were very, very tempting items, she had to admit. Claire looked at his long, tanned fingers and swallowed. “No,” she managed to all but croak.
“I won’t accept an answer,” he told her, rising from the loveseat. “Not yet. You think about it this week and get back to me. I’m offering you a lot. Far more than you’ll get anywhere else.”
No one knew that better than Claire. And that was just one of many problems on the apparently endless list facing her. What he offered her was very attractive. The ramifications were not.
