His mouth kicked up into a smile. “Be my guest.” He laid his cards down on the bed and stood, leaning down to wrap his arms around her. They remained that way for a few moments until Derek pulled away, looking embarrassed.
“I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me,” he murmured.
He had to be adored by thousands of fans across the world and yet no one hugged him. They were too in love with the blinding Hollywood brilliance to notice that the man beneath it was drowning. His life seemed so desperately lonely.
“You know, now that you’re stuck with me, I’m here any time you need to talk.” She winced. “It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere.”
Derek regarded her seriously. “I think you’re the right woman for Logan.”
His words threw her off balance. “We’re having a child together, but that doesn’t mean—”
“That’s not what I mean,” he said gently. “You care about him. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
“Of course I care about him.”
“You love him.” His gaze was knowing.
That pronouncement shocked her. Rocked her world. Because part of her knew he was right. The other part of her didn’t even want to think about it.
“I don’t know,” she began, only to be interrupted by the arrival of a tray-bearing Logan.
“Dinner,” he announced with a flourish, “is served.”
Derek gathered up the discarded playing cards and tidied them into a pile. “I concede defeat,” he murmured. “I’ll leave you two alone. I have some errands to run.” He gave Claire a meaningful look. “Remember what I said.”
Remember it? It was currently all she could think about. That and how yummy dinner smelled, of course. She was a pregnant woman, after all, and Logan had proved a surprisingly talented chef. She looked forward to every meal he prepared for her, but for his company as much as for the food.
Derek, on the other hand, had obviously been last in line when the culinary gods were offering skills. On their first day together with Logan in the office, Derek had cooked her macaroni and cheese, the boxed, impossible-to-mess-up kind. Only he’d messed it up. She still recalled the gloppy texture and icky taste of it on her tongue.
“Claire.”
Her attention snapped to Logan, who had set the tray of food down on the empty portion of her bed that had so recently served as a card table. “Hmm?” she murmured, her gaze alternately eying up the soup on the tray and Logan himself.
“You’re daydreaming again. I don’t think you even managed to say goodbye to Derek beyond your autopilot wave.”
“Sorry.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t have an autopilot wave.”
Logan gave her a superior look. “Yes you do.”
Okay, so maybe she did, but that didn’t mean she had to admit it. She decided a change of subject was in order. “Is that your world-famous tomato-dill soup?” She sighed. “And smoked cheddar on toasted croissants?”
“Per your orders.”
“Mmm.” Grinning, Claire pulled the chair closer. Logan had provided her with a stack of cookbooks, directing her to mark the recipes that most appealed to her. “I have to admit that you’re giving me five-star treatment.” She dug into the heavenly soup. “My mother can’t believe that you cook for me.”
He tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin longer than necessary. “Your mother isn’t exactly my personal fan club. But I am trying to make it up to you and Baby Thumper.” A crooked grin touched his lips. “Besides, a wise man told me that the way to a pregnant woman’s heart is through her stomach.”
“It can’t hurt,” she agreed, pausing when she realized the implications of what he’d just said. Unless she was taking it too literally. “Are you?” she asked, unable to help herself.
He raised an eyebrow. “Am I what?”
She was almost afraid to say it. For a few moments, she toyed with her soup spoon before responding. “Trying to win my heart.”
His eyes were grave, darkened by intensity. “If I am?”
Claire felt unsteady at his response. “Is it for the right reasons?” She was afraid that this new tender and doting Logan was more a product of his guilty conscience than of his true feelings for her.
He leaned closer to her, his familiar scent invading her senses. “What are the right reasons, Claire?”
