I blinked.
Could it be that simple?
My heart lifted. Was thatit? Did I have no evidence because there just wasn’t any?
“Am I that scary?” I asked.
Logan shrugged. “I have a weirdthreshold for scary. You’re a relatively tall guy who holds himself straight,wears a big leather jacket, and has a scar through his lip. I think most peoplewould be a little wary? Until they realized you were secretly ten thousandmarshmallow peeps piloting a human shell.”
That was perhaps thestrangest thing anyone had ever said to me, but I understood what Logan meant.Maybe that’dbeen enough.
My heart lifted. Maybe allwasn’tlost, and mypresence was enough.
Which meant this was justanti-climactic instead of being a failure.
“Thanks, Logan,” I said,reaching into my pocket to check the time on my phone. “I think it’s about timeI got back to work, but… takeout and beer when we’re both home? I owe you one.”
“You asking me on a date?”Logan raised an eyebrow.
I laughed. I laughedmuchharder than I should have, still giddy with relief at the thought that maybe Iwasn’ta complete failure and I’d just succeeded so strongly that I’d scared someoneoutof doing thewrong thing. A spectacular success. Exactly what I’d been brought here for.
“Yes. I’m asking you on adate,” I teased.
“Oh, well, inthatcase… sure,” hegrinned. “Go on. Go back to your boyfriend and tell him I’ll kick his ass if hehurts you.”
“You wouldn’t if you sawhim,” I said, walking backward for a few paces. “But I’ll pass the message on.”
I turned back in thedirection of the recording studio, much more optimistic than I had been when Ileft. I may not have found what I waslookingfor on this little investigativejaunt, but I had found what I needed.
SEVENTEEN
QUINN
Fox hadn’t objected evenonce when I’d crawled into his lap on the sofa, his hands coming up to frame mywaist and hold me close as I kissed him. He was sopatientwith me, lettingme explore at my own pace. Never pushing or asking for more even though I couldfeel the heat of his hard cock through the fabric of his jeans.
I loved the idea that Icould turn him on, and Iwantedhim.
“Thinking deep thoughts,love?” he asked, one hand running up and down my side in slow, soothingstrokes.
He was perfect. He had noright to be as perfect as he was. Soft-spoken and considerate, gentle, happy togive me whatever I wanted.
At least, so far.
I bit my lip.
I could onlyask,right? And at worst, he could only say no.
“I was thinking…”
“Dangerous habit,” Fox said,beaming at me. “But one I take it you’re prone to.”
I snorted, leaning in closerso I could rest my forehead against his. “I wasthinking,” I repeated. “Aboutsomething I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Ooh, a deep, dark sexualfantasy. Let’s hear it, then.”
“I’m not sure it counts asparticularly deepordark,” I admitted. Maybe Fox would think this was stupid.
How would I handle it if helaughed at me?
