Page 32 of Defensive Desire

And as for my underwear... I may have chosen my favorite matching set. The black lace one that makes me feel like I could conquer the world.

You know, just in case.

I give my reflection one last look. Hair flowing in loose waves, makeup subtle but pretty, lips glossed just enough to catch the light.

"You look good, Coffee Witch," I murmur, using Logan's nickname for me. The one that never fails to make me blush.

My phone buzzes.

It's a text from Logan who's probably fallen asleep while he waits downstairs:Ready when you are.

My stomach performs what feels like a full Olympic gymnastics routine.

I make my way down the narrow stairs from my apartment, each step feeling like walking toward something that might change everything.

When I reach the main floor of Chapter & Grind, Logan's standing by the window, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He's changed from his festival clothes into dark jeans and a charcoalwool sweater that stretches across his broad shoulders like it was made just for him.

He turns when he hears my footsteps, and the expression that crosses his face makes my knees wobble.

Logan Kane, the man who regularly stares down opposing teams without blinking, looks completely stunned.

His eyes travel from my boots up to my face, taking in every detail with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. When his gaze finally meets mine, those stunning eyes are darker than I've ever seen them.

"Shit," he breathes, running a hand through his dark hair. "Do I have a concussion? Because you're making my head spin."

Heat floods my cheeks, but I manage a laugh. "That's got to be the cheesiest hockey pickup line I've ever heard. Especially from you."

"Yeah?" He steps closer, that rare smile tugging at his lips. "You collect hockey pickup lines do you?"

I shrug as my cheeks heat. "Maybe. Judging by the look you're giving me right now, I might have to start."

Without warning, Logan reaches for my hand, lifting it gently. His fingers dwarf mine as he brings my knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand.

The touch is old-fashioned, romantic in a way I didn't know still existed in this world. My breath catches as his lips linger for just a moment too long.

"You look..." He shakes his head and blows out a long breath. "Emma, you look incredible."

I'm pretty sure I'm blushing from my toes to my hairline right now.

"Thank you."

Logan offers me his arm like a proper gentleman, and I loop mine through his, feeling the solid strength beneath his sweater.

Who knew chivalry still existed? I feel like I've stepped into one of the romance novels lining the shelves in my shop.

God, if he's this careful and attentive with a simple hand kiss, what would he be like in bed? All that controlled strength finally unleashed?

I can almost picture those massive hands pinning me down, that intensity in his eyes as he takes what he wants, making me forget my own name...

Wait. Focus, Emma. This is dinner. Just dinner.

But the heat pooling low in my belly doesn't care what I call this.

"Ready?" he asks, and I can hear a hint of nervousness beneath his usual confidence.

"As I'll ever be."

We head out, and the evening air is crisp, carrying the scent of snow and woodsmoke from chimneys throughout Iron Ridge.