Page 6

"Now that I'd pay to see. Logan Kane in sparkly spandex, twirling across the ice..."

His low chuckle vibrates through me. "Keep dreaming, Coffee Witch."

"Oh my god," Ryder's voice carries across the room as Mia approaches him. "I, uh, like your... face? I mean, you look... professional today. Not that you don't always look... Shit . I'm gonna stop talking."

Logan and I exchange looks, trying our hardest not to laugh.

"Poor kid," he whispers. "Should we help him out?"

"Absolutely not. This is the best entertainment I've had all week."

Coach Brody pokes his head into the room, his scowl deepening when he spots the chaos of the room. Logan puts his head down and keeps plucking away at our table.

Despite his gruff exterior, there's something meticulous about the way Logan handles things that belong to me.

Like they're precious. Like they matter.

"Alright, let's get started," the director announces when he finally arrives at our table, positioning us in front of the display of all my coffee sachets. "Logan, you'll introduce the coffee blend, and Emma, you'll explain what makes it special. Just be natural and keep it light and fun."

A bright light shines directly into my eyes, momentarily blinding me. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust while fumbling with the coffee sachet in my hands.

My fingers suddenly feel clumsy, and I'm way too aware of Logan's shoulder nearly touching mine as we stand before the camera.

The director's "be natural" instruction echoes in my head, which of course guarantees I'll be anything but.

Natural for me is hiding behind my counter at Chapter & Grind, not being filmed for promotional content with Iron Ridge's most intimidating defenseman.

It doesn't help that Logan has seemingly transformed into a human mannequin beside me. The waves of anxiety rolling off him are so intense, I could probably surf them all the way to Hawaii.

His sudden discomfort only grows as the cameras start rolling.

"Action!"

Logan stares at the camera like it's personally offended him.

"Uh… Th-this is... Love on I-Ice," he mutters flatly, holding up the blend with all the enthusiasm of someone announcing a funeral.

The director sighs. "Cut. Let's try again, but... with feeling? Alright, big guy?"

I can't help the giggle that escapes me. The look Logan shoots me could freeze hellfire.

"You think this is funny?" he growls.

Instead of being intimidated, I find myself stepping closer, blocking out the world and making it like it's just me and him.

"Just... pretend you're telling me about it," I suggest, lowering my voice so only he can hear. "Forget the cameras. It's just me and you now."

Suddenly, those ocean-blue eyes darken as they fix on my face without blinking. It's the same look he gets right before a big game. Focused, uncompromising, and a little dangerous.

The cameras and crew around us seem to fade into nothing as Logan's full attention lands on me with the weight of an avalanche.

We reset, and the director calls " Action !".

Logan's gaze never leaves mine as he holds up the sample. "This blend is rich, smooth..." his voice drops an octave, turning the words into a caress against my ears, "…with just a little kick at the end."

The timbre of his voice slides over me like silk, igniting every nerve ending in my body.

Oh my god.

I force myself to focus, talking about the flavor notes and brewing process, but all I can think about is the way he just made coffee sound like the most erotic substance on earth.

What the hell is happening?

My mind starts spinning as Logan's deep voice continues, each rehearsed word dripping like honey. The cameras fade away, and suddenly I'm hearing something entirely different in that low, gravelly tone:

"Rich and smooth... just like the way you taste when I kiss you. A little kick at the end... like the way you'll gasp when I touch you."

Heat floods my cheeks.

I grip my sample bag tighter, trying to focus on describing the roasting process, but his voice keeps wrapping around me like a physical caress.

"Bold. Intense. Unforgettable... just like what I want to do to you against these walls."

My hands shake as I demonstrate the pour-over technique. Logan's still talking about the coffee's "full body" and "complex finish," but in my head, those words paint a very different picture:

"Full-bodied... like how perfectly you'd fit against me. Complex... like all the ways I want to make you come."

I nearly drop the coffee filter when his fingers brush mine.

"Cut!" The director's voice shatters my fantasy. "That was perfect! PHEW! The chemistry between you two is exactly what we needed."

I blink rapidly, trying to pull myself together. Logan's still watching me with that intense stare, and I wonder if he has any idea what his voice just did to me.

God, I need a cold shower.

Or maybe just to dunk my head in one of my coffee urns.

By the time we wrap up, my cheeks are permanently flushed, and I'm pretty sure my voice has given me away at least twice.

The crew begins packing up, and Ryder bounds over, his eyes periodically darting to Mia across the room.

"Damn, Logan," he teases, "didn't know you could sound hot, man. No wonder Emma's coffee is selling like hot cakes."

They start talking as I busy myself collecting my samples, trying to ignore the way my heart is still racing. Soon, Logan steps closer as I stack the empty boxes, his presence like a wall of heat behind me.

"So? Happy you made me sound like a damn fool?" he mutters, close enough that I can feel the rumble of his chest.

I turn, finding myself trapped between him and the table.

"Um, did I?"

His eyes hold mine, filled with a heat that makes my knees weak.

I slip past him, gathering the last of my things, but before I can get far, his fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me instantly.

"Maybe next time, don't tell me how to talk," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that really isn't helping right now. "I want to figure out how to impress you on my own."

My breath catches in my throat, the words stuck somewhere between a gasp and a sigh.

Before I can respond, he releases me, the warm sensation of his fingers lingering on my skin.

"Hey Logan!" Ryder's voice breaks the spell as he yells from the doorway. "You left your jacket on the table. Looks like Emma has you all distracted!"

I laugh, the sound slightly nervous even to my own ears.

Logan just grunts, shooting me one last smoldering look before stalking out the door.

I stand there, heart pounding, still feeling the ghost of his breath against my ear, the gentle press of his fingers on my pulse point.

Oh, I am in so much trouble.