Page 13 of Perfect Persuasion (Love’s Second Chance #2)

Logan didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

He didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do either. The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t allow Claire to reconcile with her shithead of a husband. Damn her. God, he was so furious. Like hell another man, especially that asshole, would be raising Logan’s child.

So he was at a bar.

If Logan could have solved all the problems in his life with lager, he’d be worry-free.

A self-loathing smile curved his lips as he tipped his glass and drank deeply, his second lager going down smooth.

He plunked his glass back on the bar. At least this place was rather nice, he thought, eyeing his surroundings somewhat unconcernedly, not a dive.

He didn’t know what it was called. Mahony’s or Maguire’s or some Irish pub knockoff kind of name.

Not that it mattered.

All that did matter at the moment was that Logan had come here to drink away his problems. He never used alcohol as a tool of avoidance, never even got drunk. The feeling of losing control over himself or his situation had always been repellent enough to keep him from even thinking of it.

Until Claire.

Damn it, he should never have allowed the one lapse in judgment that let her under his skin.

He’d always been attracted to her, and he’d always known that acting on that attraction would lead only to disaster.

Still, that weekend in New York, he hadn’t given a damn for any of that.

There had only been Claire and him and the best sex of his life.

But it hadn’t really been just sex for him, and that was the trouble.

He’d felt and known it then, in the aftermath of their explosive passion, and dealt with it by retreating and putting up a cool facade.

But the facade had begun to crack and slip away and he was starting to acknowledge he had feelings for Claire, as goddamn crazy as that was.

She sure as hell didn’t want him as her unsuspecting mother had so cheerfully let him know.

“Mind if I sit down?”

Logan glanced up from his lager to find an attractive brunette at his side, a flirty smile on her glossy red lips.

He gestured to the empty barstool to his left. “Be my guest.”

She seated herself gracefully and crossed legs that were long, lean, and capped off by sexy red heels. “I’m Carla,” she told him, the flirty smile still in place.

“Logan.” He introduced himself, raising his glass to her in a salute. Her eyes were blue, he noticed, but not as deep and radiant a blue as Claire’s.

Damn it, there he went again, thinking about her. And why, when he had a pretty woman at his side who was clearly interested in him? Hadn’t he always been partial to leggy brunettes over petite blondes, anyway?

“Can I buy you a drink, Carrie?” he asked, hoping like hell he’d gotten her name right.

She laughed, a deep, throaty, wait-until-you-see-me-naked kind of laugh. “It’s Carla, and yes, you can buy me a drink. Make it a Cosmo.”

Logan gestured to the bartender, a twenty-something who spent more time hitting on women than he did pouring drinks. The smarmy bastard looked over, got an eyeful of Carla and sauntered their way. “What can I get for you?”

“A Cosmopolitan,” Logan informed him coolly.

“A Cosmo it is,” the bartender said, grinning at Carla, not even bothering to spare Logan a glance.

There goes your tip, asshole.

To her credit, Carla virtually ignored the bartender beyond a polite “thank you” when he delivered her drink.

Sensing more susceptible prey elsewhere, he moved to the other end of the bar.

Carla sipped her drink delicately. Logan decided what he needed was sex, meaningless, mindless, leave-before-she-wakes-up sex.

Maybe that would cure him of the disturbing preoccupation he’d developed with Claire.

She was having his child, but that didn’t mean their relationship needed to go beyond that of co-parenting.

He just needed sex, that was all. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. In fact, he hadn’t been with a woman since Claire. Logan decided it was definitely time to rectify that little situation.

“Are you from Philadelphia?” she asked, her gaze dropping to his mouth.

“My business is here,” he replied. “I live in a suburb. You?”

“Oh I’m here for a business meeting,” she replied, raising her glass to her full red lips and taking another sip. “I fly back to Chicago tomorrow afternoon.”

Perfect one-night-stand material. Tomorrow, she would leave and they’d never see each other again.

“Where are you staying?” Logan took a long draught of his lager, awaiting her response.

“The Pierpont.” She put her hand on his arm, her eyes meeting his frankly. “My room has an incredible whirlpool tub in it. Maybe you’d like to see it.”

There it was, out in the open, a blunt invitation for what he’d been craving. Logan should have felt elated, but he felt slightly sick instead. He couldn’t do it. An image of Claire rose in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he told Carla abruptly, “but I can’t. I have to get home.”

Carla removed her hand and studied him. “I see. Have a good night then.”

She took her drink in hand and walked away.

Logan dropped some cash on the bar and made a beeline for the door, feeling even more pissed than he’d felt half an hour earlier at his arrival.

The fact that he’d been in the bar and that he’d turned down a willing woman proved one thing.

Logan didn’t want his relationship with Claire to be just that of co-parents.

He wanted more.

Damn it. And damn Claire too.

Claire’s steps faltered when she entered Logan’s office.

He stood facing her, uncharacteristically before his desk rather than behind it.

He wore only his customary white shirt and black pants and his eyes seared her with an intensity she had come to recognize as desire.

A heady charge filled the air between them, and Claire knew in an instant his summons had nothing to do with business.

Nothing at all.

The door clicked closed behind her, a loud sound in the palpable silence. She swallowed heavily, feeling her heart kick up its pace. He strode toward her almost leisurely, that gaze boring into hers, leaving no doubt to the sensual promise reflected there.

“Lock it,” he commanded, his voice low, deep.

Claire felt breathless. Witless. She’d lost all ability to formulate coherent thought. “What?”

“The door.” He smiled knowingly. “Lock it.”

Oh yes. The door. She shouldn’t lock it. In fact, she should open it and run away from the madness that gripped her whenever Logan was around.

Claire turned and flicked the lock.

Logan’s hands landed on her waist, and he pulled her back against the length of his powerful body.

His arousal prodded her lower back. He buried his face in the side of her neck, pressing hot, wet kisses to her sensitized skin, trailing a brand with his tongue.

She angled her head to give him better access, a moan escaping her.

His hand slid up the front of her shirt, unbuttoning it as he went.

When he reached the top button and slid it from its mooring, he pulled her shirt down over her shoulder, kissing a path there.

He nipped at her bra strap with his teeth, sending a shiver skidding through her.

His hand found and cupped her breast through the lacy cup of her bra, rotating the nipple with maddening slowness.

“Logan.” His name was a plea on her lips.

“Does he make you feel this way?” he asked darkly, an angry edge to his voice as he continued to lavish her bare shoulder with his tongue, mouth, and teeth.

“Who?” Claire looked at his agonizingly gorgeous profile, confused.

He licked a path back to the curve of her neck. “Your husband.”

“What?” She stilled and turned in his arms, facing him.

Logan’s face was grim, his expression a combination of arousal and anger. “Your mother told me you reconciled with him.”

“She what?” Claire couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Of course we’re not reconciling. Wait a second. When did you talk to my mother?”

“Last night.” Logan’s grip on her had tightened, his face a frozen mask. “I called your sister’s house.”

Claire’s mind flew back to the previous night and her mother’s offer to answer the phone. She wouldn’t have done something so ridiculous, so meddlesome.

Yes, Claire realized as she studied Logan’s face, her mother had.

And there was no hope for it now, no evasion tactics available. “My mother lied to you.”

Logan was having a hard time swallowing that. She could tell by the look on his face. “Why?” His suspicious tone was laced with an angry edge.

“She’s desperate for Garrett and me to get back together. I keep telling her it’s useless, but she’s stubborn.”

The corner of Logan’s sulky mouth kicked up into a smile. He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “Stubborn, not unlike someone I else I know.”

“I’m not—” She began to deny it, but the arrogant look he directed at her silenced her. Okay, maybe she could occasionally be the smallest bit stubborn, but she was nowhere near as bad as her mother.

Logan’s gaze grew serious and his hand stilled, resting on her nape. “Your mother thinks your divorce is a mistake?”

“Yes.” His proximity and intensity were having ill effects on her breathing capabilities.

“Do you?”

Claire stilled completely, amazed. This was the very first time in all the years she’d known Logan that he’d ever sounded uncertain.

He’d always reeked of confidence. Even his full stride spoke of his complete domination of himself and the world around him.

Yet he stood before her now, his eyes grave and fierce, a man waiting to be told where he stood.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t. In fact, I wish we had divorced years ago, rather than making everything become so hurtful and nasty.”