Chapter 20: Chapter 20

LAUREN

~It’s just dinner~, Lauren told herself for the thousandth time as she entered the restaurant~.~ ~I can get through one dinner. Logan Hawke is just a client.~

In their call, Logan had said all the right things, that he genuinely wanted her to be the planner, that he acknowledged there would be nothing romantic between them, and that the dinner was just business to discuss the hotel opening.

So she’d agreed to come.

Lauren slid into the booth he’d reserved, her pencil skirt making it difficult, and took in her elegant surroundings. With low lighting and soft music, it was beautiful, intimate, and expensive. No surprise that it was in another of Logan’s hotels.

As she waited for him, sipping her sparkling water, Lauren had a sense of déjà vu, but it didn’t last long.

Despite her back being to the door, she knew the minute he arrived, and it wasn’t just because her skin prickled or because his scent found her instantly, causing her to lose control of her naughty thoughts. It was because every eye in the restaurant went to him.

The men sat straighter, hardening their stares as if that would help them look less intimidated. The women licked their lips, their eyes going wide for a split second before narrowing in a sly gaze that raked over him.

It was comical, and Lauren stifled a chuckle as she remained leaning back in her seat, staring at the decorated wall in front of her.

Logan brushed past her, undoing his jacket and sitting down.

~Just keep it professional~, Lauren told herself, pushing aside the way his presence made her want to do very unprofessional things. “Shall we order first and then discuss the details of the event?”

Logan agreed, and they ordered.

Then she brought out her folder so she could take notes as they went through the meeting, which consisted of her asking a question, him answering, her mind getting distracted by dirty thoughts while he talked, and then her scolding herself for not paying attention.

Lauren’s attempt to focus on the event was disrupted by the way his suit stretched deliciously around his arms. Or how the ripples in his shirt hid abs she had felt beneath her fingertips, which tingled at the memory, and so did the bundle of nerves between her legs.

She was constantly shifting in her seat, crossing, uncrossing, and recrossing her legs tightly, and he was watching every movement she made like he knew exactly why she was making them.

Despite the storm brewing inside her, their meeting went smoothly. Logan Hawke was surprisingly an easy client. He knew what he wanted, his vision was clear, and he was able to articulate that vision.

By the time dinner arrived, Lauren was confident she could plan an amazing event thanks to all the details he’d given and the notes she’d taken. Her confidence in being able to make small talk, though, waned.

A tense silence filled the air as they ate, his eyes burning into her making it more tense. His attention was devoted to her, which from a business perspective was great, but from a personal one, it was dangerous. Because it made her feel special.

Even though it was a professional dinner, she felt like there was no other place he’d rather be.

It was an addictive feeling, one she hated she was already hooked on.

Needing to break the loaded silence, she said, “Tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked. “My life, as you’re well aware, is an open book. Whatever I don’t divulge in an interview is uncovered by paparazzi.” He took a sip of whiskey. “I have no secrets.”

“Well, I don’t read those kinds of books.” Lauren shrugged. “I didn’t even know what Logan Hawke looked like until I met you at Shana’s office on Valentine’s Day.” Her cheeks warmed at the memory. “At your office, I mean.”

Logan’s gaze went soft, his look thoughtful, but he blinked, and it was gone. “The Hawke name is my mother’s,” he said. “I have no siblings that I know of and have no idea who my father is.” He shrugged, taking another bite.

“You grew up just with you and your mom?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

When he didn’t expand, she debated asking what that was like for him but thought better of it. Though her parents had been selfish, wrapped up in the world they had created for themselves, she couldn’t imagine not having had them both as she grew up.

“Don’t pity me, Lauren,” he said. “I grew up well. Fed, clothed, homed. We were never poor or rich. We just were. My mother has always been devoted to giving me a good life and love that I can never doubt.” He shrugged. “I can’t miss a father I never knew.”

“I don’t pity you, Logan. I’m actually a little jealous,” she said. “My parents also wanted to give me a good life, sure, but it was never about me. It was about ~what~ they could give me, what they could ~tell others~ that they had given me. You know what I mean?”

Logan picked up on the rhetorical nature of the question, and his face remained passive, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, so Lauren continued speaking.

“Basically, they revolved my life around money because theirs did. It was everything to them, definitely more than I was.” She caught his frown at that and quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong, they love me. I know they do. They just have a different priority list.”

Not wanting to continue, Lauren shrugged and brushed off the topic with a wave of her hand. “Anyway. Doesn’t matter now.”

They finished the meal in silence, stealing glances at each other. He, however, wasn’t as quick to avert his eyes when she caught him staring, which made her butterflies dance and knees clench.

Calling the waiter over, Logan paid the bill, then he waited for her to gather her things, and they stood.

As he led her from the restaurant, protectively holding her arm through the tables, she couldn’t ignore the way people looked at her when she was with him, like she was his equal despite them not being on the same level physically.

She also couldn’t ignore the way he carried himself. He was so self-assured and confident, and she envied that. Yet, she found herself standing taller by his side like his confidence was contagious and spreading to her.

He led her into the lobby and stopped by the elevators. “I have a room here,” he said, his voice dropping with the invitation.

Lauren swallowed hard, trying to force out the words ~thanks but no thanks~, but they got stuck in her throat. Instead, she found herself edging closer to him. “I shouldn’t. I should go home,” she said, her voice husky.

“Yes, you should,” he said, stepping closer to her. “Or, you should do what you really want to do”—he reached a hand up to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear—“and come up with me.”

She should have stepped back then, away from him, but she couldn’t. She wanted more of the heavenly scent he let off. Her kryptonite. “How do you know that’s what I want to do?” she asked, her voice soft and low.

He scanned his keycard against the elevator without breaking eye contact. “Because I see you, Lauren Landon.”