At Odds with the Heiress(2)

She popped a bite of sugary pastry into her mouth. Her soft murmur of enjoyment made the hair on Logan’s arms stand up. He was a millisecond too slow to brace against the shock wave of awareness. Compelling and unwelcome, lust rushed through him, leaving a destructive tangle of longing and fury in its wake.

From the moment he’d entered the room, he’d done his best to ignore the once-popular child star. Being near her aggravated his composure. She exuded sexual energy the way Harper projected professionalism and Violet radiated optimism. Many times Logan had watched Scarlett shake up a roomful of men by simply appearing in a doorway. That he was similarly affected despite his best efforts to remain immune pissed him off.

He liked things that he could control. Computer systems. Fast cars. Any risks he took were carefully calculated to result in the best possible outcome. “Chance favors the prepared mind” was a motto he lived by. Scarlett would counter with “Fortune favors the bold.”

“I’ve tried plenty of things that are bad for me,” he retorted. Avoiding the allure of her witchy green eyes didn’t make him immune to their impact. “I like living a healthy lifestyle. Both physically and mentally.”

Scarlett gestured with her chin in Violet’s direction. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Logan agreed. He wanted a woman who matched him. Someone who shared his views about healthy living and maintaining a balance between work and home. Not a fiery siren who would turn his routines upside down and rock his world.

Violet shook her head, the melancholy in her eyes clearing for the moment. “We’re too much alike. We’d bore each other to death. No. I think Logan needs someone who will challenge him.” Violet got to her feet and aimed a wicked grin at Scarlett. “Someone like you.”

There was a slight hesitation before Scarlett’s dismissive laugh. Logan cursed his curiosity as he watched the exchange. What had caused the delayed reaction? His pulse spiked. He sat back with crossed arms and watched Violet exit the room. The pause didn’t mean Scarlett had considered the idea. She’d never given him any reason to believe she suffered the same sexual attraction that plagued him. Quite the reverse.

In fact, Logan wasn’t sure she was interested in any of the men who pursued her. She doled out flirtation like candy that her admirers gobbled up, all the while keeping them at arm’s length. Which made them all the more determined to have her.

For the past five years, since she’d left her acting career behind in Los Angeles and moved to Las Vegas to run Fontaine Richesse, Logan had watched her disappoint one suitor after another. He’d decided she was a coldhearted woman who enjoyed tormenting men, and kept his own desires firmly in check. A challenge when she took great pleasure in teasing him.

Shifting his focus to what had brought him to Harper’s office this morning, he gave her an accounting of what he’d found during his consultation with his team regarding her security system.

“There won’t be any problem having the cameras adjusted before your soft opening,” he concluded.

“Good.” She’d been making notes as he spoke. “One less thing to worry about.” She glanced at her watch. “If there’s nothing else, I have a meeting in ten minutes.” A line appeared between her brows as she muttered, “That’s providing he bothers to show up this time.”

“Actually, I did have one more thing,” Logan said. “A favor, actually.”

He caught Scarlett’s sudden interest in his peripheral vision. She leaned her elbows on the table and watched intently. He would have preferred to make his request to Harper in private, but with her hotel opening only ten days away, her time was limited.

“My niece is in town for the rest of the summer and I wondered if she could shadow you for a couple weeks. Observe a businesswoman in action.”

Harper, the oldest of the three women by a year, was Ross Fontaine’s only legitimate child. She had the training and the ambition to take over for her grandfather when he stepped down in two years. Harper’s mother came from old East Coast money and had insisted her daughter be raised in New York City and educated at an Ivy League school. Her style was elegant and professional, from her smooth chignon to her black designer pumps.

“You’re the perfect role model,” he finished.

“The perfect role model,” Scarlett echoed, her throaty voice rich with laughter. “The ultimate professional.”

Logan glared at her, realizing he’d laid it on a bit thick. But the task his sister and brother-in-law had handed him was outside of Logan’s expertise.