From Enemies to Expecting(22)

And she had enough appreciation for the psychology behind his assessment to be a little freaked that he’d come up with such a tactic. Enough that she let him pull her from the bed so he could slide her jeans over her hips and then button them, fully concealing her. It marked the first time in her life that a man had dressed her, only for her to wind up more naked than when she’d worn nothing.

The appreciation shining in Logan’s eyes as he laced his fingers with hers put a different kind of heat low in her belly. This barely-make-a-blip outfit had more effect than the in-your-face sexy one. For Logan, at least. What was she supposed to do with him?

“You’re a beautiful woman, Trinity.” He stated it like a fact, but that didn’t decrease the potency in the slightest. “Dressed like this, you make so much more of an impact, because it allows you to be the star instead of the outfit.”

Her knees did go weak at that, but she locked them. Now was not the time to get mushy over Logan McLaughlin. No time was good for that. This was all fake and designed to go his way so he could control his image. Nothing more.

She had to remember the most important rule—none of this was real. That was the reason he hadn’t undressed her and used it as an excuse to cop a feel or ogle her. He wasn’t attracted to her other than at a base level, and only then because it was involuntary physiology, not the connection he was looking for.

Good. She didn’t want that. Not with Logan, not with any man.

Except maybe she did, and she did not like that he’d uncovered a longing she’d had no idea was there. A longing she had no business indulging in, because she didn’t work like other women, couldn’t. Her body wasn’t made for pregnancy, and her ability to trust the opposite gender didn’t exist. She had to stop this nonsense cold.

“Maybe I like my clothes to be the star,” she muttered, and to her mortification, tears pricked at her eyelids. What in the hell was this man doing to her?

A better question was, why was she letting him?

“Wearing this outfit will get us the top spot on people’s social media feeds, I guarantee it,” he said mildly. “Do me one last favor and wear the shoes, though. I like it when you’re tall enough for me to put my arm around you.”

Oh, really?

The tears coupled with the unexpected exposure and longings that shouldn’t even be a factor put her in a dangerous mood. “I call BS. You like these shoes because you have secret bad-girl fantasies.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a stretch to say I like sexy shoes on a woman. I readily admit to that.”

That set her back. The man was honest to a fault, and it kept throwing her off. He was supposed to lie to her and act like an ass and pull immature ghosting routines where he pretended his phone was off when she tried to reach him.

Maybe he’d already lied to her. Like when he said he wanted intimacy instead of sex. Or was he actually lying to himself about what he wanted?

“If I wear the shoes,” she murmured throatily, “do I get a reward?”

Suspicion clouded his expression. “Like what? A gold star?”

She shrugged. “Maybe you take me to the bathroom in the club and see how far your hand goes down these jeans. Or didn’t you notice how tiny these panties are on me?”

“I noticed,” he said shortly and ran a hand through his hair, a habit she’d started to clue in meant he felt uncomfortable. “Trust me, I’m not that much of a good guy.”

News to her. “Tell me. Would it be so bad to let your bad boy out to play occasionally?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes, it would.”

When he didn’t elaborate, her curiosity went through the roof. So he wasn’t denying that he had a wild streak. Interesting. Because if he had denied it, she’d have called him on that, too. No man who put his hands down a woman’s dress in a crowded ballroom with scarcely a glance around could claim he’d never done anything like that before.

Seemed like Logan might be hiding behind his public persona, too. What would he be like if she stripped him of his conservative armor?

Suddenly, she was ready to get him out in public, where she could flirt and seduce and provoke him into putting his hands on her again without fear. Because behind closed doors, it wasn’t real. She had to get out of here before she forgot they weren’t a couple with an interest in getting to know each other beneath the surface.

* * *

By ten o’clock, Logan had a pounding headache that beat against his temples in perfect time to the garbage being pumped out of the speakers at the Deep Ellum club Trinity had dragged him to.

The Mustangs had lost today—again—and what he should really be doing was combing through his roster—again—to see where he could make improvements.