But oddly, the most unsettling thing in Logan’s world right now was the distinct absence of Trinity Forrester. He missed her keenly, had for weeks, and he could not seem to focus on anything but the three, maybe four, unanswered text messages he’d sent since landing yesterday.
He’d made a mistake not calling her while he’d been in New York, that much was clear. He had to fix it. But if she wasn’t responding to his messages or the voice mail he’d left, it was entirely possible she’d lost her phone. It happened.
By Friday night, he couldn’t stand it any longer and drove to her condo. Stupid. He couldn’t get into the building unless she buzzed him in, but she didn’t respond. He could see her Porsche in her designated spot in the parking garage from here.
His temper flared. She was here but not interested in seeing him? That was not cool.
The gods of security smiled on him when a well-dressed couple came out of the building and glanced at the flowers in his hand as he skulked about outside.
“Is she not answering? You must be early, then,” the elderly woman surmised with a misty smile, apparently drawing her own conclusions about the situation. “That’s so nice to see.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, because there was really no other answer.
“Come on, then.” She winked and held the door open. Once he was inside...he had no idea if Trinity would even answer the door.
One way to find out. He took the elevator to the fifteenth floor and banged on the door in case she had music on. She answered almost immediately, clearly frazzled, her hair mussed and her ratty sweatshirt a marked contrast to her normal style.
And she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She’d literally never been more beautiful. He could not tear his gaze from her.
All the color drained from her bare face. “Logan.”
Not expecting him, obviously.
“Surprise.” He held out the flowers. His pulse hammered in his throat, and he wanted to sweep her into his arms so badly his hands were shaking.
She eyed the bouquet, her expression frozen. Why wasn’t she taking the flowers?
“You, um...didn’t respond to any of my messages.”
Which judging by the ice chips currently jetting from her eyes, she already knew. “I’ve been busy. You shouldn’t have come by.”
The long process of dealing with the PED inquest and fatigue and sheer confusion swirled together to step on Logan’s temper. “I wanted to see you. Can I at least ask why the reverse isn’t true?”
Warily, she shrugged, but not before he noted her expression. She wasn’t as unaffected as she’d like him to think. It settled his temper a touch.
“It was a good time to break things off. I really thought you were on the same page with your lack of communication over the last few weeks.”
That speared him right through the chest. She had been avoiding him. On purpose.
“My fault,” he agreed smoothly, mystified why there was this distance between them. It felt like she was trying to push him out.
“Let me make it up to you,” he said with a smile. “And I don’t mean in bed. Unless that’s what you want.”
Her eyelids shuttered, hiding her thoughts from him. But then, he’d never been able to read her, and the frustration of it almost snapped the stems of the blooms in his hand before he realized the pain in his palm came from the thorns digging into his flesh.
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Something was very wrong. Fatigue pulled at her eyes, and all at once, he clued in that her death grip on the door frame wasn’t designed to keep him out—she was holding herself up. Alarmed, he made his own guess about why she wasn’t wearing makeup. Idiot. When her face had drained of color, he’d assumed she’d been unhappy to see him, but in reality, she was sick.
“Is it the flu or something more serious?” he asked.
“It’s...nothing,” she lied when it was so clearly something. And then she weaved as her knees buckled.
Tossing the flowers, he scooped her up in his arms and shut the door with his foot, refusing to recall the last time he’d done this—when they’d ended up naked together. He couldn’t even enjoy the fact that he was touching her again after an eternity apart.
She felt so insubstantial in his arms, weakly protesting as he strode to her bedroom and laid her out on the bed, then wedged in next to her to stroke her hair.
“What is it? Can I get you something? Water or—”
“No, I’m fine,” she whispered but her eyes closed and her head pushed into his palm like a cat seeking affection. He was more than happy to give it to her. It pleased him to have his hands on her, even in this small way.