One Sizzling Night(18)

“I was just headed to bed.”

“Please, don’t let me keep you.”

“I didn’t intend to.” Logan wasn’t surprised she was anxious to be rid of him, and her body language was still shutting him down cold.

“Look, I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.”

He nodded. At least he was sure she wasn’t a plant here to keep tabs on him. “Maybe tomorrow?” she said.

“Maybe.” He wouldn’t hold his breath.





10

THE LARGE BALLROOM was packed. Even if Kensey had wanted to sit down, it didn’t look as if there were any seats left. She’d wanted to stay near the exit, but so many others had come after her that she’d been shuffled almost all the way to the end.

Logan looked good in the front of the room. He wasn’t using the podium. In fact, he was walking as he spoke, making continuous eye contact with people in both the front and the back. He must have given a prepared speech before she’d come into the room, but this was better. He’d asked for questions just as she arrived, and thirty minutes later, he was still fielding them.

Wow, he was terrific. Passionate. Engaging fully with the audience.

The only problem was her wandering attention. Despite his riveting presence, she’d zoned out, remembering the body underneath his fashionable suit. Remembering all too vividly how it had felt when he was inside her.

“I absolutely agree. Not every veteran will be a good fit for security work. But if you believe they could fill another need within your organization, why not give them the chance? The thing you know for sure is they’ve learned to follow orders,” Logan said and got some laughs and nods.

“And if you’ve got any concerns about their mental readiness, it’s okay to tell them they should go to counseling now, and to come back later. That’ll be completely up to them. But have the names and numbers of qualified therapists available. If you need help with that, call my office. It’s important to remember the skill set that leads to a successful military career. Especially during times of war. Don’t cut them—or yourself—short.”

Logan pointed to a man in the fifth row. “Question?”

A tall man in a gray business suit rose. “Can you give us some signs to look for? I mean for PTSD?”

“I’ve put some brochures on the back tables that discuss the symptoms. You might consider adding a psychological profile in your application process. I can help you with that. Help any of you with that.”

More hands shot up. A quick look at her watch told Kensey he was running over timewise. Next year, he would need a bigger room and a second hour.

“I see I’m out of time,” he said. “I know a lot of you are veterans who’ve had difficulty finding meaningful work. And I know there are CEOs and HR executives who are here because you’d like to support the troops in the best way possible. Please register for our database, and if you have questions, I’m happy to address them. I know what good men and women can do after they’ve served. We are a force to be reckoned with. Thank you.”

Kensey joined in the enthusiastic applause, kicking herself for missing the beginning of his session. But she’d gotten a call from Neil. He’d told her Seymour had sold another painting—a Van Dyck. Nothing near as pricy as the Degas, but it would pay the bills for another few months. She’d hoped for much more. All Neil could say was that things were in motion. Yeah, that would be her head spinning.

She gave up the idea of a quick getaway when her row hadn’t moved for five minutes, but she wasn’t that worried about being seen because Logan was surrounded by people hoping to speak with him.

It was easy to understand why Holstrom was interested in Logan. And after hearing him speak, it seemed even more impossible to her that Logan knew who Holstrom really was. If Logan got the contract, and she exposed Holstrom, what then? Would Logan be painted with the same shame-filled brush?

Having moved about a foot, she finally got a look at what the holdup was. Something had gone wrong with a wheelchair. A few men behind her had climbed over the row of seats in front and were heading to the other exit. In the dress she was wearing, she didn’t dare.

Her gaze went to Logan again. He was smiling, shaking hands. Talking.

She closed her eyes for a moment and centered herself. Just because Logan fit her idea of what a good man was, didn’t make it so. She didn’t know him. Coming to this presentation had been idiotic. But she’d had to do something to take her mind off her plan to prove Holstrom to be the true owner of the original stolen Degas. Which would all be for nothing if Holstrom didn’t call her. It was already day three. There had to be another way to get on his radar.

Finally, the line moved. When she was almost at the exit, Logan’s voice came clear up to the back row. “Kensey.”

It felt horrible, but she needed to keep walking. There were still people around him.

When her phone rang, she winced. Probably Logan, asking her to wait, but no, it was Sam. Asking her if she was free to come to her booth. Thank God.

She replied to Sam with a big yes, then without looking in his direction, texted Logan and told him she was on her way to Sam’s booth.

Once she was free of the room, guilt settled in her cells. She made her way through the crowd mobbing the booths, a jungle of noise and riotous color.

There was Sam’s booth. Kensey hadn’t realized how large it was yesterday. God, today was only Wednesday. Minutes felt like hours while everything was happening way too fast.

There were several people manning the booth, but it was easy to spot Sam with that glorious head of hair. She’d put it up in a twist, but a number of coppery tendrils had broken free. It had the effect of giving her a sort of halo. She looked great.

There were three men talking to her, all in suits that looked more tailored than what Kensey expected to see on the exhibition floor.

Sam, though...

No wonder they looked spellbound. Kensey had no idea what she was telling them, but she was putting her heart and soul into it. Her arms were waving all around, as if she was conducting an orchestra. From the little Kensey knew about Sam, she didn’t get out much. Almost never. What a shame—she was a joy. Thankfully, the men left before long. Sam turned to see Kensey waiting, and her eyes widened with welcome.

“Come on in,” Sam said, leading her to the booth’s entrance. Once they were inside, Sam stuck her hand out. “It’s so great to meet you in person. Do you want something to drink? Someone’s going on a coffee run in a minute. I was delusional when I thought one thermos of caffeine was going to be enough.”

“I’d kill for a giant latte with two extra shots.”

“Done.” Sam pointed to a chair in the back of the booth, but she didn’t join Kensey until she’d texted the addition to their order. Then she plopped onto the director’s chair. “I swear this week is going to kill me.”

“I can’t imagine. There are always so many people at your booth.”

“That’s the problem. I have to think of a way that I won’t have to be here next year. When it’s finally over, it takes me a long time to adjust to my regular routine. I loved that I got to see Logan, and now I get to meet you, though. Neil thinks the world of you.”

Warmth filled Kensey’s chest. “The feeling’s mutual, I assure you. He’s been wonderful to me. Both of you have. The apartment, my God, I’ve never seen anything like it. I know squat about computer stuff. I can get what I need to out of a MacBook Air, and when something goes wrong, I know who to call.”

“I’m the exact opposite. It’s the insides that make me happy. I fell in love with computers when I was just a kid. Gaming mostly, then figuring out how they worked. Then, in college, I started inventing things. If you don’t mind, I’d love to know what you like most about the apartment, and if there’s anything you find too intrusive or whatever.”

“The combination of colors and scents and music was a little spooky, at first, but amazing once I realized what was happening. At first I really thought someone, well, you, were watching me.”

Sam let out a laugh, and then covered her mouth. “Sorry. The cameras activate only when the place is empty. I can see how the mood sensors might be confusing. I need to work on a brochure or something that explains what’s triggering the colors and sounds. Although it’s kind of fun surprising people, too.”

“And giving them heart attacks?”

“No,” Sam said, grinning, “that would be bad for business. Did Logan tell you about calling me to turn off whatever was making him horny?”

Kensey felt her jaw slacken. “Umm...no.”

“Oh.” Sam turned pink.

Kensey was pretty sure her face was a perfect match.

“Don’t mind me,” Sam said. “Really. Sometimes I say the craziest things. The guys used to tease me about having no internal filter. What do you think about the music?”

It took Kensey a second to pick up the thread. “Oh, it’s so interesting. I have favorite songs I use for my yoga so I overrode the music the first day, but the second time, I wondered what would happen if I let the apartment decide. It was great! Better than the music I’d compiled. I felt completely relaxed and focused. Some lights dimmed, and then the windows darkened! The apartment seemed to learn so much about me after hearing my music once. Is that possible?”