Lauren went back to work on Monday but was slow to fully get her strength back. Two weeks later, however, she was full steam ahead. She'd laid low at work, put a lot of stuff on the back burner as she recovered from what she guessed was a mild case of the flu. Then one day, feeling much better, she took a look at her upcoming calendar and almost flipped out. She had a full schedule packed into the next ten days or so, starting with an out of town trip.
Logan took her out to dinner that evening, and after they'd eaten and she'd delayed as long as she could, she lowered the boom on him. After she told him about the trip, he turned in his seat to stare down at her. He said nothing for a moment, as if not trusting himself to speak.
The waiter walked by, and Logan motioned for the check with a jerk of his hand. Every motion of his body indicated his heightened stress level.
"Logan, you're overreacting," Lauren chided softly.
"Am I?" he asked, staring across the restaurant, out the windows, looking everywhere else but not at her while he drummed his fingers on the table.
"Yes. It's no big deal, really, I'll be home before you know it," she tried to soothe.
"I don't think you understand," he said flatly as he turned to look at her.
Oh, Lauren was pretty sure she did understand and told him so in no uncertain terms. "I understand that you don't trust me."
The look he gave her was piercing. "I trust you. I don't trust all the motherfuckers out there who want to sleep with you, got that?"
"Then you don't trust me," she reiterated.
"No, it's two entirely different things," he said through pinched lips.
"How do you figure?" she asked.
Instead of answering, he continued to drum his fingers on the table as he stared at her. His eyes were deep, velvety brown, and the look in them was a little wild. "Three o'clock, Lauren," he said succinctly, apropos of absolutely nothing as far as Lauren could tell.
Lauren licked her lips. "What?"
"Three. Fucking. O'clock," he said through gritted teeth.
She shook her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The guy at the table in front of us, positioned at three o'clock."
Lauren turned her head to the left and Logan emitted a strangled groan. "That's nine o'clock, babe. Look the other way. He's wearing a blue and white striped shirt."
Lauren turned her head and felt a frisson of shock that there really was a guy, in a blue and white shirt, staring straight at her. She averted her eyes and glanced away. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that her face had turned an interesting shade of red.
"He's been watching you all fucking night. And you didn't even notice, did you?"
"No." How the hell could she have noticed? Why the hell would she have noticed when Logan Crenshaw was sitting next to her?
"That's the kind of shit I'm talking about. I trust you, babe." He tilted his head toward the table across the restaurant. "It's them I don't trust."
Logan's features were grim; he wore the familiar mask that covered his features when he was barely holding onto his control. Lauren took another swift glance at the guy. "He's with a woman."
"Yeah, he is, you know what that makes him?"
"An asshole? A douche bag?" She threw out recklessly.
"I'm serious," he snapped.
"So am I." She thought about it a bit more. "Okay, so it makes him a cheater, probably unfaithful."
"Yeah, and that's at the least. At the worst the motherfucker is a predator."
"I'm not in danger, Logan. You're sitting right beside me and besides, he wouldn't just dump that woman he's with."
"I wouldn't put it past him. And hell no, you're not in danger while I'm with you." He reached down and pulled her face toward his and lifted it until she was looking at him. "And that's my point entirely. You keep running off here and there and everywhere, someday, you might get hurt. You don't take the time to notice what's going on around you, Lauren. You think the world is peaches and cream and that the bad people live far, far away when in fact, they're all around you."
"What do you want me to do?" She felt a stab of both anger and helplessness. She suppressed the helplessness that wouldn't get her crap and she focused on her anger. "You're not upset about that guy over there. You're angry about my job. But what the hell am I supposed to do? It's. My. Job. I don't have a choice. You're acting as if I'm just out for a good time, running around to happy hour here and there, jetting to this city and that. That's not what I'm doing. I'm earning a freakin' living here, Logan, in case you haven't noticed."
At the end of her tirade, the server brought the bill and Logan took care of it in silence. He encapsulated her wrist in his hand and brought her to her feet. Looking down at her as they stood beside the table, he kissed her, long and hard, and Lauren knew he did it just to prove a point to the anonymous man who watched them.
But still, audience or no audience, she couldn't help it; she melted in his arms.
He ended the kiss and his eyes blazed down into hers. "We'll finish this at the house."
Lauren's pulse skyrocketed and she didn't know if she couldn't wait to get there or if she dreaded it altogether.
The drive to his house was silent, but he held her hand gripped tightly in his, his thumb running around making circles on her flesh.
It felt as if he was marking her, branding her, forcing her not to forget who she sat next to.
Like she could possibly forget.
She swallowed hard as he led her inside, and her palms became sweaty and the moisture between her legs built. She was excited; she couldn't deny it. There was no question that he excited her when he acted like this.
He led her through the darkened house, not taking the time to turn any lights on. She followed helplessly behind him, her hand encapsulated within his grasp.
When they arrived at the master bedroom, he shut and locked the door and pulled her into his arms. He leaned back against the closed door, and wrapped his arms around her waist, spread his legs wide and brought her in, close to him.
The room was dark, the quarter moon supplying the only light coming in from the sheer curtains and Lauren breathed heavily while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimness that surrounded them.
He slid his hands down to the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head and tossed it away. Lights exploded in Lauren's head and her heart pounded an erratic rhythm.
He unsnapped her bra, and pushed it apart. Slipping his t-shirt over his head, he brought her torso back to his, their now naked skin hot against one another. Lauren felt the impact as a current of electricity bolted down her spine. His hand slid into her hair and clenched tightly around her skull. "Have you figured out why they look at you?"
At the sound of his rough voice and the controlling movement of his hand on her scalp, Lauren began to softly pant. Jesus, she couldn't figure out if she loved his jealousy or if she hated it. Okay. Loved it, yeah, she loved it.
"It's the same reason your motherfucking boss wants you for all the trips, wants you to take the clients out to dinner, wants you to entertain them at happy hour. You figure it out, babe?" She continued to pant, her breath coming in and out as he got on a roll and continued to bitch. She knew she should listen to him, but Christ, his skin was so hot and he smelled so good and it had been two days since they'd done it and her hormones were going crazy.
When she remained silent, he pushed the bra off her arms and tossed it aside until she was completely naked on top. His thumb brushed once, twice, and then three times across her nipple and Lauren moaned and shifted her body closer to his, trying to align their crotches together.
He groaned at her movements, but he was on some kind of a mission to get her to understand. "It's because you're beautiful. That's the reason. Yeah, I know you're smart. I'm not denying that. Obviously you're intelligent and I'm sure you do a kickass job. But that ain't it, babe. It's because you're fucking gorgeous and your cock-sucking bosses are exploiting that fact."
Lauren thought she should probably take offense at what he was saying. But she was too far-gone; she was only hearing his jealousy, which, as much as she tried to deny it to herself, kind of excited her. And damn if what he was saying wasn't exactly what Heidi told her all the time. So she really didn't think she could be angry at the content of his words.
But what the hell was she supposed to do about it? She wasn't being sexually harassed in a way that made her think her job was on the line, even though, admittedly, she did get attention she didn't want or enjoy. She wasn't scared to go to work or to do the things they asked her to do. She was good at her job and she needed to eat. It wasn't as if she could just quit tomorrow.
She tightened her mouth and forcing herself to rein in her raging hormones, she pulled away from his arms. "I don't have a fairy godmother," she said.
"What?" He made a grab at her but she stepped away and managed to elude him.
She slid her arms up and attempted to cover her breasts while she held her hand to her mouth, trying to suppress her nerves. "I don't have anyone to wave a magic wand over me or sprinkle stardust in my hair and supply me with clothes and stuff. I have to work. I need to eat. Pay my bills. That kind of crap. What exactly are you suggesting I do? Quit my very high-paying job just because my boss likes the way I look and thinks it might bring him some business? Besides, I can't prove that. He's never hit on me. He's freakin' in love with his wife. If anything, he sees me as a granddaughter. The dude is old, Logan. Yeah, maybe he thinks I'm sweet and pretty and that I know how to help the sales guys get customers to sign contracts. Go figure. It's the world. It's out there everywhere."