Try (Temptation Series)(27)

Hmm, I can’t wait to feel those lips again.

Gripping his briefcase in his hand, Logan took a quick look at his watch and decided to skip going home first. It would be too much of a pain in the ass, and he wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to know how things were going to go—if it had just been a fleeting moment. And now that Tate had time to think about it, Logan wondered if the moment was over.

I sure as hell hope not.

For the first time ever, as Logan stood waiting for the elevator to come to a halt, he felt an emotion he hadn’t before, and he was pretty sure he hated it.

He felt nervous.

When the doors opened, he reminded himself that he did this kind of shit every day. Chasing shiny, sexy things was a familiar hobby of his, one he usually enjoyed and excelled at. He went in with only one motto—try, take, top.

Try a sample, take the goods, and then come out on top. Never let things get messy.

And this wouldn’t be any different.

But as Logan opened the door to the bar and stepped inside, he immediately searched through and found the shiny object he was currently chasing. Right there, in that moment, Logan knew that somehow, this time, everything was going to be different.

* * *

Tate wasn’t sure if he saw him first or felt him, but the minute Logan was through the front door of the bar, Tate knew it.

Obviously, Logan had come straight from the office. He was dressed in the same gray suit as this morning, and as he stared through the crowd to where Tate was standing, Tate knew he was giving Logan the same inspection he was receiving before glancing around the bar.

What am I looking for? was all Tate could think as Logan started through the crowd toward him. Am I trying to see if anyone knows that he kissed me today? Or that I kissed him back?

Tate wasn’t sure, but the look in Logan’s eyes sure as shit wasn’t helping.

As several people moved aside and Logan drew closer, Tate could feel his palms getting clammy, and he wiped them on the sides of his pants. The expression on Logan’s face was predatory as if he were hunting, and Tate knew that he was the prey.

Tate always prided himself on being a man of principle, a man of conviction. He was someone who owned his actions and held himself responsible for the outcomes that came from them. But as Logan stopped directly opposite him with only the wood surface of the bar as a barrier, Tate wanted to abandon all of those morals instilled long ago and get the fuck out of there.

Instead, he stood where he was and reminded himself that just because he’d done something once did not mean he needed to repeat it—even as his eyes dropped to Logan’s lips.

“Evening,” was the first word out of the lawyer’s mouth.

Tate reached out with both hands to brace against the bar’s edge.

“Evening. The usual?” Tate figured if he had something to do, he would stop thinking about other things he had already done earlier.

“Do you really need to ask?” Logan quipped, moving to place his briefcase by his feet.

“Well, it is my job.”

“It’s also your job to know your customers. How serious are you about that?”

Tate ignored the obvious comment and poured the gin and tonic before sliding it across to Logan. Looking around himself, Tate was satisfied when he saw that no other workers were near him, and all the customers seemed to be taken care of for the moment.

“I told you not to come here tonight,” Tate pointed out in a lowered voice.

He watched Logan’s fingers as they reached out to grip the glass, and in a split second, Tate was reminded of how they had felt in his hair. Pulling his eyes away from the highball, Tate met Logan’s daring look and wondered what he was thinking.

This is the longest he’s sat silently, if I don’t count this morning with his back against the wall after I had—

Yeah, hell.

Then, Logan finally spoke, “I decided to ignore you.”

Tate shook his head at the smart-ass remark as Logan calmly held his gaze and raised the glass to his lips. After taking a sip, he placed it back down.

“And you’re avoiding my question. How well do you get to know your customers?”

Just as Tate was about to reply, he noticed Amelia out of the corner of his eye. Glancing her way, he felt his heart start to do a damn tap dance inside his chest as she looked at Logan, and a sensual wide smile stretched across her lips.

Does she know? No, of course she doesn’t know. She’s smiling at the man she spent Friday night with.

As she got closer to them, Tate tried to act natural.

Nothing is different, nothing is obvious, and nothing is out of the ordinary, except for the fact that I had my tongue in Logan’s mouth—

Just like Amelia has.

And that, Tate discovered, bugged the shit out of him.