“I'll just cancel,” I said out-loud to the mirror. “I shouldn't have dinner with the competition anyway.”
Yet, I kept putting on my makeup and didn't pick up the phone to call and cancel. Part of me, probably the part of me that enjoyed seeing him walk in his board shorts, wanted to go to dinner with him. If I ignored the past, the man was a catch. Billionaire, gorgeous, and apparently good with kids and dogs. It was just the way he had used me two years ago that burned.
The TV buzzed with an important update in the other room. I had forgotten to turn it off when I got in the shower.
“The National Hurricane Center has officially upgraded Tropical Storm Hannah to a Category 1 hurricane.” A pretty forecaster stood in front of a map with a large swirl of clouds spinning across the ocean. “The storm is expected to skirt the edge of Antigua and surrounding islands, but as always, residents are encouraged to take precautions. These storms can shift direction or increase in power at any time.”
The wind rattled the boards over my window as if to accentuate her words. The resort staff had been busy all day preparing everything for the oncoming storm. All the windows had boards, and even the sliding glass doors had been protected. It looked as though the staff were getting ready for a Category 5 rather than a storm that was supposed to bypass us, but I would rather they be over-prepared than surprised.
I looked back to the mirror to find I had finished my makeup without realizing it. What was I doing? I should know better than to even go to dinner with him. I had been down this road before. I slid my earrings on, thinking about the past and the last time I had gone out with Logan Hayes.
Chapter 12
Two years ago
––––––––
After our meeting earlier today, I couldn't stop thinking about Logan. The warm caramel swirls of his eyes. That one golden curl that I wanted to sweep off his forehead. That smile that made me purr like a cat in sunshine. Just thinking about him had me flustered in the best way. There was a connection between the two of us that wasn't just strictly business. At least, I really, really hoped there was.
Especially because I had already picked out a backless black dress to wear out tonight.
My phone buzzed, and I held my breath as I looked at the caller ID. It was a number I didn't recognize. Please, please, please...
“Hello?” I sounded far more breathless than I had intended.
“Olivia?” It was Logan. A little shiver of anticipation went down my spine. I liked the way my name sounded in his rich, masculine voice.
“This is she,” I replied, trying to sound like I didn't recognize the voice. I didn't want to appear too eager.
“Hi, it's Logan. From earlier today,” he said with a small laugh. He sounded almost nervous, which made the butterflies in my stomach far more hopeful than they had any right to be. “Would you still be interested in getting a drink with me tonight?”
“I'd love to,” I said, grinning into the phone. I was imagining his reciprocal smile on the other side of the line. “Where would you like to meet?”
“Have you ever been to de Luxe? I have a standing reservation there we can use,” he asked. My jaw dropped a little. It was only the most exclusive, expensive and infamous club in Chicago.
“No,” I answered. “But I know where it is.”
“Would you be able to meet me there in half an hour? Just tell the bouncer you're meeting me and you won't have to wait in line,” he said, as if walking into de Luxe was something normal.
“I can do that.” I was bouncing up and down on the couch and trying very hard to keep my voice steady. “I'll see you there.”
“Great!” He sounded excited as well. “See you soon!”
I hung up the phone, stared at it for a moment and then let out a whoop that made the neighbor's dog start barking. I was going to go to de Luxe with Logan Hayes!
Twenty-five minutes later, I was stepping out of a cab in front of the most exclusive club in the city. The line to get in wound around the block, but I walked past them all to get to the front door. A big man with sunglasses, even though it was almost dark out, stood guard over the entrance. I swallowed hard and went up to him, hoping I was giving off an aura of importance. The people in line stared at me, and I could hear whispers as I approached.
“Excuse me,” I said, putting as much confidence in my voice as I could muster. “I'm Olivia Statler. I'm here to meet Mr. Logan Hayes.”
When the man didn't move a muscle, I nearly took a step back. Maybe he wasn't here yet, or I had gotten the address wrong.
The big guard slowly looked down at the guest list, and his face immediately softened as he read it. “Right this way, Ms. Statler.” He moved to the side and lowered the red velvet rope to let me in. I heard at least two gasps from the line as I bypassed everyone in it. The man had a warm smile that changed him from incredibly intimidating to teddy bear for the two seconds he let me see it.
I stepped into the entryway and could see the main room. It was romantically lit, with silver couches and glowing tables. Music thrummed through the building, and the dance floor was already alive with dancers.
“Ms. Statler?” A woman in a flattering silver dress suit tapped my shoulder and motioned me to follow her. She took me up a flight of stairs, past an even bigger security guard, and into the VIP lounge. Logan was waiting for me at a table overlooking the dance floor. He stood as soon as he saw me, a grin nearly splitting his face in two.
“You look spectacular,” he said appreciatively, his eyes traversing my figure at least twice. I blushed, but I didn't mind that he was looking. In fact, I rather liked the idea that he was.
“Thanks.” I sat down at the table and looked him over. “You look pretty spectacular yourself.”
He beamed and shrugged as if it were nothing. He had changed into a black suit and smoothed his hair back. The overall effect was one of rugged sophistication, and it looked damn good on him.
“I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of champagne. Do you like Dom Perignon?” He pulled out a bottle from an ice bucket sitting on the table that I hadn’t noticed.
“I've never had it,” I said, shaking my head.
“Then, now is a perfect time to try something new.” He handed me a glass and poured out the golden liquid. I took a careful sip, and the bubbles tickled my nose. “What do you think?”
“Honestly?” I set my glass down on the table and looked at it. “I hate to say this, but it just tastes like plain old champagne to me. I don't taste anything special about it. I guess I'm a terrible champagne drinker.”