Why was he with her?
“So we’re going into Topshop why?” Logan said as we neared the fashion retailer on the corner of Princes Street.
“Because I still need to buy Maia a birthday present.”
He squeezed my hand. “I told you the laptop could be from the two of us.”
“And I said, ‘Let me give you money, then,’ and you told me to bugger off.”
Logan grunted. “For good reason.”
I stopped him and turned to face him. “The laptop is a wonderful gift, and it should just be from you. I am going to buy her a bunch of non–girlie girl stuff, and you’re going to suffer through it since you insisted on spending the day with me.”
With my hand still in his, Logan put his, and thus mine, behind my back and jerked me against him. He drew me into that sexy low-lidded gaze of his. “With the arrangements for the party, Maia being on school holidays, you working a million manuscripts at a time, and me working, I’ve barely had a chance to get you to myself. I’m grabbing time with you while I can get it. Even if it does involve shopping.”
“You have seen me,” I argued quietly and pointedly, my cheeks heating at the reminder of how many times he’d “seen” me in a week. “It must be a record or something.”
His lips twitched with amusement. “As fantastic as that is, babe, sometimes I want to spend time with you when we’re not having sex.”
“What a revelation,” I teased.
He gave me a deadpan look before leading me into the store. “Shop.”
I snorted at his demand but started looking around. Seeing the mounting boredom on Logan’s face, I moved a little faster and picked up some cute sarcastic slogan T-shirts I thought Maia would approve of, a pair of skinny jeans, some fashion jewelry, and a purse.
“You’re spoiling her,” Logan murmured as he stood at the checkout with me.
“She deserves a little spoiling. And look who’s talking, Mr. Laptop.”
Without warning, he kissed me. And not just a brush of lips against lips. It was a full-on, tongue-in-my-mouth, luscious, wet kiss.
“What was that for?” I whispered, perfectly aware of the burning stares from the retail assistant and other patrons.
Logan didn’t answer, but the expression on his face… the look in his eyes… the emotion they conveyed were so overwhelming I had to look away.
I wanted to believe so much in that look on his face, and yet I was still terrified too.
The girl ringing up my presents for Maia stared at me with open envy. I squirmed at her assessing stare and looked down at my purse.
There it was again.
Why was he with her?
My mood plummeted, the high of buying Maia gifts slowly flowing out of me as we wandered back down Princes Street.
“Let’s grab something to eat,” Logan said, and I nodded absentmindedly. “What do you fancy?”
“Anything.”
He led us uphill off Princes Street and hailed a cab. As soon as we got inside it, he gave the guy our home address. I stared at him in question.
Logan shrugged. “Maybe if I get you home you’ll relax. You’ve been tense the whole time we’ve been out.”
My lips parted in surprise at his observation. I didn’t realize he was that perceptive. “I’m fine,” I lied.
His expression darkened. “Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s nothing,” I assured him. “It’s silly. My own insecurities. I’m working on it, but I can’t work on it if you take us home.”
“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
I glanced over at the cabdriver, but he didn’t appear to paying much attention to us. “It’s silly.”
“You said that already.”
Heeding the warning in his impatient tone, I blurted out, “I feel like people are staring at us and wondering why the hell you’re with me.”
Logan stared at me in shock. “Fuck,” he bit out, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Your mother really did a number on you, didn’t she?”
I flinched at the reminder. “I said I’m working on it.”
“I’ve changed my mind, mate,” Logan suddenly said loudly to the driver. “The Caffeine Drip.”
“I love that place,” I murmured.
“I know.” He took my hand in his, his grip tight, possessive. “And when we go in there, I want you to think of one thing.” He bent his head, his lips inches from mine. “When I walk anywhere with your hand in mine, I’m proud as fuck that a woman like you is with me.”
I felt the sting of tears in my eyes and nose. “I kind of like you, Logan MacLeod.”
His grin was wicked and slow. “You kind of more than like me, Miss Grace Farquhar.”
I tutted. “You really are far too cocky for your own good.”
His breath whispered hot across my ear. “You kind of more than like my cock… iness.”
I blushed and swatted him away, but he only pulled me closer into his chest so I could feel his laughter against me.
CHAPTER 24
“I