I twisted my lip. “Pasta, I think.”
“Good choice. I think I’ll have that too. Spaghetti, linguini, or penne?”
“Spaghetti, please.”
“Carbonara, Arabiatta, Bolognese, tomato, aglio olio, or lemon capers.”
I laughed. “Too many choices. I’ll go with the traditional tomato sauce and a meatball.”
His eyes twinkled. “You’re easy.”
“I prefer simple,” I said saucily.
He shrugged and picked up the phone. “Easy.” He winked.
“I’d like to place an order,” Logan said into the phone.
I liked what this was between us. It seemed with our secrets confessed everything was lighter, easier, and dare I say fun.
His harsh tone drew my attention. He was still on the phone. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow, I said, for now, just deliver my order. I’ll pay with cash.” Logan’s voice was gruff and laced with anger as he slammed the phone down.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him.
He stalked toward the bedroom. “Nothing. I’m going to take a shower before the food arrives.”
Whoa.
Mood change much?
“Logan,” I said, my voice harsh.
He stopped.
“What we just talked about—the figuring out what we are, you talking to me is part of it.”
Even before I finished speaking, he had turned around. He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry. You’re right. My grandfather wants me back in New York and to get me there, he’s frozen my accounts. The front desk told me my company credit card was declined earlier today, and now they won’t allow me to charge to my account.”
Not expecting anything like that, I offered, “I have some money if you need it.”
His laugh was dry. “I’ll take care of it. I might have to move to my pop’s until I can talk to my grandfather, but trust me, I’ve got enough not to worry about paying this bill.”
Logan was out of the room before I could respond.
Why is it everything in life comes with a price? I thought.
Logan didn’t need me to point out which one was Lizzy.
Her red hair gave her away.
While we were eating, he had filled me in about what the day had brought. Like him, I was certain the woman Declan had mentioned had to be my sister. I just wished I knew more.
“It was the only picture I could find,” I told him. I was on my phone searching for other photos of my sister on Michael’s Facebook page—Lizzy didn’t seem to have one—and as far back as I went, I still found only that one picture of her in some group shot with a bunch of people. I had no idea who they were. I found it really odd and it was bothering me.
“The one you sent me was fine—don’t worry about finding another. If Declan finds anything out, he can just point to her in the group photo.”
I didn’t like it. I wanted a picture of just her. I zoomed in on her face and cropped the picture and then texted it to Logan. “There. Just her.”
It made me feel better to be reassured Declan would be able to show Lizzy’s picture. It made her more identifiable.
Satisfied, I swallowed one last bite of deliciousness before I pushed my plate away and watched Logan across the table.
“What?” he asked, catching my gaze.
“So help me out—you did or you did not grow up with a silver spoon in your mouth?”
His laugh sounded anything but genuine. “Hell, no. I did not. The Ryan name has so many strings attached to it. Even my mother avoided it for as long as she could.”
“What do you mean?”
“My old man says she was different when they were younger. She didn’t care about what her father thought or the money or the differences in lifestyle.”
“What changed her?”
“Life, I guess. Growing up. Marriage. Having to pick what mattered more. Who knows? Don’t get me wrong: as a child I never wanted for anything, but between my gramps and my father, they made sure I understood money—and Ryan money in particular—wasn’t all there was.”
“I guess that means I can’t call you Richie Rich?” I joked.
Logan rose and prowled over to me. He put a finger to my chin and lifted it. “You can call me anything you want—when you’re naked.”
My body jerked when his skin came into direct contact with mine and my heart leapt at the desire in his eyes.
We’d both come so far in such a short period of time—I didn’t cringe or shut down when he talked to me in that sensual tone of his, and he was now able to look at me during sex. I didn’t know what that meant; all I knew was that I wanted to find out.
My gaze swallowed him whole. He was wearing a pair of nylon track pants and a beat-up old T-shirt, and to me he looked just as yummy as he had in his suit.
I wanted to eat him up, and this time I planned to.
Goal clear in my head, I stood up.
Without thought, we automatically drew closer. His hands slid beneath my arms to rest at my waist and his fingers splayed around my slight curves. His cock pressed hard against my belly.
Heat that had nothing to do with the fire roaring beside us flamed within me.