Heat Wave

I glance at him, raising my brows. “What?”


“Remember when I thought you and Logan hated each other?”

“No.”

“Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m pretty sure you’re his favorite.”

You’re right, I think but I can only hide my smile by shoving another shrimp in my mouth. I shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “You’re not a very good liar, you know that Ron?”

I roll my eyes. “Well if I’m Logan’s favorite, it’s because I show up to work on time.”

Logan comes back with the glass of champagne, his eyes not leaving mine as he hands it to me. “Cheers,” he says, clinking his glass against mine, giving me a sly smile, a moment for just us.

Suddenly Charlie’s drink appears between us, trying to clink against ours. “Yes, hello, hi,” he says, glancing between the two of us and pouting. “I’m here too, you know.”

“Yes, of course you are,” Logan comments dryly.

Charlie frowns. “Fine, I know when I’m not wanted,” he says and then stalks off toward Johnny and Kate, who are dancing.

“Touchy, touchy,” Logan says, watching him go off.

“He said he thinks I’m your favorite,” I tell him.

He grins and takes a step toward me. “Because you are my favorite,” he says, lowering his voice to those irresistibly sexy levels. “Let him be jealous.”

I laugh. “Oh, I’m not sure he’d want to be your favorite after all. There’s a lot of inappropriateness and work harassment.”

“Yes, I’m quite the scoundrel when it comes to that,” he says, leaning in even closer. I have to still myself, afraid that he might kiss me here in front of everyone. That’s what this is starting to look like. “Though I’m pretty sure Charlie doesn’t want what I want from you right now.”

“If you’re going to say something dirty, please don’t bring Charlie’s name into it.”

“I would never,” he says, cocking his head as he looks me over, like I’m a dessert tray and he doesn’t know which treat to try first. “But,” he whispers, leaning into my ear. “I wouldn’t mind hauling you off to the bathroom right now and fucking you up against the wall. I bet you’re already wet and ready under this dress.”

“You’re awfully optimistic,” I manage to say, closing my eyes. Thing is, he’s right. He just has to look at me a certain way and I might spontaneously combust.

“Optimistic because I have a great track record with you,” he murmurs, lips still to my ear. “Perfect, even. If only your dress were shorter, I could have my fingers inside you right now and no one would know.” I automatically clench at the thought. “Finger fuck you right here, among all these people, until your knees gives out.”

“Logan,” someone’s voice breaks the spell. I’m not even sure whose, I’m too turned on to function and he hasn’t even laid a finger on me.

Slowly he pulls away from me and I open my eyes to see Daniel staring at us.

Logan clears his throat. “Yes?”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt. We’re running out of champagne for the punch. Should I dip into the stash you got for midnight?”

“Nah,” he says, taking a sip of his. “We’ll just move onto the Mai Tais. You do a good job with those.”

“Thanks,” Daniel says, tipping his plastic hat at him before he looks to me, giving me a mild smirk. “Guess I won’t be planning to kiss you at midnight,” he says before he walks off to the bar.

Logan raises his brows. “If he kissed you, I would have punched him the bloody face.”

I smack his shoulder. “Oh come on, caveman. Besides, he and Nikki are apparently an item now. Or again. I can’t keep up with the dating antics around here.”

“It’s like bloody summer camp,” he comments with a sigh. But instead of looking put-off by it, he looks pleased. I know he takes a lot of pride in how close-knit everyone is here.

The two of us part ways for the rest of the evening while he does the rounds, making sure everyone is having a good time, and somehow Kate convinces me to dance. The Mai Tais help, as do the feather boas, shiny hats and tiaras, and noise makers, and soon nearly all of us are cutting loose on the dance floor, ready to bring in the New Year.

Then the slow music comes on as we near the countdown. “Purple Rain” starts to play and while I’m looking to the computer with amazement, I see Logan stepping away from the playlist and heading right for me.

“I would have played ‘Kashmir,’” he says, taking my hand in his. “But that’s a great song to fuck to, not to dance too. Will you have this dance with me?”

I blink at him as he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. What he just said is the kind of thing he normally says in private, not in the middle of a crowded dance floor.