The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(81)

Claire’s stomach tensed. Did her date with Logan signal that she was up for random flings? Would people whisper about her the way they did about Melanie?

Karina kept babbling, unaware that her long stride challenged Claire and Rosie. “Share some fun childhood stories about Logan that I can torture him with while we’re away.”

Claire swiped a champagne flute from a passing tray. “Won’t you have more important things to focus on in Greece?”

Two gulps polished off the champagne.

“Sure, but humor makes tense conditions bearable. Most of the time, Logan’s quick wit gives him the upper hand when we poke at each other. It’d be nice to turn the tables for a change.”

Claire deliberately slowed down, hoping to dislodge herself from Karina’s clutches. While searching for another waiter, she asked, “How many projects have you two worked on together?”

“This will be our fourth in three years.” Karina stopped but didn’t release her hold on Claire. “We work together long enough to get sick of each other, then go our separate ways for a while. The cycle works. Keeps the spark alive.”

“The spark?” Claire’s stomach turned again, this time with the added burn of acid.

“You know,” she said, tossing a silky black waterfall of hair over her shoulder. “The creative juice that pulls our work together.”

“Oh.” The relief in her voice drew Karina’s notice and then laughter.

“Oh gosh. You thought I meant something else . . .” She shrugged one shoulder. “Logan and I have had our fun. Sometimes it gets lonely when you’re out in the field, working on a depressing story. You need to hold on to something or someone affirming. But it never means anything and always ends.”

“Until the next time.” Those words escaped before Claire realized what she’d said. A statement, not a question.

Karina paused, as if unsure how honest to be. “You know how it is. You grab what you can when you can, and then you let go when you must. That’s what I hope to do tonight with your friend Ben. So tell me the truth. What are my chances?”

“You really have to ask him.” Claire felt a stab of sympathy for Melanie and disentangled herself from Karina. She’d met her quota of intimate new details about Logan. “If you’ll excuse me, I see my parents over there.”

“Oh, sweet. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party with my parents.” Karina smiled and then craned her neck, ostensibly looking for Ben. Claire didn’t know whether to be glad or worried about that. “See you later.”

Claire found another glass of champagne before she slipped through the crowd. The bubbly didn’t help her to stop picturing Logan and Karina together at the end of an emotionally wrenching day of interviews and photos, under a hot Grecian sun, looking for a place to channel their restless energy and need for comfort.

She shuddered, confirming that, despite her best efforts—her very best—she was not anything like Karina or Logan or Melanie. She could not adopt the “grab what you can when you can” philosophy, no matter how much she wanted to extend her little fantasy with Logan.

Facts crowded her thoughts, demanding her attention. He was leaving in a week, something he’d neglected to tell her. He would be away for weeks or longer with a woman with whom he shared an intense friendship with benefits. When he returned from Greece, he’d be living in Manhattan, not at Arcadia House. Unlike her beloved historical romance novels, their rake-and-wallflower story would not end with a happily ever after.

When Logan finally left Sanctuary Sound, he would do so having gotten nearly everything he wanted when he first arrived—a newly decorated house, a thawing of the animosity between Claire and Peyton, and no-strings sex from Claire. Meanwhile, Claire would be left nursing a bruised heart because, despite everything she’d told herself and others, she’d let herself spin tales of “maybes” where he’d been concerned. Silly dreams spun on the fuel of her desire. Useless dreams because, as she’d known in her heart of hearts, she’d be alone again in a sea of happier people, just like now.

Mr. Prescott’s voice came over the microphone, pulling her out of the downward mental spiral. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out tonight. I’ve been told it’s time to be seated for dinner. The silent auction will remain open through dessert. We will give a five-minute warning before it closes, then tally the winners. Please have your checkbooks ready. In the meantime, enjoy the meal.”

The string quartet broke into Bach’s Orchestral Suite no. 3, accompanying people as they scurried around searching out their table assignments. Claire wove through the crowd toward table one, arriving at the same time as Logan and Peyton.

“Claire, so sorry.” Logan hurried to her side. “We had an impromptu shoot for our project because the light was right and I wanted to capture Peyton the first time she attended a major social event after treatment.”

Claire and Peyton held each other’s gaze for a moment. Peyton had tried to warn Claire about Logan, and Claire hated that she’d been right. Then again, Peyton knew them both so well—of course she’d been right.

“It’s fine. Work comes first.” Claire sat in the chair he pulled out for her. Truthfully, she didn’t need for him to apologize. He was simply being Logan, and he’d never pretended or promised he would be anyone else. She wouldn’t even want him to be, really. His passion for things was what made him exciting. Far be it from her to try to cage him in any way. And yet . . . No. She brushed aside ridiculous fantasies and faced her former friend. “Peyton, you look wonderful in that color. I’m sure the photographs will be inspirational.”