Best Man with Benefits (Wedding Dare, #4, McCade Brothers, #3)(42)
…
Sophie woke in a beam of sunlight, with the muffled sound of Logan’s voice chasing away the last wisps of a dream in which she’d been dancing with Logan on top of the Beaver Creek rock wall, wearing nothing but black lingerie. She sat up and blinked around the sun-flooded suite, confused to find the bed—the entire room—empty. Then she saw him through the closed balcony doors, leaning on the railing, facing the mountains, wearing a white T-shirt and faded jeans riding low enough on his hips to make her wonder if he had anything on underneath. Had he not been speaking into his phone, she might have wandered over to find out. But he was on the phone, and it was obviously a business call. Every line of his body conveyed restless energy and the closed doors couldn’t mute the frustration in his voice.
As if he sensed her attention, he turned. Their eyes locked and his tense expression immediately loosened into a smile. It turned apologetic and he pantomimed strangling his phone.
She laughed, wrapped the sheet around herself, and climbed out of bed. He made a move to open the door—an invitation to join him on the balcony—but she shook her head and padded to the bathroom, stopping every few steps along the way to pick up another piece of her outfit.
Please let there be no witnesses in the hallway when I take the walk of shame back to my room. In last night’s dress. Commando, she added as she lifted her torn panties off the floor.
In the privacy of the bathroom she placed her clothes on the counter, stared into the mirror, and laughed at herself all wrapped up in the bedsheet. Don’t you think the modesty is a tad misplaced at this point? He’s seen, touched, and tasted every inch of you.
That he had. She raised her arms over her head and stretched until her deliciously abused muscles trembled. Maybe in the time it took her to dress, wash her face, finger-brush her teeth, and get dressed, he’d be off the phone and they could start seeing, touching, and tasting each other all over again? A girl could hope.
Hope fizzled a few minutes later when she stepped out of the bathroom to find him sitting at the small desk, firing up his laptop. “I’m logging on right now,” he said into the phone while his gaze lingered on her. “Give me a minute to access the file. Then we can get started.”
The person on the other end of the call responded, and then another tinny voice echoed across the line and Sophie realized he was on a conference call. He’s busy. You should go. The depth of her disappointment startled her. She didn’t want to go.
And if that scary thought didn’t get her butt in gear, nothing would, because falling for him was one thing, but falling so hard she lost sight of the limitations of their…whatever it was they had going on…was another thing entirely.
She gave him an awkward wave, then pointed to the door and mouthed, “See you later.”
He shook his head, put the phone face up on the desk, hit speaker, then another button, and then gestured her to come closer. She approached the desk as a man on the other end of the call said, “Thanks, everyone, for dialing in. While Logan’s booting up, I’ll take a minute to walk through the agenda, which is pretty extensive…” A series of groans from the other attendees followed that announcement.
Logan smiled, grabbed her wrist, and tugged her closer. “It’s on mute,” he explained, before his smile turned wicked and he slid his hand under her skirt. “I seem to recall ripping your panties off last night, so tell me, Soph, whatcha got on under this little red dress?”
The voices on the other end of the phone went quiet, and then someone cleared his throat.
Logan winced and slowly removed his hand. “Okay, I take it we’re not on mute?”
Several beats of silence greeted the question, and then a female voice said, “This is the best conference call ever.” People laughed.
“Glad to bring you your prurient moment for the day. Everyone, say hi to Sophie.”
“Hi, Sophie,” the disembodied group replied as one.
“Hello,” she somehow choked out. “And good-bye.”
Logan grinned and winked at her. “Sophie’s face is almost as red as her dress right now.”
The voices on the other end of the phone chanted, “Picture! Picture! Picture!”
“Sorry, team. I’m keeping her to myself for the time being. But if you all behave, and we get this freaking deal closed by the end of the quarter, I’ll see if I can talk her into being my date for the closing dinner.”
That statement brought a round of whistles and cheers.
Date for the closing dinner? Dear God, he was talking about taking this thing between them forward. Beyond Beaver Creek. Into their real lives. Her heart galloped off toward an uncharted horizon while he added, “Great. Now, Peter’s going to walk you through the agenda, and I’m going to put you on mute while I say good-bye to Sophie.”
Several “Bye Sophies” flowed over the line, along with a few kissing noises. Logan rolled his eyes, hit the mute button—took an extra second to make sure the icon came up on the screen—and then put the phone down and looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”
She waved his apology away. “It’s me. My bad luck has rubbed off on you.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her forward, and rested his forehead against her middle before looking up at her. “Something about you has rubbed off on me, but I don’t think it’s bad luck. Sure you have to go? You could hang out here and…f*ck…I don’t know…be bored to death. Doesn’t that sound fun?”