Blow(21)

The smile he gave me felt electric. “Oh, they’ll sell. In fact, you might want to order a case of those.”

Discussing devices used to provide pleasure should have been awkward, yet somehow it wasn’t. “Do you know something I don’t?”

With folded arms, he leaned back against the counter. “About the wealthy residents of Boston, absolutely. And here’s a small suggestion.” He bobbed his chin toward the ornate Chinese glass cabinet beside him. “Put those items out tomorrow, and as soon as a customer asks the price, casually mention your supply is low, and I bet they buy them up.”

I raised a brow. “Experienced in high-society sexual dynamics, are you?”

His grin was devilish. “You might say that. I also have a few friends back home that as soon as I mention upscale sex toys, I’m sure will be interested.”

I tilted my head. “Will I have to pay you commission?” I was seriously flirting with him now.

There was just something about him.

We were facing each other and the noise he made from deep in his throat rumbled through me. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

My cheeks flamed and I wasn’t a blusher, or I hadn’t been before I met Logan.

“Show me around.” His tone was commanding again.

I couldn’t understand why I liked it.

I shouldn’t have.

More than happy to escape his lustful stare, I circled the counter and pointed. “To my left I have rugs from Persia, silks from China, and perfumes from France. To my right I have the finest cotton sheets from Egypt, English soaps, Wiley Wallaby gourmet licorice from Australia, Himalayan gourmet salt, and Hacienda La Esmeralda coffee beans from Panama.” I continued around the space, pointing out all the finest things I’d managed to find around the world.

Logan was right next to me and I watched as he picked up a few items with keen interest, whistled at one or two, and raised an impressed brow every now and then.

When I finished, we ended up back at the vintage cash register stand and near the sex toys I’d locked away in the drawer beneath it.

He glanced into the empty cabinet meant to house them. “I’m telling you, I’d put those items out for opening day.”

I tilted my head. “You would, would you?”

His gaze was bold. “Trust me.”

The key was on the counter and I unlocked the drawer. “Maybe you’d like to buy one? For someone in your life, I mean.”

“Wh-what?” he stuttered with a laugh.

A shyness lingered in his eyes that made me yearn for him.

He stepped closer to me and I breathed him in.

With shaky fingers, I opened the drawer.

Logan leaned even closer and whispered, “If I had someone to buy one for, I would.”

I chewed my bottom lip as I hurried to transfer the items, secretly ecstatic I now knew for sure he didn’t have a girlfriend. “Okay, done.” I sighed with relief.

His eyes were warm as he looked around, taking everything in. “Elle, this is really incredible. And I’m not just saying that.”

The compliment moved me and I searched for how to respond.

“How long did you say you’ve been in Boston?”

Um . . .”Three months,” I answered, not certain I had mentioned that and if he’d make the connection to or knew that my sister wasn’t really in rehab . . . that she was missing. That she had been . . . for three months.

Logan casually leaned back against one of the display tables, his palms flat on the wooden surface. “Where were you living before you moved here?”

Feeling more at ease, I leaned back against the counter behind me. “Nowhere.”

Curiosity glittered in his eyes.

I shrugged. “I was somewhat of a nomad. A gypsy, is what Peyton calls me. I had a small place in San Francisco but I rarely ever went there. For the last five years, I’ve just traveled the world and sold my treasures on the Internet.”

Logan picked up a silk scarf that lay on the table and ran his fingers over it. “You liked moving around so much after your childhood?”

“It was the only life I knew until I came here.”

“Weren’t you lonely?”

I shook my head and gave him a forced smile. “Isn’t everyone in their own way?”

Forcing his own smile, he said, “Well, I think what you’ve done is really impressive. And I can see you really love it.”

Things seemed to be getting serious between us again and I felt myself needing to push him away. “I don’t want to keep you. I can walk home. It’s less than a mile from here.”

He stepped forward and tugged my hat off. “I said I’d see you home and I’m a man of my word.” He glanced over his shoulder out the window. “And besides, this,” he held my hat up before setting it on the counter, “isn’t going to keep you dry. Nor is your trench coat with the winds as high as they are.”

He had a point.

I laughed. I’d laughed a lot with Logan. “Okay, then would you like to help me move these boxes downstairs?”

Logan looked at the stacks of cardboard boxes, some empty, some not. “Sure, I’ll get the heavy ones.”

“So chauvinistic,” I teased.

He pretended to be pained and placed his palm on his heart. “And here I thought I was being chivalrous.”