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MARTI
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THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR came before she was ready.
Crap.
Marti stared futilely at the makeup she had yet to apply, then down at her bare feet. She wasn’t ready, which was mostly due to spending too much time with the girls in the freebie closet before she left work, languishing over her situation with Logan.
Another knock and she rushed out of her bedroom.
“Don’t screw this up,” she reminded herself, repeating Blue’s words back to herself. This was professional. She needed to remember that. Their last encounter got out of hand.
She flung open the door, and without a second glance, turned, waving him inside, rambling about needing to finish getting ready.
“Marti . . .”
She did a double take at the sound of his voice. He stood there, in the entryway to her apartment, looking like he stepped off the cover of GQ in a perfectly tailored black suit and a crisp, white dress shirt, sans tie. It was open slightly at the chest, revealing a triangle of tanned skin her eyes were inexplicably drawn to.
He rubbed the heavy stubble over his jaw as his green eyes glittered, and he held out a bouquet of the most exquisite yellow roses she had ever seen.
She caught her breath and her gaze snagged on his mouth.
Don’t think of the kiss.
Don’t think of the kiss.
“Red seemed too cliché,” he said by way of explanation.
Marti’s chest tightened as she stood in place, feet frozen. She swallowed. “Oh,” she said, taken aback. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He arched a brow and took a step forward. “I wanted to,” he said softly.
As a rule, she loved flowers. But she didn’t often accept them from men, and accepting them from Logan seemed . . . dangerous. First, they kissed last night, and now this.
If all of this was for show, then why did he keep doing things that proved otherwise? Like he wasn’t just acting anymore? It was confusing and irritating and . . .
Marti cleared her throat and reached up, fingering the jewelry around her neck. “Maybe you should save those kinds of gestures for when other people are around.”
It was a rude thing to say, but Logan just rolled his eyes, taking her in stride like he always did. “Don’t worry, McBride, they’re still intact.”
She frowned. “What are?”
“Your walls.” He flashed her a knowing smirk, and her spine stiffened in response.
She snatched the flowers from his hands, cheeks burning, and stormed into the kitchen where she retrieved a vase from under the sink. Why did it seem like every time things seemed to be going smoothly, something happened to set her off? Then again, things had been going a little too smoothly. She’d looked forward to seeing him a little too much, had thought about it all day, in fact. Even during their staff meeting when Blue snipped at her for daydreaming.
She filled the vase with water and plunked it down on the counter with sharp, stabby movements. Had Logan hit a little too close to home with the wall comment? Was that why she was so annoyed?
“Do you always have to be so crass?” she asked, turning to him and spearing him with her gaze.
“Do you always have to ruin a moment? Read into everything?”
Marti’s chest heaved, and she braced her back against the counter to steady herself. They hadn’t had a heated exchange like this in a while, and in an odd way, it grounded her, made her feel better because it reminded her of where they started. “Sorry for reading into a gesture that usually indicates a man’s interest in a woman. I guess I’m unclear on the proper etiquette for a man who is pretending to be your boyfriend for his own personal gain. I didn’t realize sweet, private gestures were a part of the package. My mistake,” she said, unable to stop herself from reminding him this was more for his benefit than hers, even if it was a lie.
“So you’re saying you thought the gesture was sweet?”
With a growl, she pushed off the counter and brushed past him, hands curled into fists. Good. Anger was good. It was far better than the softening in her chest.
Her shoulder bumped his arm and he reached out, catching her. A beat of silence stretched between them, so she turned and inclined her head, meeting his gaze as his hand slid down to her wrist. Everywhere he touched sparked to life. If that was his intention, to light her skin of fire, he’d succeeded. Little did he know, it only made her resent him more.
With a little tug, she pulled her arm out of his grip. Tucking her hands behind her back to hide her trembling.
His eyes softened on her face, despite her glare. “I like you like this,” he whispered and raked a hand through the side of her hair.
Her breathing hitched as he trailed a thumb down her cheek and over her jaw, up to her lower lip, sending her heart into overdrive. “Like what?” she managed.
“No makeup. Bare,” he said, as if he could see right through her. “It’s just . . . all you. No masks. No barriers. Just pure Marti.”
She swallowed, even as her throat tightened. “I need to go finish getting ready.”