Initiation (Master Class, #1) - Sierra Cartwright Page 0,25
objected to him buying her a meal as the way he’d handled it. But, really, was it worth an argument? Ruining what they’d shared and what might still be ahead?
That idea tantalized.
When he slid the scramble in front of her, she sighed.
He waited, head tipped, regarding her.
“Thank you for breakfast.”
His smile made her day brighter. Then he ruined it by opening his mouth again. “Much better. I prefer you compliant.”
“Well, I don’t.” She scowled.
“You might find the tradeoff worthwhile, if you give it a try.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“Stubborn to the end.”
Jennifer took a bite of the steaming, delicious scramble. “Good choice on the restaurant.”
Logan grinned, a slow, consuming expression that melted her reserves. He looked ten years younger and infinitely more approachable. Instead of relaxing her, it increased her tension. An engaging, charming Logan would be so much more difficult to deny.
“Joe and I ate here a couple of times when I helped him with some remodeling at the house.”
“The basement?”
“Gives me some ideas for things I might want to do at my place.”
It occurred to her she had no idea where he even lived. “Where is that?”
“A house in the south part of Denver. Got it at a steal when the market was down. But honestly, it needs a lot of work. And I’m always on a case.”
“Is that by choice?”
He took a drink of his coffee. “Unconscious, I suppose. How about you?”
“We have something in common. My house is a fixer-upper, but not by choice. I would have preferred something that was move-in ready, but I couldn’t afford it.”
“What part of town?”
“The Highlands.”
He nodded. “Historic home?”
“If by historic you mean old money pit, yes. Furnace. Painting. Refinishing floors. Needs appliances. All my time and savings are going into it. I told myself the tax write-off is worth it.” She shrugged. “So far I’m not sure it is.”
“You’re doing the work yourself?”
“Most of it. I watch a lot of how-to videos online. And I go to classes at the local hardware store.”
“You’re serious?”
“This week, I plan to learn how to use an air sprayer.”
“A power tool?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Are you being a pervert?”
“I might be. Are you going to wear coveralls?”
“No.” Jennifer laughed. “Sorry. I just want to get rid of the canary-yellow walls as quickly as possible. Though I have to admit that when I don’t have coffee, the color wakes me up just fine.”
He grinned. “I’d like to see the house.”
“It’s not much more than a construction site at the moment. You’d have to bring your own hard hat, I’m afraid.”
“I could teach you about those power tools.”
His voice was husky, and his tone was somewhere between a tease and a promise. But the idea of having him at her place, dominating her, maybe tying her wrists to the headboard…
A busboy collected their dishes, and Logan asked if she was ready to go.
“It’s getting so loud, it’s difficult to hear you,” she said.
“What?” he mock shouted, cupping his ear.
Outside, wind had whipped up, blustery and biting. “That snow is definitely on the way,” she said. It would be smart to head back to Denver now, but she was reluctant to end the weekend so soon. She wasn’t sure when or if she’d have the opportunity to play with him again, and she wanted to experience as much as possible while she could.
“Still want that mocha?”
She looked at him and scowled.
“That’s what I thought.” He cupped her elbow and led her toward the coffee shop.
A frisson of desire teased her spine at his casual, possessive touch. And she realized she’d never been with a man who was this hands-on.
He held the door for her. This time, she didn’t argue when he paid for their drinks.
“Well done,” he said into her ear, the words tantalizingly rough. “I’d much rather reward good behavior than punish bad.”
“Either one sounds good to me,” she replied, hardly able to believe she’d been bold enough to say that aloud. Was she brave or foolish? Maybe both.
“I’m looking forward to getting you back to the dungeon.”
Her shiver had nothing to do with someone opening the door and letting in a cold burst of air.
An extra-large cup in hand, they went outside.
A woman inside the boutique flicked on the neon ‘open’ sign and smiled invitingly.
Since a long black skirt that would look great with boots caught Jennifer’s eye, she asked, “Do you mind if I have a look?”
“Not at all. Shopping is one of my favorite things,” he replied.
She frowned. “Are