The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,26
living. The images monopolized Claire’s attention. She sat beside him, leaning forward to study each photograph before moving on to the floor plan.
“There are a lot of windows, but you’ve taken these all at night with artificial lighting. I can’t really tell how the sun hits the space. Do other buildings or balconies block the light?” She turned to face him and hitched a breath when she realized how close their faces were. Close enough to kiss.
She hesitated there, mesmerized. At this short distance, he would see every bit of panic in her eyes.
“Maybe you should come see for yourself.” He reached out, then retreated and balled his hand on his thigh.
Claire shifted backward to avoid touching him. “I told you already, I’m not going to New York.” Even as she said the words, she suspected he didn’t believe her. “And just to be clear, this”—she gestured between them and the photographs—“is separate from whatever I do or don’t do with Peyton. So please don’t try to inflict guilt.”
“Claire, even if I wanted to make you feel guilty—which I don’t—how could I? You’ve never hurt a soul.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I know you want me to talk to your sister.”
“I’d love that, but I don’t want you to feel guilty. Feel compassion, maybe. Take the high road. Turn the other cheek. Forgive and forget . . . I don’t know.” He flashed a melancholy smile. “I’m sure there are a bunch of sayings that fit the bill.”
“Look at me, Logan.” No matter how blotchy her neck and face had to be right then, she meant for him to understand that she was as serious now as when she’d been determined to walk again. “I’ll never, ever forget.”
They stared at each other in silence until Logan reached for her hand. He kept his eyes on hers as he pressed her knuckles to his cheek. She bit the inside of hers as heat flooded every inch of her body.
“I hear you,” he said. “I’ll try not to push—not about Peyton, and not about New York.”
“Thank you.” Claire withdrew her hand and curled it against her chest, focusing on breathing steadily. Their conversation had veered into unprofessional territory. Boundaries needed to be maintained, or she’d lose her head and her heart. She flipped her notebook open and clicked the top of a ballpoint pen. “So let’s talk about your tastes.”
His brows shot up. “I thought I hired you for your taste.”
“To a point, yes, but your home has to reflect your personality, not mine.” We’re not a couple, after all.
“I’m curious about your instincts. What do you see for me?”
For an artist, his lack of particularity about his home shocked her. Then again, from what she’d heard throughout the years, he’d spent little time there until Peyton got sick. He’d always been running. Away from his dad? Toward a destiny? Perhaps both? She wasn’t sure. She also wasn’t sure if he knew that answer.
“I’m not sure.” As a teen he’d been fun-loving—an adventurer, a boy with a keen eye for detail and a unique way of seeing things. Everything she knew of him more recently came from the stories she’d hear and from brief encounters whenever he’d visit his parents, which wasn’t often. “Your adult life is something I know only from a distance. I’ve no idea what makes you feel comfortable.”
“Hang on.” He grimaced and shifted his weight while holding up a finger and tugging his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Karina, I’m in a meeting. Can this wait until a little later?”
Karina must be the woman he’d dressed up to impress. A new girlfriend, or had they been dating for a while? One of the tall, willowy women in the photos, with long, strong legs and no cane? Claire forced a smile to cover the intense envy that soured her stomach.
“Maybe. We’ll discuss it more when we meet up.” He nodded with a grin. “Promise.”
More silence. Did Karina have a smoky or feminine voice? Whatever the tone, Claire doubted Karina stuttered around Logan like she did. She chugged her wine, causing Logan’s expression to shift, his wide eyes now resembling jade medallions.
“You too. Bye.” He shoved the phone in his back pocket. “Sorry.”
Her cheeks prickled as she struggled to recall what they’d been discussing before her mind had wandered.
“So you were asking me what makes me comfortable.” He rubbed his chin with a shrug. “I like what you did for Steffi and Ryan, and what you’ve done here. Something homey.”