The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,74

sick pit opening in his gut.

“Oh . . . Claire didn’t . . .”

“Claire didn’t what?” He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes.

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “I went to see her while you napped.”

“You did what?” He ran one hand over his hair.

“I had to talk to her about being in Steffi’s wedding party, and then I brought up your little tryst.”

“Tryst?” He pressed his fingers to his temple to keep from throttling her. “Did you actually use that word?”

“No.”

“Thank God.” He let his hands fall to his sides. “I asked you to butt out.”

“If it’s any consolation, so did Claire.”

“Good.” He turned and started up the stairs.

“Logan, she didn’t say it, but I saw how much she cares for you written all over her face. She’s not like Karina and the others.”

“I know that, Peyton.” It was precisely why he liked spending time with her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to shower and go.”

Chapter Fourteen

Claire couldn’t deny that having Logan in her bed last night had been better than any of the tingles she’d gotten from her very best book boyfriends. She stashed her new romance novels in a drawer before taking one last look around her house—newly cleared of empty junk-food wrappers.

Two glasses of pinot noir sat by her laptop, waiting for Logan’s arrival without accompanying candles or anything else. Just a hint of her intentions or, rather, an attempt at a new attitude toward their relationship.

Naomi would be proud.

The phone rang. She glanced at the screen, closed her eyes, and let loose a shallow huff. “Mom, this isn’t a great time. Can I call you later or tomorrow?”

“Sure. I just wanted to warn you that Nora Williams told me that a burglar tried to break into Janie Jones’s house last night. He got away without getting caught, which means he could be on the hunt for a new target. Lock your doors.”

“I always do.” Claire could practically hear her mom making the sign of the cross. “Please don’t worry so much about me.”

“Oh, honey, I can’t help it,” she said on a sigh, but Claire heard the loving smile in her voice, too. “What did you do today?”

“Worked a little. Went to the library.”

“Sounds like a wonderful, relaxing day.” Her bright voice vibrated genuine happiness. If she knew how miserable Claire had actually been, it would crush her.

“Mom, I’m sorry to rush you, but I’m expecting someone.” She stole a glimpse at the door as if it would make Logan appear.

“Who?”

“A client,” Claire covered rather than field yet another of her mom’s complaints about Logan carting her off to New York. If her mom knew about Newport, she might have a stroke. “I’ll swing by tomorrow to see you and Dad. Maybe we can grab dinner.”

“Lovely. I’ll bake a cheesecake!”

“Make it a chocolate one.” If tonight didn’t go well, Claire would need that all to herself. “Bye!”

She muted her phone and tossed it onto a bookshelf, then checked herself in the mirror, frowning at the blonde highlights she shouldn’t have had done. The fact that she’d thought, even for a moment, that her hair color would magically change her life made her embarrassed.

She started at the bang from the brass knocker outside. Tugging at the miniskirt she’d worn over tights, she then took Rosie in hand. She crossed the room on shaky legs and opened the door. Logan stood in the warm glow of the porch lights with his hands tucked into the pockets of his handsome black wool peacoat.

She let the simple joy of seeing him again fill her. “Thanks for coming.”

Logan’s green eyes gave no hint of his mood. “Sure.”

“Come on in. You can toss your coat on the rack, then join me at the dining table.” With her back to him, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, loosening her grip on Rosie with each step. “I poured some wine.”

She handed him a wineglass and then sipped from the other.

“Thanks.” He took a full swallow, staring at her over the glass’s rim, and waited for her to lead the discussion. When she gestured to his chair and opened her laptop, his eyes dimmed. Apparently, he’d hoped for something more.

“I know we should talk about this morning,” she began, her toes curling inside her shoes, “but let’s get business out of the way first.”

He nodded and set his wineglass on the table, giving her his full attention. This was it—her one chance to dazzle him with her design. Her finger hovered over