For Better or Worse (29 page)

“And
this
would be . . . ?”

She shoved the folder his way and took another sip of her wine—a big one.

He pulled it toward him, opened it, and began to read.

Having the entire thing memorized, Alexis couldn't help but “read” along with him inside her own head.

The Wedding Belles is a boutique wedding-planning company committed to providing carefully curated weddings for the discerning bride . . . The Wedding Belles ensures the perfect combination of classic elegance and innovative modernity, promising a wedding that's both timeless and contemporary . . .

Logan turned the page, and Alexis expected him to lose interest once he was past the marketing fluff, but to her surprise, he read every last page, analyzed every last chart she'd painstakingly created.

His food arrived and Logan gestured with one finger for another round of drinks, before absently pulling a fry off one of the plates and shoving the plate in her direction.

She bit her lip. She couldn't. She
shouldn't
.

But the smell of the chicken club, with melted cheese and ripe avocado between buttery, toasty bread, was too much to resist. She picked up a knife and cut off a quarter of the sandwich.

“Oh my God,” she whispered around the first heavenly bite.

Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw him smile, but he never looked up from her proposal, careful to wipe his fingers between fries and turning her pages.

Finally, he'd read the entire thing, and Alexis was mortified to realize she'd eaten half his chicken sandwich, a quarter of the burger, a good two-thirds of the fish, and more than a few fries.

Logan didn't seem to mind as he picked up the remaining half of his chicken sandwich and took a thoughtful bite.

He chewed slowly, methodically. Took a sip of beer. Then turned toward her once more. “Where are you with this?”

“How do you mean?”

“You need funding, yes?”

She nodded, reaching for the second glass of wine the bartender had brought along with Logan's beer. She couldn't afford it, but . . . what the hell?

“Yes. I'm envisioning a three-story, multiuse brownstone that could serve as both office space for the team, reception, as well as my living quarters. It'll be more money up front, but I've done the math, and it makes more financial sense in the long run when you factor in the cost of moving, inflation, lease renewal.”

“You want to start it off right,” he said. “From the very beginning.”

She nodded, grateful that someone finally understood. “I know conventional wisdom suggests that I should start it out of my home and sort of build up, but the entire brand of the Belles is elite. The clients I want aren't the ones who will meet in the living room of my Harlem apartment.”

“Any nibbles?”

She lifted a shoulder and pulled another fry off the plate, long past the point of playing coy about being desperately hungry. “I've had a few meetings. Nobody's laughed me out of the conference room yet—just a lot of noncommittal ‘We'll be in touch.' ”

He nodded. “You have a location in mind.”

She smiled, loving that it wasn't a question so much as a statement. As though he knew the way her mind worked, putting the cart before the horse and touring Manhattan real estate when she couldn't even afford a second glass of eight-dollar wine.

“Aha,” he said, with an answering smile.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “It's on Seventy-Third between Broadway and West End, and it's just . . . perfect.”

“Upper West Side,” he said in surprise.

“Yes. It feels right for the Belles. Classic but up-and-coming, upscale but not stuffy, expensive but not too expensive . . .”

“You really have thought it all out.” Logan was studying her.

“Since I was, like, twelve,” she admitted.

“Never wavered?”

Alexis shook her head. “Nope. The vision became more precise over time, not less.”

He turned away, watching his beer glass as he spun it idly on the bar top. “I had a great aunt. Margaret. Great old lady, great sense of humor. She passed away a few months back.”

“Oh,” Alexis said, a little confused by the change of subject but sympathetic all the same. She touched his arm consolingly. “I'm sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Although she was ninety-two and passed in her sleep. Definitely the way to go, don't you think?”

“Can't say I've put too much thought into dying. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Yes, I can see that about you, Alexis,” he said thoughtfully.

She liked the way he said her name, embracing all the syllables.
Uh-lex-iss.

“Aunt Margaret left me some money. Quite a lot of it, actually,” Logan said, still not looking at her.

“Um, congratulations?”

Logan's shoulders didn't move, but he turned his head, resting his chin on his shoulder as he pinned her with an intense gaze. “I'd like to make you an offer, Alexis Morgan.”

She stilled. “What kind of offer?”

He used his elbow to indicate her proposal. “I'd like to fund the Wedding Belles.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Why would you do that?”

Instead of answering, he turned to face her more fully, and all traces of the casual postgrad vanished, and she realized she was seeing the accountant version of Logan ­Harris—the shrewd businessman.

“There's a catch.”

She tried not to let her deflation become visible. Of course there was a catch. There always was.

“I don't want to just offer you a loan. I want to be part owner. Fifty percent.”

She was already shaking her head. “That's not in the plan. It's
my
business.”

He smiled. “That won't change. I won't tell you how to run it. You'll do things your way. But this business plan is legit, and I want to be a part of it.”

“I'd pay you back every penny with interest,” she said. “I expect I can be profitable in two years, I already have a handful of socialite connections, all engaged or
almost
engaged, and—”

“No deal,” he said. “I own fifty percent or I'm not involved at all.”

Fifty percent.

This complete stranger wanted to own fifty percent of her business. Fifty percent of her
dream
.

She shook her head. “I can't. Thank you, but no.”

His gaze shuttered just for a moment before his smile returned, just slightly more restrained than before. “Fair enough.”

Logan shifted his weight, and she felt a little bite of disappointment when he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He was leaving.

The urge to tell him to stay was strong, and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out if it was for personal or professional reasons. She didn't know what she wanted from Logan Harris, but she wanted
something
.

The thought scared her, and was exactly what had her biting her tongue.

She watched as he put several bills on the counter, saw immediately that it was more than enough to cover all of the food, plus her drinks and a hefty tip.

“No, Logan, please.” She reached forward to pick up some of the bills and return them to him, but he caught her hand.

Alexis gasped at the contact. His thumb found the center of her palm, his long, strong fingers closing around the back of her hand.

“Let me, Alexis.” It was a command.

Her first instinct was to scratch back at his high-handedness, but she couldn't seem to think when he was touching her, didn't want to do anything other than what he wanted her to do.

Not like her at all.

No doubt about it, this was a man she needed to guard herself against.

She slowly nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“There,” he said softly. “That wasn't so hard, now, was it?”

“Actually, it nearly killed me,” she grumbled.

His smile was slow and intimate. “I know.”

Logan's gaze dropped to their joined hands, and his thumb brushed against her palm, lingering as though reluctant to release her, before he finally let go.

He pulled something else out of his wallet, set it purposely in front of her. A business card.
His
business card.

“You'll call me if you change your mind.” Again, it was a command. She was starting to gather that beneath the quiet smile and charming accent was a man accustomed to exercising control in all things.
Much like her.

Alexis picked up the card. It was heavy white card stock with nothing but his name, phone number, and email. The card suited him. Simple and to the point, but the midnight-blue font rather than the expected black belied just a hint of unconventional that appealed to her far too much.

“I can't,” she whispered again, eyes locked on his card.

She felt his gaze on her profile but didn't meet his eyes, and he finally gave up, pulling on his heavy wool coat.

“It was lovely meeting you, Alexis.”

She finally looked up, met his piercing gaze. “You, too.”

He opened his mouth as though to say something but then shook his head and slowly started to walk away. Alexis felt something twist inside her at the thought of him leaving, and she gave in to the urge.

“Logan.”

He turned around, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes unreadable.

“Why?” she asked, lifting his business card slightly. “Why would you offer this?”

He jerked his head in the direction of her folder. “It's a good plan. Worth the risk.”

She shook her head slowly, searching his face. “No, it's something more than that. Another reason. I'd like to know what.”

The outer corners of his eyes crinkled a bit, and he gave a fleeting smile before walking back to her, crowding her against the bar.

For a moment she feared—hoped?—that he would kiss her, and from the way his mouth dropped to just inches from hers, she thought maybe he wanted to.

Then his face turned, his lips brushing against her cheek instead. “Say yes to my proposal, Alexis. Say yes, and maybe someday I'll tell you the other reason.”

Logan pulled away, held her gaze for a heartbeat.

Then he stepped back, gave her a sly wink, and walked away without a backward glance.

Alexis sat there for a long time after, his card in her fingers, her heart in her throat, and her life in the hands of a stranger who somehow didn't feel like a stranger at all.

ALSO IN THE WEDDING BELLES SERIES
BY LAUREN LAYNE

To Have and to Hold

From This Day Forward

We hope you enjoyed reading this Pocket Books eBook.

Sign up for our newsletter and receive special offers, access to bonus content, and info on the latest new releases and other great eBooks from Pocket Books and Simon & Schuster.

or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com

Pocket Books

An Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the ­author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by LL Book Company

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Pocket Books paperback edition September 2016

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or
[email protected]
.

The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at
www.simonspeakers.com
.

Interior design by Devan Norman

Cover design by Janet Perr

Cover image © Tom Merton/Getty Images

ISBN 978-1-5011-3515-6

ISBN 978-1-5011-3516-3 (ebook)