Unsettled (10 page)

“Fine, let’s go.”

I hated being put under pressure and backed into a corner. I accepted the flowers from Merick and meandered toward the car.

He opened the door to the black Range Rover parked at the curb and assisted me into the SUV. I slid into the middle of the back bench seat and buckled my lap belt. Merick slid into the front seat, checked the mirrors, and then pulled out into the evening D.C. traffic. While he drove me to my unknown location, I began to second-guess agreeing to meet Logan at all.

Logan could be a mass murderer and I was just a sheep blindly entering the wolf’s lair. Maybe my heightened fear was from watching too many episodes of
SVU
with Alex, but then again, maybe not.

My sweaty palms were fidgeting with the clasp on my bag to calm my nerves when I remembered I was supposed to meet Alex at the eyebrow bar. We’d agreed to skip our night cap at Legends to get our eyebrows done. I accepted Alex’s invitation to get her off my back about moping around the house last weekend.

I smiled at the irony of the situation. Meeting Logan wasn’t planned, but it sounded better than getting hairs yanked from my skin under duress. I leaned over my bag to retrieve my iPhone. I typed out a quick message to Alex that we couldn’t meet tonight because I was meeting Logan. I got an instant response;

“What?! You better not be lying to get out of trying threading.”

I was pretty sure I heard Alex’s shrill outburst all the way from the eyebrow bar, which was on the other side of town.

I replied:

“No—I wish I was lying...he sent a car for me... I can’t do this…”

Her message shouted back at me.

“Don’t you dare blow him off!”

I laughed quietly after reading her latest response. It was like she was sitting right next to me and I could hear her nagging about giving him a chance.

“I gotta go. See you at home.”

I typed, ending our conversation.

“Give him a chance Brooklyn.”

I slanted my eyes while reading the message. Alex had become Logan’s biggest cheerleader and she hadn’t even met him.

I replied:

“I always am.”

I questioned the validity of my response.

I stuffed my phone back in my bag and retrieved my mini compact to check my makeup. My face contorted immediately upon the sight of my appearance; I picked at the small clumps of mascara that were hanging on for dear life on my eyelashes and re-applied a light coat of clear lip gloss and eyeliner. I picked off a few pieces of lint from my golden rod sweater, and adjusted my dangling gold earrings. I couldn’t do much on such short notice, but I looked decent.

I relaxed back into the bench seat and looked out into the darkness peppered with lights from passing cars and sidewalk shops. As Merick continued to drive down the thruway, all the reasons why this was a terrible idea flooded my mind at a rapid rate.

Twenty minutes later, Merick stopped the SUV in front of a swanky spot called Calibré. The name of the restaurant was etched in glass and delicately scripted with white lights beaming from the overhang. Pretentiousness spewed from the brick and glass façade. Not somewhere I would venture into on my own. Showtime, I thought to myself.

A host approached the Range Rover and opened my door.

“Ma’am, Mr. Colton is waiting for you. He requested that I escort you to your seating area,” he said.
How does he know who I am?
I wondered as the host assisted me out of the vehicle.

We passed through a long outdoor foyer before we reached the inside of the restaurant. A hostess behind the desk in all black and hair pulled into a high twisted bun greeted me with a friendly smile. I returned her warm grin with one of my own. I self-consciously ran my hands over my black-knee length shift dress as I passed the pretty hostess.

I continued to follow the host and we entered the main dining area. The host walked straight into the room, whereas my steps faltered a bit to take in the whole scene. A beautiful piano sonata floated through the air as I took in the sights of the restaurant.

Patrons were sprinkled around the restaurant at various black linen tables. An intricate wall-length mounted wine rack full of bottles was to my left, and floor-to-ceiling windows were to my right. In the center of the room was a full-length fireplace ablaze. A few people were congregated around the hearth engrossed in discussion, and for some reason the only thing I noticed were the tiny dollar signs that hung over each of their heads.

The host turned to me with a questioning look and said, “This way please ma’am.” I wanted to correct him, but held my tongue. In my opinion, approaching twenty-five and being addressed as ma’am was just as unflattering as being referred to as unattached.

I stepped forward and the host continued to lead me through the open dining area. He stepped forward and swung open the wooden door that separated the dining room from a private seating area with coffered ceilings, mahogany wood floors, and expansive windows that matched the main dining room.

When I stepped through, Logan looked up from his drink with a look on his face that I read very clearly: he was surprised I’d come. Hell, who was I kidding? I was surprised that I’d shown up.

“Thank you…Travis,” I said, glimpsing at the nameplate pinned to his coat to make sure I called him the right name.

“Thank you for your assistance Travis,” Logan said.

As I approached Logan he sat his drink down on the counter and stood from his barstool to greet me. I stepped in front of him. My nostrils filled with the scent of his cologne.

“Logan,” I said in an even tone.

“Brooklyn… you look nice,” he said just as mockingly but with a smirk. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually show. Would you like something to drink?” he asked, pulling out the barstool aside his.

The bartender behind the counter smiled in my direction. “Good evening ma’am. Would you like a drink—a martini perhaps?” There was that pesky word again.

“No thank you. I won’t be here long,” I responded back with a curt grin.

I turned back to Logan. “I hate to disappoint, but I’m not exactly accepting your invitation. I wanted to come decline your summons in person. I thought that would be the most appropriate thing to do. Plus I doubt I could outrun your driver.”

“Is that so?” he asked, with a smirk. He reached for the drink on the counter and took a small gulp, nodding as he set the glass back down on the countertop. His twitching jaw distracted me.

I tore my eyes from his gorgeous face and regained my willpower, “Yes. You can’t just send a car to my place of employment. I’ve already been chastised enough about our supposed familiarity,” I said, reciting the lines that I had practiced in my head on the car ride over to the restaurant.

“I have cocktails and dinner with colleagues often. How would this be any different?” he replied smoothly.
Don’t let his sexy smile distract you,
I reminded myself. I needed to maintain control of the situation.

“Not funny. I’m sure you’re aware this isn’t the same type of situation. First off, I am not one of the executive VPs at Copple. I don’t forge business relationships over caviar and wine, and quite honestly, sending a car service to retrieve me from work does not appease me,” I replied snidely, my eyebrows creasing in confusion. Logan was either very dense, or he was attempting to be cute. I was guessing it was the latter. Frankly, neither option placated me. There was no need for me to admit to him that his gesture was slightly chivalrous. After Damon, grand gestures meant nothing if they were filled with empty promise.

“Why is that, exactly? You don’t want to have dinner with me, and I on the other hand would actually enjoy an opportunity to get to know you outside of the work setting. It sounds like some negotiating needs to occur in order for us to get past the formalities,” he said.

He stepped back leaning against the bar counter, the words “checkmate” written on his face. Logan clearly didn’t have a problem with self-esteem. His comment, and the fact that my eyes kept roving back to his lips, flustered me. I turned my head to take a reprieve from our conversation. All my communicative tactics were failing me at that moment.

“So…?” Logan asked after a few more seconds of silence.

“How exactly do you propose that we move past the ‘formalities’? Enlighten me please; your proposal should be fascinating,” I replied sarcastically.
What are you doing?!
my subconscious screamed at me. I knew if his response was “we can go back to my place…” then I was headed straight for the front door. I wasn’t interested in being friends with benefits.

Logan’s eyes mischievously twinkled in the dim light and I crossed my arms over my chest stepping into an expectant stance. I felt like we were in a battle of the wills, and I wasn’t sure I held the upper hand.

“Why don’t you have drinks with me? If you are uncomfortable at any time, just say the word and feel free to leave. Merick will escort you home.”

I wasn’t expecting that response from him.
Maybe he wasn’t a typical guy?
I let my defenses down a millimeter and looked Logan directly in the eye.

“Honestly this place is a bit showy for my taste. I can commit to drinks, but prefer a much less formal setting. You could actually be a mass murderer, after all, so we should go somewhere where people know me,” I said, smirking and raising my eyebrows to draw a question mark.

“I am hardly a psychopath. If Calibré doesn’t suit you, tell me a place that does and we’ll head there now,” Logan replied. It took me a minute to pull my thoughts together, and I blurted out the first and only place that came to mind.

“Legends; do you know it?” I hoped I didn’t sound too eager.

“No, but I’m sure Merick can look it up. I’ll have Travis pull the car to the front.”

“Actually, can we ditch the whole chauffer protocol? I’m sure you can stand a taxi ride for one evening,” I proffered.

“Don’t women like things like that—being ‘whisked’ away as if they’re in a fairy tale?” he asked, holding his hands in the air to make air quotes.

“Fairy tales aren’t reality—trust me, I know. Sadly for you that’s strike two,” I retorted humorously.

“Excuse me? Am I up for bat? I didn’t know I was on the mound at the Nationals stadium,” Logan laughed out. “How exactly did I earn two strikes in less than an hour? You’ve only been here ten minutes,” Logan was smiling more now—and I found myself admiring his good looks even more. It was apparent that he found my score-keeping system utterly hilarious.

Logan reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet handing a few bills to the bartender.

“Strike one was you sending Merick to my job to fetch me, rather than coming yourself. I’m not really that girl,” I said, walking through the door that led to the enclosed hallway.

“Strike two was making assumptions about me when we haven’t had one full conversation. I am informing you now, I run a tight ship. Three strikes and you’re out, and there is no coming back once you’ve been sent to the dugout. Oh, and by the way, thank you for the flowers you had your driver deliver,” I said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

Logan looked at me with humor lacing the corners of his eyes. “You make good points. I’ll have to keep them in mind in the future,” he replied. A warm smile lit his features. “My car is at my home in Virginia…and I don’t think a taxi is fitting for a first date. I would hate to strike out,” he said, winking.

“Date? I thought we were two colleagues forging a partnership?” I asked coyly. Logan just smiled and held his hand out for me to proceed walking out of the dining room.

We headed back the way I was escorted into the restaurant, through the main eating area and past the fireplace. Logan walked behind me, placing his hand on the small of my back as we passed other patrons in the confined hall space leading outside. My body tingled unexpectedly and the boldness I’d exhibited minutes earlier cracked under his touch.

When we settled into the SUV I slide to the end of the bench seat to stare out the window. I couldn’t help but feel like I was playing too close to the flame.

8

W
hen we arrived at Legends, I instantly felt more in my element. I didn’t know how Logan would perceive my favorite bar. Guests didn’t exactly need a Black AMEX to get in. But if Logan couldn’t hang with average people, we had no business moving forward. I was an average girl, devoid of a silver spoon.

There was a large crowd tonight and a small band playing in the corner of the grill. I had never seen them before; Griffin was trying out something new.

Logan and I maneuvered onto the high-backed bar stools. I waved at Griffin who was working and he smiled broadly. After serving up drinks for the other people waiting at the bar, Griffin finally made his way over to our end of the counter.

“Hey, Brooklyn, good to see ya! I didn’t think you were coming in tonight since I didn’t see you and Alex in your usual spot,” he said, tossing a bar rag over his shoulder. “Seems like your usual date has been replaced with someone of the opposite sex. It’s good to switch things up sometimes” Griffin said, smirking. I couldn’t help but be embarrassed by Griffin’s forward comment. Logan was the first man that Griffin had seen me with, ever.