and then they headed east toward City Park. He drove with an easy confidence. Finally, he pulled up in front of a three-story, newish condo block and cut the engine.
“No cave?” The words just slipped out of Sydney’s mouth.
His gaze narrowed on her, and for a second she imagined a flash of amusement. “You’re coming in.”
She felt her jaw tighten. “Do you not have any manners? You ask, O’Connor, not issue a gruff, rude order.”
“I’m not one of your polite society guys. I don’t really do fancy manners.” He held up his large hands. “I don’t have soft palms or wear fancy suits.”
He said ‘suits’ like he was talking about a venomous animal. His hands were covered in nicks, scars, and calluses.
“Yes,” she responded. “I can see that.”
He got out, circled the truck, grabbed her bag, and yanked her door open. “You need to get changed as well. Unless you’re planning to travel to South America in your fancy designer clothes.”
Sydney decided it would be more prudent just to go inside while he collected his things than continue the argument.
She followed him through a security gate and into an elevator. They walked across an open walkway and he paused to unlock a door. Then he ushered her into the condo, setting her bag down. She raised her brows. The place was clean, despite screaming single guy . While the kitchen was surprisingly well-decked-out, the rest of the place had a slightly sparse kind of feel to it. No pictures, no paint, no plants. She didn’t figure Logan was one for home decorating.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and change.” He waved at the black leather couch in front of an enormous flat-screen television. “Make yourself at home.”
He walked through a door she guessed led to the master bedroom, and closed it behind him. Instead of sitting, Sydney wandered through the open-plan living room. On a mantle above the television, she spotted a couple of framed photos. One was a picture of him with a group of tough-looking guys wearing fatigues—what she guessed was his SEAL team. She spotted Logan—black paint spread over his face—his shoulder pressed up against Declan Ward’s. The next photo showed a picture of a small boy with golden-brown eyes standing beside a hulk of a man in an Army uniform. She guessed Logan had come from a military family.
Tiredness and worry started to crowd in on her. She sat on the edge of the couch and pulled out her cell phone. There was an image of Drew that she’d snapped when they’d had dinner just before he’d left for Peru. He’d been distant, and she’d known he was hurting from losing their father. She stroked the screen. She’d always felt protective of him. He’d finished school early and gone on to college. He didn’t have the best social skills, could be clueless at times, but he was always smiling and friendly.
She hadn’t wanted him to go to South America. But she’d been so busy taking over Granger, reeling from her guilt over her father, and, as Drew liked to remind her, he was an adult. She couldn’t protect him from everything. Still, she should never have let him go to Peru. Tears pricked her eyes and she pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle her sob.
She heard a noise and looked up. Logan stood in the doorway with only a white towel wrapped around his lean hips.
Shock, and something else very hot that she refused to name, hit her system. He was hard and big. There was no fat on him and he had ropes of muscle across his chest. And his abs…she sucked in a breath. Those hard ridges of muscle didn’t look real. His long, brown hair was damp and brushing his shoulders, framing that tough, rugged face.
Sydney’s last lover had been a lawyer. And before him, she’d dated a workaholic lobbyist for a few months. She didn’t recall any of them giving her this hard shock of heat just by looking at them. She’d never seen a man like Logan before. So big, so dominating, so primal.
“What’s
“No cave?” The words just slipped out of Sydney’s mouth.
His gaze narrowed on her, and for a second she imagined a flash of amusement. “You’re coming in.”
She felt her jaw tighten. “Do you not have any manners? You ask, O’Connor, not issue a gruff, rude order.”
“I’m not one of your polite society guys. I don’t really do fancy manners.” He held up his large hands. “I don’t have soft palms or wear fancy suits.”
He said ‘suits’ like he was talking about a venomous animal. His hands were covered in nicks, scars, and calluses.
“Yes,” she responded. “I can see that.”
He got out, circled the truck, grabbed her bag, and yanked her door open. “You need to get changed as well. Unless you’re planning to travel to South America in your fancy designer clothes.”
Sydney decided it would be more prudent just to go inside while he collected his things than continue the argument.
She followed him through a security gate and into an elevator. They walked across an open walkway and he paused to unlock a door. Then he ushered her into the condo, setting her bag down. She raised her brows. The place was clean, despite screaming single guy . While the kitchen was surprisingly well-decked-out, the rest of the place had a slightly sparse kind of feel to it. No pictures, no paint, no plants. She didn’t figure Logan was one for home decorating.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and change.” He waved at the black leather couch in front of an enormous flat-screen television. “Make yourself at home.”
He walked through a door she guessed led to the master bedroom, and closed it behind him. Instead of sitting, Sydney wandered through the open-plan living room. On a mantle above the television, she spotted a couple of framed photos. One was a picture of him with a group of tough-looking guys wearing fatigues—what she guessed was his SEAL team. She spotted Logan—black paint spread over his face—his shoulder pressed up against Declan Ward’s. The next photo showed a picture of a small boy with golden-brown eyes standing beside a hulk of a man in an Army uniform. She guessed Logan had come from a military family.
Tiredness and worry started to crowd in on her. She sat on the edge of the couch and pulled out her cell phone. There was an image of Drew that she’d snapped when they’d had dinner just before he’d left for Peru. He’d been distant, and she’d known he was hurting from losing their father. She stroked the screen. She’d always felt protective of him. He’d finished school early and gone on to college. He didn’t have the best social skills, could be clueless at times, but he was always smiling and friendly.
She hadn’t wanted him to go to South America. But she’d been so busy taking over Granger, reeling from her guilt over her father, and, as Drew liked to remind her, he was an adult. She couldn’t protect him from everything. Still, she should never have let him go to Peru. Tears pricked her eyes and she pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle her sob.
She heard a noise and looked up. Logan stood in the doorway with only a white towel wrapped around his lean hips.
Shock, and something else very hot that she refused to name, hit her system. He was hard and big. There was no fat on him and he had ropes of muscle across his chest. And his abs…she sucked in a breath. Those hard ridges of muscle didn’t look real. His long, brown hair was damp and brushing his shoulders, framing that tough, rugged face.
Sydney’s last lover had been a lawyer. And before him, she’d dated a workaholic lobbyist for a few months. She didn’t recall any of them giving her this hard shock of heat just by looking at them. She’d never seen a man like Logan before. So big, so dominating, so primal.
“What’s
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