Meeting His Match (Single In the City 1)

“Is that so?”

Logan sneered. “Fishing for compliments?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits.

The scent of his cologne drifted toward her as he stepped closer. Blood pounded in her veins. He leaned down, speaking softly into the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “Every head in the room turned. Every man’s jaw dropped, and every woman stared at you with envy when you walked in. I notice everything. Don’t forget it.”

Marti shivered as he retreated like he hadn’t said anything. “Dance with me?” He reached a hand out to her, palm up. There wasn’t a single soul on the dance floor, and Marti glanced nervously around them.

“Isn’t it a little early for dancing? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

He shrugged and clasped her hand in his, leaving her little choice but to follow. “Since when do you care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then come on.” He tugged her farther onto the floor. “No one ever dances at these things. They’ll let the champagne circulate a while longer, fill their stomachs with fat-laden appetizers, then some boring guy in a penguin suit will make a speech, and everyone will clamor for his attention before and after dinner, then the evening ends, all in an effort to scratch each other’s backs. They’ll make a donation, all with an angle or hidden agenda.”

“Do you know a lot about hidden agendas?” Marti asked, her tone light.

She caught sight of several people blatantly staring.

“Maybe. It’s hard to attend these things and not. Tax write-offs, political endorsements, partnerships, you name it. Most people here have a reason to show their support, and usually, it has little to do with the cause.”

Logan came to a stop and spun her around to face him, then placed his hand on the small of her back. The heat of his touch seared through her skin like flames.

“And we both know your agenda this evening,” he said.

“And that is?”

“To prevent me from spilling your dirty little secret to the Times that half your material is either made up or embellished.”

Marti grunted a noncommittal sound. “Maybe I just wanted free champagne and canapés.”

“You don’t strike me as a freebie-chaser.”

“No?”

He locked eyes with her. “No,” he said softly.

She fluttered her eyelashes. “Maybe I just wanted the pleasure of your company.”

Logan barked a laugh. “Now that is even more far-fetched.”

“True.” Marti grinned. “I can’t stand you.”

He slid his hand lower on her back. Cue the butterflies.

Clearing her throat, she said, “So we’ve established my reasons for being here. What about you? What’s your agenda?”

He shrugged. ?

?This charity is personal for me. My mother lost her life giving birth to my baby sister because she never received the medical care she needed earlier in her pregnancy.”

“I’m sorry.” Sympathy swelled in her chest. She hadn’t expected such noble intentions.

A soft smile ghosted across Logan’s lips before it was gone again. “It was a long time ago.”

Marti nodded, letting the subject drop, allowing him to lead as the band segued into another slow ballad. The silence stretched between them. Glancing up at him through her lashes, she discovered his eyes laser-focused on her, and she found herself once again, wondering why he asked her to be his date when she was certain he could have had his choice of women on his arm. Ones without commitment issues. Ones who wanted a relationship. Ones he didn’t have to blackmail.