A quick glance around the gallery confirmed the attention of half the room was on them. Most people in attendance knew her. No doubt, they’d be talking about this after they left. Marti and her new beau. Marti and Logan holding hands, whispering, staring into each other’s eyes, and holding each other close. Their hungry gazes ate them up. Their eyes burned into her back.
A flutter of panic squeezed her stomach. It’s not real, she reminded herself.
When she glanced up into Logan’s scorching gaze, she realized that while she was in over her head, he was in his element. She might not know how to be in a relationship and fall in love, but he did. By the looks of things, he was quite good at pretending.
“Freaking out already, McBride?” he asked in a low voice.
“Maybe just a little.” Her tone was breathless. How did he know her so well? Or was she that obvious?
She had no idea what her face looked like, but if it was anything like it felt, it was probably similar to a cornered animal. Wide eyes. Tense mouth. Sharp, jittery movements. Rapid breathing.
She inhaled a shaky breath, willing the heat of his gaze to fade from her skin. The thump of her heart slowed. Still, she needed fresh air, some room to breathe—the cold to clear her senses.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Logan beat her to it.
Leaning closer, and bringing his crisp, masculine scent with him, he said, “Have you seen enough?”
She nodded, wordlessly, desperate for an escape and unable to find her voice if she tried.
“Good.” He pulled her toward the door, his voice trailing after him. “I think they have too.”
MARTI CRAMMED THE GIANT slice of pepperoni pizza in her mouth and moaned.
They’d left the art gallery nearly an hour ago and walked a couple blocks in the cold. Logan had protested, wanting to take a cab, but Marti insisted, needing the brisk air to clear her head.
They wound up at the new pizza shop, Antony’s, just South of her apartment where the only feelings involved were her love for pepperoni. There, in the soft lighting of the little shop, they could be themselves—no pretenses or prying eyes.
“This is divine,” she said between a mouthful of dough and gooey cheese.
Now, this was the way to a woman’s heart.
“Attractive.” Logan grinned.
“Oh, yes, because my main objective at all times is to be attractive to men.” Marti snorted and took another monstrous bite.
“It should be.”
“Don’t get me started.”
“Maybe I like getting you started,” he said with a lascivious smile.
“Why is it your goal in life to say just the right thing to annoy me?” She ripped a piece of pepperoni off her slice and threw it at him, but he dodged it, laughing.
“Because it’s just too easy. Besides, you make it kind of fun. Your cheeks turn a cute shade of red and you have this vein.” He motioned toward her forehead. “It bulges just the slightest bit when you’re angry.”
“It does not!” Marti reached up to feel her forehead with a frown.
Logan wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, while Marti scowled into her slice. “When I was in medical school, I
practically lived on pizza. But not the good stuff, those cheap frozen ones you get for a dollar in the freezer section because it was all I could afford.”
“It’s a miracle you didn’t graduate with coronary disease.”
He nodded. “I gained twenty pounds though. Between that and coffee, they were the only things that kept me going.”
Marti allowed her gaze to flicker over him. He had removed his black sports coat, giving her the opportunity to better admire his physique beneath the faded gray t-shirt. There was nothing soft about the body sitting across from her. The thin layer of cotton barely concealed the hard lines of muscle beneath it, not to mention those arms . . .
He winked, reading her thoughts. “I work out a lot.”