His long, capable fingers seemed to burn right through the terry cloth. She inhaled sharply, from mortification, but also the pure, unadulterated thrill of the accidental contact.
His fingers stilled. “Sorry.” Slowly, he lowered his hands and let her do the honors. He occupied himself smoothing the robe down over her legs. She re-tucked and retied her robe, but couldn’t help noticing that his crouched position did all kinds of interesting things to his robe. The front hung open to show a smooth expanse of bronze skin and a sculpted groove been his pectorals that came from having amazing musculature and a BMI of zero. The bottom of the robe formed a vee between his parted thighs, but left a shadowy question as to whether he wore anything underneath.
“No, really, it’s my fault. I’m sorry I’m so”…horny…“clumsy.” She pushed her hair back with a shaky hand, and hoped if he noticed he’d assume the fall left her less than steady, and not the feel of his palms running down the fronts of her thighs and over her knees.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, until an exasperated inner voice spoke up. Stop acting like a bobblehead. Use your words. “Yes. Of course. The carpet is surprisingly soft.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Is that what you were aiming to do? Give the carpet a bounce test?”
She fought back the urge to say, I was aiming to give you a bounce-test. “If you must know, I thought it was bright in here. I was trying to turn off the lamp without getting my lazy butt out of bed.”
“Ah.” He reached over and turned the light off, and then looked at her. “That better?”
The “better” sent a puff of breath along the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. The shape of his lips, their smoothness juxtaposed against the rough texture of his five o’clock shadow. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Uh—hic!”
Good God, the hiccup blasted out of her like a bazooka and reverberated in the otherwise silent room. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared at him in horror.
The corners of Logan’s eyes crinkled and the groove beside his mouth appeared. “Tell me something, Sophie.”
“What?” She said the word quickly, to avoid another cataclysmic hiccup.
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
She licked her lips again and rubbed the tip of her nose, which was tingly and numb at the same time. “Not that much.” The hiccup that followed her statement was much more contained. She wasn’t even sure he heard it. “I’d love a little more.”
He rose with the grace of someone who never found himself on the wrong side of the laws of physics, and crossed to the cabinet where the champagne sat in its Beaver Creek–emblazoned ice bucket. He took the bottle and a plastic bottle of water supplied by the hotel. Then he disappointed her by handing her the water.
“Hey…hic!”
He toasted her and then disappointed her even more by settling into the oversize chair nearest the bed and resting his feet on the ottoman. “Give me a chance to catch up.”
They sat in silence for several moments. Uncomfortable moments where she frantically searched her mind for something…anything…to talk about. She was about to resort to the weather when another massive hiccup exploded from her lungs and practically shook the room.
“Oh, goodness,” she slapped her hand to her chest. “Excuse me.”
He pointed to the bottle of water in her hand. “Down that, or I’m going to be forced to scare you.”
She gulped down half, swallowed, and swiped her fingers over her lips to catch a stray drop. “You might be surprised to learn I don’t scare that easily. Ask Colt…or Reed, or Brock.” She gestured for the champagne bottle and he handed it over. “Which one of us was first to dive into the river from the high branch of the big oak tree that grew along the bank?” She swigged the champagne directly from the bottle, and then pointed the neck at her chest. “Me. Who got the garter snake out of the shed while those big, tough boys screamed and ran like scaredy-cats? Me again.” She punctuated the statement with another drink.
He held out his hand, and she passed the bottle over. “I had no idea you were such a thrill-seeker.”
He was teasing her, but not in a mean way, and she sensed a glimmer of admiration in those gray-green eyes of his. Then he tipped his head back to swig the champagne. The movement of his throat as he swallowed captivated her. Would he scream and run if she told him he was the thrill she sought right now? “I have a wild side.”
“Clearly. So tell me, little Miss Wild Side, why does a woman who stares danger in the face without blinking get the jitters at the prospect of being a bridesmaid?”
The muscles holding her smile in place gave out. “That’s different.” Feeling unduly exposed, she pulled her legs up, crossed them, and arranged the big robe so not even her toes stuck out.
Logan dropped his feet to the floor and leaned toward her, forearms resting on his knees, the champagne bottle dangling from his fingers. “Why?”
She picked at the ragged cuticle on her thumb. “You know why.”
He touched her leg, pulling her attention back to him—his patient eyes and slightly baffled grin. “No. I don’t. I know you’re shy, and I can extrapolate from that you don’t enjoy the spotlight, but it’s not as if you’ll be at the front of the church all by yourself. Colt and Kady will be there. Tyler, Reed, Brock, me, the bridesmaids—”
“The other bridesmaids make being up there worse, not better.” As soon as the admission left her lips, she wanted to crawl under the blankets and die.
Logan blinked and ran his palm over the back of his neck. “Um…you lost me.”
Of course she had, because she was a freak and he was Mr. Perfect. He’d probably never had an insecure thought in his life—never worried about suffering by comparison. But right now Mr. Perfect’s obtuseness worked her very last nerve. Or maybe the alcohol loosened her tongue.
She grabbed the bottle from him and took long, defiant drink. “Oh, come on, Logan. Four girls standing in a line, wearing the same blasted dress, while the entire church plays a real-life version of ‘Who Wore It Best?’ How would that possibly make me, the short, chubby, awkward girl, feel less self-conscious?”
He moved over to the bed and sat beside her. “You’re not chubby.”
“Thanks.” She pulled her legs up under her and twisted so she could look at him. A giddy part of her brain piped in with, Good lord, Logan McCade is sitting in bed with you. Start the seduction now. Say something hot! “That still leaves short and awkward.” Fail.
“You are short. I’m not going to lie to you. But the awkward is all in your head. Anyway”—he crossed his long legs and faced her, smiling the sexy smile that put the groove in his cheek—“cut me some slack. My mind is still reeling from what you just told me. I had no idea I signed up for the Pageant of the Groomsmen when I agreed to be Colt’s best man.”
She leaned closer to try and hit him with a smoldering gaze, and then had to grab the bedspread to keep from toppling over. “It’s not like that for guys, and you know it.”
He took the bottle back. “I don’t know anything anymore. You’ve upset my entire perception of the world with your insights into the secret thoughts of wedding guests. What if, while I’m standing there trying to be the best man, the guests are thinking Reed’s got better shoulders than me, and Brock’s got better hair, and Tyler’s got a better ass?” He drank deeply, and she suspected he was trying to finish the bottle so she didn’t drink anymore.
“Nobody’s going to think that.”
“Have you seen Tyler’s ass?” He buried his head in his hand and sighed dramatically. “I can’t compete with that. Not now that I realize everyone has come to judge us rather than to enjoy a time-honored tradition—not to mention a host bar—and wish the happy couple well.”
She whacked him on the knee, and he raised his head and grinned at her. The grin looked a little bit off-center and it occurred to her maybe he was feeling the champagne,
too, and the late hour.
“All right.” An answering smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Point taken.” Was she especially smiley tonight? Maybe, but her facial muscles seemed to have a mind of their own. It took too much effort to control them, or her eyelids, which kept drifting down. “I didn’t say my self-consciousness came from a rational or logical place.” She paused to yawn, and belatedly remembered to cover her mouth, because, after all, she was trying to seduce the man, not bray at him like a donkey. “Deep down I understand the only important thing is Colt and Kady feeling the love from their friends and family on their big day.”
The lure of the pillows could no longer be ignored. Would he pick up on the invitation if she leaned back and made herself comfortable? Only one way to find out. She settled into the fluffy backstop. Okay, it might have been more of a flop, but being horizontal felt so good she snuggled deeper. Her eyelids drooped again. The rest of the room faded until all she could see was Logan, sitting there, smiling down at her like an unbelievably good dream. “People probably aren’t going to notice me at all. I should get over myself.”