Billionaire's Single Mom

Groaning, I lay back on the bed. I thought about calling Logan and telling him I wasn’t interested, but everyone seemed happy. Mama and Logan. We’d obviously connected somehow the night before.

He was handsome. A woman would have to be blind not to see that, and I might have had a hangover, but I wasn’t blind.

A woodsy scent filled my memory. Why was I remembering that now? And when had I been close enough to smell him like that?

Maybe a single date wouldn’t hurt. I mean if he could find the time, I could find the time. He’d just have to wait until I could figure out something with Juniper. Mama would probably be happy to watch her if it didn’t mess with one of her meetings.

I blinked. I’d gone from all but running away from Logan to trying to plan out how I could see him again, and all based on some mysterious conversation we had when I was drunk on champagne the night before.

Lord, help me, this was crazy.

Chapter Eight

LOGAN

I thanked the waitress as she departed after taking our order. My mother sat across from me, still in her Sunday best from church, sipping on her sweet tea. Suspicion colored her face.

She’d been fine all through church and on her way to the restaurant, so I didn’t understand why she was now looking at me like I was Bernie Madoff.

I thought back to the sermon, which mostly focused on the Parable of the Good Samaritan. I wasn’t sure why that might kindle irritation in my mother, especially since even if I didn’t attend a lot of her events, I was extremely generous when it came to charity. Sure, I can’t say I’ve come across random beaten travel

ers on the road to help, but I doubted that was what my mother was worrying about.

My stomach tightened. How could I have forgotten? Maybe all the alcohol had wiped some of the details of Friday night out, but the highlights remained: Emily’s wonderful mouth and body, not to mention my mother discovering us. Somehow, I’d managed to not worry about it, and she hadn’t brought it up before, so I was hoping she wouldn’t.

I wasn’t naïve, and my mother had been involved in society events for longer than I’d been alive. A little alcohol and an indiscretion had led to much worse things than getting caught kissing a woman in Nashville high society.

Maybe I’d get lucky, and this was about something else entirely. A man could hope. Still, I didn’t like the idea of her being upset with me.

“Mother,” I began. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“Do you have another date with Emily?”

“Not yet,” I said, deciding it would best not to mention the voicemail.

“I see.” She pursed her lips and sighed. “I blame myself.” She clucked her tongue.

“Blame yourself?”

“For pushing you, and then, well, it was all for nothing. I wanted you to go out with Sally Jolie’s daughter and hit off, but I didn’t want you to…” She gestured toward the window with her hand.

Sarcasm warred with shame. Sarcasm won. “Didn’t want us to go outside? But it’s been such nice spring weather.”

As if God wanted to play a joke of His own, rain started falling outside. I chuckled at the thought.

My mother leveled a harsh gaze at me. “You’re a grown man, and I know you have needs. I’m not going to judge you for that, but you were kissing Emily in the middle of a party, and people found you. What could have possibly possessed you to do something so reckless?”

I glanced around as if there’d be a bunch of people from the party listening in. Rubbing the back of my neck, I said, “You have to understand, that was kind of the point.”

“What?” She narrowed her eyes to thin slits.

“The point was to kiss where someone might see us. That was intentional.”

My mother blinked several times. “What are you saying? Do you like that sort of thing?” A look of disgust crossed her face.

This time the shame did win, and I waved my hands in a placating manner. “Not really. It’s just that Emily was trying to get back at Lionel.”

“I see. Not that it was appropriate, but I suppose it’s more understandable in that case.”