Made to be His ( The Archer Family 1)

He was centimeters from her and she was even closer to a full-on panic attack. What would happen if she went through with this? If she finally felt the full force of his mouth on hers?

All my dreams would come true.

For a while, maybe. But eventually her heart would get broken. Things would be weird with Matt. She’d see Logan with other women in magazines, women who actually belonged with a man like him…

No, no, no. This was a slippery slope and she wasn’t about to fall down it. So she took a step back, her heart breaking, and said, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

He looked dazed for a moment, but nodded. “Yeah. Cool.”

“Right.” She climbed into her car and revved the engine, all too eager to get away. When she finally pulled into the street, she refused to look behind her.

Because what if she saw Logan disappearing in her rearview?

She’d probably hate herself even more than she already did.

Chapter 5

Andy stared blankly at the queue of unanswered weekend emails, then sat back in her desk chair and sighed.

Shay had been out of town for the past week—something to do with needing to talk her mom out of yet another spur-of-the-moment marriage—and Andy'd been on her own to handle the business.

For the most part, it had been simple enough. Cold calling potential clients, following up on scheduled interviews, and checking in with physical therapists to make arrangements for Matt, but when push came to shove, the vast majority of nearly every day had been devoted to Logan.

With a little coaxing from most of her connections, Andy had him on the fast track to becoming the next big media darling. All he had to do was comply.

But this was Logan¸ so, of course, that was easier said than done.

He did go to all the interviews, that much was true, but he had persisted in requesting that she attend each of them, and when she refused he wanted to know why.

It was all a charade, though. He knew why she couldn't be around him just as well as she did. He was a toxin, one so potent that once he got under her skin and entered her blood stream, he'd be sure to strangle the life from her. Or, at the very least, her self respect.

Thank goodness she hadn't kissed him the last time she'd seen him.

Her heart flipped over just thinking about the way he'd leaned in toward her, his soulful eyes half-hooded as he surveyed her. If she'd only closed her eyes, she would have been lost. She would have—

"What. The. Hell."

Andy brought the room into focus again and found Shay standing in the archway of the glass wall, her heart-shaped face tilted to the side.

"What?" Andy asked.

"What do you mean, what?" She stalked into the room and plunked into the red acrylic chair across from Andy's ultra-modern, white desk. "You're...so different."

"No, I'm not." Self-conscious, she ran her fingers through her bangs, then shook them out of the way again.

"Are too," Shay countered, then she stood again on her stilt-like, electric green stilettos. "Is that a dress?"

She said the word "dress" like it was code for "nuclear bomb," but Andy nodded all the same.

Sure, she'd worn a dress. Big deal. People in professional environments wore dresses all the time. It wasn't even like Andy's dress was particularly fancy. It was just a simple, red slip of a thing. Forgettable. And very, very comfy.

"Oh my god." Shay covered her bow of a mouth with a slender, perfectly manicured hand. "I don't even know what to say. Have you been doing this the whole time I was gone?"

"I'm not doing anything." Andy rolled her eyes. "Now will you quit acting like I'm dying? I'm wearing a dress. Yes. Now can we—"

"And make-up. Nice make-up." Shay craned her neck. “You don’t even have any smudges under your eyes.”

Andy pursed her lips.