Page 21 of Perfect Playbook

His compliment sends sparks right through me, and a girly giggle bubbles in my tummy. Thank God I don’t let it out.

He waits for my answer with one of his patient, charming grins. I wait for more excuses to come, but the only thing that exits is an exasperated breath. Let’s face it, if I didn’t want to be with him tonight, I’m not too polite to show someone my back. I’d already be upstairs.I want to do this.I know I do from my toes right to the one pesky gray hair I have to pluck out when it grows out and sticks up straight.

He pops a shoulder. “Don’t let a dress code stop you. No club will care what you’re wearing. Tables cost too much to turn us down on account of a pair of Converse.” His gaze tracks down my body and up again, connecting cozily with mine. “Which are stylish and cute by the way.”

I almost smile and have to crinkle my nose to stop the bashfulness from bursting to life and giving him the wrong idea.

He jokes, “Or are you resisting because you still have no rhythm and don’t want me to see you dancing? I won’t judge. Promise.” He crosses his heart.

I narrow my eyes. “As a matter of fact, my two-step is much improved.”

“Okay. Just making sure you didn’t think I was going to write to theCanyon Expressabout it. What happens in Vegas and all…”

I really should say no.I am rock bottom and probably looking a hot mess. I nearly cried when he paid me a compliment earlier about my cake, the cake I thought would be the start of my new business venture but won’t make me money fast enough.

But no matter what I do tonight, tomorrow will still come. The escapism Logan offers is a circular road and will only lead me right back to where I am. The symphony of promises in Logan’s amber eyes is damn tempting. His dimples are tempting. Forgetting my responsibilities and the weight of the world for just one night is tempting.

One night to just breathe and dance… to maybe hear that wild laugh burst out of my throat again…. Logan, unlike me, has never been good alone. I stare deep into his brown eyes and I know we’re not close anymore but I recognize the familiar glint of vulnerability. What happened tohimtonight? I haven’t even asked. It’s kind of shitty of me.

My hesitation is starting to seem like an answer.

He peers down. “I don’t want to make you feel awkward, so if you say no again, I’ll step away.”

His gaze somehow makes me feel like the most gorgeous woman in the room despite how I see myself in this moment. Logan’s stare is always admiring and reassuring. It’s also devilish, coy, flirty, and… panty-dropping.

I’m not really seeing him as a friend right now. The drinks sink into my brain, and I search for boundaries and definitions to ground me. I don’t know what the heck this guy is to me. An ex? A handsome coincidence? A night toremember waiting to happen? All I know is here and now, Logan proposes we go out as friends, and that’s the last word my libido would use to describe him.

But for just one night, don’t I deserve to let my hair down? Don’t I deserve to relax? Why can everyone else run away to this adult playground and enjoy some reckless behavior?

I remember the text he received.

“Why don’t you just take…” I point to his cell that beeped only moments ago, likely from someone with no cellulite and stretch marks.

He shrugs as if the answer is simple. “I’d rather be with someone I like.”

A flattered laugh escapes. But I have to admit, it’s my sentiment exactly, too. I don’t want to be alone. I definitely don’t want to stay down here with that man at the end of the bar carrying a backpack. This is starting to sound like the best worst idea I’ve heard in a long time.

Logan is safe. He would never hurt me. No matter how many years have passed between then and now, I know that statement is as true as the sky is blue. Plus he’s handsome as hell and probably knows all the best places to go. He’s a gentleman and was raised right by his mama so he will make sure I end up back in that suite in one piece.

Fuck it.

I throw my hands in the air. “I’ll hang out with you.” I have no idea why I add, “But it’s not a date.”

He opens his mouth, but the laugh that comes out is silent. Nothing unnerves this man. “Fine. Will you escort me?”

“Escort is yet another word I’d rather not use. Especially in Vegas.”

He laughs this time out loud, and it’s magnetic. Somagnetic it latches on to thefuck itmoment I’m having and reels it in with his flirtatious lips.

He taps my nose. “We used to be pretty good at having fun together.”

We’ll drink. We’ll dance. If I want to let loose in Vegas it’s best to do it with him than on my own in this crazy place.

What’s the worst thing that can happen?

Chapter Nine

Music gobblesup the air around me, and my vision is filled with darkness, smoke, and flashing lights in some club called the Taj Mahal. We’ve been here for what seems about an hour, but it could be way more, or maybe less.

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