Page 42 of We Were Something
I may have daydreamed about finding someone more put-together than the immature, adolescent showboats who have spent time in my bed in the past, but I’m still only looking for some sexy fun. Something simple and easy. Something…I don’t know.
I shake my hands out again, knowing I’m probably getting several steps ahead of myself. But still…it feels like there is a lot more at risk with a man like Logan. A lot more on the line.
Logan Becker is the kind of man who could tear my heart to shreds.
The door swings open and my eyes widen when I’m greeted with the way Dr. Becker dresses on his days off. I’ve seen him in a suit, and I’ve seen him in his scrubs and white coat. Butdamn. Nothing prepared me for what he looks like in a pair of worn, well-fitting dark jeans and a relaxed, button-up shirt.
That earlier hint of nerves evaporates as something else pumps warm and fluid through my veins, likely leaving behind a hint of a flush.
“I’m assuming I’m dressed okay?” he asks, holding his arms a little ways out from his body.
“We’ll have the place to ourselves so it won’t matter what you’re wearing.” My lips curve as my eyes flit up and down his long, strong frame. “But if you’re looking for my approval, you definitely have it.”
I turn quickly and head out to my car, but not before I catch the bit of flush that colors his face at my words.
In my twenty-four years of life, I’ve only ever had men revel in my directness. They smirk and grin when I tell them they’re attractive, or they make theirowninnuendo-laden comment if I imply something slightly dirty when flirting with them. I’m not as accustomed to this easily flustered, almost slightly embarrassed reaction Logan has when I compliment him.
Learning to walk the thin line between him liking what I’m saying and feeling uncomfortable is certainly a unique kind of balancing act. Thankfully I took a lot of dance lessons when I was a kid so my ability to stay steady is exceptional.
It also made meveryflexible.
“So…we’ll be the only ones shopping?” Logan asks as he buckles his seatbelt.
I grin, pulling away from the curb and driving out to the main drag.
“Well, there will be other people shopping, but we’ll be in a private showroom. That way you can try things on without being bothered.”
When I glance over, I see Logan scratching at his face.
“Is that how the other half shops?” he asks. “And here I was assuming I was upper crust because I can afford to buy Tom Fords.”
I giggle. “Would you rather just go to the mall?”
“No, no, no,” he protests. “Let’s try it your way. I’m sure I’m in for quite a ride.”
“Oh you have no idea,” I tell him, turning right and heading inland, toward the freeway that will take us north. “Once you’ve had a personal shopping experience, you won’t ever want to go back to scouring racks of clothes for something that fits. Trust me.”
Logan chuckles. “Something tells me that’s more of a female concern than a male one.”
“You think so?”
He nods. “I can promise you I’ve never spent more than twenty minutes shopping for clothes, the only exception being when I got my heinous gala suit tailored.”
“You look delicious in that suit. I promise,” I tell him, smiling when I see that hint of flush return to his face at my praise. “But there’s a time and place for it. With the instructions the magazine gave you, having a personal shopper pull items will make thissomuch easier.”
Logan doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods anyway.
“Besides, doing an interview with a magazine isn’t just about looking good. It’s about inviting another person into your life and making them wish they were you.”
Logan doesn’t say anything to that, just sitting silently in his seat and staring forward.
“The goal is to impress your boss or whoever is making you do this interview in the first place, right? So you have to make sure anyone reading the article thinks to themselves ‘Wow, I want a doctor like him working on my kid if something goes wrong.’” I lift a shoulder and smile again. “And to convince them ofthat,you have to be more intentional than just grabbing a shoe from the store.”
“And how does that work?”
I change lanes and merge onto the freeway, taking us onto the 405, away from the breeziness of the beach cities and deeper into the heart of Los Angeles. When I take a look at Logan again, I see he’s watching me. So I smile and give him a wink.
“You let a professional take the reins, and then you hold on for the ride.”
