shrugged. “I suppose. One of those casual things, though. Gabby’s going to UC Berkeley in the fall.” Her voice filled with pride. “Pre-med.”
Impressed, Logan raised his eyebrows. “Tyler just told me she’s an artist too.”
“Mm. A hobby.” She raised her shoulders in a little shrug. “But it’s her brains that will take her farthest.”
Her dismissal of Gabby’s other talents rankled Logan. “Yes, but—” He bit back the words, thinking better of exposing his personal raw spots. “I’m sure she’ll be a success at whatever she chooses.”
“That’s right,” Elena replied. “Gabby’s going to have everything. Perfect prom, perfect graduation—”
“Perfect pre-med college life,” he finished for her wryly.
She apparently hadn’t caught his tone because for once she smiled as if she really liked him. “Exactly. That’s what we’ve been working for.”
We? That earlier rankle edged into a strange worry. “Elena…”
“Hmm?” she said absently, her gaze drifting over his shoulder.
Logan turned, saw a man walking toward the kissing booth, then saw the man suddenly recognize the woman on the other side of the counter. The man abruptly spun about, and hastily got in line at the booth supporting the local children’s hospital, as if that was his chosen destination all the while.
“Well,” Logan said with a laugh. “It should be interesting to see how they do a Caribbean thread-wrap on that guy’s hair.” The man was completely bald.
When she didn’t answer, he swung around. Her eyes appeared so blue their color hit him like a blow, and he suddenly realized there were tears in them. He swallowed, feeling almost sick. “Elena—”
“Don’t. Don’t say anything.” Her voice was tight. “I’m in this dumb booth for Gabby. I don’t care, do you understand?”
Even though her eyes were watery, she could still pin him painfully with her glare. “And if you try to tell anybody, anybody I was crying over something as stupid as that man not wanting to buy a kiss from me, I’ll…I’ll…”
It was testament to how truly upset she was that she couldn’t complete her threat. “Boil my toes?” he offered helpfully, trying to give her a chance to recover. “Stick ants in my ears?”
That got her. “Ants in your ears?” She flicked one fallen tear away with her thumb. “Oh, just be quiet.”
“Elena—”
“Leave it alone, will you?” She’d blinked away the last of the tears, but her customary prickly armor wasn’t yet quite back in place.
“I’m sorr—”
“I told you. Leave it alone. My mood has nothing to do with the kissing booth. I’m just having a bad day.” She glared at him again. “Can’t I have a bad day?”
Since she generally caused bad days—his—he was unsure how to answer. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“Everything,” she muttered, looking away. “You name it.”
Logan’s blood chilled. Something was wrong. Could it be man trouble? He hadn’t heard she was seeing anyone, and God knew it would take a special kind of man to knock that boulder-size chip off her shoulder, but…. But it made him damn angry to think someone could have gotten to her heart, then broken it. “Is it a man?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she answered, but still, she didn’t sound like herself and she didn’t meet his eyes.
“Who the hell is he?” Logan demanded.
She shot him a startled, sidelong look, then shook her head. “No, no. It isn’t like that.”
Not good enough. He still didn’t feel relieved. “What exactly is it like then?” he pressed.
That got her bristling again. “Logan—”
“What’s the trouble?” he said through his teeth, his anger unexpectedly jumping to match hers. “Tell me now.”
“Oh, fine!” Her gaze slammed into his. “If you really want to know, I’ll admit it. The trouble is this.” Her hand flew wildly in the direction of the empty fishbowl, and she made contact, sending it rocking. “It’s mortifying, okay?”
Ah. Well. Logan felt his surprising, unfamiliar surge of anger instantly subside into something quite different. Not that her words were anything to get all worked up about. Except that Elena O’Brien, the toughest, prickliest, least-likely-to-surrender woman he knew, had just admitted out loud she actually possessed normal, human feelings.
Suddenly the prospect of kissing her didn’t seem quite so dreadful after all.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, then smiled. It felt like a charming smile. “Hmm. Well. I may not be able to do a lot of things, but I can do something about—” he gestured toward the fishbowl “—that.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, her mouth bunching up. She could have been sucking on a lemon. “Don’t you dare!”
It occurred to him he should possibly be insulted by her apparent distaste. “What’s wrong now?” he said grumpily, hoping like hell she wasn’t going to be thorny about this.
“Logan.” Angry heat flared in her eyes. “Don’t you dare think about kissing me.”
Damn her. She was going to be thorny about this, and here he was, about to do her a favor.
Then her eyes narrowed even more. “Oh, I get it now. You think you’re doing me a favor, don’t you?”
While he tried to look properly wounded by her correct guess, she propped her hands on her hips and stomped closer to the counter. “Listen, Logan. I don’t need your pity.”
She was close enough that he could detect her scent. She wore an exotic fragrance that smelled like flowers heated by the sun. Logan tried thinking of some response to what she’d just said, but his head was suddenly spinning again.
She could tell that too. Her eyes rolled. “Uh!” She spun away.
He reached out, grabbed her wrist.
Elena froze. A tremor ran down her back then her head turned slowly toward him. She looked at his hand on her, then looked at his face. “Let go of me,” she said.
“No,” he answered. Her arm was quivering against his hand and Logan didn’t know if it was outrage or embarrassment or some combination of both. He hauled her closer, so that only the narrow wooden counter separated them.
Her breath was coming so hard and so fast that her astounding breasts were heaving against the cotton of her shirt. Staring at the sight, his brain whirled again and she almost used his distraction to pull away, but then some instinct deeper than lust made his hold tighten possessively.
“I
