Текст книги "Take (Temptation Series)"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

2.

Several hours later, a knocking on Logan’s front door woke him. Opening his eyes, he watched the infomercial for hair implants. He reached up and ran a hand through his own thick hair, which immediately made him think of—knock, knock, knock—Tate’s curls.

With a yawn and a stretch of his arms, he removed his feet from the glass coffee table and made his way through the living room and down the hall to the front door. As he unlocked and pulled it open, he saw Tate standing on the other side with his hand raised as if he were about to knock again.

Wearing only his glasses and grey sweatpants, Logan held the door ajar and scratched his naked chest. His cock twitched at the way Tate’s eyes tracked down over him, but before he took up the invitation in them, he wanted something.

“Can I help you?” he asked, as if greeting a stranger.

With his red motorcycle helmet in one hand and his leather jacket unzipped over his After Hours uniform, Tate was fucking hot. His mouth curved but he didn’t step forward. He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and continued to silently check him out.

Logan could feel the blood racing to his hard-on under the heat of Tate’s stare, but instead of doing what he wanted and reaching out to touch, he waited. It felt like minutes, not seconds, before Tate finally spoke.

“I don’t know. It seems maybe I could help you out.”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly and shook his head. “That may be, but you see, I don’t take that kind of help from strangers. Not anymore.”

“We’re hardly strangers. But then, you might have forgotten all the dirty details at your age.”

Asshole.

“I remember all the details, thank you very much. But I think you may have left something important out while you were busy being dirty.”

Tate’s tongue swiped his lip as he leaned forward and informed him confidently, “Pretty sure I left nothing out of you whenever we’ve been together.”

Halfway between arousal and pure frustration, Logan caved. There was no way he was going to get anywhere when Tate was in one of his cock-tease moods.

“Fuck you, Morrison. Just tell me your goddamn name.”

“Guess.”

Logan’s eyebrow winged up as Tate pushed off the jamb and stepped forward. He didn’t bother asking if he could come in—he already knew he was wanted. The scent of cologne and leather hit Logan as he shut the door and watched Tate move toward the living room.

“Guess, huh?”

Glancing back, Tate smirked. “Sure. Guess.”

Logan made his way barefooted to the couch he’d been sitting on and took a seat as Tate removed his jacket.

“Harry.”

With his jacket in his hand, Tate froze. “Do I look like a Harry?”

“How the fuck should I know? To me, you look like a Tate.” Logan paused and ran his eyes down Tate’s black vest, tie, and white shirt. “My Tate.”

After tossing his jacket over the back of the couch, Tate kicked out of his shoes. “Don’t try and charm it out of me.”

“Are you saying I’m charming?” Logan questioned for the second time that day, turning on the couch to face the man behind him.

“No. I said don’t try to be. It’s just not right. You do better when you’re quiet and unassuming.”

Logan scoffed, “Smartass.”

Unbuttoning his vest, Tate agreed, “Maybe so, but better than being a dumb one, wouldn’t you say?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of the name I want to shout while you’re—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Tate interrupted.

Logan closed his eyes and ran through several names, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the name on Tate’s file, and it was pissing him off.

When the couch beside him dipped, he rolled his head so he was looking at expectant eyes and stubble he wanted to trace with his tongue.

“Sorry, I don’t give a fuck what anyone else calls you. To me, you’ll always be Tate.”

With his tie and vest removed, Tate had undone the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled it out of the waistband of his unbuttoned pants.

“I like that,” he admitted as he settled into the couch and closed his eyes, beat from his shift.

Logan fought back a yawn of his own, reached over, and tugged on Tate’s arm, pulling him in so he was pressed up against his side.

“You like what?”

“That you don’t give a shit what others think.”

Logan started playing with the curls tickling his shoulder. “Bullshit. You hated that when we met.”

“No, I’ve always liked it.”

“Just not when it applied to you,” Logan joked. “Okay, what about David?”

Tate shook his head. “Nope. You really don’t remember?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Obviously. How about Lance, Blake, Todd?”

“No, no, and no. Come on. Do you really think my mother would call me Todd Tate?”

Logan twisted his fingers into the waves he was stroking and tightened them as he lowered his mouth down to Tate’s. “Tell me. Your name,” he demanded.

Logan loved the way Tate responded to him with parted lips and challenging eyes.

“Make me.”

He tumbled Tate down on his back and cupped the sides of his face before lowering his mouth and pressing their lips firmly together, tracing his tongue across the seam. As Tate opened to him, Logan slipped inside and tasted.

Ahh. There was the cinnamon. There was the hint of tobacco. And as Tate pushed his hips up grinding against him, Logan groaned. There is Tate.

Before it went any further though, he pushed back and made himself move away to stand beside the couch. Tate slowly got up onto his elbows and crooked his head with questioning eyes.

“I told you,” Logan explained. “I don’t have sex with someone whose name I don’t know.”

“Ohh, morals. You’re right. They’re very important.”

Tate flopped back down onto the couch and made sure he kept his eyes on Logan’s as he unzipped his pants. “So you’re telling me that you’re going to lie in bed all night and not touch me? Not have sex with me?”

Logan placed his hands low on his hips and nodded. “I am capable of self-control, you know.”

He followed Tate’s movements as he sat up, unbuttoned his shirt, and then stood, shrugging out of it. Once he’d thrown it on the couch, Tate stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest.

“I never said you weren’t.”

“You don’t think I can do it. You don’t think I can resist you?”

Tate’s fingers traced down to the top of Logan’s sweats. Then he fingered the elastic as he gave him a smug-as-fuck smirk and admitted, “No, I don’t. But I guess we’ll soon find out, won’t we?”

Logan watched silently as Tate stepped around him and walked farther down the main hall to his bedroom. Tate stopped in the doorway, pushed his pants and boxers off his hips, and stepped out of them.

Logan winced and rubbed the hard-on he was sporting. He knew the fucker was going to drive him out of his goddamn mind before he gave in, because when Tate set his mind to something, he was stubborn as hell.

* * *

Tate was feeling pretty fucking good as he climbed into Logan’s bed and looked at the doorway. It was always a thrill to get the better of Logan. It didn’t happen often, but when finally rendering the man speechless, it always felt like an accomplishment of sorts.

That was, until he remembered his day.

He’d ignored several phone calls from his family and put off the inevitable with the excuse he was giving himself a day.

A day to work out how to explain what exactly his sister had seen.

Tate wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but he knew he had to do it, and soon. He couldn’t hide forever, even if he’d done a hell of a job pushing it aside.

As that unwelcome thought lingered in his mind, Logan stepped into the room and made his way around to his usual side of the bed. Stopping beside the mattress, he hooked his thumbs into his pants and regarded him.

“You look so damn good in my bed.”

Those few words made Tate realize, How can I ever deny what I’m feeling?

“Do I?”

He’d never been as strongly attracted to anyone as he was to the man currently eyeing him. But he had a lot on his mind, and shelving it wasn’t going to do much good. It was better to just face it…Well, maybe in a minute.

Logan pushed his pants from his hips and went to remove his glasses. Before he got them off though, Tate rolled to his side and said, “Don’t.”

Logan left them in place and pulled back the covers to get under, lying on his side so they were facing one another, his head propped up on his hand.

“I like them. You appear so serious when you wear them.”

“As opposed to not serious when they’re off?”

Tate rolled to his back and studied the ceiling. “No. When they’re off, you look…”

Logan lowered his head and nuzzled in against his ear. “Yes?”

Turning his head on the pillow, Tate caught the blue eyes pinning him with an intense stare. “Sexy. Like you could get into trouble in seconds. Stop,” he sighed as Logan’s lips touched his neck. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

“So glasses on makes me less sexy and easier to talk to? Good to know. I’m thinking I need to buy some contacts.”

“No,” Tate groaned. Nothing about having Logan naked and pressed up against him made it easier to talk. It just made him horny.

“Then what?”

“They make it less likely that you will…I don’t know…do anything.”

The deep laugh beside him had Tate reaching over to shove Logan’s shoulder.

“I’m being serious.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Logan replied when he stopped laughing. “Your mood has done a complete one-eighty.”

Tate remained silent as he looked at nothing in particular.

Logan had left the side lamp on, and the room was quiet as they lay there, each of them understanding exactly what was on Tate’s mind.

“Did you call your mom today?”

The way Logan asked, Tate knew he was just as nervous to hear the answer as he was to give it.

Sure, when he’d arrived, playing around had been the first thing on his mind. Maybe they could say, “To hell with their issues,” and just fuck their brains out, but really, what it came down to was Tate wanted to get serious, and he wanted Logan to want it too. He knew, however, that wanting it and getting it were not going to be as easy as that, and he wondered how the fuck his life had gotten so complicated.

“Tate?”

Shaking his head, he admitted, “No. I didn’t call her.”

Logan said nothing. He just reached out to brush his hair from his forehead.

“She called me though. Several times.”

The silence in the room was palpable as they both lay there staring at each other. He couldn’t think of anything to say, but then Logan opened his mouth and suggested, “If it’s easier to deny it—”

“Shut up.” Tate knew that was not the answer.

“I’m just saying—”

“Well, stop. I won’t lie to them. I just need some fucking time to work out what to say.” Tate closed his eyes and tried to think.

In two fucking weeks, his entire life had been turned on its ass. How in the hell…But when warm lips pressed against his forehead and he was pulled closer so he was lying in the crook of Logan’s arm, he realized he didn’t give a shit.

“Take as long as you need.”

Logan was constantly surprising him as his whispered words of support found him in the room. Tate placed a tentative hand on Logan’s chest and felt the steady beat of his heart as he said softly, “It’s William.” Logan shifted away slightly, and Tate tilted his head so he was looking up at him. “William Tate Morrison.”

Without a word, Logan reached up and removed his glasses. He stretched out, put them on the side table, and switched the lamp off. When he came back and settled into the bed, Tate felt a hand stroke his hair again, a new, familiar habit of Logan’s.

“That’s a very proper name, Mr. Morrison. I like it.”

Tate grinned against Logan’s chest. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I do,” Logan murmured, and just when Tate thought he’d be rolled over and worked over, Logan shocked him again. “Now get some rest. It’s late.”

As he drifted off to sleep, Tate felt for the very first time that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought.

* * *

The following morning, as Logan stood in the kitchen making his coffee, he kept thinking over the night before.

William. He never would’ve guessed. Such a dignified name, so…

“Logan?”

Sexy.

He turned to watch Tate stroll out of the bedroom with his jeans pulled on but left unbuttoned.

“Hmm?” was all he managed as he straightened his blue tie and Tate came to a stop beside him.

“You’re up early, even for you. It’s not light out yet.”

Logan pivoted back to the coffee maker and pushed the button on the stainless-steel appliance a little harder than was required.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, a little surprised at himself. He’d been tired as hell last night.

“A lot on your mind?”

Logan glanced at Tate. “Yes, William. I have a lot on my mind right now.”

Tate rolled his eyes and rested against the counter. “The only person who gets away with calling me William is my mom.”

Logan slipped his fingers into the loose denim at Tate’s waist and pulled him close. “And now me.”

Tate placed a hand on the counter he was leaning against. “I don’t think so.”

Logan forgot all about the coffee as he stepped in front of Tate, making him turn so his ass was pressed back against the counter. He hooked his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, and with their eyes connected, Logan pushed forward and ground his hips hard against him.

“I do, William,” Logan grinned. “It’s like I’m with someone totally new. Someone…refined.”

As he pushed his hand into Tate’s jeans and curled his fingers around the hard-on he found, Tate’s lips opened and his head rested back against the kitchen cabinet. Unable to help himself, Logan leaned forward and licked a path up Tate’s jaw to his ear.

“Ahh fuck, Logan.”

Logan’s cock throbbed at the invitation as he bit the lobe and removed his hand.

“Maybe tonight. But for now, you may want to brace yourself.”

He kissed his way back down Tate’s neck to his shoulder and then lower to bite his nipple. Tate placed one of his hands on the counter behind himself as Logan gripped both sides of his jeans and tugged them down his legs, lowering to his knees on the kitchen floor.

He circled the base of Tate’s shaft with his fingers and flicked his tongue over the swollen head in front of him. The throaty sound that left Tate had Logan’s mouth stretching into a wicked grin as he peered up to see him braced, ready for the sensual onslaught.

As if Tate could feel him watching, he looked down and asked, “Why’d you stop?”

Logan kissed Tate’s hipbone and then scraped his teeth along the taut skin. “I wanted to make sure I had your attention, William.”

One of Tate’s hands came forward and then yanked his head back so he was forced to look up.

“I told you not to call me that.”

Unrepentant to the end, Logan knew his face was smug. “And I’ve told you there’s only one way to shut me up.”

“So you have.”

Tate’s other hand cradled his face and directed him forward to his stiff rod.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He nuzzled in and sucked the skin around the root of the hard-on that was brushing the side of his cheek. He tormented Tate with a flick of his tongue and a suck of his lips, causing Tate’s hips to shove forward, and when he finally moved to take the plump head into his mouth, a loud curse ripped from Tate’s throat. Logan closed his eyes and felt the fingers in his hair flex as he finally slid his lips down Tate’s steely length.

Fuck yes. Use me, Logan thought, and he couldn’t help the hum of approval he gave as Tate took over the pace.

He smoothed his hands up the back of firm thighs and clenched his ass as Tate continued to thrust forward to the back of his throat. Logan dug his fingers into cheeks that were tightly muscled and reveled in the way Tate now let go with him one hundred percent.

Tate had one hand at the back of his head now, and his other fingers kept stroking along Logan’s face, as if massaging him to make sure he didn’t get lockjaw, but he had nothing to worry about.

Logan’s jaw was nice and loose when it came to pleasuring Tate.

* * *

Logan was going to render him useless before it was even seven a.m.

Tate looked down once more, just to be certain he wasn’t imagining it, and no—he wasn’t.

There, kneeling at his feet in his pressed, white dress shirt, grey pants, and a light-blue tie, was Logan, and he was sucking him as if he had all the time in the world to be there.

Tate knew he’d messed up Logan's perfectly styled hair, but as Logan pulled away and freed his cock before swallowing it back inside, Tate didn’t give a fuck. He traced Logan’s jaw and then found himself running the pads of his fingers along his glasses just as Logan slipped a finger between his ass cheeks.

Jesus. As if what he was doing wasn’t hot enough, something about having Logan dressed for work yet still willing to say fuck it and get him off was pushing every button Tate had. The glasses were a nice touch also, and it was clear that Logan was proving his point from the night before. Just because he was wearing them, it didn’t mean jack shit when it came to taking what he wanted.

“Yes,” Tate hissed as Logan’s finger pushed against his back passage and then slipped down the taut skin between his balls. “Just like…ahh,” he groaned as Logan stroked and sucked him until he finally lost it.

He gripped Logan’s head between both hands and cursed his name out, coming in a rush into Logan’s greedy mouth.

“Oh God, Logan. Fucking hell.”

Without realizing he was doing it, Tate ran his hands gently through Logan’s hair.

“Mhmm. If you don’t quit stroking me, I’m gonna pull you down here and miss work.”

Tate stared down at the man peering up at him. He wanted to tell Logan how he was feeling. That ever since he’d come into his life, everything seemed more intense, more consuming. But as a sly curve hit Logan’s mouth and he got to his feet, pressing a palm to his erection, Tate knew now wasn’t the time.

“I really need to get going.”

Tate pulled his jeans up and zipped them as Logan kissed him quickly on the lips. He tasted a hint of himself there and wondered when that had become such a fucking turn-on for him.

He managed to pass Logan the traveler’s mug he used and watched him grab the coffee pot to fill it.

“So…” Tate started, trailing off as Logan pinned him with a smoldering look.

“Yes?”

“Will I see you tonight?”

Logan’s dark eyebrow arched. “Would you like to see me tonight?”

Tate trailed his eyes over the almost perfectly put-together lawyer and inclined his head slowly. “Yes, I would.”

“Then I think that can be arranged.”

Logan readjusted his tie as he brought the coffee cup to his mouth and backed away, eyes still on him. When he lowered the mug, he licked his lips and winked at him.

“This is the only way I like cream with my coffee.”

Tate’s mouth opened but then shut again. This raw side of Logan, the side he was beginning to crave, still managed to shock him.

He watched silently as Logan turned, bent to pick up his briefcase beside the couch, and walked toward the door.

“Logan?” he called out just as he reached his front door.

“Yes?”

“Should I do anything, you know, special to lock up when I leave?”

The expression that crossed Logan’s face was full of sex and promises as he asked, “Who said you had to leave?”

Tate said nothing as he tried to think of a response. This was the first time that Logan had ever insinuated that he should stay longer than the morning after, and it all felt very…right.

Luckily for him, Logan never had a problem filling the silence.

“Personally, I think it’d be a hell of a lot more special if you stayed.” Logan pulled the door open, and as he stepped out, he called, “But if you do leave, just pull the door shut behind you. See you tonight, William!”

Smart-mouthed fucker, Tate thought with a grin he couldn’t help.

How the hell did I ever think I could resist him?

He hadn’t stood a chance.

3.

Tate looked around the empty living room and thought back to Logan’s comment. “I think it’d be a hell of a lot more special if you stayed.”

What did he mean by that? Stay for the day? For the night? Forever?

Jesus. He needed to stop overanalyzing shit or he was going to go insane. He’d been fine before…Before his sister had caught them making out in Logan’s office, and before he’d let Logan have him—and he’d most definitely had him.

Ever since then, Tate had been feeling…anxious, off-center.

He knew that he wanted Logan, and he wasn’t one to lie to himself, so he was honest enough to admit the thought of telling his family about who he was with was making him feel slightly nauseated.

He poured a cup of coffee and made his way over to stand at the sliding door that led out to Logan’s balcony. The same balcony he’d stepped onto that first night he’d been there when Logan had blown his mind—among other things.

The sun was finally up and shining through all of the surrounding high-rises, and as Tate ran a hand through his hair, he was reminded of the way Logan now played with it.

Almost as if he couldn’t help it, Logan’s fingers automatically found their way into his curls whenever he sat down beside the guy, and Tate fucking loved it. Over the course of getting to know Logan, he’d discovered a few things about himself. First and foremost, it was okay to give in and hand the reins over to someone else. He even enjoyed it, not always being the one in control.

He’d always been accused of being stubborn, and he knew he was, but with Logan, he found himself wanting to give in more often than not. The man was persistent as hell and had an uncanny way of wearing a person down.

Some wouldn’t appreciate that, but to Tate, it was…kind of endearing.

Unlike his ex-wife, Logan wasn’t the type to give in and walk away from what he wanted. He was the type to stick around and fight it out to the end. One had to give him credit for that.

It’d been an hour or so since Logan had left, and Tate had finished his second cup of coffee for the morning. As he was dumping the mug in the sink, his phone began to ring with a familiar tune. He looked at his jacket, where the phone was located, and decided it was time to man the hell up.

He crossed to the couch and slipped his hand inside the pocket to locate the cell. Pulling it out, he looked at the name on the display and then slowly brought it up to his ear, not having a clue what he was about to say.

“William?” was the first thing out of his mother’s mouth.

Tate could feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he placed a hand on the back of Logan’s couch for support and inhaled a shaky breath.

“William? Are you there?”

Closing his eyes, Tate swallowed and nodded, and when he got no response, he realized he hadn’t actually said anything.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”

“Yeah, I know. I got the messages.”

There was a pause, and then Tate heard some rustling. He wondered if his mother was moving out of one room and into the privacy of another.

“Then why didn’t you call me back?”

“Mom…” he started, but he didn’t really know what to say after that.

He turned around, rested his ass against the back of the couch, and rubbed a palm over his face. Nothing of consequence had been said yet and it was already awkward as hell.

“I need to talk to you and dad.”

The silence that stretched between them was strained as he waited for her answer, and when she finally spoke, he knew that Jill and Diana’s poison had already started to spread.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Tate grabbed his jacket, pulled out the pack of cigarettes inside, and flipped open the lid. “Why isn’t it a good idea? You just asked why I haven’t called you back. I assumed that meant you wanted to talk to me.”

Tate’s hackles rose as he heard his mother sigh, and then she asked something he’d never thought he would hear her say.

“Is it true, William? Are you dating a man?”

Fucking Diana. He couldn’t bring himself to think that his own sister would be this malicious, but Diana…Oh yeah. This has her fingerprints all over it.

“Mom, why don’t I come over Sunday—”

“Is. It. True?” she asked again, cutting him off. Her voice was cool, her tone unrelenting.

Tate couldn’t seem to spit the word yes past the lump in his throat. If it had been the easiest word to say last night, then this was pure irony, because it was the hardest fucking word to utter this morning.

“William?”

“Yes, Mom,” he finally managed, but because luck wasn’t on his side right about now, she didn’t understand and asked again.

“I asked if you are dating a man.”

Finally, Tate found some of the backbone he prided himself on and replied, “I know. I answered you. Yes.”

As expected, he received no response. All Tate could hear was his mother’s breathing and the blood rushing around his head. He offered no more as he made his way over to the balcony door, slid it open, and stepped outside.

Fuck, it’s cold. Almost as cold as the reception at the other end of the phone.

Quickly, he moved back in until he was standing on the hardwood floor. Then he frowned at the cigarettes in his hand. He really needed one.

Choosing the only option he could think of, he sat down cross-legged in front of the sliding door and opened it a crack. He brought one to his mouth and lit up, and still all that remained was tense silence.

“Mom?”

“Why would you do this?” she asked, and before he could answer she continued, “I don’t understand, son.”

Now he knew she was pissed. William and son were only used when she was mad, and her voice had a slight tremble. He could actually picture her pacing back and forth.

“What do you mean, why? I didn’t plan it this way. It just happened.”

“It just happened? How does that just happen?”

“I don’t know…It just did.”

Tate closed his eyes and blew the smoke out through the crack in the door. As he sat there, he thought about Logan’s sensual smile and the thick, black strands he’d had his hands in this morning.

Tate was pretty sure if Jill had brought him home his mother would’ve fawned all over him, but the fact that he wanted to bring Logan home was another matter altogether. Then he got to wondering how he would’ve felt if Jill had brought Logan home. Would he have still had this intense desire to touch the man?

Hang on. Why the fuck am I thinking—

“William, you are not gay. You were married. To a woman!”

Tate rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the update.”

“Don’t you get smart with me. I just don’t understand what is going on with you lately. First, you divorce Diana—”

“Would you rather I stay in a miserable marriage?”

“Of course not, but this? This is just…just—”

“Just what, Mom?”

“Wrong. It’s just wrong. We raised you better than this, William. You were such a good boy.”

Tate closed his eyes and squeezed them tight.

Yes, the good Catholic boy who never disappoints his parents. Wow, what a fucking joke that is these days.

“I’m not a boy anymore, Mom. Why can’t you ever try to see my side of things?” Tate asked, immediately regretting it.

He’d told himself back when he and Diana had split not to count on his family for much. Apparently, it was okay to screw over those around you, as long as you went to church on Sunday to repent.

 “And how am I supposed to see this?”

Tate had no idea and was pretty sure his silence relayed that.

“Well? What do you expect?” she demanded again, and this time, she sounded pissed. “First, Diana called me—”

“Why the fuck are you still talking to her?”

“Don’t you use that word with me.”

“Well, answer me. She’s my ex-wife. Why is she calling you?” Tate had wanted to ask his mother that for as long as he could remember and was fucking proud of himself for finally doing so.

“I’ve always been close to Diana. Ever since she and your sister were little girls.”

Tate took another deep inhale of the tobacco and tipped his face toward the open door to exhale. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the story.

Diana’s family had moved in next door when he’d turned eight. Almost instantly, his sister and Diana had become attached at the hip—best friends for life—and they sure as shit weren’t giving that up anytime soon.

He hadn’t really paid much attention to Diana back then. She’d been more like a sister to him until the year she returned from college. That was the first time his cock had gotten him in a whole shit-ton of trouble.

Logan was the second.

It was best not to think about that right now though—not with his angry mother on the other end of the phone.

Diana was a fucking problem, one that was still included in family affairs even though they were in the process of making their separation a permanent one. It was time his mother realized how much he didn’t appreciate their continued friendship.

“Don’t you realize how uncomfortable that makes me? You still talk to my ex-wife.”

“You know she’s like family.”

“And I am family! Jesus. Where the hell does she get off telling you my personal business?”

“She was hurt. She said you were kissing a man. That would hurt any woman who was once involved with you. Is this…this man the reason you two—”

“No!” Tate denied adamantly. “Is that what she said?”

The silence he was met with was answer enough, and it made Tate want to track Diana down and strangle the witch.

“I didn’t meet Logan until a couple of weeks ago.”

“That’s his name?”

“Yes. That’s his name.” Tate paused and then decided, What the hell. “He wants to meet you.”

“Excuse me?”

“He wants to meet you, and I want you to meet him.”

Tate lowered his arm outside the door and crushed out the cigarette butt. So what if he was imagining it was Diana’s face.

“I don’t think so. I don’t ever want to meet him.”

Tate bit back the snide remark he wanted to make and instead asked something he knew he’d regret. “Why not?”

And just as predicted, the answer wasn’t one he’d been ready to hear.

“Because he’s a pervert, and he’s corrupted my son.”

* * *

Logan strolled into the firm’s conference room and found Cole seated at the large oval table in the center. He had paperwork scattered all around him and a half-eaten sandwich on a plate to his left.

“You know, I hate organizing this kind of shit. Can’t we hire a party planner? I know we can afford it. Or better yet, your wife?”

Cole looked up from the papers in front of him and shook his head. “Rachel’s a pastry chef, not an event planner. Plus, she’s busy enough down at Exquisite.”