Page 16 of Defensive Desire

"Cut!" The director's voice shatters my fantasy. "That was perfect!PHEW!The chemistry between you two is exactly what we needed."

I blink rapidly, trying to pull myself together. Logan's still watching me with that intense stare, and I wonder if he has any idea what his voice just did to me.

God, I need a cold shower.

Or maybe just to dunk my head in one of my coffee urns.

By the time we wrap up, my cheeks are permanently flushed, and I'm pretty sure my voice has given me away at least twice.

The crew begins packing up, and Ryder bounds over, his eyes periodically darting to Mia across the room.

"Damn, Logan," he teases, "didn't know you could sound hot, man. No wonder Emma's coffee is selling like hot cakes."

They start talking as I busy myself collecting my samples, trying to ignore the way my heart is still racing. Soon, Logan steps closer as I stack the empty boxes, his presence like a wall of heat behind me.

"So? Happy you made me sound like a damn fool?" he mutters, close enough that I can feel the rumble of his chest.

I turn, finding myself trapped between him and the table.

"Um, did I?"

His eyes hold mine, filled with a heat that makes my knees weak.

I slip past him, gathering the last of my things, but before I can get far, his fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me instantly.

"Maybe next time, don't tell me how to talk," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that really isn't helping right now. "I want to figure out how to impress you on my own."

My breath catches in my throat, the words stuck somewhere between a gasp and a sigh.

Before I can respond, he releases me, the warm sensation of his fingers lingering on my skin.

"Hey Logan!" Ryder's voice breaks the spell as he yells from the doorway. "You left your jacket on the table. Looks like Emma has you all distracted!"

I laugh, the sound slightly nervous even to my own ears.

Logan just grunts, shooting me one last smoldering look before stalking out the door.

I stand there, heart pounding, still feeling the ghost of his breath against my ear, the gentle press of his fingers on my pulse point.

Oh, I am in so much trouble.

Chapter Five

Emma

My alarm cuts through my dreams at 6 AM, jolting me awake with all the grace of a puck to the face.

Ugh.

Today's the Iron Ridge Fire Department Charity Festival, where each Icehawks partnership will showcase their collaboration for the first time.

It's another opportunity to gain prime consideration for the arena café space. Basically, a live action chance to prove we can handle the demands of Iron Ridge locals with our very own stall.

I groan and roll over in my tiny but cozy little cove above Chapter & Grind, nearly falling off my bed in the process.

The space is a chaotic mix of mismatched furniture I've collected from garage sales, lush green plants growing in every available spot, including the hanging ones that Logan swears will kill me one day, and bookshelves so overstuffed they look ready to collapse under the weight of my slightly unhealthy hoarding habit.

It's cramped, cluttered, and completely mine.

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