“I don’t think you’ve ever walked away from creating a scene. What did your parents do? Threaten to disown you if something happened today?”
“My parents threaten to disown me every other week,” she assured blandly. The truth was, she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Will any more than she already had with her refusal to accept Noelle’s efforts at friendship. “Believe me, they’ll probably be disappointed when the day ends without me doing something to embarrass them in front of their guests.”
From the other side of the boathouse, where the enormous awning had been erected on the richly groomed grounds, applause and cheering broke out from the revelers.
“Is that why you wouldn’t go ask for their help?”
Annie kept her smile in place, but it took an effort. “As it happens, I did ask.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “And?”
She shrugged. “Well, Drago didn’t leave until just now, did he?” She didn’t like the look in his eyes. The one that seemed a little too close to pitying. “You should be back there.” She tilted her head in the direction of the party. “Will’s probably tossing the garter or something about now.”
“Why aren’t you back there?”
“What? To catch the bouquet?” She managed an uncaring shrug. “Not my style.”
His eyebrow lifted. “You’re seventeen years old. You don’t have a style yet.”
She nearly laughed. “I’ll be eighteen in a few months, and you know better than that. Annie’s style is to go wherever there is trouble, and if there isn’t trouble yet, there soon will be once she arrives.”
“Is that what you really think or are you just quoting your parents?”
Her smile faltered a little. “What’s the difference?”
Another burst of clapping and laughter sprang through the night. Logan’s steady, silent look made her feel positively itchy. “If you don’t like something, Annie, you’re the one who has the power to change it.”
“Annie’ll never change,” she assured. “My parents say that all the time.” She hated the way her throat felt, all tight. She focused hard on the empty champagne bottle lying in the grass beside the walkway until her vision cleared.
Then she nudged the bottle with the pointed toe of her red pump. “Pity about the champagne. It spilled out when I tried to hit Drago with the bottle. Such a waste.”
“I think you’ve already had plenty.”
“Me? I’m underage, Logan, remember? You don’t think I meant to drink it myself, do you?”
The corner of his lips tilted. “I’m well aware of your age, and yes, I do think you meant to drink it.” His voice was as dry as the imported bubbly.
The man was intoxicating. More so than any amount of champagne she might have consumed on the sly.
“That’s why you snuck down here by the boathouse, I suspect. To drink your little heart out.”
“How nice of you to notice.” She’d perfected that bored tone when she was knee-high to a grasshopper. But, when she languidly brushed her hair back from her shoulder and his gaze tracked the movement, she hid another little shudder.
“Oh, you’re noticeable, all right. Somebody should put you on a leash.”
Despite his wholly overwhelming appeal, she was more comfortable with this sort of exchange with him than any other. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his hands on her. Simple.
Her lips curved. “Why, Logan. Is there a bit of kink hiding beneath your straight-arrow exterior?”
He didn’t look amused.
She exhaled, pouting a little, and walked closer to him. Her heels were so ungodly high that the top of her head nearly reached his chin. She tilted her head back a little, leaning toward him. Her heart was beating so hard that she wondered hazily if he could see it right through the wedge of skin revealed by the plunging V of her dress.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Giving you a proper thank you.” She pressed her lips to his jaw, settling her hand against his chest when her knees seemed too shaky to hold her.
“Fine.” His voice was clipped. “You’re welcome.”
He hadn’t moved, and she felt the heady beat of his heart right through the shirt he wore. Her palm still hurt, but the white silk felt unreasonably soft as she moved her hand down over his hard abdomen. Her lips tingled as she drew them along the hard, raspy line of his jaw. She rose on her toes, her mouth slowly, agonizingly nearing his. For an altogether too brief moment, his hand slid behind her neck, tangling in her hair. His lips hovered enticingly close to hers.
Then he suddenly set her from him, dragging her hand away from his belt as he pushed her back. “Dammit, Annie. You don’t have to behave this way, just for the sake of getting some attention from your worthless parents.”
Her defenses closed around her again like a vise. “You want me, Logan. I know you do.” She leaned toward him once more.
His hands held her off. “Grow up.” His voice was hard. “You’re a beautiful, selfish little girl who doesn’t think about anything other than what she wants.”
His words stung. Not because it was the first time she’d heard such accusations, but because they came from him. “And you’re saying you don’t want to kiss me? Touch me? Believe me, Logan, I know when a guy’s interested.” Her gaze ran over him.
“Is this what you do back at that expensive boarding school you and my sister go to? Convince yourself that any guy you throw yourself at is interested just because you’ve gotten a physical reaction out of him?”
The truth was, she hadn’t thrown herself at any man, until now. Everything up to then—the scores of boyfriends, Drago, the alcohol, the failed tests—had been just a front. A futile attempt to get kicked out of a school she’d loathed every minute of the three years she’d been there, to go back to parents who didn’t have time or interest in her, anyway. The only reason she’d been allowed home from Bendlemaier now was because of Will’s wedding.
“Don’t worry about Sara,” she said smoothly. Her roommate was at the exclusive school on scholarship, and despite the differences between them, they’d become good friends. “Your sister’s still as pure as the driven snow,” Annie went on. “And in a few short months, we’ll graduate from that godforsaken prison and be out of there altogether.” She smiled. “I’ll be eighteen and you’ll be, what? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? Come on, Logan. It’s only a few months away. Weeks, really. Don’t be so uptight.”
His eyes narrowed. “So what do you propose here, Annie? Go into the boathouse? We’ll just pull that excuse for a dress you’re wearing up another three inches and go at it, just because you think I want you? You’re my friend’s kid sister and I don’t care what you think I do or don’t want. If you want to get laid, go find that sleaze, Drago. He’s probably still hiding out there in the woods. I’m not interested.”
Without a second glance, he strode up the walk.
Annie leaned back against the stucco again, his words ringing in her head. There was truth in Logan’s words. She was selfish. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it.
She looked out over the narrow gleam of water beyond the end of the dock. More laughter and cheering echoed on the night air.
If it hadn’t been for Logan, who knew what Drago might have done? Logan was the only one who’d noticed her absence, the only one who’d thought to investigate, and he didn’t even like her.
It was pathetic.
She should have just stayed at Bendlemaier.