him after lunch. Let him corner you.’
‘He thinks we’re getting married, Max. He’s not going to come anywhere near me.’
‘I think you might be underestimating the effect you have on him, Evie. Besides, he knows this is a marriage of convenience.’
‘He what?’ Evie was having trouble keeping up with who knew what. ‘How?’
‘I may have mentioned it. Before he mentioned knowing you. He was concerned for me. Or possibly for you. Not sure which. He asked me straight whether our marriage was to be one of convenience.’
‘You told him? What happened to the game plan? The “I want to pretend it’s real in front of my family” plan?’
Max had the grace to look discomfited. ‘Couldn’t do it,’ he said finally.
‘You are the worst. Liar. Ever.’
‘Yes, well, now we know that.’ Max was getting surly, a sure sign that he’d been caught wrong-footed. ‘Look, I’ll go and beard my mother, tell her what’s going on. But you have to talk to Logan and find out what he wants. What you want. See if you can imagine him as your brother-in-law.’
She really couldn’t.
‘Just talk to the man, Evie.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Okay. But if I need saving, you’d better come save me.’
‘I will.’
‘And I’m still your business partner.’
‘I know.’ Max eyed her steadily. ‘That’s not up for renegotiation, regardless of what happens with the engagement.’
‘You hold that thought,’ Evie said doggedly. ‘No matter what Logan tells you, you hold that thought.’
EVIE came back downstairs five minutes later, hoping to find everyone already gathered for lunch, but there was only Logan, with his back towards her as he stared out at the garden beyond. Evie paused in the doorway, not ready for this confrontation, dead scared of this particular ghost, but he turned and there was nothing for it but to take a breath, straighten her shoulders and move forward. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Down in the cellar, choosing a bottle of wine,’ said Logan. ‘They were discussing the merits of marriages of convenience along the way. They could be a while.’
‘Oh.’ Happy conversations all round. And where to begin with Logan? ‘I knew Max had a brother called Logan,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I didn’t know it was you.’
‘Fair enough. Now you do.’
His voice. How could she have forgotten that voice?
‘What do you want from me, Logan?’
‘You,’ he said, and Evie’s breath hitched. ‘Gone.’
‘We leave on Sunday.’
‘From my life.’
‘As far as I can be.’
‘It won’t be far enough, Angie. Not if you marry my brother. Not if you stay in business with him.’
‘I’m not Angie,’ she said with quiet firmness as thick black lashes came down to shield Logan’s eyes. ‘I grew up after you left me. I finished my studies and went to work on site in the construction business. I learned how to stand my ground. People call me Evie now. Evangeline when they’re cross.’
‘And is my brother cross with you, Evangeline?’ Logan’s black gaze swept up and over her, searing her. Lingering just a little too long on her hairline and the fringe that hid the faintest trace of an old, old scar.
‘It’s hard to say. What do you want from me, Logan? You didn’t have to tell Max you’d bedded me. It’s been ten years. More. Why didn’t you leave that memory in the past where it belongs?’
He didn’t answer her, just moved towards the drinks sideboard and poured clear liquid from a jug into two highball glasses. ‘It’s just water,’ he said. ‘Want one?’
‘Thank you.’
So he picked them up and came over to her, and wasn’t that a bad idea? Because now she could smell him and it was a scent that had haunted her, and now she could see the faint stubble on his jaw and the fine lines etched into his face. Older now, and wiser. Less inclined towards a smile.
He had a heartbreaker’s smile when he chose to use it.
He held the glass out towards her and she stared at it and the strong, long fingers that held it. Go find out what he wants, had been Max’s directive. Find out what you want.
So she reached for the water and deliberately brushed her fingers against Logan’s in search of the fire that had once poured over her at his touch.
And came away scalded.
One sip of cool water and then another as she held Logan’s gaze and fought that feeling of helplessness.
‘The trouble with memories like ours,’ he said roughly, ‘is that you think you’ve buried them, dealt with them, right up until they reach up and rip out your throat.’
Some memories were like that. But not all. Sometimes memories could be finessed into something slightly more palatable.
‘Maybe we could try replacing the bad with something a little less intense,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘You could try treating me as your future sister-in-law. We could do polite, and civil. We could come to like it that way.’
‘Watching you hang off my brother’s arm doesn’t make me feel civilised, Evangeline. It makes me want to break things.’
Ah.
‘Call off the engagement.’ He wasn’t looking at her. And it wasn’t a request. ‘Turn this mess around.’
‘We need Max’s trust-fund money.’
‘I’ll cover Max for the money. I’ll buy you out.’
‘What?’ Anger slid through her, hot and biting. She could feel her composure slipping away but there was nothing else for it. Not in the face of the hot mess that was Logan. ‘No,’ she said as steadily as she could. ‘No one’s buying me out of anything, least of all MEP. That company is mine, just as much as it is Max’s. I’ve put six years into it, eighty-hour weeks’ worth of blood, sweat, tears and fears into making it the success it is. Prepping it for bigger opportunities and one of those opportunities is just around the corner. Why on earth would I let you buy me out?’
He meant to use his big body to intimidate her. Closer, and closer still, until the jacket of his suit brushed the silk of her dress but he didn’t touch her, just let the heat build. His lips had that hard sensual curve about them that had haunted her dreams for years. She couldn’t stop staring at them.
She needed to stop staring at them.
‘You can’t be in my life, Evangeline. Not even on the periphery. I discovered that the hard way ten years ago. So either you leave willingly … or I make you leave.’
‘Couldn’t we just—’
‘No.’ And then he leaned forward and brushed his lower lip against the curve of hers, and she closed her eyes and tried to pretend that her response didn’t belong to her. That the thrill of pleasure that screamed through her belonged to someone else and that the hint of whisky on his lips wasn’t intoxicating.
‘You can’t marry my brother, Angie. Don’t even think it,’ he murmured against her lips, and brought his hands up to cradle her face, and they were gentle but the tongue that stroked the seam of her