Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (18 page)

"You want to cook dinner for me?" His tone hinted at nervousness.

"Oh, boy. You have that same look on your face as before."

He seemed genuinely confused. "What look?"

She vacillated between telling him, or slowly backing away. Throwing caution to the wind, she laid it out for him.

"The same one you had when I first tried to kiss you and when I invited you up last night—the same one that occasionally flashes across that gorgeous face of yours whenever you think I want your hand in marriage. For crying out loud, Logan, your commitment issues are showing," she declared, as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away.

His hand on her upper arm halted her and spun her around. His eyes were wide with shock when she faced him. "I don't have …
issues
."

Her brows went up at his poor attempt to defend himself. "You can't even say it," she mocked. "
Commitment,
Logan.
Commitment
issues."

"I had planned on doling this out later, but you clearly need it now."

Logan pulled her back into the room, seated himself on the edge of the bed with her in tow, and pulled her over his knee so fast her brain couldn't process what was happening. Only when his hand swatted her bottom did it register. She yelped so loudly, she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Her poor neighbors would surely think the girl who never had men in her apartment was being assaulted. She tried to stand, but his hand on the center of her back and his leg over the back of her knees secured her spot. One more swat to each cheek later and her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. And once again, she was aroused beyond belief.

"How's that for commitment?" he asked, as his voice deepened. "And this is for forcing that ridiculous song down my throat," his added when his hand came down two more times onto each cheek with more force.

When she was finally able to pull herself upright to rub her ass, his brows went up in a silent challenge, but she was too turned on and frustrated to react. His swats hadn't been hard, but with just enough power behind them to leave a sting on her bottom. With her face flushed, she swallowed noisily. She could definitely get used to that sort of thing—as long as it led to
more.
Her body swayed as she waited for Logan to make the next move, but he didn't. When she saw that
more
wasn't going to happen, she did her best to regain her composure and spun on her heel to walk out.

She glanced over her shoulder and made the man with commitment issues the only kind of offer she knew how without freaking him out.

"Look, I'll put it like this so you don't get all panicky: I'm going to reheat some leftovers. If you want to stay and eat, then please do. Or don't. It's your decision." She turned to walk out, but not before facing him one last time. "And your music was far more ridiculous than mine.
Like a Virgin,
" she huffed.

*

Chloe marched into the kitchen, leaving Logan alone, with a smile on his face. His dick was still hard from her spanking, his brain reeling from her uncanny ability to see through him ,and her nerve to call him out. With her feminine scent still saturating his clothing and his palm tingling, he couldn't process what it was that he was feeling besides turned on.

He leaned back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling as he listened to her rummage around in the kitchen for plates and silverware. He dug his phone out of his pants pocket to browse through the various new songs on his playlist. The sound of the microwave beeping signaled he had only a few minutes to find the perfect song. It seemed like a chicken-shit way to relay his message to her, but still, all-in-all, this whole
music as communication
thing was turning out to be pretty useful—even if it had started out a joke. He could say what he wanted without actually having to say it.

Only a few minutes later, he met her in the kitchen.

"Does this mean you're staying for dinner?" she asked without looking at him.

"I suppose it does," he said as he touched the song on the phone screen.

Chloe had just begun to plate what looked-to-be leftover baked ziti when
Make It Up As We Go
started playing. With the plates and flatware in her hands, she spun around to stare at him. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but she merely smiled and walked toward him. Setting the food down in front of him, her smile widened. But the grin on her face wasn't an indication of joy; it was clearly a warning that said she was gearing up for the challenge he was offering up. The gleam in her eyes that normally spoke of naivety and curiosity had changed, and Logan suddenly felt invigorated, even if he couldn't tell exactly what her look was conveying.

With the song set on repeat, they both remained silent as they ate. The more the tune played, the closer he watched Chloe, waiting for something,
anything
—a reaction, a smile, a glimmer of hope or some sign that she was agreeable to the offer being presented in the form of lyrics and notes. But she gave him nothing. Not a smile. Not a shift of her body to let him know if she was turned on or off.
Absolutely. Zilch
.

Why couldn't she see that they didn't need a label? Was she even listening to the song? Her silence was infuriating. Okay, so she hadn't technically asked him for anything, but it was inevitable with a woman like Chloe. All of the intelligent, beautiful, witty women wanted
more,
even if they didn't say it. He knew that from experience. And he had always given in, but not this time.
Absolutely. Fucking. Not.

When Chloe rose to clear their plates, that sinking feeling was back. Maybe he’d been wrong in assuming she wanted
more.
And why the hell was he upset about that?
Because he did,
just not the same kind of
more
that she wanted. Oh, hell, he had no idea what she did or did not want. Asking her would probably be the most logical thing to do, but doing so would put him at risk of facing an answer he might not want to hear.

Irritated with his indecisiveness and her unresponsiveness, he glanced at his watch. He sighed with disappointment as he turned the music off and stood to leave.

"I really do have a busy week."

She walked him to the door and smiled up at him. "Thanks for everything. Today was truly educational."

Educational?
Yet, another understatement.
He lingered in the doorway before giving into the urge to kiss her. He leaned forward and in one smooth movement covered her mouth with his own, reclaiming her lips as if they had always belonged to him. When he crushed her to him with an arm around her waist and one hand behind her neck, a sigh fell from her lips, and all he heard after that was the white noise of life in the background.

He wanted her. And not in the playful, casually sexual way they had been engaging in. He wanted her fully, and the anticipation and slow burn of desire to take her in ways that would make her insides sing curled through him. He would
educate
Chloe, all right—in ways that would change her life and make her readjust her standards.

He slid his hand down her spine to her ass and squeezed to remind her of his playful/not-so-playful reprisal. When she whimpered against his mouth, he slowly and lazily broke the seal of their kiss to stare down at her.

She pressed her palms against his chest to put distance between them, but he tugged her back. She wouldn't escape him that easily. When she tried to speak, his tongue boldly swept in and silenced her. Wrestling her swollen lips from his, she pushed harder against him, breaking their connection.

"Goodnight, Logan."

He stood frozen to his spot as he stared at the frustrating, exquisite woman before him. The passion that flooded his veins overrode caution when he reached for her once more. He feared that she would dismiss him again, but she nearly knocked him over with her response when she pressed her body violently against his. Her hands came up and fisted his hair as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth, nipped it, then closed her mouth hard over his. Just as his cock stiffened painfully in his pants, she pulled away.

"Goodnight," she said with more determination.

Begrudgingly, he turned to leave, but when he reached the stairs, the playful and sexy tone of her voice stopped him.

"Hey, Logan …" He faced her, hoping she would invite him in for an in-depth tour of her body."… someday I'd like you to show me how that chair was really meant to be used."

She closed the door before he could answer. The throb of his heartbeat in his ears and cock was deafening, and it took every bit of restraint he had not to kick her door in and
truly educate
her in the ways of
that chair.

He had said that he wasn't referring to them when he'd mentioned a fresh start, but that's exactly what the day and evening had brought them—a fresh start, a
good
start with the possibility of more to come.

Come.

Damn it. He was at it again.

P
ossessive touches. Hot hands. An insistent mouth. Auburn hair and a long, thick shaft. Deep grunts and long sighs. Twisting. Turning. The friction of bodies rubbing against one another. Blue eyes demanding release. A name and command whispered on oxblood red lips.

Chloe didn't want to wake from her vivid dream, but the loud, obtrusive alarm clock was telling her it was time to face reality. And what a wonderful reality it was. So wonderful, she didn't know which was better—her dream or the life she was living. She'd gladly take both.

She had a busy day planned and sleeping in wasn't an option, so with the speed of an Olympic athlete, she showered and was dressed before the sun had fully crested over the horizon.

The first thing planned for that morning was to contact the University to put an ad in for requesting help from fourth year interior design students. Having taken on the challenge of making the House of Evans something extraordinary, she needed all hands on deck with moving furniture, painting and sewing. She remembered well the few projects she was allowed to help with during her last year, and the excitement that came from getting hands-on experience. She hoped the people she recruited would show the same kind of enthusiasm she was feeling.

Next, she retrieved the paperwork that Logan had given her and began adding up the costs for the equipment he wanted to adorn his home with. He had been thorough in linking each image with several places it could be purchased, making that part of her job easy. The total cost was astounding. Shocked that kinky furniture was so expensive, she glanced at the prepaid card, unsure what she had to work with since Logan had been vague when handing it off. A quick call to the 800 number on the back to get a balance left her staggered. She was essentially holding enough money in her hands that she could pay off most of her student loans and/or put a small down payment on a nice condo somewhere with a
real
view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Logan was putting a lot of trust in her. More than anyone had ever bestowed on her. If she thought about it too long, she could easily become overwhelmed, so she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and told her fear to go to hell. It was easy to do when she reminded herself of his multiple reassurances. He believed in her, and, more importantly, she believed in herself.

A knock on the door startled her. When she answered, a man holding a car key in his hand was standing on the other side. After confirming who she was, he introduced himself as being from Palomino Luxury Auto. Apparently, Logan had secured a rental for her use and it was parked across the street.

After writing down her license information and getting her signature, the man thrust the key in her direction, then left without another word. A look out of the window left her mouth hanging open in shock. On the street below sat a white Mercedes G-Class SUV. It was thoughtful of Logan to provide her with a reliable form of transportation, not to mention such a useful one. It was large enough that it could hold plenty of supplies, but a small, economy truck would have sufficed. And cost a lot less, she would imagine.

She smiled and shook her head. She figured she might as well enjoy the pampering while it lasted considering most clients wouldn't go through the trouble of making her life easier, or be so kind. And besides, there was no guarantee of
anything
when dealing with a man with commitment issues.

The first order of business on her decorating agenda was the kitchen. It would be a quick turn around and she could then begin on his master suite. She made good time and by 11 a.m., she had texted Logan his options for paint color and light fixtures and gotten a response with his decisions. She then purchased the paint, wood stain and plywood, tiles for backsplash, a rug,
Fiestaware
, and light fixtures from an antique shop. With the luggage rack and interior vehicle loaded to the gills with all of her new purchases, along with her sewing machine, tools, and a few of her hand-made pieces she had stashed for a rainy day, she embarked on the one-hour journey to Napa.

The weather, as usual, was beautiful and the sun was shining brightly. With
Ten Feet Tall
blaring through the speakers and the smell of spring air coming in from the half-open windows, a strange feeling came over her—the kind of feeling that signaled good things to come. It was a sort of déjà vu she had only felt a few times in her life.

She had never experienced it more strongly than when she first arrived in San Francisco a few weeks before she began college. The excitement of new things to come, new friendships to be made, and experiencing life on a whole new level had been so powerful it had left an indelible impression on her.

Now
this
.

The seaside scenery and city in her rear-view mirror was so spectacular; she doubted she would ever get used to it. Not even the traffic could take away from her joy—not with Logan's words of encouragement still ringing in her ears. Not with the memory of his hands and mouth claiming her body on constant replay in her mind. Not with his smell still faintly lingering on the items he had carried up to her apartment the night before. She really did feel ten feet tall and like she could touch the sky. Even if things didn't work out with Logan beyond their professional relationship, she was going to make the most of this experience and take from it what she could.

She laughed under her breath and rolled her eyes at herself. She had a sneaking suspicion that would probably be easier said than done when it came to the enigmatic, brilliant and sexy Logan Evans. A girl could dream, though.

*

There was no time for Logan to check up on his favorite brunette. He had to trust that she was taking the matter of her new job seriously and devoted to the task of making his home into something grand.

Meeting after endless meeting had left him exhausted and his brain overtaxed with ideas. He had been voted as lead architect for a project that could either make or break his reputation. He wasn't so well-known yet that the possibility was far-fetched, and the thought was both frightening and exhilarating. He suspected the only reason McDaniels had voted for him was because that asshole hoped that he would fail. Maybe he would, but he doubted it.

The assignment that was being laid at his feet was exactly the sort of thing in which he could excel. And he would. The sensitive nature of the historical project, time constraints and political bureaucracy would be the only real issues that he could foresee, but those hurdles weren’t anything he couldn't deal with once he had time to think things through. If everything went right, the publicity garnered for his firm and for himself would prove that he wasn't a one-hit wonder, and possibly even set him on the track to opening his own firm someday.

Late afternoon arrived before he was finally able to sneak away to call Chloe. He had been thinking of her off and on all day. He had even dreamt about her.
Again
. The late night online search for a car rental company had left him imagining her driving to flea markets in her beat-up wagon. When the thought of her unknowingly haggling for used sex equipment popped into his mind, a burst of laughter rumbled out of him, making someone walking past him stop to give him a look as if his sanity was in question.

He had hoped to be out of the office by normal closing hours, but he doubted that would happen seeing as there was one more meeting still on the schedule. He just hoped Chloe would still be around so that he could satiate the growing need he was beginning to feel for her. When her phone went unanswered, he left a text message.

Logan
: Stick around this evening. I'll bring a late dinner.

Chloe's response came just as he seated himself in front of his colleagues.

Chloe
: Yes, Sir ;) Sorry I missed your call. Super busy today. You're going to be pleasantly surprised (hopefully).

A snapshot of an energetic
Minou
as she chewed her nails in a faux nervous gesture followed the message. One glimpse of her full lips and mussed mane brought back the vision of her mouth wrapped around his cock and his hand in her hair guiding her movements. His bodily response, though predictable, was so abrupt that the rapid flow of blood from his vital organs to his dick left him feeling light-headed. Fortunately, a glance around the room reassured him that everyone around him was oblivious to the riot that was going on in his brain and body. He made the mistake of re-reading the message and the word
Sir
brought back the image of her ass lifted in the air. A frustrated giggle floated up from his throat at his awkward state, making a few men sitting near him glance in his direction.

Christ. What a jackass
.

He promptly shoved his phone into his suit pocket and tried to put Chloe out of his mind, while he said a silent prayer that no one would call on him and make him reveal his aroused state.

****

It wasn't until after 7 p.m. that Logan finally left work. The entire drive was spent listening to loud music while his thoughts alternated between his new venture and Chloe. A secret smile formed on his lips as he began to formulate his sweet revenge for her use of the word
Sir
and the ensuing response that it had caused.

About halfway home, he called a dinner order into
Jade
and within fifteen minutes of picking it up, he was pulling into his driveway. His home was brightly lit, something he hadn't seen yet since living there. It had always been dark upon his arrival, and the surprising view was gorgeous. The lights shining through the colorful stained-glass darted down the sidewalk and over the grass, and the high peak at the entrance resembled a beacon on a light-house. One of the three-panel cathedral windows at the front of the house lit his path and gave him a sense of not only pride, but peace. He was finally home.

He stood and stared at it moment, basking in this thing that belonged to him. And what was waiting for him inside—
who
was waiting for him inside.

When he opened the door, the smell of fresh paint and Chloe's signature vanilla scent flowed over him like an erotic wave. At the same time a voice singing about
Colors
hit his ears, the changes in his home filtered through his vision.

From the foyer, he could see that the kitchen had already taken on a transformation. He laid his satchel down and carried the food into the kitchen. A flip of the light switch brought everything into clarity.

The first features to catch his attention were the walls bearing a bold new hue reminiscent of a clay pot, followed by an embossed aluminum tile backsplash, and an ornate rug with splashes of color matching the paint on the walls that sat beneath a table and chairs moved from his dining area. His eyes then slowly roamed over the smaller details: the brass, ivory-colored light coverings that appeared to be vintage, and three small pieces of décor that had Chloe's signature flare sitting amongst colorful plates on a newly created floating shelf.

This was his. All of it. He could hardly believe it. Chloe's simple yet elegantly created vision went far beyond anything he could've imagined. While he had been participating in mind-numbing conferences, she had pulled off a small miracle in his kitchen. The smile on his face quickly faded when he realized it had only taken a day to finish one whole room.
A day.
At this rate, Chloe would be done with the home in … what? Two weeks? Maybe less? Granted, the larger rooms would take more time, but, still. Only two, three weeks tops, to spend with her? That seemed like hardly enough time to explore her finer points, or for her to get to know his needs or for him to…

Where was she anyway?

When the music ended, he sought her out. It didn't take him long to locate her. In the master suite, his eyes quickly took in what was already a work in progress. Frustrated with her efficiency, he strode to the bed that was now fully assembled and stared down at the heap of exhausted woman passed out in it.

Damn, she was beautiful.
You'd think he'd be used to that, but no. Every damned time he could take in all of her features without being obvious about it, her good looks caught him right in the chest. And that mouth.
Jesus, H
. How was it possible for a woman to have both the talent that she possessed
and
a mouth like that? Lips like that were surely made to suck dick. Correction:
his
dick. The thought of her sucking anyone else's made him want to tear his bedroom apart, and that would be a travesty considering the work Chloe had put into it.

Even in the messy state she was in, she looked nothing less than perfect. Paint and wood stain smudged on her clothing, face and arms; the braid at the back of her head had come half undone, but hair all around her face only seemed to add to her appeal.

He was eager to tell her about his new project and give her praise for her hard work, but he didn't have the heart to wake her. She had clearly had a more taxing day than he had.