Flirting with Fate (2 page)

“I won this vacation, and I intend to stay right here.”

“Bullshit,” he said with a shake of his head. “You entered the contest under false pretenses.”

“Now you’re an expert on what I do and why?” God, he looked good standing there all pissed off.

“I’m smart enough to know you’d never enter a contest to meet some stranger for a possible romantic connection. Give me a fucking break. Somehow, you learned Brandon Ethridge was going to be here. Eric saw through your con weeks ago.”

Elle decided to appeal to Logan’s sense of fair play. “Don’t you dare screw this up for me. I promised Nan I’d either figure out a way to get her money back or gather enough information to put Ethridge in prison.”

“You have no idea what you’re up against.” Logan’s jaw muscles twitched, making Elle want to smooth her hand across the stubble on his cheek. “If the FBI can’t prove Ethridge is an investment scam artist, what makes you think you can?”

“Because I have a personal interest, and I’m not some branch of the government with other priorities.”

“The Feds are working the case, but they need proof. You know...evidence.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Elle wasn’t backing down. His frown relaxed. Had she softened his always-by-the-book approach to life? “I’m asking you not to interfere.”

“Let’s get you warmed up.” He took her hand and led her into her bedroom, stopping at the bed.

Again, Elle had gone speechless. Had she won the argument or been ignored? Exactly what did he have in mind? Whatever it was, her hormones had immediately come to life and were running wild. He’d definitely piqued her interest.

He knelt and looked up at her through thick, dark lashes. “Have a seat.”

As if hypnotized, she obeyed. Curiosity had taken control of her brain. He removed her shoes, catching her instep in his hand.

“Your feet are like ice.”

Lightning bolts shot up her leg as his fingers kneaded and soothed her foot. Parts of her body instantly warmed and tingled under the pressure of his hands. Parts that shouldn’t heat up at his touch. Falling for Logan’s Prince Charming routine would be as smart as playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. She’d heard a lot of stories about the broken hearts he’d left in his wake. Self-preservation kicked in, and Elle pulled her foot from his grasp.

“You are not going to stop me. Sending you was a waste of time.”

“We’ll talk about this after you’ve had a warm shower and changed into dry clothes.”

Logan’s audacity brought her out of her hormonal fog. He’d always ordered her around as if he, too, were her brother. “I’m not too cold to listen.”

“Shower first.” Out came that damn frown. “Want me to help you undress?”

A nervous laugh burst from Elle, embarrassing her. She quickly regained her composure. “Now you’re being funny. I’m waiting for you to leave. Go home and tell my brother to mind his own damn business.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed to slits. He stood and silently left the room, closing the door behind him.

The tension in Elle’s neck tightened. No way was Logan leaving. She’d have to come up with a plan to gain his help. He’d have to get his own room. The owners of Castle Alainn had provided her and the male co-winner with a luxurious two-bedroom suite. Each side could be locked off from the rest of the unit, satisfying her wariness of sharing space with a stranger. She couldn’t help but worry about what would happen if the guy turned up to find Logan in the common area.

She wasn’t concerned that Logan would blow her cover. His loyalty to her brother went back many years. Eric had brought Logan home to play the day after Elle had turned thirteen. She’d immediately developed a crush on him. Not that he’d ever given her a second look. For the next nineteen years, the only physical contact she’d had with Logan was when he’d held her down and scrubbed his knuckles across her head.

Her nerve endings had fired and tingled for all the wrong reasons today. She’d breathed in his scent and felt the strength of his body. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach set off warning bells. Logan had no interest in her. He’d proved that in high school by treating her as if she’d had the plague. Still, standing on Ethridge’s balcony, staring up at Logan, she’d thought a spark of interest had flared in his eyes. No doubt, it was just concern for her safety.

Shaking off those thoughts, Elle stripped and walked into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, stepped under the warm water, allowing her bones to thaw. She toweled off, dried her hair, and then applied makeup.

Elle slipped on a simple black dress and a pair of heels. She’d blown her budget on clothes for this trip. Her new dress, cut low in the back, accentuated her every curve, but she only gave the mirror a quick glance. She had to bring Logan over to her side.

She entered the common room to find him standing in front of the fireplace. On the mantel sat two glasses of red wine. His usual unruly shock of black hair had been conquered and combed into place. In typical Logan style, the two-day-old stubble remained in place as it had for years. Black slacks and polished shoes had replaced his jeans and boots. The white button-down, open at the neck, highlighted his tan skin and dark eyes. Her mouth watered. He looked more like a professional model than a firebrand Texas police detective.

Elle sank down onto the plush couch. “Why are you still here and dressed like you’re ready for a photo shoot?”

“Does my look impress you?”

“Answer my question.”

“I’m the co-winner you’re expecting. Randall Newman.”

A heavy weight took up residence on her shoulders. “For real?”

“For real.” Logan smiled the kind of smile you’d give a petulant child.

“Exactly how did you persuade Mr. Newman to give up the vacation of a lifetime?”

“Eric ran a background check on him. Apparently, Newman isn’t the smartest rooster in the barn. Seems he’s been convicted of grand larceny and is out on parole. One call to clue in his probation officer that he’d booked a flight out of Texas without permission, was all it took.”

“So you took his place. Have the owners seen you?”

“Yup. Newman is tall, with dark hair and eyes. I look enough like his picture to pass.” Logan carried the glass of wine to her. “You must have written one hell of a letter to win the contest. What if you’d lost?”

“Then my credit card would have suffered.”

“Now that we know the owners are Ethridge’s mark, I have to come clean with them.”

The thought of being disqualified from the contest stoked her building anger. “If you and Eric mess up my chance to prove Ethridge is a crook, I’ll never forgive either of you.”

“Will you at least listen to what I have to say?”

Too upset to speak, she waved her hand.

“You’ve put a full-court press on the investigation into Ethridge Investments. Then all of a sudden, you drop everything to go on vacation. That was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Eric knew you’d be pissed, so he asked me to come.”

“Why’d you say yes?”

“That’s not a question you should have to ask. We’ve been friends too long for me to say no.”

“So, you’re here to help me?” The word
friend
stabbed her in the heart.

“To keep you out of trouble.”

Elle sipped at the wine. Eric had gone too far. “I’m not backing off just because you’re babysitting me.”

“After overhearing that Ethridge plans to scam the Fitzgeralds, I’ve changed my mind.”

Elle let his statement sink in before she spoke. Her mind started churning. “Great. You can help me prove Brandon Ethridge is a criminal.”

“There’s one condition.” Logan sat in the chair across from her. His muscular legs strained against his slacks. “I call the shots.”

“For sure,” she lied, keeping her gaze locked on his. “You’re the expert.” Every nerve cell in Elle’s body was on high alert. Brain synapses continued to fire. Logan brought years of experience as a cop to the table.

His eyes narrowed to slits. “That was too easy. Ethridge is smart enough that the Feds haven’t been able to gather enough to arrest him. If he has millions of dollars tucked away somewhere safe, you can bet your sweet ass he’ll do whatever it takes to protect it. He’s not going to turn the other cheek if he figures out what you’re up to.”

“I’ve done my homework. Nothing in his background suggests he’s violent.”

“He’s a criminal. We don’t know what he’s capable of doing.” He smiled when she held her hands up for a timeout. “Okay. It’s my turn to listen.”

His dark eyes peering over the rim of his wine glass was distracting. Elle breathed deeply, gathering her composure. She’d parlayed her degree in business into her own management search firm. Necessity had taught her how to deal with executives and people with inflated egos. She could handle this situation.

“I’m not stupid. My original goal was to gather evidence to present to the proper authorities. Now that we know why he’s here at Castle Alainn, I’m open to a change in plans.”

“Good to know.” He lifted one eyebrow. She hadn’t won him over yet.

“We still need his records. If you broke into his room and ran a memory dump of Ethridge’s laptop onto a flash drive, it wouldn’t be admissible. I don’t have those restrictions.” The nerves in Logan’s jaw twitched, but he remained silent. Elle forged ahead. “I’ve spent weeks looking into Ethridge’s background and learning his habits. Where he goes. What he eats. He loves lobster bisque, by the way. I’ll bet you didn’t know that he and that spoiled daughter of his live in a multimillion-dollar house.” Logan had leaned forward. His steady gaze meant she had his attention and had surprised him with her detective work. “I learned a lot from his neighbors.”

“You didn’t.” Logan’s eyebrows pulled together. Again.

“You’d be amazed how willing people are to talk. Especially after I explained I was a reporter for
Business Tycoon Monthly
. I may have hinted that Ethridge was being considered for the Man of the Year Award.”

Logan emptied his glass and placed it on an end table. “You are treading on thin ice.”

“Like I said, I can do things that you and Eric can’t.”

“And you could find yourself in serious trouble. Did it occur to you that one of those neighbors might’ve mentioned your visit?”

A faint whiff of cologne drifted off Logan, assaulting her senses. She fought the urge to lean closer to him. He stared at her, waiting for a response.

“Let them. I used a fake name. Besides, there’s no such magazine.” To get his mind off her transgressions, she picked up his glass, walked to the small bar in the corner, and added a splash of wine. Elle walked behind his chair, leaned down, and returned his drink. “Drink up. The hotel mixer has started. Time to meet Ethridge and his daughter.”

“Okay. But this conversation is far from over.” Logan took one sip before he stood. His gaze dropped to her toes and slid back up.

“What?” She caught a glimpse of lust in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by total disinterest.

“You’ve grown up.”

“Thanks.” She lifted one eyebrow. “You’re not much of a cop if you just noticed. That happened a long time ago.”

Two

L
ogan held the door for Elle, drinking in the sight as she brushed past him into the hall. She moved with confidence. The slight sway of her hips was mesmerizing. Hell yes, he’d noticed she’d grown up. He’d watched her mature and blossom for years. By the time she’d entered high school, it had taken a Herculean effort not to drool when she entered a room.

He’d had good survival skills back then too. He’d heeded Eric’s warning not to even think about messing with his sister. Elle glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring. She lifted one dark eyebrow but said nothing. This was going to be a rough week.

She stepped into the elevator and turned to face him. Elle breathed out a sigh. Her jaw tightened. The hardheaded girl he remembered from childhood looked up with a glare.

“It would be nice to have your help. If you’re not willing, please don’t interfere.”

Logan dropped his hand to the small of her back as the elevator doors opened. His fingers heated from the warmth she generated. The soft spot he’d had for her hadn’t diminished over the years. Spending time alone with her was going to be a true test for him. He wasn’t in love with her, but he was sure as hell in lust.