“Am I?” Logan responded quickly.
“Yes. I just got out of a horrible marriage. Even if I were interested, why would I try something with you? Last night, you told me yourself that you’ve fucked everyone I work with. Now, I’m just wondering which women and which men.”
Logan, not the least bit deterred, lifted his glass. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Well, I can just ask them all and cause mass anarchy in the After Hours ranks.”
“You could. Or you could get to know me better and ask me again at a more appropriate time.”
Tate’s dark brow rose in suspicion. “And when would that be?”
Logan knew that Tate was expecting something sexual to come out of his mouth, so he leaned in close, and he was delighted when Tate followed suit. He wondered for a moment if Tate even realized he did it.
“When Amelia isn’t making her way over here to kick your ass.”
Logan gave him a shit-eating grin and sat back as Tate turned to see exactly what he had been referring to.
* * *
Tate focused on his coworker, who was glaring up at him as if he had stolen her personal property, while he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. Amelia was a good distraction really, as she stepped around and ignored him completely, only to smile at the man who was currently baffling the shit out of him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your glass was empty, Logan.”
Tate didn’t know why, but the fact that she used his first name irritated him. It also made it abundantly clear that she had definitely been one of the coworkers who had been fucked—and thankful.
“It’s fine, hon. Tate and I were just talking guy stuff.”
We were? News to me. Tate glared at Logan, from where he stood beside Amelia.
“Yeah, he was telling me about his bike. You make sure to come see me before I leave.”
Tate had to hand it to the guy. He was smooth under pressure.
I wonder what he does for a living.
“Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”
As Amelia’s words floated through the air, Tate locked eyes with those vibrant blue ones.
Logan replied, “I am most definitely being taken care of.”
Shit. The guy needs to cool it and stop being so fucking obvious. People are going to start talking when there is nothing to even say.
“Amelia?” Logan turned back to her and gave a quick wink. “Don’t go too far, okay?”
Tate groaned quietly in disgust and shook his head as she giggled and aimed a triumphant grin in his direction.
He offered a smile that he hoped was happy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the middle.”
Placing a hand on his upper arm, Amelia squeezed as she licked her lips. No longer annoyed, she flirted in the same way—he was positive—she had just done with Logan. “Oh, you didn’t, but that’s a great idea,” she said in a seductive purr.
Tate’s eyes widened slightly as he turned back to Logan. He felt like Logan had somehow set the whole thing up, but even Logan looked somewhat shocked. However, instead of remaining mute like Tate, Logan raised his glass.
“That’s a fantastic idea.”
Tate patted Amelia’s hand and removed it from his arm, as she grinned at him and then walked away.
Tate aimed a glare in Logan’s direction. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”
“No, I actually think it’s a fantastic idea.”
Tate shook his head. “You’re unbalanced. It’s never going to happen.”
“Scared?” Logan inquired, showing his teeth in a warped version of a grin.
Tate knew Logan expected him to run, so he stood his ground instead. “I like to think of it as smart.”
“Yet, you’re still here, talking to me,” Logan reminded him.
“Well, it’s quieter now, and you’re rather entertaining once I look past the inappropriate comments.”
“What? It’s inappropriate to tell you I want to fuck you? Would it have been better if I were drunk?”
Tate completely lost the ability to form words at that blunt declaration. As he looked around quickly, he heard Logan laugh.
Tate turned back to the cocky asshole. “Jesus, would you keep your voice down? I don’t give a shit what you want to do. I have a brain and a mouth, and no has worked so far on people like you.”
Logan placed his palm on the counter and stroked the wood with his fingers. “People like me?”
“Yes, as in pushy, arrogant, and full of themselves. What do you do anyway?”
Tate waited patiently as Logan picked up a small black straw from the container on the bar.
“Guess.”
Flinging the towel over his shoulder, Tate looked Logan over quickly, but since Logan was in his casual clothes, Tate knew he’d get nothing from that.
“Investment banker,” he threw out.
Logan let out a loud rumbling laugh, and as customers turned to face them, Tate gave a polite smile before looking back to the oblivious man sitting opposite him.
“Seriously? Do I look like a numbers guy?”
“No, not really,” Tate answered truthfully. You look more like a model.
“Thank God for that. What do I look like?” Logan inquired, lowering his voice.
Tate placed his palms on the bar. “Stop it,” he told him pointedly.
“Stop what?”
“Stop flirting with me,” he demanded.
Logan brought the straw to his lips and bit down on the end of it, and then slowly pulled it out. “I think you like it.”
“And I think you’re deranged. Used car salesman.”
Logan frowned. “Now, you’re just trying to be insulting.”
“You’re right, I was. I would bet the last two tips you gave me that you’re a lawyer.”
Logan twirled the black plastic between his fingers. “And if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re awfully certain all of a sudden. Did you ask someone?”
Tate answered almost immediately, “No.”
“Then, why so sure?”
“You’re smooth, too smooth, and you always have an answer for everything.”
“Maybe I like debating.”
“Maybe you’re full of shit. Just admit it. It’s okay that I’m right,” Tate announced, full of confidence, as he leaned even closer to add on a whisper, “I won’t tell anyone.”
And that, right there, was his biggest mistake.
He saw the precise moment when Logan dropped his focus to Tate’s mouth, and his expression changed from interest to lust, and Tate found himself preparing to fight off an unwanted kiss.
“Careful, Tate.”
“Huh?”
“I am a lawyer, and I’m always looking for a loophole. And I think you do like this, but don’t worry,” Logan told him before promising, “I won’t tell anyone.”
Tate quickly straightened away from the bar and grabbed the towel off his shoulder, kicking himself in the ass for getting caught up in conversing with this man—again.
“You’re left-handed,” were the odd choice of words that broke through his thoughts.
“And you’re observant,” Tate mumbled, still trying to work out if he did like the attention he was getting from Logan. And if I do, what does that say about me?
“You know,” Logan drawled, “there are lots of interesting facts about left-handed people. Over history, left-handedness has been seen as all kinds of things from a nasty habit to a sign from the devil, a rebellious nature, even…homosexuality. Hmm, I’ve never had a left-hander before.”
Tate stared back at the man who was talking so casually he might as well have been asking about the weather. Nevertheless, every single sentence coming from Logan’s mouth was pushing Tate further out of his comfort zone and straight into the I-must-be-going-fucking-crazy zone.
“And yes, I am observant, sometimes.” Logan lifted the glass to his mouth where he finished the drink and then placed it back on the bar top.