Chapter 18

Hope stood in the middle of her new recording studio and spun a slow three-sixty.

Magnificent.

It was everything she'd imagined and more, and she couldn't wait to thank Logan in person. He'd worked a small miracle in getting his crew to finish the renovations in just over a week, giving her the opportunity to kick-start her dream sooner rather than later.

It went some way to earning her forgiveness, considering he'd snuck out of her apartment in the early hours of the morning three nights ago, leaving nothing but a barely legible scrawled note.

Crazy, considering she was the one who usually absconded from a guy's bed to avoid any mushy stuff the morning after. But sex with Logan had been incredible and she'd wanted more, so finding him gone had left her oddly deflated.

He'd loved it when she'd taken charge and it had got her off in a way she'd never imagined. As she'd tumbled into sleep she'd expected to wake next to the sexiest man alive and do it all over again. Instead, she'd found him gone in the morning.

They'd spoken twice on the phone since: the first time when she'd called to ask why he'd snuck out early and he'd cited work as a lame excuse she accepted in order not to appear like a clingy girlfriend, the second when she'd called to invite him to dinner tonight, when she intended on presenting him with her surprise.

It had been ingrained in her from young that doing something special as a thank you would ensure you were remembered.

With what she'd bought Logan, she hoped he'd never forget her. They may have had an expiration date on this fling from the start and she'd gone into this with her eyes wide open, but now that his impending departure grew closer, she couldn't help but feel a tad lost.

Because another thought struck her as she checked out her new studio. Had he instructed his crew to finish this job sooner rather than later because he couldn't wait to get away?

His motivation for finishing ahead of schedule shouldn't bother her, but it did. It made her second-guess her decision-making. She'd wanted a hot fling, she'd got one, but had lines blurred somewhere along the way? Had she invested more than her body?

She didn't like the implications of that, not one bit. She'd never trust a guy with her heart again.

But what if it was too late?

Her mood soured, so she did what she always did when confronted with something unpleasant: drew her shoulders back, lifted her head, and focussed on the positive.

Starting with dinner tonight.

Logan had said he'd meet her at the Melba Room, the Langham's signature restaurant that boasted fabulous views of the city and equally fabulous food. She'd quelled her initial disappointment at not travelling to dinner together, ignoring the niggle at the back of her mind that insisted he had already started distancing himself.

Though it was more than a niggle, considering the way he'd snuck out of her place the other morning. Maybe he'd already started laying the groundwork then and that was the real reason he absconded before dawn?

Or maybe he knew she was a phoney?

She hated herself for not owning up that she'd been awake when he called his dad. She'd felt him watching her so had pretended to sleep, waiting for him to come to her, willing him to kiss her awake, sweep her into his arms, and carry her to the bedroom. But when she'd overheard his phone call, she'd realised he'd been checking up on her to ensure he wouldn't be disturbed.

Considering what he'd told her it had been a momentous step to contact his dad and she hadn't wanted to get in the middle of that, so she'd feigned sleep after he hung up, waiting a few moments before entering the bedroom. He'd appeared startled to see her and in that split second between her opening the bedroom door and seeing his stricken expression, she'd known what he needed.

For someone to distract him, to take away the pain and focus on the good stuff, so she'd released her inner vamp and gone for it. The sex had been phenomenal but when she'd woken to his terse note, she'd cried a little.

The tears had been for him and the upcoming confrontation with his father and nothing at all to do with acknowledging she already cared too much for Logan and wished she could be there for him while he went through the impending emotional upheaval. Yeah, right.

As she entered the restaurant, she spied him at the cosy corner table for two that she'd requested when she made the booking. She wanted privacy tonight for what had to be said.

The hostess led her to the table and it gave her a few moments to study his handsome profile: strong jaw, long eyelashes, slight bump on the bridge of his nose that prevented him from being drop dead gorgeous. An accident with a hammer in his apprentice days, he'd explained when she'd asked about it. She'd traced that bump with her fingertip before kissing it, and yearned to explore every inch of him with her mouth again.

The first song she'd written the other night had been about him. Yearning. Because that's what he made her feel. He'd never know it, but she'd never felt like this about any guy and by pouring her soul into her music she had some chance of getting him out of her system when he left.

She may not be willing to fully trust him with her heart but she hoped that after tonight she would've taken the first monumental step to admitting that maybe, just maybe, she might be willing to try.

He chose that moment to glance up and their gazes locked, the instant sizzle of heat arcing between them, tugging them together like an invisible string.

Right then, she knew she had no chance in hell of a song helping her forget him.

Resisting the urge to smooth down her chartreuse silk halter dress, she fixed an upbeat smile on her face and strode towards him. His gaze started at her coral painted toenails and travelled upward in a slow, languorous sweep that made her skin prickle with heat.

He stood when she reached the table and kissed her cheek. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," she said, fighting a rising blush and losing as he pulled out her chair and waiting until she sat before sliding it in.

"Do you always dine in fancy places like this?" He gestured at the elaborate buffet featuring mouth-watering cuisines from around the world.

"Frequently. I like feeling special."

It sounded lame but she couldn't tell him the real reason: that cooking for one lost its appeal fast and coming here reminded her of visiting the Langham in London with her folks every birthday. They might've ignored her for most of the year but they always made a big fuss on her birthday and being here helped her focus on good memories rather than bad.

"A classy woman like you deserves that."

The compliment sounded offhand but it wasn't the first time he'd alluded to the supposed class divide between them. Considering the gift she intended on giving him, it needed to be addressed.

"Do you think there's some kind of socio-economic gap between us?"

His eyebrows shot up and he held up his hands. "Whoa. That's heavy talk on an empty stomach."

"You didn't answer my question."

"That's because it's irrelevant." He shrugged, his nonchalance forced considering the way his fingers gripped the water glass in his right hand. "We're having fun. So what if you're an English princess slumming it with an Aussie builder?"

She'd been right and it annoyed her that he thought he was her plaything when he was so much more. She hoped her gift would prove that.

"Technically you're a CEO, and I'm certainly not 'slumming' it."

He laughed at her overt snootiness, which completely undermined her refuting the princess tag. "Hey, it's okay. We've got a good thing going. Don't let the motivation get in the way of a good…fuck."

He'd been about to say something else and the way he'd ended with deliberate crudeness while unable to meet her gaze told her so.

"Pity there hasn't been much of that going on this week." She met his gaze boldly, challenging him to tell her the truth about why he left in the wee small hours several days ago. "I didn't like waking to find you gone."

He grimaced and swiped a hand over his face. It didn't eradicate the tension bracketing his mouth and the creases around his eyes. "Sorry. I needed to be on the job site early to oversee a delivery personally."

His guileless smile didn't fool her for a second. "But you're pleased with the results and that we finished ahead of schedule, yeah?"

"I'm thrilled."

He'd given her the perfect segue so she slid her hand into her bag to grab the box. "And to show you how much I appreciate the amazing job you've done, here's a little something to say thanks."

She handed him the gift-wrapped box, hoping he liked it. She'd never bought a gift for a…lover before. Heck, it felt weird labelling him that, even in her head. But what was he? More than a friend, less than a boyfriend, lover seemed to fit even if they weren't doing much of the physical loving this week, worse luck.

"You didn't have to do this," he said, taking the gift tentatively, as if handling a ticking bomb. "I provided a service for you, nothing more."

Even though he was referring to renovating her studio, that stung. Is that how he viewed their relationship too?

Swallowing her disappointment, she pointed at the box. "Go ahead, open it."

He took a painstakingly long time tugging on the crimson bow, sliding his thumb beneath the tape on either side before lifting the wrapping and finally undoing it completely. He slid the box out and smoothed the embossed ebony gift-wrap, as if he didn't want to open the box.

Hope bit down on her bottom lip to stop from blurting 'damn it, hurry up'. She held her breath when he finally lifted the hinged lid on the box.

When he caught a glimpse of the gift inside, his jaw dropped a tad.

"This is too much." He shook his head, a disapproving frown slashing his brows as he placed the box on the table and nudged it towards her with his forefinger. "I can't accept this."

The breath she'd been holding whooshed out in disappointment as he averted his gaze from her and the box, his mouth compressed into an unimpressed line, his eyes narrowed.

He didn't like it.

"I bought it for you, I can't return it—"

"Yes, you can." He snapped the box shut so loud she jumped. "You've just spent twenty grand on a watch for me and you don't think that's over the top?"

"I can afford it…" she trailed off, realising her mistake when he pushed his chair back from the table and stood, his expression resigned.

"I can't do this, Hope." He held up his hands as he backed away. "The fancy restaurant, the expensive watch…this isn't me."

To her mortification, tears sprung to her eyes, and he muttered 'fuck' when he saw them.

"I have to go. I'm sorry," he said, spinning on his heel and striding towards the steps leading to the marble exit.

She wanted to go after him, to explain how they were more alike than he thought, two loners with major trust issues searching for a way to fill an emptiness in their lives for however long it lasted.

She wanted to tell him that the watch was nothing more than a thank-you gift and it was more than she'd given any guy since Willem.

She wanted to assure him that she had the end-date in sight too, that no man could convince her to put her heart on the line ever again, that she didn't want anything from him bar his body.

But she didn't.

She reached for the watch, placed the box in her bag, and gestured a waiter over.

She would order the most expensive wine on the menu, choose her favourite dishes, and finish with a melt-in-the-mouth crème br?lée.

She may have the safety net of her grandmother's trust fund but she made her own money and spent it the way she wanted to, and she'd be damned if some guy with a hang-up would make her feel guilty for enjoying the spoils of her success.

And she sure as hell wouldn't have her memories of this wonderful place ruined by an insensitive clod.

Time enough to kick his ass later.