Page 6 of When He Plays
He smiled at her.
“Would it kill you to say thanks?” Charlotte asked.
“You didn’t have a purse with you. No bag at all. I have got to know, just where were you hiding that taser?” His intent stare drifted over her. “So many possibilities…”
“Logan.”
“Charlotte.”
She huffed out a breath. “You are working with the CIA. I am your handler. I am your twenty-four, seven companion—”
“Not exactly.”
“I am your—what do you mean, not exactly?” He’d derailed her.
“I mean, you’re my personal assistant. You work with me during the day. And, sure, some nights. But when we reach the hotel—and we’re almost there, FYI—I will go to my room. You’ll go to your room. Don’t worry, I’ll give you one on the floor below my suite. But you won’t actually be with me in my suite. So not twenty-four, seven. Because that’s not something a personal assistant does. Stay with me during the night, I mean.” A pause. “That’s what a girlfriend does. A lover. In order to sleep in my bed, to truly be twenty-four, seven close, you’d need to take up that role.” He scraped a hand over his jaw. “Interested? Want to switch positions?”
“I—” That was all she could manage. Her hands fisted.
“Do you want to be my lover or my personal assistant? Which works better for you?”
“Stop being outrageous.” Hadn’t she told him that this ploy would not work?
“I wasn’t being outrageous. I was being helpful. I was giving you options.”
“I am your personal assistant.”
“Noted. Then you will sleep downstairs, on the floor below my suite. Such a disappointment for us both.”
The limo was slowing. They were, indeed, at his hotel. His hotel-slash-casino. The huge, red beacon in Vegas. Barnabas pulled them right up to the valet area.
She turned for the door. Logan was driving her crazy. She reached for the door handle.
But his hand caught hers.
“I’m touching you,” he said.
Uh, yes, obviously, he was.
“My apologies if I am breaking a rule you have, but there is something you need to understand. A warning I want to give before anyone opens this door.”
Her head turned. They were very, very close.
And all traces of humor were gone from his face.
“I put you behind me tonight for a reason,” he rasped. “When we were meeting with Morris, I deliberately had you positioned behind me so that I could protect you.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“Don’t you?”
Uh, no, she’d just said—
“You will not ever be hurt when I am the target. I will shield you from my enemies.”
He wasn’t supposed to be the target in this mission.
“You follow my orders, Charlotte. Or this does not work. I don’t care what the CIA thinks I owe them. You put yourself in danger again, and we’re done.”
