Page 9 of When He Plays

“I am absolutely not. What you see is what you get.”

Liar. “You risked your life in London in order to protect a friend.”

Her sharp stare caught the faint tightening of his jaw. Ah, she’d just scored a hit.

Charlotte decided to press her advantage. “And I know all about your grandmother.”

His nostrils flared. “You’ll want to stop right there. I will not be discussing my grandmother with you. The CIA will have no interaction with her, understand? None. You’ll stay the fuck out of my private life. I’m the one playing your game. Not my grandmother. Not my friends. You leave everyone else out of this mess, understand me?” Real anger. Not the mockery.

She’d just seen the steel beneath his careful grin. There was a reason that Logan Sterling had risen so high in the world. He’d turned himself into a billionaire. He had casinos and hotels all over the world…

And he still attended late-night meetings where he took out shady characters who ran unsanctioned cage matches.

“I am not some hero buried beneath the surface of a villain,” he told her, voice flat. So hard. So intent. “If you’re here expecting that, then think again. I’m not looking to save the world. You can do that. You and your CIA buddies. I only protect what is mine. I only care about what is mine.”

“And everything else can burn? Is that the way it works?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it works.”

Tension thickened in the air between them. It should have been an angry tension but…

He was naked beneath the sheet. And aroused. And maybe…maybe that tension felt sexual to her because they were standing so close to one another. Because his chest was bare. Because it was all too easy to imagine him grabbing her, tumbling her back onto the bed, and…

“Just what are you thinking?” Logan asked her as he tilted his head. “Why have your cheeks just turned pink?”

“I’m thinking that this is inappropriate.” I’m thinking we could wreck that bed. That I bet you’re an incredible lover. “I’m thinking you need to get dressed.” I’m thinking you could rip off my clothes. A brisk nod. “I’m thinking that I will wait for you in your office downstairs, and we will get started with our plans for the day.” I’m thinking I need to get out of this room. Right now. Before I cross a line and make a bad mistake with you.

She retreated. Four steps. Then whirled on her heel and hurried for the open bedroom door.

“Are you running from me, Charlotte?”

She stilled. Her head turned as she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not afraid of you, Logan.”

His stare searched hers. Then he smiled once more. “Yes, you are.”

His CIA operative was afraid of him.

She also wanted him.

Two interesting developments.

Logan’s fingers tapped against the edge of his desk. His gaze remained fixed on the sexy form of his new PA as Charlotte paced near his windows. He’d showered, dressed, and, after grabbing a quick breakfast, met her in his office.

“There were no news reports about the incident last night,” Charlotte was saying. “No charges filed with the local police, so that’s good. But…” She swung toward him. “I have to ask, was that a routine situation for you? Do you often head out at night and take on four men in bloody fight scenes?”

He’d been looking at her legs. Dammit. But she had great legs. And she was wearing another of those pencil skirts and cute heels. Plus, she had on her glasses. His gaze rose to admire those glasses and her eyes. “You should ditch the glasses.”

Instead, staring him dead in the eyes, she used the tip of her index finger to push the glasses up higher on her nose.

He stopped tapping the desk and gripped the edge for dear life. The woman was playing with fire.

“You need to focus on the conversation we are having,” Charlotte admonished him. “But since you clearly were not focusing, I shall repeat my question.”

“Have at it.” He actually had heard her the first time. He could admire her legs, her glasses, and listen all at the same time. Talk about being a multi-tasking badass.

“Do you often engage in life-or-death situations where you attack a group of men and then not a single victim reports the crime to the police?”

Yep, he did, in fact, often engage in those situations. But to clarify a point, “They weren’t victims. I didn’t strike first. They did.” A roll of one shoulder. “Pretty sure that makes me the victim, and since I kicked their asses, I didn’t need to involve the police.” Though he would be checking to make sure that Morris followed his orders and got the hell out of Vegas. There was no longer room for the guy in Logan’s town.