“I’ll get us some wine,” I call over my shoulder on my way to the kitchenette. I’d picked up a bottle of wine when we were in town, seems like a might fine time to open it.

When I return with two glasses of red wine, Logan is standing in the center of the living room, looking uncomfortable.

“Let’s sit,” I say. As awkward as this is, I know the only thing to do is to launch into a rambling apology, so that’s exactly what I do. “Listen, I’m just going to say some things. First, I’m truly sorry about last night.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he watches me.

“I was totally out of line, and I’m so—”

His large, calloused hand on my wrist stops me.

“Summer.” His voice is deep, low and raspy. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I came on to you, and—”

He shakes his head. “Believe me, I’m not upset about that. I’m more upset about my mom giving you her special tea.”

A crease forms between his brows, and I realize he’s telling the truth. He’s not mad at me.

A tidal wave of understanding washes over me. Here I spent the past twenty-four hours growing an ulcer and planning my escape, only to find out Logan doesn’t hate me. My relief is instantaneous.

“Oh, thank goodness, because I was terrified at how I behaved and I know it was unprofessional, and . . .”

I’m still rambling when Logan touches my cheek and turns my face toward his.

“Summer,” he says softly.

My name on his lips is the most distracting sound, all rough and yet sweet like sandpaper and honey. It sends a tingle rushing through me.

“You had a strange reaction. That’s all it was. Breathe, okay?”

Suddenly mute, I nod. I grip the stem of my wineglass so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.

That’s it? I was so scared to talk to him today, so his response is the last thing I expected.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Unless you want to talk about the fact you said you think I’m sexy.” He waits for me to reply, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A blush warms my cheeks. I did say that. And I meant it too.

I draw a slow breath, because Logan’s still waiting. Still trying to fight off a smirk. “Well, I suppose that doesn’t matter. I mean, attraction aside, we’re working together, right? Nothing can happen between—”

I don’t get to finish the rest of that sentence because Logan’s mouth is on mine, hot and insistent. Purely on instinct, I press closer, and when my lips part, he takes full advantage.

His tongue touches mine, and my knees go weak.