Luck Be a Lady - Cathie Linz [9]
Not that she’d done much to hide her feelings. She had valid reasons for her them—and those reasons were none of his damn business. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and returned to her stare-off with Logan, deciding she’d given up too easily earlier.
“Yes, siree.” Buddy was practically rubbing his hands with glee. “There’s chemistry here. Definite chemistry.”
“Between you and that slot machine maybe,” Logan said. “Although it seems to have given you the cold shoulder tonight.”
“Fight it all you want,” Buddy told him. “I’ve been around long enough to know chemistry when I see it.”
“You need new glasses,” Logan said.
Buddy glared at him. “I don’t need glasses at all.”
“That’s not what the eye doctor said.”
“He just wants more business, that’s all.”
“And the fact that you can’t read a menu?” Logan said, shifting his gaze to his grandfather.
“Means they make the print too small. I can read this.” Buddy patted the slot machine.
“We need to get up to the reception before Faith comes looking for us,” Megan reminded them, trying not to gloat that Logan had looked away first.
“I’m telling you, if that uncle of yours makes any fishy comments ...” Buddy said again even as he followed her toward the bank of elevators.
“I told you, he won’t.”
“What about your dad?” Buddy said.
Megan kept her eyes on the elevators, willing the one in front of her to open immediately. “What about him?”
“He’d better not say anything either.”
“My father is not into confrontations.”
“Not even when it comes to protecting his own family?” Logan said.
She punched the up button several times.
“That doesn’t make it come any faster,” Logan said.
“Maybe not, but it makes me feel better.”
“Feeling a little tense, are you?”
She hit the button more forcefully.
“They have classes for that, you know,” he said.
“For what?”
“Anger management.”
“I don’t need any classes in anger management,” she said.
His skeptical look fanned her aggravation, but she was determined not to let it show. She relaxed the death grip she had on her clutch and practiced deep-breathing techniques until she noticed the way Logan was staring at her cleavage appreciatively, following the rise and fall of her breasts.
Her body turned traitor on her. Instead of outrage, she felt something else. Her heart fluttered, skipped and then raced. Was she blushing? She hoped not.
Logan leaned closer and whispered, “Is there a problem?” His breath teased her ear.
She shook her head, bit her tongue and began mentally reciting the Dewey Decimal System backwardbeginning with 900—History.
Right, now she felt better. She hadn’t completely lost her mind.
Logan reached around her to place his hand on the elevator opening to prevent it from closing and nudged her forward. She reacted as if he’d hit her with a cattle prod, jumping forward and heading straight for the farthest corner of the elevator.
Where had all that come from? Was her racing heart a result of the oxygen being piped into the casino? She liked that option better than thinking Logan could induce that kind of reaction without even trying. Imagine what would happen if he really tried to seduce her.
No, do not imagine that,she strictly ordered herself. Do not go there. That’s never going to happen.
Faith greeted them as soon as they entered the reception room. “Finally. I’m sorry to tear you away from the slot machines, Buddy,” she teased him, “but this wedding party isn’t large enough that I can have anyone go missing.”
“I was getting worried.” Megan’s dad stood beside her and gently squeezed her shoulder. “You were gone a long time.”
“It’s a large casino,” she said, patting his arm reassuringly.
Dave nodded at Buddy and Logan before saying, “You know, the odds of winning at a slot machine are approximately one in ten thousand. Your odds are better in blackjack.”
“My dad is great at math. He’s a mathlete,” Megan said proudly.
“I like working with numbers,” he said modestly.
“You’d be good at card counting,” Buddy said.
Her dad frowned.