No Two Are Alike

22 | still snowed in

Logan respected Kate's tenacity.

She had done everything  in her power to leave the office at 3 o'clock in the morning. Checked  the night tube schedule (not running this late). Checked the bus  schedule (not running in the snow). Checked how far it would be to walk  home (too far).

Logan was torn between admiration and offense.

Really, was he that bad to spend time with?

Apparently so.

"This is bullshit," Kate muttered. "The one time that it snows properly in London, and I'm stuck in an office with you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Not a compliment, Winters."

Logan looked up from the  refrigerator. The shelves were tragically bare: a half-eaten block of  cheddar cheese, carrot batons, a bottle of ketchup, and an expired jug  of skim milk. Not exactly stellar options.

An idea sparked.

"Stay here," he said.

Kate looked at him in alarm. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be back!"

Logan raced down the  corridor, pausing outside Jim's office. He scanned both ways for cameras  and then let himself in, rifling through the drawers. Ugly red tie.  Hair oil. Postcard. Ah — bingo! He pulled out a box of mac and cheese  triumphantly.

"Logan!" Kate appeared in the doorway. "We can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not hungry," she snapped.

"Well, I am." Logan closed the drawer. "So tough luck."

"He'll fire us!"

Logan snorted. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'm not." Kate hopped  from one foot to the other. "Have you seen how much Jim likes mac and  cheese? He'd prefer if we stole his child."

"Okay, now you're being dramatic."

"Am I?"

Logan ignored her,  brushing past her and into the kitchen. Kate watched anxiously as he  filled up a pot of water, but she was no longer protesting. Logan  smirked as he heard the telltale rumble of her stomach. Not hungry, his arse.

They both stared at the pot of water.

"About earlier," Logan began. "I really didn't mean—"

"It's fine."

"It obviously isn't," he said dryly.

Kate hopped up on the  counter, kicking her legs like a child on a swing. She pulled the  elastic out of her hair. Logan's mouth felt suddenly dry as it tumbled  over her shoulders in dark waves, filling the room with the smell of  coconuts.

Why did she always smell so damn good?

"Remember that meeting last year?" Kate asked abruptly. "When we first met?"

"Yes."

Logan wasn't likely to  forget it. He had been midway through pouring himself a glass of water  when Kate sauntered into the room, a whirl of dark hair and long legs.  He had upended the water all over his shirt. And when Kate opened her mouth and started talking, Logan knew he was in trouble.

She was brilliant.

He remembered looking around the table and thinking, This woman is going to take all of our jobs. And we're going to happily let her do it.

Kate tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You were dating a girl called Sandra then. Do you remember her?"

Sandra. Logan racked his brain. Sandra, Sandra...

"Oh!" He perked up. "The PR girl."

"That's right."

"She had the most awful floral perfume," he added, shuddering.

"And you broke up with her."

Logan didn't remember  this, but yes — he obviously had. Probably because of the perfume. "Not that I'm not enjoying this trip down memory lane," he said, adding the  pasta to the boiling water, "but does this story have a purpose?"

"Do you remember how you broke up with her?"

"Er." Logan paused. "Quickly?"

"Over text."

Logan winced. Yikes.

"I remember watching you do it," Kate said softly. "I watched you text that girl, and I thought to myself, I will never let somebody break my heart that way." She  twisted her hair band around her fingers. "I promised myself that I  would only ever be your mate. Your partner-in-crime, really. Strictly  platonic."

Logan stopped stirring the pasta.

"You did?" he asked hoarsely.

She might as well have kicked him in the gut. Logan's heart was racing, and he had the sudden  urge to cry, although why, he hadn't the faintest idea.

Kate nodded. "But the trouble is, you've ended up being something of a surprise, Logan  Winters." Her fingers were positively purple under the hair band. "I  mean, sure, you're a total twat that has the emotional self-awareness of  a kindergartner, but you're also funny. And charming. And sweet, when  you want to be."

Logan was no longer breathing.

"So I guess what I'm  trying to say," Kate continued, her voice wobbling slightly, "is that —  despite everything I promised myself — I actually do fancy you."  She gripped the hair band, giving him a small smile. "And now is the part where you break my heart; I'd prefer you do it quickly."

Logan gaped at her.

For once, words totally escaped him.

He had no pithy response. He had no quick comments. He had only a wooden spoon and a  rising sense of panic that he needed to get the next 30 seconds absolutely right.

He only had one shot.

"I get scared easily." Logan set down the spoon. "That's why I don't talk about my feelings. And I'm afraid of loving people because it means they can disappoint  you. That's why I don't stay with girls long. That's why I never wanted  to get close with you. But you slipped through the cracks, Kate."

Logan moved closer to  her, their faces level. He could see his own pale face reflected back in  her dark eyes, like a moon in an inky black sky.

"I like that you can  beat me at Scrabble," Logan murmured. "I like that you don't put up with  my bullshit, and that you tell me when I'm wrong. I don't want to break your heart." His voice was ragged. "That's the very last thing I ever want to do."

He leaned closer.

Logan was convinced that she was going to push him away. His heart was racing, but he went for  it anyway, because — damn it — he was sick of pretending to be friends.  They weren't friends. He didn't want to be just friends.

Kate kissed him back.

Relief flooded his whole  body. She made an impatient noise, pulling him closer, and Logan didn't  need to be told twice. He kissed her with enthusiasm. With gusto. He  was making up for lost time, after all.

There was a splash.

Kate pulled back slightly. "The pasta," she gasped, giggling helplessly. "Logan, the water, it's all over the—"

"I don't give a damn," he growled.

And he kissed her again.