Logan.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the two men. She leaned over to Sharon. “Which one did you say was the new owner?”
Sharon snorted. “It’s not the old geezer. The hot one. He bought the place. Seems he’s an investor of some kind. Likes to buy businesses and turn them over for a profit.”
Just like he had with the hotel. But this silly little diner seemed too tiny to be on the radar of someone as important as Logan Hawkings. There could only be one reason he was here personally. Brontë’s jaw clenched. He’d bought her place of work because she’d hung up on him.
And now she was trapped.
That jerk.
Chapter Seven
She didn’t look pleased to see him.
Logan had expected that. He’d guessed when Brontë had hung up on him that she was holding a grudge of some kind. That was his reason for buying this hole in the wall diner. He wanted to find out what the problem was so he could fix it.
And then he wanted her back in his arms and in his bed, laughing as he kissed her skin and quoting Plato when he undressed her.
But she was seated with the other waitresses, arms crossed over her chest, and she looked furious. Even furious, though, she was lovely. Her smooth brown hair was twisted into a messy knot at her neck, and she wore a slick of lip gloss that made him wonder what she tasted like with it on. She wore a plain blue T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, but even in the casual clothing, she appealed to him more than the last model he’d dated.
“Mr. Hawkings is the new owner of Josie’s Diner,” the consultant he’d hired began. “Over the next few weeks, we’re going to be looking carefully at every aspect of the business to determine where the most profit can be made. This means an inspection of purchasing, cooking, hours clocked in, and anything else you can think of. Mr. Hawkings is simply here to show you his commitment to the business.”
As Logan watched, Brontë’s lips thinned into a line.
Logan stood then, straightening his suit and casting a dispassionate look over all of them. “I’d like to meet with each of you individually so you have nothing to fear in regard to your job.” He picked up a clipboard and ignored the name on the top of the list, calling out the only one he was truly interested in. “I’ll start with Brontë Dawson.”
She got to her feet reluctantly, her jaw set firmly.
“Please follow me.” He gestured toward the kitchen.
She stomped through the door, letting it swing behind her, and he resisted the urge to smile.
Logan followed her in a moment later and gestured at the metal folding chair that had been set up in the center of the floor. “Please, have a seat.”
She glanced at the door and then moved in a few feet, as if making sure that no one could hear their conversation. “You can drop the charade, Logan. We both know why you’re here.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at her, keeping his expression cool.
“You’re doing this to get back at me.”
Get back at her? Nothing could have been further from the truth. But Logan kept his expression neutral. “Perhaps you are not aware that my business excels at purchasing small, failing companies and making them profitable?”
For a moment, she looked uncertain of herself. “Is that why you bought this one? Because it was failing?”
“No,” he said, keeping his voice light and playful. “I purchased this one because I knew it was the only way I could speak to you again.”
“So I was right. This is about me and you.” She gave him a sharp look. “It seemed like a bit too much of a coincidence that you showed up here.”
“You got me,” he said, and stepped a bit closer, wondering if she’d back down or hold her ground.
Brontë put her hands on her hips and stared up at him with a defiant look. “I did get you, didn’t I?” Her tone was half flirt, half challenge. “The problem is, you seem to think I want more of you.”
“I think you do,” he said in a low, seductive tone. She hadn’t back down when he’d moved closer. They were so close now he could reach out and touch her, but he wouldn’t until she indicated she wanted him. “I think the real problem here is that you’re mad at me.”
“Mad at you?” She gave a small, sharp laugh. “How can I be mad at you? I don’t even know who you are. Remember?”
She was mad at him. Interesting. “If you’re not mad at me, then why avoid my phone calls?”
Brontë ruined it by giggling. That high-pitched, nervous giggle told him volumes. “Because I went to that island to hook up with someone. You were nothing more than an island fling. I’m not interested in carrying on something off the island”
“You’re lying.”
“You should know what it’s like. You’re a liar.”
“Am I?”
“You didn’t tell me who you were.” She crossed her arms over her chest again. “You let me go on and on about the hotel, all because I thought you were the manager. Except you weren’t. You were the owner. And you never bothered to share that with me. You just kept it from me and laughed behind my back.”
“Is that what you think of me?” His voice was husky now. “That I lied to you because I was laughing at you? Truly?”
“I don’t know what to think of you,” she said in a soft voice that trembled just a little. “I don’t know you, remember? You made that very clear.”
“I had my reasons for keeping my identity a secret from you, Brontë, and none of my reasons involve laughing at you.”
She cast him another hurt look, and he began to realize just how much that secret had wounded her. Was it truly such a big deal to her? He’d been protecting himself, but it seemed that it had come at the expense of her feelings.
And he needed to fix that.
Logan stepped closer to her and brushed his fingers over her cheek. She slapped his hand away, but he supposed he deserved that.
“You know who I am now, don’t you?” he asked.
“The entire world seems to know who you are,” she said bitterly. “Stupid me was the only one that didn’t clue in to it.”
“You’re not stupid,” he told her. “Don’t speak of yourself like that. I doubt you’d be familiar with my face unless you read the Wall Street Journal or followed the business section in the papers. And I’m not even sure then. Just because you have a lot of money doesn’t mean you’re a celebrity.” He shrugged. “It does change how they react to you, though.”