Free The Heartbroker by Kate O'Keeffe

regardless of anything that may have happened between us, Logan is still You: Now ’s representative. Without them my big plans to expand into other countries will be just that—plans.
    I take a deep breath, relenting. “Okay. But it can’t be a late one. I honestly do have a lot of work to get through.”
    Perhaps not the most circumspect decision, considering how I feel about him and the fact that we shared that incredible kiss just hours ago. But it’s in Live It ’s interests to keep him sweet in order to broker this important deal.
    Well, that’s the story I’m telling myself.
    “Excellent.”
    “Can you give me ten minutes to get ready? I can meet you in the lobby.”
    “Sure. Of course. See you down there in ten.”
     
    * * *
     
    “I hope you like Mexican,” Logan says as we walk out of the hotel into the frosty evening air.
    “Who doesn’t?” I’ve had some legendary nights out eating Mexican food and indulging in the odd margarita or two in Wellington, and I certainly know my mole from my tamale these days.
    He grins at me as he zips his jacket up against the cool air. He’s wearing a collared shirt, jeans and boots combo, with a casual black zip-up jacket. Once again, he looks devastatingly handsome—almost too good to be true—and I repeat my mantra in my head: ‘ It’s just business …”
    Forget the fact just a few short hours ago I was passionately kissing the man at my side on the banks of the Kawarau River. And loving it too.
    The restaurant is decorated typically for a Mexican place, with large, bulky wooden tables and bright, colourful pictures adorning the walls. It’s warm, smells amazing, and is completely packed. We’re lucky Logan had the foresight to book or we would be turned away.
    “Table for McManus, please,” Logan says to a young, hip looking maître d’ with a very low-cut top that leaves little to the imagination.
    She looks him up and down, quite obviously checking him out. I’m mildly offended on his behalf.
    “I’ll just check.” She winks and smiles at him as she runs her finger down the list of the evening’s bookings. The cheek of her!
    I glance incredulously at Logan and note he’s barely registered her existence as anything other than a member of the restaurant staff.
    “Come with me,” she purrs, grabbing a couple of menus and sauntering off, hips swinging towards our table.
    We reach the table and Logan pulls my chair out for me again before I can stop him. I take my seat.
    “Your waiter will be here to take your order soon,” she says as she passes us our menus.
    She turns to Logan, leans in towards him and adds in lowered tones, “But you just let me know if you need anything. Absolutely anything.”
    As he gets an eyeful of her cleavage, I can’t help but laugh at her outlandish come on, and she shoots me an evil look as she turns and saunters away, clearly for Logan’s benefit, not mine.
    “She was a bit much, huh?” Logan comments once she’s on the other side of the restaurant.
    “Do you have this effect on every woman you meet?” I realise too late I’ve inadvertently given my feelings for him away. Not too clever, Brooke
    “Oh, of course. They fall at my feet wherever I go,” he replies, deadpan.
    I let out a snicker. “That must be such a problem for you.” I’m enjoying our easy repartee.
    “Oh, it has its uses,” he replies, raising his eyebrows at me suggestively, causing me to let out another laugh. “I find New Zealanders real friendly.”
    My mind darts to Lucinda Hargreaves and how he’d left the restaurant with her that night. ‘Friendly’ doesn’t even begin to describe Lucinda’s approach to tallying up the men.
    I must have a sceptical look on my face as Logan asks, “What? You don’t agree? I’ve found all the Kiwis I’ve met on my trip here really great. Are you telling me I’ve been fooled and you’re all just a pack of assholes at heart?”
    He grins at me and I shift uncomfortably. An image of