At Odds With the Heiress by Cat Schield Page B

she found his honesty refreshing. Why that bothered him, she had no idea. Shouldn’t she be the wounded party? He was the one who’d declared he’d never trust her and called her irritating.
    “If you wanted dessert,” he growled, “you should have ordered your own.”
    “I just wanted a bite.”
    “You ate almost all of it.” And she knew he’d enjoyed watching her devour the rich treat.
    In fact, she wondered if he’d ordered it for just such a reason. From their dinner conversation, she’d learned that he wasn’t usually one to indulge his sweet tooth. No dairy. Steamed vegetables. Lean meats. Whole grains. His body was both a fortress and a temple.
    “Shall we order another one? This time I won’t steal a bite. I promise.”
    “It’s getting late. We need to get to the storage unit.” He signaled for the check.
    Scarlett was torn. On one hand, she’d love to linger over a cup of coffee and enjoy the thrust and parry of their banter a little longer. On the other, she was tired of having the barrier of the table between them.
    Unfortunately, now that dinner was through, the glint faded from Logan’s eye and his features hardened into a professional mask. Sighing in resignation, she let him guide her out of the restaurant and into his SUV. With his focus so far away from her, Scarlett knew the only way to reengage with him was to discuss the purpose behind their dinner tonight. “What sort of secrets to you suppose Tiberius had locked up?” she asked, hoping to jostle him out of his thoughts.
    “Dangerous ones.”
    His dark tone gave her the shivers. She studied him as the lights of the Strip faded behind them and they entered an area of town where tourists never ventured. Another man might have played up the seriousness of their outing for effect. That wasn’t Logan’s style. He was genuinely troubled and Scarlett was less confident with each mile they drove.
    “What do you think I should do?”
    “Shred the whole mess.”
    Honestly, did the man not watch TV? “That’s not going to help. The killer will assume that I made copies of everything. Or at the very least that I went through all the files and know what Tiberius knew.” Whatever that was.
    Logan grunted but didn’t comment.
    By the time they arrived at the storage facility, Scarlett had run the murdered-blackmailer plot from a dozen detective shows through her mind. If Tiberius had been killed because of these files, was she in danger? Her stomach churned, making her regret muscling in on Logan’s dessert.
    He stopped the SUV in front of Tiberius’s storage unit. “Are you okay?” he asked, noting her expression.
    “I’ve played a dead escort and a drowned party girl. I’m not sure I’m ready to play murdered hotel executive.”
    “This isn’t television.”
    “My point exactly.”
    Logan took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. “No one knows you got the files. You’re going to be fine.”
    “This is Las Vegas.” She drew courage from his strength and let the heat of his skin warm away her sudden chill. “There are no secrets in this town.”
    “There are thousands of secrets buried here.”
    “Did you have to use the word buried? ”
    With one last squeeze, he set her free. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
    “That’s a charming promise, but you’re not around 24/7,” she reminded him. A smile flirted with her lips. “Unless that’s your way of telling me you want to step up our relationship.”
    His growl helped restore her sense of humor. She slipped out of the passenger seat and waited in front of the storage unit until Logan joined her. With great ceremony she handed him the key to the lock and stood, barely breathing, while he opened the door and raised it. The musty smell that greeted them was similar to that of a used bookstore.
    Logan stepped to the wall and switched on the light. “Damn.”
    The stark overhead bulb revealed two walls lined with four-drawer file cabinets, stretching