My Mafia Mate
My face must have been a puzzle of confusion, doubt, and a little hope, because she hastened to add, “Hear me out, okay? First, he doesn’t look like he’s been anywhere near a tropical sun. Not a tan line or a sunburn in sight.”
I thought about it, my mind going back to Logan’s complexion. She was right; he was as pale as I remembered. Not sickly pale, but certainly not the complexion of a man who had been laying on the beach for days on end. “Okay, go on.”
“Second, when he talked about other women being ‘hot,’ did you notice how he kept shifting his eyes? Like he was nervous or something?”
“No,” I admitted. “I was too busy feeling… well, never mind what I was feeling. So, you’re saying he’s
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