She glanced up at him and smiled, remembering his expression when she’d walked into the common room wearing her ruby-red, body-hugging dress. He’d protested her plan until she’d kissed him into silence. He stopped just short of the restaurant’s entrance. “What could you possibly find funny?”“The look on your face when you saw my dress.” “You look beautiful in it, very Christmassy. I’d like it better in a pile at your feet.” His compliment was nice, but the nerves in his jaws twitched. “You’re positive you want to do this?”“Yes. It’s my turn to ask if you can pull this off.”“I don’t like putting you through this.”“I want to see the expression on Brandon’s face when he realizes I’m alive.”Logan escorted her into the dining room. The realization that she was about to face her attacker hit her with the force of a truck. Her hands were cold as ice cubes and hung heavy at the ends of her arms. Her fight-or-flight reflexes kicked in. Her feet begged to turn toward the exit and run, but her brain demanded she pick up a wine bottle and smash Brandon in the head.
