Logan's cool glance flicked to the rearview mirror, capturing every shifting expression on Moanna's face.
This woman—how could she be so spacey she forgot to fasten her seatbelt?
"Buckle up."
His voice was crisp, smooth enough to melt butter. Moanna blinked, finally snapping out of her daze. She'd been so busy marveling at the car's pristine interior—like it just rolled off the lot—that she'd completely overlooked the seatbelt.
Fumbling with the clasp, she blurted out, "Logan, what kind of girls do you even like?"
The engine roared awake as the car glided out of the parking garage. Logan left her question hanging—though his mind involuntarily lingered on it for a heartbeat.
What kind of girls? Seriously, he'd never wasted a thought on it. But if he had to conjure an answer in those f
