That familiar icy mint scent filled her nostrils as Moanna turned, bowing deeply at the waist with an apologetic murmur.
"Sorry."
She peeked upward timidly, and there it was—Logan's devastatingly handsome face flooding her vision.
Moanna blinked rapidly, her fluttering lashes betraying nervous excitement. Was this really her Dr. York?
No way this was a hallucination—that crisp, masculine scent was unmistakable after years of kitchen training.
But what was he doing here?
Logan's eyes remained unreadable, though a ghost of amusement played across his face as he watched her stunned expression.
"D-Dr. York... what a coincidence," she squeaked.
Just as she mustered the sense to flee, his fingers closed around her wrist.
With his free hand, he swiped a keycard. Moanna's eyes widened com
