His Fantasy Girl (Things To Do Before You Die)(7)

By: Nina Croft



What had he learned in the long years since?

Stop thinking about sex.

This wasn’t about her. It was about Jennifer. Had she made a huge mistake coming here? But really she’d had no excuse. Her last chance to back out had vanished when she’d done a quick background check on him this morning and discovered he had been in no further trouble, was in fact an upstanding member of the community—even if he didn’t look it.

Her only hope now was that he wasn’t the sort of man who would be interested in a ten-year-old daughter. With a bit of luck, he’d listen to her and tell her to go to hell.

Except that still left the question unanswered—why had he come to see her yesterday? She’d racked her brains and come up blank.

In front of her he moved with the lithe grace of a predator, a smooth glide. Under the bright lights his hair gleamed almost blue-black. Her gaze snagged on the black and red tattoos snaking around his arms as far as his wrist and others peeked out from the neckline of his T-shirt. He hadn’t had that many tattoos eleven years ago.

He pushed open a door and stepped inside. Abby hesitated and then followed, finally turning to face him. He stood, hands shoved in his pockets, the look of amusement back in his eyes.

She hated that she was so transparent.

She took a quick look around the room. It was an office, with a big mahogany desk and a long black leather sofa. And suddenly it came to her. This was where Logan had brought her all those years ago. She’d had sex on that sofa. More than once. Oh God, why couldn’t he have taken her somewhere else? It had been his father’s office back then—a fact indelibly imprinted on her mind, as it was his father who had caught them the following morning, fast asleep and naked. If she remembered rightly, his father had been amused. She’d thought she might spontaneously combust.

“I’m glad you came.” Logan dragged her back to the present. “I hoped you would—once you got over the shock. It must have been a surprise, me turning up on your doorstep after all these years.”

Yes, it had definitely been a surprise.

Time to move this along. She’d get her bit out before she lost her nerve, then if he was still talking to her, she’d ask him why he had come to see her. “Mr. McCabe—”

“Logan,” he interrupted.

She licked her lips. “Logan.” What the hell was she supposed to say? She’d rehearsed this conversation so many times and now her mind was complete and utter mush. “I’m Abigail—Abby.”

His lips quirked. “I’m quite aware of that…Abby.”

She wiped her clammy hands down the sides of her skirt, exhaled loudly, and opened her mouth to tell him. Then lost her nerve. “Why did you come to see me?” Not what she was supposed to say.

Coward.

He took a step toward her and studied her, his head cocked. Then another step and another. As he circled her, she could sense his gaze playing over her body. Finally, he came to a halt in front of her. Reaching out, he pried her handbag from her fingers and dropped it on the sofa. She had to hold herself very still as his fingers stroked beneath her chin, before gently urging her head up so he could stare into her eyes. His were silver, and this close she could see the ring of black around the iris…so familiar. “I wanted to see you again.”

“After more than ten years?” She shook her head, pulling free. He didn’t try to hold her, and she took a step back. Obviously, she was being super slow witted. “Why now?”

He grinned, looking younger. The hint of menace vanished, and some of the tension eased from the room. “You could say I had an epiphany.”

“You did?”

“A near death experience. I realized I wanted to see you again.”

He still wasn’t making any sense. “We had one night together—”

“One pretty hot night.”

“Maybe, but all the same, why would you want to see me again? And why now?”

He looked her up and down as if deciding what to say next. “You were my fantasy girl.”

“Your what?” His fantasy girl? That sounded unlikely. She wasn’t the fantasy girl type, and he must have had thousands of women since. If the one he’d just been groping was anything to go by, Abby was hardly his usual choice.

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