Sin Bin (Denver Rebels Book 3)

by Maureen Smith

  She searched his eyes. “Only if you are.”

  He gave her a small smile. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  She smiled softly and tucked her arm through his.

  They left the suite and boarded the elevator, standing close together. On the way down, Logan reached over and traced her collarbone with his finger.

  The electric shock of his touch resounded through her limbs. Her breath quickened, lips parting as she stared up at him.

  He stared back, his eyes glittering darkly into hers. “I want to shove my hands through your hair and muss it up real good while I kiss the hell out of your mouth.” He licked his bottom lip. “Would that piss you off?”

  “No,” she said with a breathless laugh. “But Bianca and Scarlett might not appreciate you messing up all their hard work.”

  The elevator stopped and another couple got on, dressed for a night on the town. Logan and Meadow stepped back to make room for them, never looking away from each other.

  When the elevator arrived on the lobby floor, the couple stepped off and glanced back at Logan with smiles of recognition. But he didn’t notice. He was still staring at Meadow as if the sight of her anchored him. As if he feared she would vanish if he took his eyes off her even for a second.

  Placing a warm hand on the small of her back, he steered her out of the elevator. Then he took her hand, swinging it gently between them as they headed toward the ballroom.

  Jazz music wafted down the corridor leading up to the entrance. When they stepped through the doors, every head turned toward them and an invisible wave of silence swept over the packed crowd. Even the music quieted.

  All the blood rushed to Meadow’s cheeks. Logan’s hand tightened around hers, agony etched into his face.

  Seeing his reaction, she quickly swallowed her own discomfort and gave him a reassuring smile.

  Out of the crowd’s nervous silence, a busty blonde squealed, “Happy Birthday, Logan!”

  Everyone shushed her.

  Her red lips formed a confused pout. “But it’s his birthday.”

  “He doesn’t celebrate it,” her friend hissed.

  “It’s all right.” Logan lifted a hand, smiling faintly at the bewildered blonde. “Thank you for the birthday wishes.”

  With those words, the crowd exhaled collectively and surged forward to greet him with enthusiastic handshakes and backslapping hugs. Women kissed his cheeks, purred in his ear and seductively pressed their bodies against his while Meadow dug her nails into her palm and smiled through her teeth.

  Mr. Tavárez, Hunter, Reid, Viggo and Sergei welcomed Logan warmly, clapping him on the back and telling him they were glad to see him.

  From the other side of the ballroom, Dmitri Fedorov called out raucously, “Does this mean we can start calling this what it is—Brassard’s twenty-fifth birthday party?”

  Hearty laughter swept through the crowd.

  A sheepish-looking Jenna came forward in a shimmering silver gown with enormous diamonds dangling from her earlobes. She gave Logan a long hug, whispering something in his ear that made him nod and murmur gruffly, “It’s okay. We’re still cool.”

  The gorgeous blonde released him, blinking back tears and smiling as she used her cocktail napkin to wipe all the lipstick marks off his face. “Meadow doesn’t wanna be looking at those all night,” she joked.

  Logan chuckled and curved his arm around Meadow’s waist, his palm resting on her hip in a protective and possessive gesture. It set her heart racing and raised more than a few eyebrows.

  Jenna looked her over approvingly and gave her a big thumbs-up. “Absolutely stunning.”

  Logan smiled down at Meadow, his eyes glowing with pride. “She certainly is.”

  She smiled shyly as they moved forward, buoyed along with the crowd. The luxurious ballroom was packed to capacity with Rebels players, coaches, trainers, wives and girlfriends, puck bunnies, and a slew of other people Meadow couldn’t identify.

  She felt somewhat dazed as she looked around at all the beautiful women in sparkly designer dresses latched onto the arms of multimillionaire athletes and businessmen. They milled around eating hors d’oeuvres, laughing and chatting to the sound of clinking glasses. Being there felt positively surreal to Meadow. Like she was living somebody else’s glamorous life.

  Logan led her through the crowd, introducing her to more of his teammates and coaches. She couldn’t help admiring how tight-knit the Denver Rebels were. From top to bottom, they seemed like one big happy family. She was elated for Logan, and she was grateful that he’d finally found somewhere he belonged.

  The attendees also included a who’s who of Las Vegas elite—movers and shakers that Logan had met through his philanthropic projects. He introduced them to Meadow, making her blush as he spoke glowingly of her volunteer work and her advocacy for foster care children. By the time he finished singing her praises, she’d made many powerful contacts who told her to call them if she ever needed any favors.

  In keeping with the Ocean’s Eleven theme, the deejay played jazz and swing music that evoked Rat Pack vibes—Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby and Sammy Davis, Jr. The white-jacketed waiters bustled to and fro with whiskey cocktails and martinis, serving guests huddled around roulette and blackjack tables.

  As Logan and Meadow stood around socializing with their friends, she could see women circling like sharks and glaring daggers at her, clearly hoping she would disappear so they could have the birthday boy all to themselves.

  “Don’t leave his side. Not even for a second.” Jess looped her arm around Meadow’s shoulders, her other hand wrapped around a sweating martini glass. “The second you give those skanks an opening, they’re gonna be all over him like piranhas in a feeding frenzy, and the next thing you know, they’ll have him sneaking upstairs for an orgy. Trust me. I’ve seen it happen. That said,” she purred, looking behind Meadow to where Logan’s hand stroked the bare skin exposed by her backless dress, “I don’t think Mr. Brassard’s gonna be sneaking off anywhere tonight. You guys have been attached at the hip since you arrived. Forget not letting you out of his sight. Has he even allowed any daylight between your bodies?”

  “Not much,” Meadow murmured, glancing sideways at Logan. He was talking to the others, oblivious to her conversation with Jess.

  “He’s just as bad as Reid and Viggo, and you guys haven’t even boned yet.” Jess grinned. “You’re in trouble.”

  Meadow merely smiled and toyed with the swizzle stick in her martini glass, bobbing the olive in the clear liquid as Logan’s lazy caress wreaked havoc on her senses.

  When the guys decided to play blackjack before dinner, the girls accompanied them to the table, each standing behind her man like arm candy in some heist movie. The fellas looked as slick and suave as James Bond as they sat playing blackjack and drinking whiskey, their banter interspersed with low laughter.

  “Look at our Rat Pack,” Jess said teasingly to the girls. “I guess Reid could be Sinatra with those blue eyes. And Nelson can be Sammy Davis, Jr—the token black guy.”

  The joke drew chuckles from everyone but the stunning brunette standing behind Hunter, one perfectly manicured hand resting possessively on his shoulder. She was the epitome of icy sophistication in her sleek white evening gown, her dark hair swept up in a flawless topknot.

  “I don’t like Hunter’s date,” Jess leaned close to confide to Meadow. “She looks like an escort. A high-class one, granted. But still an escort.”

  Meadow rolled her eyes. “She’s not an escort. She works for the government.”

  “As what? A sex operative?”

  “No. As a chemist.”

  Jess’s eyebrows lifted. “A chemist?”

  Meadow nodded. “Logan says she’s one of the women who, ah, entertains Hunter when he comes to town.”

  Jess smirked. “I bet she does entertain him.”

  “Why do you care? You have Dubinski.”

  Jess shrugged. “I’m keeping my op
tions open just in case things don’t work out with Dubs. I mean, Hunter is gorgeous and we’re both in grad school. We have a lot in common.”

  Meadow shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”

  Jess furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

  Meadow just laughed and sipped her martini.

  “This is amazing, isn’t it?” Jess waved her hand around at the splashy party. “This is the life.”

  As if on cue the lights went down, and a large screen lowered from the ceiling above the stage. There was an excited buzz as people turned to whisper to their neighbors.

  Bianca, who stood on the other side of Meadow, looked around curiously. “I wonder what’s going on?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Meadow said.

  All eyes were trained on the screen. When Sanaa Lathan suddenly appeared, a chorus of gasps and appreciative cheers went up from the crowd.

  “Oh shit.” Logan laughed as the guys pounded him on the back.

  The ballroom fell silent as Sanaa began speaking. “Hello, Logan. I’m not sure if you remember me—” This drew incredulous laughter and guffaws “—but we met back in February when your team came to L.A. to play the Kings.” A photo of her and Logan flashed up on the screen, drawing more laughter and wolf whistles. In the selfie, Logan wore the biggest grin as the beautiful actress kissed his cheek.

  Sanaa came back on the screen with her luminous trademark smile. “I wish I could be there to celebrate with you, but I’m actually filming my next movie. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to send heartfelt birthday greetings to one of my biggest fans. Happy Twenty-Fifth Birthday, Logan. Enjoy your big night. The next time you’re in L.A., drinks are on me.” The actress blew him a kiss and fluttered her fingers in a wave.

  As the screen faded to black, the crowd clapped and cheered wildly.

  Laughing warmly, Meadow leaned over Logan and kissed his grinning cheek before he was mobbed by teammates and friends slapping his back and vigorously pumping his hand. Mr. Tavárez was among the congratulators.

  “This boy has been crushing on Sanaa Lathan since he was still wet behind the ears,” he told the gathered crowd. “I’ll never forget the first time he saw her. My wife and I were watching Love & Basketball one afternoon when Logan came inside from playing. He took one look at Sanaa, dropped his jaw and whispered ‘Who is that?’ As my wife and I burst out laughing, Logan plopped right down in front of the television and watched the rest of the movie with his eyes glued to the screen.”

  As everyone laughed and started razzing Logan, Mr. Tavárez winked at Meadow and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, baby girl. You stole his heart first.”

  She could only blush before Jenna shimmied her way through the rowdy crowd, beaming with satisfaction as she gave Logan a big hug and playfully patted his chest. “Bet you weren’t expecting that, were you?”

  “Hell no.” Logan grinned and shook his head at her. “You’re just full of surprises. How the hell did you pull that off?”

  Jenna laughed. “As you may recall, I was an actress before I married Sergei. I met Sanaa years ago on the set of Out of Time, that movie she did with Denzel Washington and Eva Mendes. I had a small part that no one ever remembers,” she added with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, everybody and their mama knows what a huge crush you have on Sanaa Lathan. She and I have the same agent, so I called in a favor. Sanaa remembered meeting you and was happy to record a special birthday greeting.” Jenna’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “I figured Meadow would appreciate that more than a Vegas showgirl popping out of a cake to serenade you.”

  Logan laughed, rubbing his chin. “Good call.”

  Meadow secretly agreed.

  After Jenna got up on the stage to announce that dinner would be served shortly, everyone headed to their assigned tables. As they enjoyed a lavish three-course dinner, toasts and speeches were made, and they were shown a highlight video that captured the greatest moments of the season. The team’s phenomenal year included Reid scoring his three hundredth career goal, Viggo posting the highest number of hat tricks in the league, and Logan breaking a few scoring records. The video also showed heartwarming footage of the players serving the community, visiting disabled and hospitalized children, and passing pucks over the glass to young fans.

  When the video ended, the ballroom erupted into thunderous applause and cheers that grew louder as Jenna strode out onto the stage and beamed at the crowd like an Oscar presenter.

  “In one week, the NHL will announce the finalists for the most coveted awards. Several of our guys are strong contenders to take home a prize. Like Hunter, our indomitable captain whose exemplary leadership and generosity more than qualify him for the King Clancy Memorial Trophy. Like Viggo, the league’s top scorer who’s favored to win the Hart Trophy for the second time. Like Reid, our history-making defenseman who’s up for his third—yes, third—Norris Trophy. Like Logan, our birthday boy who had a monster season and led the league in power play goals, catapulting himself into the MVP race. We won’t talk about his penalty minutes,” Jenna added, coughing into her hand.

  The crowd laughed uproariously as Logan ducked his head with a sheepish half smile. Meadow rubbed his back consolingly.

  Jenna put her hand on her hip, her blue eyes sparkling with mock defiance. “I’m going on record to say that if Coach Bohler doesn’t win the Jack Adams Trophy, I’m staging a revolt. Same goes if my husband gets robbed of the Vezina.” She grinned as a roar of raucous laughter and applause swept through the room.

  When the noise died down, she continued. “Individual awards are wonderful. But it took a team effort to get us this far, and it’s going to take all hands on deck to reach the promised land. Congratulations on a spectacular season, boys. Now let’s make team history and bring home the Stanley Cup!”

  The crowd was up on its feet cheering, clapping and hooting. The players exchanged backslapping hugs and kissed their wives and girlfriends. Viggo and Scarlett’s long lip-lock drew widespread laughter and whistles.

  After dinner, many couples headed to the dance floor. While Logan was talking to a group of trustees who oversaw the children’s ranch, Meadow excused herself to hit the restroom. It was crowded so she had to wait some time for an empty stall.

  When she returned to the ballroom, she wasn’t surprised to see Logan surrounded by a pack of bunnies. Jess, who was dancing with Dubinski, caught Meadow’s eye and mouthed, I told you not to leave him!

  What was I supposed to do? Meadow mouthed back in exasperation. I had to pee!

  As she approached the table, she overheard one of the girls say poutingly, “C’mon, Logan. You’ve been ignoring us all night. It’s not fair. I mean, is she that special?”

  “She is. She’s very special.” Logan lifted his eyes, meeting Meadow’s gaze. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies.”

  Dismissed, the bunnies turned and raked Meadow with scornful looks, then sneered and rolled their eyes. As they stomped past her, one girl hissed at the others, “Where the fuck did she come from?”

  Meadow stared after them in disbelief, then turned and shook her head at Logan. “Seriously?”

  He pulled out her chair, giving her a rueful look as she sat down. “Sorry about that. They can be…”

  “Vicious? Psychotic? Desperate? Take your pick.”

  Logan sat down with a grim chuckle and leaned back in his chair.

  Meadow looked at him, jealousy gnawing at her insides. “Have you slept with any of them?”

  His eyes flicked to her and then away. “Let’s not talk about that.”

  Her stomach knotted. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He didn’t respond.

  Gripping her clutch in her lap, she looked toward the dance floor. She felt a pang of envy when she saw their friends slow dancing to Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”

  She glanced at Logan. “Would you like to dance?”

  “Not right now.” He gave her an apologetic look to
soften his words. “Maybe later.”

  “Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”

  He smiled weakly and slipped his hand over hers.

  When she crossed her legs, the long slit in her dress revealed a good portion of her thigh. The flash of skin drew Logan’s gaze like a magnet. He bit his bottom lip, staring at the curve of her thigh. He looked conflicted, like he didn’t know whether to run his hand up her leg or cover her up with his jacket.

  Before he could decide, they were interrupted by a group of his teammates. Most were really young, judging by their whiskered baby faces. They were laughing and joking around, drinks in hand. When Logan caught them smiling at Meadow and leering at her legs, he gave them a death glare that sent them scattering.

  He scowled after them, then put his hand on Meadow’s thigh in an unmistakably possessive gesture.

  She slanted him a knowing smile.

  His answering smile was faint.

  As they sat talking and watching the swaying couples on the dance floor, it became increasingly obvious that he wasn’t in a partying mood. His smiles were growing hollower as the night wore on, and there was an infinite sadness behind his eyes that couldn’t be celebrated away. He was the life of the party three hundred and sixty-four days of the year. But not on this day. Not on April eighth.

  When “The Way You Look Tonight” began playing, he grabbed Meadow’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “C’mon. Let’s dance.”

  She looked at him. “Are you sure?”

  He was already leading her toward the dance floor. When they were nearly there, he stopped so suddenly that she almost ran into his back. She looked up at him questioningly, but he wasn’t paying attention to her.

  His face had gone sheet white as he stared across the ballroom.

  Concerned, Meadow touched his arm. “Logan?”

  He released her hand and shouldered his way through the crowd, drawing curious stares.

  Frowning in confusion, Meadow watched as he walked up behind a woman with a curtain of black hair hanging smooth down her back. When he put his hand on her shoulder, the woman turned around. Her surprise turned to pleasure when she saw Logan. She smiled seductively and batted her eyelashes, sliding her body against his.