by Leslie LaFoy
She punched the call button and the doors were opening when Logan swept her neatly up into his arms. She laughed and draped her arms around his neck as he carried her inside. “Are you thinking of carrying me all the way to the garage?”
“All the way to the car, actually. Don’t think I can do it?”
“I think you can do anything you decide you want to do.”
Yep, he could. He could find the speed to break up a pass when his legs were already burning. He could outmuscle a man sixty pounds heavier. He hadn’t thought he could enjoy life after losing his eye, but Cat had forced him to accept and meet that challenge, too. Nic was absolutely right; Catherine Talbott was the very best thing that had ever happened to him. And before the night was over, he was going to convince her to think the same thing about him.
“My car’s on level three,” she said as he carried her into the garage.
Yeah, he knew. He’d parked no more than a dozen stalls down from her. “We’ll take my car and come back for yours tomorrow sometime.”
“It’ll have to be early,” she said as he gently set her on her feet at the passenger door and fished his car keys out of his pocket. “Kyle has a game at ten,” she explained as he opened the door and assisted her in. “I’ll need time to get home and change clothes before I haul him to the rink.”
He mentally ran the roads and clicked off the time. It was going to be a really short night. Lots shorter than he wanted. “You don’t stay off the clock for long.”
She smiled up at him and fastened her seat belt. “And a possible companion for Millie is coming by the house at one-thirty. But, hey, I’ll take what I can get, when I can get it, and be grateful.”
Logan nodded and closed the door and went around to his side, thinking that, all in all, it was a pretty good attitude to have. He climbed in, put the key in the ignition, and cranked the engine over. He backed out, deciding that if it turned out that she couldn’t give him everything he wanted, he’d take what she was willing and able to give and be grateful. And hopeful.
He slipped the gears into first just as Cat leaned forward, stripped off a shoe and pitched it over her shoulder into the backseat. The other one went winging as he was shifting into second and heading into the first curve of the down ramp.
He was holding the corkscrew turn tight and thinking that he’d have to carry her into the house so she didn’t ruin her hose when she propped her foot on the dashboard and smoothed her hands up her thigh and under the hem of her dress.
His heart skipped and his blood sizzled. The engine revs kicked up. “You trying to get us killed?” he asked, easing off the accelerator.
“I’m not driving,” she countered as they came out of the spiral and into the main level of the garage. “You are.”
He braked, shifted into neutral and turned in the seat just as she rolled a stocking down her leg. There was absolutely nothing neutral about his reaction. “Want me to toss you into the backseat?” he asked as the little ball of nylon sailed back to join her shoes.
Her smile was wicked. “I wish you’d have thought of that while we were on the third level. It’s a lot more private. Wanna go back up?”
Hell, yes and God, no. He opted for good sense and the larger goal. He rammed the car back into gear. “Just behave yourself until we get past the attendant booth, okay?”
The tires squealed on the concrete. And Cat threw her head back and laughed.
Chapter Fourteen
S he’d pretty much decided that they were heading toward the pricey end of the west side when Logan hung a right off of Tyler and headed into the heart of a working-class neighborhood. She smiled. Her high school friend Lucinda had lived one street over.
“I should warn you,” Logan said as he slowed to take the dip in the road. “I was busy and made Nic go house hunting. He didn’t want to and said okay to the first one the Realtor showed him.”
“It’s a nice neighborhood,” she assured him. “That house right there,” she said pointing as they drove past a ranch with a chalet style front porch, “is where Janet Ast and I were busted for tee-peeing. Dad was not happy to see me standing on the front porch with an Officer Friendly at two in the morning.”
“You were a wild child?”
“I wish I could say that I was. But that was the beginning and end of it. I was grounded for the next three years.”
He laughed as he slowed and pulled in to the driveway of another ranch style house. The motion detection lights came on. She thought back as Logan came around the car to be the gentleman. Years and years ago, the Nickels had owned this house. It had been a really big deal in those days that a professional landscaper had done their front gardens. From the looks of it now, no one, amateur or pro, had done anything to it in at least ten years. They hadn’t painted in recent history, either. The lower panel of the garage door was tilted at an odd angle that said that it would fall off if anyone actually tried to open it. A shutter was hanging loose on the front room window.
If the interior looked anything like the outside, the Realtor had probably wept with joy when Nic had declared it perfect. Logan opened the front door and held it for her. She slipped past him, into the foyer, and stopped. Lord, hopefully Mrs. Nickel had moved far away and would never see what had happened to her house. She’d really been into country decor and had had the talent to pull it off. Now…
“It’s really…” She paused, searching for the right word. Barren?
“Early bachelor,” Logan supplied, putting his keys on the low divider that separated the foyer from the living room. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the partition, adding, “We just sorta camp here.”
Obviously. A leather sofa, a matching chair, a coffee table, one end table and one lamp. All of it high end, but since that was all there was in the big living room, it just sorta sat there looking lonely. It wouldn’t take ten minutes for Logan and Nic to move out. “More like nomad with money.”
He stood beside her and considered it for a second before he said, “Yeah, which, when you come right down to it, is what we’ve been all our lives.”
And nomads were nomads because they liked living that way. She had succeeded in dragging Logan to town, but there was nothing she could do to make him put down roots. There’d come a day when he moved on.
Man, she looked like she’d seen a dead puppy beside the road. He knew the decorating was terrible, but jeez, there wasn’t any reason for her to cry over it. Time to move her on. He took her hand in his and backed toward the hall. “Wanna see my tent, little girl?”
She laughed softly. “I’d love to.”
“It’s not fancy. At least by female standards.”
She rolled her eyes like hoping for fancy wasn’t even in the realm of her hopes. “As long as it has a door, it’ll do.”
Yeah, well, he was going to turn on the lights just long enough for her to get the general layout so that she didn’t stub her toe later. Fancy wouldn’t matter for more than a minute of two. After that… “All rooms look the same in the dark,” he reminded her as he flipped on the wall switch and drew her in.
“This isn’t early bachelor,” she exclaimed, standing at the end of his bed. “This is nomad with money and a sense of yum .”
Score one for a good furniture salesman and the froufrou section of Wally World. “And a door,” he said, pushing it closed. “With a working lock.”
“Ah,” she countered, laughing and climbing up on the bed, “but do you have a steam shower?”
“I haven’t had anyone to share one with.” He swallowed as she crawled on her hands and knees toward the nightstand. Jesus. She really needed to wear a warning label. Caution. Hot. “But I’m seriously thinking about having one installed tomorrow.”
“Ooh, now there’s a reason to come visit.” She clicked on the bedside lamp and started to sit back on her heels.
He flicked off the overhead light, saying, “Don’t move.”
“What?” she asked, cautiously looki
ng down at the satin comforter. “Is it a spider or something?”
Logan grinned and climbed up onto the bed. “Just what exactly do you have on under here?” he asked, running his hand up the back of her leg, under her hem and over the smooth curve of her bare hip. He stopped to finger a lacy edge at her waist.
“They’re called foundation garments,” she answered, sitting back and giving him a delightfully wanton look over her shoulder.
“Oh, yeah?” He followed the edge around to the center of her back. “Foundation for what?”
“Inspiration?”
“Well, it’s working so far,” he admitted. He let go of the lace so he could use both hands to pull the dress zipper. “Let’s see just how…” The dress slipped down and pooled around her legs. A bustier. Tiny. Black. Lacy. “Oh, that is…” She’d been wandering around in public dressed like this? “Whoa.”
She laughed, scooted around on her knees and put her hands flat on his chest. “You are so easy,” she declared, pushing him down onto his back.
“No, you’re just that incredible.”
She laughed again, pulled his tie out from under his collar and threw it away. His shirt studs were her next focus of attack. He watched her face as she worked his shirt open. So beautiful, such a breathtaking mix of innocent and wanton. So open and genuine. No games, no hidden agenda.
“Cat?” he said softly, skimming his hands down her arms. She hummed in reply, but didn’t look up as she ran her fingers up through the hair on his chest. “I love you.”
Her hands froze and her head snapped up, her eyes huge as she met his gaze. Her lips slowly parted, but she didn’t make a sound.
“I know we said this was just for fun and it wasn’t going to go anywhere,” he offered in her stunned silence, brushing his hands back up her arms. “And honest to God, Cat, I thought that’s the way it would go. But it hasn’t and there’s nothing I can do to change it. I swear to you that—”
“How long have you known?” she asked on a ragged whisper.
“Truth?”
She nodded. He took her hands in his and laced their fingers. “It hit me when Hollings was pitching his consortium tonight. I looked over at you and I realized that you’re worth more than all the money in the world. But it’s been coming on longer than that. Looking back, I think it started when you handed me your little fuzzy-edged pink business card.”
A tiny little smile touched the corners of her mouth. Taking it as a good sign, he continued, saying, “I’ve never known anyone like you, Cat. And I’ve been around the circuit enough times to know that I’m never going to find anyone like you again. I know this is sudden from your side of it and I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way. I’m willing to—”
“Logan, hush a minute.” She gently squeezed his hands. “Please.”
His heart was pounding, trying to break through his ribs, but he kept quiet.
“When we were in Des Moines, at the rink…”
“Something happened there that derailed us for a while,” he said, sparing her. “I don’t know what it was, but we’ve moved past it, so it doesn’t matter anymore. We don’t have to go back to it.”
“I derailed us. Deliberately,” she said softly. “I went into this whole thing determined to play by the rules and keep things uncomplicated and I thought I was doing so well at it and then… Out of the blue. I was scared and I ran.”
“What were you afraid of? Me?”
She smiled down at him. “I didn’t intend to fall in love, either, Logan.”
She loved him! He’d just scored the biggest, most important goal of his entire life! She gasped as he flipped her onto to her back, gazed up at him adoringly as he pinned their hands into the pillow on either side of her head.
“And you ran rather than tell me? Good God, Cat. Why?”
“I broke the rules. It wasn’t just a brief affair for me anymore. I thought that if I put some distance between us, I could get over it and we could go back to the way it was.”
“Has it worked?”
“No. But I have accepted the fact that I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”
That sounded perfect to him. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Of course, I don’t expect you to—”
“Too bad, Cat. You’re stuck with me. For better or for worse.”
“Really?”
He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. “Need convincing?”
She nipped his lower lip and pulled her hands from his. “No,” she murmured, smiling up at him and tugging his shirttail out of his waistband. “But you can give it a shot just for the fun of it.”
Yeah, he could manage that. Once for the fun. Always for the thrill, the bone-numbing satisfaction. Forever for love.
GAME OVER
ISBN: 978-1-4592-2199-4
BLINDSIDED
Copyright © 2005 by Leslie LaFoy
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