Offside

by Juliana Stone

  “Okay girls, but rest assured I’ll work you a lot harder than I did Mr. Forest.”

  The girls scrambled onto the ice while their trainer Dave thanked her profusely. “This is so good of you, Billie.” He looked a little sheepish. “I have to be honest though. I was opposed to you playing in our league. Hell I almost considered pulling out and driving twenty minutes to the city to play, but my wife told me I was being an idiot.” He shrugged. “She was right. You’ve shown me that the desire to play trumps all that small stuff. In fact, I think the whole level of play has been elevated because you are in the league and you have to know that a lot of guys don’t agree with Longwood’s dirty play the other night.”

  “Thanks,” she smiled. “That means a lot.” She’d heard that Longwood had quit the league and was playing in the city. Whether it was because of backlash from some of the other players, or a direct result of Logan and Shane’s personal visit, she had no idea. And she didn’t care. The guy was an asshole and if he didn’t have Billie to use as a personal punching bag, he would have found someone else.

  “And some guys claiming that having a woman in the league cuts down on their guy time are full of shit. From what I’ve seen they don’t act any different with you around than they do when you’re not.”

  She thought of Dearlings’ hairy ass. “I hear ya, there.”

  “So,” Dave said. “We’re good?”

  “We’re good.”

  “Awesome, so what do you have in store for us?”

  Indeed.

  Billie put the girls through their paces. Running drills that would help improve their stick handling, as well as some that would improve their speed and agility on the ice. She’d been playing hockey her entire life and had worked with a host of world class coaches and trainers, but she’d never applied what she’d learned in an environment like this.

  By the end of the hour, she was in bad need of a shower, surrounded by a bunch of girls who were more pumped than ever to play hockey. But most importantly, for the first time in a long time she had a glimmer of something—a spark. A vision of what she could accomplish if she used her smarts and her connections.

  And the only person she wanted to share it with was thousands of miles away.

  Logan smiled at the woman across from him and glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. He’d been in Los Angeles since Monday morning and it was now Thursday night. He’d visited former clients, met with new ones, and even had lunch with a studio interested in some reality crap type of television show. He was tired. He was cranky as all hell. And he missed Billie something fierce.

  All in all, it had been a successful trip—one which he was looking forward to putting behind him. He’d met with Drake Jefferies, CEO and founder of Vio-Tech—an electronics company that made their millions or billions even, with video games, several of which had scored lucrative movie tie-ins. Drake Jefferies was an old college buddy of Logan’s and while planning the launch for their newest gaming venture, he’d decided that he wanted a custom-made bike—one that reflected both the company and the game—and he’d called Logan.

  That meeting had been the first of many throughout the week and now he found himself, late on a Thursday, sitting across from some rich man’s bored trophy wife—a bored trophy wife who’d managed to touch his thigh as least three times in the last hour.

  Damn how he hated L.A.

  “I’m not sure where my husband disappeared to, but if you’ve had enough I can get you back to your hotel or,” her husky, cigarette soaked voice lowered, “our offer still stands.”

  He’d had enough.

  Logan stood, his mind already a half hour ahead. His eyes already glued to his laptop where, via the magic of Skype, Billie would appear and if she kept the promises she’d made last night, he was in for one hell of an evening.

  “Thanks Mrs. Krump, but I’m good to get myself back. Dinner was great and though I appreciate the invite to stay at your home, I’ve got an early flight and prefer the hotel.”

  Her collagen lips puckered, her botoxed forehead tightened—though it never really moved or creased. This was her version of a frown he supposed but damn if she didn’t look like a crazed caricature of some freaky lady who’d spray painted her skin orange and dyed the warmth out of her hair until it resembled shiny, white straw.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll see you again though?”

  He was already heading for the restaurant foyer, but paused, thinking his quick exit wasn’t the most gracious considering her husband had just commissioned a very expensive custom bike, for each of them. “Again?”

  “When you bring the bikes out?”

  Logan smiled and waved. “Thanks again. Tell your husband I’ll be in touch.” He spied the old goat talking up some young thing at the bar. These plastic, phony people were not his thing and he couldn’t wait to get home. To get up close and personal with the very real, very warm, and very natural Billie-Jo Barker.

  There was no way in hell he was coming back out here. No way in hell.

  Logan was still grouchy the next morning and wasn’t exactly the nicest guy to sit beside on the plane ride home. That didn’t stop the woman beside him, or the one across the aisle, from trying to get his attention.

  You’d think first class would be less crowded, and he’d hoped to have some quiet time to himself, but it wasn’t going to be. After a while his surly attitude wore through their natural curiosity and they abandoned all hope of engaging him in conversation.

  [i]Did you like L.A?

  Not particularly.

  Are you here on business?

  Yep.

  What do you do for a living?

  I make things.

  Are you married?

  Nope.

  Girlfriend?

  I’m gay.[i]

  That had shut them up—thankfully—because all he wanted to do was close his eyes and visualize Billie in that hot little number she’d worn last night. Skype was his new best friend and the bastard who’d invented the program was a fucking genius. Billie had sashayed in front of her computer, her long limbs dressed—or rather nearly undressed—in what she called lingerie but what he called X-rated scraps of nothing. It was a few bits of see-through material, with cutouts—cutouts for Christ sake—that were just begging for a finger. Or two.

  Which, she’d been more than happy to demonstrate. That little performance had earned him a twenty minute ice cold shower.

  Logan shifted and groaned. He needed to clear his head or he’d be sporting a hard-on to end all hard-ons for the entire flight home. He glanced out his window into the clear blue sky as a more sobering thought entered his mind. He still hadn’t told Billie about his past with her sister. The timing had just never seemed to be right and the more he pushed it to the back of his mind, the more he decided that maybe it was a secret he could keep.

  Did that make him a creep? A lying bastard?

  He was pretty sure it made him something—he just didn’t know what the hell that something was.

  [i] Coward.[i]

  It was dark by the time he claimed his luggage and made his way out of the terminal into the parking lot—and the cold—Christ was it cold. Though, with Thanksgiving looming in the next weekend he shouldn’t be surprised. He tugged his leather jacket up around his neck, slid into his truck and revved the engine.

  If he drove like the devil, he had a good chance of making it back to New Waterford in time to meet the team at The Grill. Logan glanced down at the last text he’d received from Billie this morning.

  [i]Can’t wait to see you. Have news.[i]

  The text was cryptic and it piqued his curiosity but all thought of the meaning behind her words fled as soon as he strode into The Grill. His body was strung tighter than a violin string and his good mood vanished as his gaze focused on the bar.

  It was nearly midnight and the place was near to bursting, but he spied his woman right away.

  Billie-Jo stood bent over, listen
ing to something that Jason Danvers was whispering in her ear. For a second the heat that suffused him clouded his vision and he swallowed hard, a muscle working its way along his jaw as he aimed for calm.

  Except it was pretty damn hard when, from where he stood, Danvers’ eyes were glued to that delicious butt.

  A butt that belonged to Logan and maybe it was about time the whole damn town knew about it.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  He strode through the crowd, saying hello and offering quick nods to those who yelled his name as he passed.

  He was almost to the bar when an arm snaked out and grabbed him around the wrist, so quick and fast that he nearly lost his balance. Logan whirled around, face weighted down with a scowl and swore as Shane let go.

  “Jesus fuck.”

  Shane shook his head and took a swig from his beer. “Don’t do it.”

  Logan’s heart was beating a mile a minute and he clenched his teeth in an effort to calm himself down and make it stop.

  “Seriously, you don’t want to cause a scene in here, not with your ex’—he nodded somewhere behind Logan—‘over there. She’s just itching to turn a screw in Billie and you don’t want to be responsible for that mess.”

  Logan exhaled. Shane was right.

  “Besides,” Shane grinned and took a step toward the bar. “She told me you’re way better in the sack than Danvers is.”

  “Asshole,” Logan muttered as he followed his friend up to the bar.

  “Forest,” Duke said jovially. “Beer?”

  He nodded, his eyes immediately on Billie. She’d slowly turned around, a beer in one hand, the other tucked into the front pocket of her jeans.

  “Logan,” she said casually, her eyes glistening in the lowlight from the neon signs behind the bar. She took a sip from her bottle, her tongue flickering along the edge. “I didn’t even notice you were missing until what,” she turned to Jason and giggled, “the third period?”

  He grabbed his beer from Duke. Was she drunk?

  “Really?” he retorted. “Who the hell kept you out of the corners?”

  Jason downed his mug and ordered another. “That would be me, Forest. Don’t worry. We picked up the slack. No one is going to touch Barker.”

  “Damn, right,” Dearling declared, his large gut jiggling as he tried to get closer to the conversation. “Did you tell him about the tourney next weekend?”

  Billie raised her eyebrows. “Not me. I haven’t seen the guy since last Friday.”

  “We decided to enter the Cornucopia tournament in the city.”

  “Really,” Logan’s gaze shifted from Mike Dearling to Shane. “Doesn’t that include a lot of teams from across the state?”

  “Yeah,” Dearling nodded. “Should be good competition.”

  “Sounds good,” his gaze settled on Billie. The tip of her tongue was slowly rimming the bottle in her hands and he was very aware that the bulge between his legs was going to grow to epic proportions if he didn’t do something.

  He took a long drink from his beer and tried to think of other things. Simple things. Things that didn’t include crotch-less lingerie and peek-a-boo skirts.

  “So, Logan, I was just telling Jason how cool this whole Skype thing is.”

  His eyes shot to hers once more and he nearly choked on his beer. Forcing it down he set his half empty bottle on the counter, not liking the way every guy within ten feet was focused on Billie.

  Billie-Jo Barker. His, Billie-Jo Barker.

  “What the hell is that shit?” Dearling enquired as he staggered a bit and nearly knocked Billie over.

  “Whoa,” Jason said, “be careful buddy.”

  Billie set her beer down as well and Logan noted it was over half full. “Do you know what Skype is, Logan?”

  “No,” he said slowly, his eyes burning a hole through the fitted, pink button down top she wore. It had ridden up a bit, exposing her belly ring and a generous expanse of smooth, toned skin.

  He needed to get her out of here before he was forced to pound his fist into every single guy in the bar.

  “It sounds like some foreign made up thing if you ask me.” His voice dropped to a dangerous level.

  “It’s this really awesome program on your computer where you can chat with someone in real time and see them while you’re doing it.”

  “Ah huh,” he answered, remembering exactly how they’d chatted the night before. Their Skype conversation had consisted of Billie explaining the intricacies of her new lingerie and then demonstrating said intricacies until he’d just about died.

  “You should try it sometime,” she continued.

  Jezebel.

  “You know,” she licked her lips again and it was then that he noticed they had a hint of red on them. Not too much mind you, but more than the clear gloss she usually used for him. What the hell?

  His eyes moved to Jason who was staring with open admiration at Billie’s mouth. How could you not? That damn tongue was peeking out again.

  “For when you go away on those long business trips. It’s a great way to keep in touch with family.” She smiled. “Your mother for instance.”

  Mother?

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He’d had enough and leaned forward. “Actually I need to talk to you about something.” He nodded toward the door, amazed that he didn’t sound like a raving, sexually starved lunatic, because that’s exactly how he felt. “Do you mind?”

  She sighed and flicked a long, silky wave behind her shoulder. He watched the way it slid back into place, like a snake settling in to rest.

  The woman knew how much he loved her hair and she was going to pay for that one.

  “I was thinking of having another drink.” She looked at him, a wide-eyed angel—a tantalizing temptress. “Can it wait?”

  “Not really.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes soft and full of mischief. “All right, I should call it a night.” Billie grabbed her coat off the bar and waved to the guys. “Thanks for a great game guys. See you next week.”

  “You’re leaving already?” Jason stood. “I can take you home.”

  Logan grabbed her elbow. “It’s okay, Danvers. I’ve got this.” He ignored the smirk tossed his way by Shane, and turned toward the door. He wasn’t in the mood for anything other than the woman in front of him, between his legs and begging for more. Begging for something only he could give her.

  He pushed Billie forward, his hand on her back as she wove through the crowd.

  “Hey,” she swore beneath her breath. “Slow down.”

  But Logan didn’t slow down until he had her outside The Grill and next to his truck. She hesitated and glanced around.

  “There’s no one out here,” he said tightly, for the first time really hating their dumbass arrangement. Logan decided right then and there that he was done playing games. He was done hiding.

  “Get in,” he unlocked his truck.

  “Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

  “No,” he answered truthfully, looking pointedly at the seat behind her.

  She slid inside and he slammed her door shut before rounding the vehicle and jumping behind the wheel. He was home in five minutes and they were through the front door of his house exactly twenty seconds later.

  “Logan,” she breathed.

  Did she say his name out loud? Or had it been swallowed when he claimed the mouth he’d been dreaming about for days. He didn’t know and he sure as hell didn’t care. All that mattered was getting Billie naked so that he could touch her. See her.

  So that he could love her.

  She opened beneath him, her mouth hot and wet, and a shiver rolled over his skin as she moved against him. His fingers shook from the intensity of his feelings and he realized he was nervous.

  Him. Logan Forest.

  But damn, he wanted this to be better than good. Better than before. He wanted it to matter.

  She tasted just as he remembered, hot and spicy but wi
th a hint of something sweet. He kissed her long and hard as if he could somehow convey the confused emotions he felt with his lips. His hands sought her breasts, his fingers like silk as he worked his way through her buttons until he was able to cup her fullness in his palm.

  It was several minutes until he was able to tear himself from her mouth and lick the pebbled nipple that sat there, waiting for him.

  He drew her into his mouth, pulling hard and grazing the edge of her nipple with his teeth. He loved that she hid nothing from him. She gasped and yanked on his head, pulling him closer.

  “Are we going up to your bed-” she started to say, though she yelped when he nipped the underside of her breast.

  “I can’t wait,” he said hoarsely.

  He paused for a second, his chest tight, his thoughts and emotions overwhelmed with the need he felt for this woman. The craving. The absolute desire to possess her. To give her pleasure and know it was him that had given it to her and no one else.

  “I can’t wait to see you,” he finished.

  Logan slipped her blouse over her shoulders and deftly unclipped her bra—which was a miracle considering he was all jittery, like a damn teenager. And he knew he needed to keep a cool head because this was different. This night. This moment.

  He couldn’t explain exactly the why or how of it, it just was.

  The lamp in the hallway bathed Billie in a swath of light that fell over her skin in an ethereal wash. She didn’t say a word. She just stood before him, breasts bared, the nipples hard and wet from his mouth. Her hair fell in ripples over her shoulders and the sight of her like that, half dressed, body bathed in shadow and light, lips bruised from his own—was something he didn’t think he’d ever forget.

  Her fingers were at the snap of her jeans but he pushed her hands away.

  “No way, Barker, this is all mine.”

  He tugged on her zipper—eyes widening—hell they nearly jumped out of his freaking head when he saw the surprise inside. She was completely naked.

  Holy. Hell. Commando had never looked so good.