His Fantasy Girl

by Nina Croft

  She couldn’t afford to allow him any closer, because then, when they split—as they must, because they were too different—she would be bitter and twisted, and incapable of playing nice. Right now, she could maybe turn her back on this without too much fallout, but the longer it went on, the harder it would be. Because sex with Logan McCabe was addictive.

  Already after six days, her body craved his touch.

  She got up restlessly and moved to stand at the side of the window, staring out, willing them to appear. On Wednesday, she was going on a date with Jack. Perhaps that would take her mind off things. Jack was a nice man, and even better, she wasn’t obsessing about his penis. Actually, she had no interest in seeing his penis. Was that good or bad?

  Finally Logan’s sleek black sports car turned into the road and pulled up outside the gate. She glanced at her watch. He was spot on the time he’d said they would be back. Jenny bounced out of the car and ran up the drive. Abby headed to the door and opened it just as her daughter reached the house.

  “Hi, Mum.” Jenny was positively beaming.

  Logan was behind her, strolling up the drive. They were both dressed in black jeans and black sweaters. She hadn’t been here when Logan had picked Jenny up; she’d still been at work. She suspected Jenny’s choice of clothes might have been influenced by her new father. But standing side by side, they looked so similar, it took her breath away.

  Jenny turned to Logan, stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Night, Dad. Thanks. I’m going to my room,” she said and disappeared up the stairs. Abby shook her head and turned back to Logan.

  “She has so much energy,” Logan said. “I’m exhausted.”

  “She has that effect. But it looks like you both had a good time.”

  “We did. I said I’d check with you, but if it’s all right, I agreed to take her and her friends roller-skating after school on Wednesday. Is that okay?”

  “Well, you’re brave man, but yes. Go ahead. I’ll mention it to their mothers. You know she just wants to show you off to her friends.”

  “That’s okay. How about you? You want to show me off?”

  A shudder ran through her. “God, no.”

  He went still, and she was suddenly aware she had been less than complimentary. But the thought of Logan together with her friends, most of whom were also colleagues on the force, was a scary one. “Most of my friends are police—you hate the police.”

  “So I do.”

  They were both silent for a minute. She wished she could take the words back somehow. Be a little more diplomatic. It was too late now. But if Logan really cared what people thought of him, he would make an effort to look a little less…hot? Badass? Mouthwateringly, panty-soaking sexy?

  She couldn’t believe she’d thought that. She heaved a huge sigh. She was tired that was all; it had been a stressful few weeks.

  “My family would like to meet Jennifer.”

  “They would?”

  “Of course they would. Did you think any different? I thought my place next Saturday night. My stepmom is flying in later in the week, and Declan is flying back with Jess, his girlfriend. My sister Tamara already lives in London, so she’ll be here as well. And Rory, of course.”

  “Lovely,” she muttered.

  He chuckled. “Actually, he told me to tell you that you don’t have to stay away from his son after all.”

  “Ha. It was probably sensible advice.”

  “Who wants to be sensible?” He leaned in close so his breath feathered against the skin of her neck. “You know, I’ve missed your tight pussy wrapped around my cock.”

  Heat flooded her at his words, wetness oozing from her so she had to hold herself still not to give herself away. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”

  “Liar. You like me talking dirty to you. Your eyes go dazed, and you get this little flush across your cheekbones.” His gaze dropped and she peeked down. “Your nipples get hard, and I bet under that prim outfit, you’re soaking wet for me.”

  He read her way too well, and she had an idea that if she tried to deny it, he might feel compelled to prove his point. And if he touched her, she’d fall apart. “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. Look, I don’t know how to say this, but, well…”

  He took a step back. “Oh, I think you’re being very clear. I’m in your life because of Jenny, but I’m not good enough for anything else. Maybe a quick screw when no one’s looking, but not good enough to mix with your nice fucking friends.”

  Oh God, she’d hurt his feelings, and she hadn’t even suspected he had any. “It’s nothing to do with being good enough. Or nice.” She took in the tense muscles, the hands fisted at his side. She’d thought he didn’t care what people thought about him, but deep down he had a huge chip on his shoulder. His appearance was a way of saying fuck-you to all the people who had looked down on him while he was growing up. Including, by the sound of it, most of the city’s police force.

  She sighed. Things could never work out between them. He only wanted her because he was working through those fantasies of his. Deprived of any other females, he’d fixated on her. Otherwise he would never have thought twice about their night together. And fantasies, however exciting, were no basis for a relationship. Her mother might say she needed fun, but she had responsibilities—to Jenny, to her job, to Jack if she started going out with him, even to Logan. “We’re too different. Look at us”—she waved a hand between them—“under normal circumstances you’d never look twice at me. And you’ll get over this fantasy thing and go back to the sort of woman you usually…” She wasn’t quite sure how to finish the sentence so she shut up. From Logan’s sour expression, he was far from impressed by her speech anyway.

  “My usual women? You mean strippers and lap dancers? Yeah. Perhaps you’re right. At least they’re honest about what they want.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And none of them ever made me feel like a second-class citizen. Jesus, I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m off. Tell Jen I’ll pick her up from school on Wednesday, and I’ll be in touch about Saturday.” And with that he turned and stalked away.

  Chapter Nine

  Logan paced the hallway, hands in his pocket.

  Through the door into the reception area, Rory stood chatting with his wife, Judith, and Logan’s half sister, Tamara. Rory caught his gaze, an amused expression in his eyes. Bastard was finding this funny.

  Where the hell was she?

  After the way they’d parted last time, he wouldn’t be surprised if she cancelled, just to pay him back for being a grouchy bastard. But the strength of his reaction had shocked the hell out of him. He’d thought himself impervious to what people thought about him, and she’d brought him face-to-face with how big a delusion that was. He did care. At least about what some people thought. And he was still pissed off that she believed he wasn’t good enough to mix with her goddamned copper friends. As if he’d want to anyway.

  All the same, he’d dressed with care today, in black pants and a white shirt. His fingernails were clean, and his hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. He tried to tell himself it was for his daughter, but he was quite aware he wasn’t being entirely truthful with himself.

  He closed his eyes and saw again Abby’s look of abject horror when he’d asked if she wanted to show him off.

  The sound of wheels on the gravel outside dragged him from his less than happy thoughts. She was here. He took a deep breath and strolled to the front door. As he opened it, a small red car pulled up between his dad’s Ferrari and Tamara’s Porsche. He recognized Rachel in the driver’s seat and for a second he thought maybe Abby really had backed out—in which case the party would be delayed while he hunted her down and hauled her ass over here. Then she climbed out of the passenger side, and the tension eased from him.

  Dressed in a dark blue pantsuit, with a nipped in jacket that emphasized her small waist and the curve of her breasts and hips, she looked as pristine as ever. Her dark hair was loose around her shoul
ders, and she hooked it behind one ear as she waited for the others to get out. Jenny emerged from the back and Rachel from the front.

  There was a commotion behind him, and Grunt pushed past, hurtled down the stone steps, and hurled himself at Abby. She staggered back under the force, then pushed him down and rubbed his huge head. “Hiya, boy,” she murmured. “This is Grunt,” she said to Jenny and her mum.

  Well, at least she was pleased to see his dog.

  “Grunt! Come!” Logan called, and the dog slunk away, casting them one last longing look.

  He waited at the top of the steps as they followed the dog, coming to a halt in front of him. He ruffled Jenny’s hair and gave her a quick hug. She hugged him back—hard—which made him feel a little better. Turning to Rachel, he leaned in and brushed his lips across her cheek. He gave Abby a curt nod. He was probably being childish, but he wasn’t quite ready to forgive her yet.

  “Come and meet my family,” he said. “Everyone’s here except for Declan and Jess. They’ve just flown in and are on their way from the airport, but they should be here any minute.”

  “Oh goody,” Abby muttered, not quite under her breath, “more McCabe’s.”

  Ignoring the comment, he led them through the hallway and into the main reception room, where Rory stood beside Judith and Tamara.

  “That’s your grandfather,” Logan murmured to Jenny, as he steered her across the room with a hand at her back. Rory was also dressed in dark pants and a white shirt, but with a matching jacket. He didn’t look like Logan’s idea of a grandfather. Hopefully, Jenny wouldn’t be disappointed in her new family—they were hardly conventional.

  All three stopped talking and turned to face them as they approached. “This is Jennifer,” Logan said, and he could hear the pride in his voice. He turned to Jenny. “Jenny, this is Rory, my father and your grandfather.” He bit back a grin as Rory’s eyes narrowed at the comment, but he didn’t refute it. “This is Judith, my stepmama, and Tamara, my sister.”

  “We’re delighted to meet you,” Judith said. She leaned across and kissed Jenny on the cheek, followed by Tamara.

  “Hey, I’m an aunt,” she said with a grin. “And you look just like me.”

  Rory reached across and shook Jenny’s hand. “Welcome to the family.”

  “And this is Abby, Jenny’s mother, and her mother, Rachel.”

  Judith and Tamara each gave Rachel a bright smile, and then turned slightly and regarded Abby frostily. From the conversation earlier, he was quite aware they both believed Abby in the wrong to have kept his baby from him for ten long years. He hadn’t made much of an effort to defend her, because it was the truth, and while he could understand why she’d done it, he didn’t think he would ever truly forgive her.

  Her shoulders slumped a little at the less-than-warm reception, and now—when it was too late—he had the urge to stand up for her. Then she straightened and put back her shoulders. She might appear small and defenseless, but he was beginning to realize she had backbone and didn’t need—or want—his protection.

  Rory kissed Rachel’s hand, which made Jenny giggle, and gave Abby a cool nod. “Sergeant Parker.”

  She gave him a serene smile. “Mr. McCabe.”

  “Call me Rory.”

  Her eyes widened as though she found the idea incomprehensible, but she remained silent and gave Rory another serene smile. It looked as though the effort made her jaw ache.

  “Let me get you a drink, sergeant,” Rory said. He put a hand on her waist and steered her away from the group. For a moment Logan considered rescuing her, but decided she was more than a match for Rory, and maybe it was time his father discovered that for himself.

  Abby didn’t want to go with Rory McCabe. She also wanted to tell him that if he called her sergeant again she was going to punch him on the nose. And she couldn’t understand where the aggression was coming from. But a drink sounded like an excellent idea, so she walked with him across to a bar, where just about every drink she’d ever heard of was set out.

  She’d done a little research on Rory McCabe. While the family company was now totally legitimate, with a stellar reputation—thanks to the hard work of Logan’s brother, Declan—that hadn’t always been the case. But despite the best efforts of the police, Rory McCabe had never done time. He’d had a frightening reputation, taking over from his father when he was only twenty-one and somehow managing to hold the company together and make it grow. Somewhere along the way, he’d made the decision to go straight and had applied the same level of ruthlessness that he had to everything else. She’d talked to some of the old-timers who had been around in those days; the dislike between Rory and the police went way back and, by the sound of it, had continued even after the company had gone legitimate.

  She’d also looked into Logan’s case. The police had been called in to stop a fight. One of the officers had taken a punch in the process, and Logan had been arrested. But from what she could see in reading about the case, the charge was excessive, and as a first offense, she wouldn’t have expected Logan to do time. But they had pushed for it, claiming undue force. The punch had apparently put the officer in hospital, but all the same it had left a nasty taste in her mouth—she hated injustice of any sort.

  “What can I get you?” Rory asked.

  “Vodka and tonic.”

  He poured her a drink that made her glad her mother was driving. Maybe he was trying to loosen her up a little. She was always careful about the amount she drank and hadn’t lost control since that night with Logan.

  As she took a sip, she glanced back at Jenny to make sure she was okay. She was laughing at something Logan said, and Abby relaxed a little. She’d lost sight of what this was all about. Jenny. And as far as her daughter went, the whole thing had been a resounding success. Logan and Jenny got on well, and there were the beginnings of real affection on both sides.

  “She’s fine,” Rory said. “Loosen the reins a little.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s not on a rein.”

  “No?” His gaze wandered over her and she didn’t think he was too impressed with what he saw.

  Like I give a shit.

  And there it was again. That little burst of aggression she didn’t recognize.

  “You’re so uptight you’re going to snap any moment.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I am not uptight,” she ground out. But honestly, wasn’t she allowed to be a little bit uptight considering the situation?

  She supposed the problem was that she wasn’t used to disapproval. All her life she’d done her best to please people—her father, Jenny, her teachers, lately her colleagues at work—done her best to give them what they wanted from her. Now she felt the first twinge of resentment.

  “I know what I see,” Rory said. “And you could say I have experience with women like you.” He looked back at the group, and she had a hunch he might be referring to his wife. She did seem a little uptight, and hardly what she’d expect Rory McCabe’s type to be. Abby wasn’t like that, though she was aware she might give that impression. She’d grown up always trying to be the perfect daughter and it was hard to shake off childhood programming. But it was none of his business, and she’d always gone out of her way to make sure that Jenny didn’t grow up feeling the same.

  “You have no idea what sort of woman I am.” Time to change the subject because she had a hunch that Rory possessed the ability to rile her up, and she didn’t want to be riled. She’d met men like him before; they poked and poked, trying to get a reaction just to see what their opponent was made of. But she wasn’t playing.

  She took a huge gulp of her drink and glanced up to find Rory watching, amusement clear on his face. She looked away, and her gaze clashed with Logan’s. He stood with a hand on Jenny’s shoulder, but his attention was on her, and his eyes were hot. She forced her gaze from him and back to Rory.

  “I never thought a son of mine would get involved with a cop.”

  She took another drink.
Already the alcohol was a buzz in her mind. “Hardly involved. I take it you don’t care for the police either, Mr. McCabe.”

  “Call me Rory. And no. You might say I was inconvenienced a few too many times.”

  “Yet you were never convicted.”

  “I knew how to avoid it.”

  “Pity you never taught your son the same thing.”

  His eyes narrowed, but then he grinned. “At least you’re willing to stand up for yourself, and you’re not afraid of me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. What’s to be afraid of?” She allowed her gaze to drift from his feet to his face. “I’ve spent too many Friday nights manning the cells to be intimidated by an ex-petty criminal with an attitude problem.”

  Had she really said that? Rory was having an extremely bad effect on her personality.

  She waited for his comeback, but he surprised her by laughing out loud. “Believe me, I was never petty. And as for teaching Logan, unfortunately he was caught up in the middle of a time of change, when my dealings with you lot were undergoing some significant alterations.”

  By “you lot” she presumed he meant the police, and that in his earlier days he’d paid the police off to keep himself out of trouble. She wasn’t totally shocked or surprised. The force was a cleaner place now, but there had always been officers willing to look the other way in exchange for a supplement to their salary.

  At that moment there was a commotion at the front door. Grunt raced past her and hurled himself at the man who’d entered the room. Tall, with short black hair which looked due for a cut, stubble on his cheeks, gray eyes—this must be Declan, Logan’s younger brother.

  “The McCabe genes must be strong stuff,” she murmured.

  “Yeah.” Rory grinned. “I can’t see anything of you in your daughter.”

  “Thankfully, she has my super-nice personality,” she replied, and he laughed again.

  A woman entered beside Declan. She was the most beautiful woman Abby had ever seen—tall, slender, with platinum blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail to show a perfect oval face and dark blue eyes. And just like that, Abby felt short and dumpy and plain. The woman’s perfection was marred by a scar which ran down from her eye to the corner of her mouth. The scar only emphasized her beauty.