His Fantasy Girl Page 4

  From the look on his face, she wasn’t sure she’d get another chance to talk to him. He’d probably have the bouncers turn her away.

  His hands were fisted at his side, and right then and there, she had a flashback to the feel of those hands on her body. She could hardly believe he’d had them down her panties within five minutes of them meeting. She’d been doing her best not to think about it. And failing—it had felt so good. How long was it since she’d come like that, even on her own.

  If they hadn’t been interrupted, she wouldn’t have stopped him. After the first touch of his fingers on her sex, the thought of saying no hadn’t even popped into her head. She’d wanted him inside her.

  With one last disbelieving shake of his head, Logan whirled around and disappeared out the front door. Her gaze switched to the other man. She’d hardly noticed him with Logan there, but now she recognized Rory McCabe. She waited for him to follow his son, but instead he strolled across the space between them. Wiping her hands down the sides of her dark uniform pants, she straightened her shoulders. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And it was none of this man’s business even if she had. He looked like an older version of Logan, though his hair was short and flecked with silver. He had laughter lines on his face, but just then his gray eyes were icy cold.

  “Police Sergeant Parker, I presume.”

  She nodded. “Mr. McCabe.”

  His gaze ran down over her uniform, and if anything his eyes got colder. “I don’t know what you want with Logan, but stay the hell away.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but he’d already turned around and was walking away.

  A shiver ran through her. She’d met many people who, for whatever reasons, disliked or distrusted the police, and disliked her, but the hatred in Rory McCabe’s expression shook her.

  She was pretty much out of it for the rest of her shift. She was going to have to face Logan again. She’d made the decision, and the fact that he obviously despised her profession shouldn’t change that. This was about what was right for Jennifer. It should make no difference if he hated her. It might even make things easier.

  “Have you heard a word that I’ve said,” Jack asked, making her jump.

  Detective Sergeant Jack White had been a friend since they’d both joined the force on the same day, and they’d shared their goals of becoming detectives. Jack had moved through the ranks faster than her—he’d made detective three years ago, but she’d put her ambitions on hold until Jennifer was older and would maybe understand why her mother wasn’t always there for her. But she’d recently taken her detective exams, passed with flying colors, and she was ready to apply for her dream job. As soon as a vacancy came up, she was going for it.

  Recently Jack had made it clear he was hankering after more than just friendship, and she’d already decided that she was going to take him up on the offer. They got on well, and he also got on with Jennifer. He was a good man. And good-looking, too—tall, with sandy blond hair and a lean body he took good care of. Maybe he didn’t make her go wobbly at the knees, but that had to be a good thing. Right?

  “Sorry,” she said. “I was miles away. It’s been a long day.” Fortunately her shift was nearly over.

  “You want to go for a drink?” Jack asked.

  “I can’t, Jack. I’m exhausted.”

  “Okay. But soon?”

  That was one of the reasons she liked him. He was so easygoing. Plus he understood the stresses of the job. “I’d like that.”

  She’d just spoken to her mother. Jennifer was already in bed. Abby was going to go home, have a long hot bath, go to bed herself, and tomorrow she would wake up ready to try again.

  I can do this.

  Everything would work out.

  Once her replacement arrived, she signed off and went to the locker room and changed into street clothes, black pants and a white shirt. She checked her hair and makeup out of habit and headed out onto the street. Jack was leaving at the same time and he held the door for her—he was such a gentleman. “I’ll walk you to the Tube,” he said. She came into work on public transport; it wasn’t worth the hassle of trying to drive in the city. Jack did the same, but he lived on the opposite side of London.

  Once outside, she didn’t get very far, her feet coming to a halt without any instruction from her brain.

  Logan McCabe lounged against the wall outside the building, arms crossed over his chest, exuding bad-boy menace. His gaze flicked from her to Jack, and his eyes iced over.

  She glanced across at Jack. His brows were drawn together as he studied the other man. He was a detective; he had a sense about the bad guys. Obviously he didn’t like the look of Logan. Logan’s mouth twitched as though he found the other man’s reaction amusing. But then, he seemed to find a lot of totally unfunny things amusing.

  He unfolded his arms and pushed himself away from the wall then strolled the last few steps to come to a halt in front of her. “Abby.”

  “What do you want?” She knew she sounded belligerent, but she was super-aware of Jack listening to every word.

  Logan raised an eyebrow. “You said you needed to talk to me.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Here I am.”

  She wasn’t ready for this, was still in turmoil from seeing him earlier, seeing his expression of utter dislike. That had gone, smoothed away, or maybe he was hiding it beneath the expression of vague geniality that didn’t really go with the black leather and tattoos. Her gaze drifted down over his long, lean body. The shirt was tight across his broad shoulders, hanging loose over the black leather pants. She shifted her focus lower, to the pants molded to his hips and thighs—

  “Abby?” Jack spoke from beside her and she jumped. She needed to keep her wits about her. Her eyes flashed to Logan’s face. He was smirking as though he’d noticed her checking him out. Really though, how could he miss it. She cleared her throat. “It’s okay, Jack. I do need to talk to Mr. McCabe.”

  “You want me to stick around?”

  “No, I can handle this.”

  “She’s very good at handling me. Aren’t you, Abigail?”

  Jack’s gaze sharpened and Abby sighed. Logan was being a prick. Again. “I’ll be fine, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow. Mr. McCabe is an…old friend.”

  Jack gave a curt nod, and she watched as he walked away, then turned her attention back to Logan.

  “Mr. McCabe? Very formal. I take it your friend there doesn’t know I had my hand down your pants yesterday.” He leaned in closer so his breath feathered her skin. “That you were hot and wet for me, and I made you come.”

  Low blow.

  She swallowed. “Strangely enough, no I didn’t mention that to him,” she said. “What do you want?” She wasn’t buying into the talking thing; she was guessing he had something else on his mind.

  “Ask me nicely and I might tell you.”

  She shot him a dirty look but didn’t even attempt to “ask him nicely.”

  He shrugged then raked his gaze over her body, taking in her clothes or, most likely, her lack of uniform. “You’ve finished for the day?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll give you a lift.” He glanced around at their surroundings. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  She didn’t want to go with him. She wasn’t ready for the confrontation right now. Tired from the long shift, she wanted to go home. But Logan didn’t wait for an answer, just jerked his head in the direction of the car park at the back of the building. For a second she contemplated making a mad dash in the opposite direction, but that would be pathetic, so she hitched her handbag onto her shoulder and followed him. His ass in black leather was as impressive as it had been in faded denim, but really she shouldn’t be thinking like this. She was sure Jack had a great ass as well. Funny that she’d never really noticed it in the ten years since they’d met. She made a mental note to check it out next time she saw him.

  Logan stopped beside a sleek black Ferrari. Wow. It suited him perfectly—long and lean and dar
k and no doubt a very fast mover. He opened the door, and she took a deep breath and climbed in. Inside it smelled of expensive leather and spicy cologne and a musky, male scent she knew was all Logan McCabe. Just the smell of him sent tingles to her belly. She was better than this.

  He got in beside her, and suddenly all the oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the car and she couldn’t breathe. She swallowed, forced air into her lungs, and concentrated on slow, steady breaths. She waited for him to ask where she was going, but he started the car without speaking. The engine positively purred as he drove out of the car park and into traffic. It was slowing down now, after nine, and most people in this part of the city were already home. He drove fast but within the limit. She had no clue where they were going, but couldn’t bring herself to break the silence. Finally, he spoke.

  “So you’re a cop, Sergeant Parker.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t elaborate; she didn’t have to justify what she was to him.

  She’d been on the force for nearly ten years, had learned how to deal with the most difficult of characters and keep her cool. How did this man get to her? Could it be because none of those others had had their hands in her panties? None of them had made her come. Oh God, would she ever forget the feel of those long fingers, pushing inside her. She eyed up his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. They were beautiful hands, with olive skin and long fingers, short nails. The tail end of a tattoo trailed over the back of one, but she couldn’t make out what it was.

  “You’re very quiet. I thought you’d be interrogating me by now.”

  “Interrogating you about what?”

  He shrugged. “Tell me one thing. Are you trying to set me up?”

  She’d been gazing out of the window at the passing buildings, now she swung her head around to face him. “Of course not. Anyway, you came to see me first.”

  “Yes. So I did. I have no clue why, but I actually believe you. So…?”

  “So?”

  “Yesterday, you said we needed to talk.”

  They did, but right now she didn’t think she could make much sense. Would he hate her after she told him? Part of her knew she should have made more of an effort to tell him back when she had first found out she was pregnant. But he had been in prison. How could she? And maybe he’d want nothing to do with them. They’d had unprotected sex that night, which was majorly stupid, but she’d been drunk for the first time in her life, and he’d been the most exciting thing she had ever seen. She’d totally lost her head. But perhaps he’d made a habit of it and had left a trail of illegitimate children all across London.

  “I have to admit, cop or not, I like the way you…talk.” Logan interrupted her less than happy thoughts. “Yesterday I liked it very much. Until we were interrupted. So I thought we could go somewhere where we could ‘talk’ without the risk of being disturbed.”

  “Where are we going?” She glanced out of the window; they’d been driving along the embankment, the lights glinting on the dark water of the Thames, but now they turned off and headed north.

  “My place.”

  That was a bad idea. A really bad idea. “I don’t think so. I thought you were taking me home.”

  “Sorry, I have to go feed my dog.” She eyed him suspiciously, and he cast her an innocent look. “What? You don’t believe a man like me would have a dog?”

  She didn’t know what to believe. But she was suddenly intensely curious to see where he lived, to know more about this man. Because she knew so very little, and inadvertently he’d played a huge part in her life. Would maybe play an even bigger part in the years to come. She should know more about him. It was a responsibility. She’d done the basic amount of research on him, gone through the files to check that she wasn’t introducing some hard-core criminal into Jenny’s life. But he’d been clean since that one youthful indiscretion. In her experience people went two ways after a time in prison. Either they somehow turned themselves around, or they got worse. Logan must have made the decision to keep out of trouble, though he obviously came from a wealthy background, which would have helped. His father had owned the nightclub where they’d first met.

  “How did you know where to find me?” she asked. She was pretty sure he hadn’t known she was a police officer yesterday.

  “My father. He was convinced he’d seen you around somewhere—he has an extremely suspicious nature. He asked around, and in the end one of the bouncers said he recognized you from a recent brush with the law. Apparently you took down his particulars.”

  “Nice company you keep.”

  “Actually, he’s an okay guy, just has a hot temper and a crap tolerance for alcohol.”

  They were driving through an upmarket residential area now, wide streets with Georgian houses set back from the road by large gardens. They were close to Hampstead Heath, one of her favorite parts of London. It wasn’t the sort of area she would have expected him to live—though again, what did she really know of him?

  He turned off the road and pulled up in front of a set of metal gates. After he pressed a button on the dashboard, they opened and he drove through, along a curved drive that led to the front of a beautiful Georgian mansion. She knew a little about property prices around here, and this had to be worth millions.

  “You live here?”

  “Yeah. I moved here a few months ago. I lived in an apartment before that, in the city center, but then I sort of inherited the dog and…” He shrugged. “This place backs onto the Heath. It’s perfect.”

  He’d moved house for a dog?

  He climbed out while she was still trying to process the information, and came around and opened the door. She scrambled out, suddenly off balance.

  The house was big, with a wide staircase leading up to a dark red front door, seeming more a family home than somewhere a bachelor would live.

  “You’re not married are you?”

  “Christ, no.”

  His answer was emphatic. Obviously, not a big fan of marriage then.

  What a surprise.

  She stood for a moment staring up at the building, wondering what the hell she was doing here. Had she been totally deluded? She’d thought that she could keep her emotional distance, tell him about Jennifer, and allow him limited, controlled access if he wanted it. And it would all be smooth and painless. She’d always liked everything nice and clean cut, organized. As a child she’d striven to be the perfect daughter, then the perfect mother. She worked hard to be the best she could at her job. Now she had a weird sensation that she was about to screw up majorly. For one thing, she was getting the inkling that Logan wasn’t going to be controlled about anything.

  She cast him a quick glance. He was standing by the front door, looking down at her. She couldn’t read his face; he was amazingly good at hiding his expression, though as she stared, something hot and dark gleamed in his silver eyes. He pushed open the front door and stretched out a hand toward her. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  Hmm, there was absolutely nothing humble about Logan, including his abode. But she forced herself to step forward, jumping as the front door clicked shut behind her. She was in a wide hallway, decorated in cream and dark red. It felt like a home. A number of doors led off from the central area and a staircase led up to the upper floor. The floors were wood and everything gleamed. She became aware of a scrabbling noise as Logan headed toward the door opposite. “Stand back,” he muttered and opened the door.

  A huge dog hurtled out, sliding on the shiny wood floor. An unrecognizable breed, maybe some Great Dane, Alsatian, a few other things. He hurled himself on Logan, who rubbed his head, then the dog turned and raced toward Abby. She held her ground and he skidded to a halt, thrust his head against her groin, and snuffled.

  Abby crouched down, pushed him away slightly, and stroked his massive head. “He’s lovely.”

  “He’s a total monster. My brother took him in as a stray then decided he wanted to go traveling.”

  “So you took him.”

>   “He’s a guard dog.”

  Someone who liked dogs couldn’t be all bad. “Of course he is.”

  “You like dogs?”

  “Yes. I was never allowed one as a child—my father hated the mess.”

  “Grunt,” he called to the dog, who whined and nudged Abby in the stomach. “He’s not very well trained. Grunt, come!”

  The dog reluctantly turned and loped off, following Logan. She stepped closer and watched as Logan opened a door to the back garden and the dog bounded out. Logan closed the door and turned back to her. For a minute he studied her, head cocked on one side, a question in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  Chapter Four

  She sounded vaguely belligerent, as though she was gearing herself up for a fight. Pity. He had no plans to fight her. He hadn’t meant to go back to the police station. He’d been shocked and pretty much horrified when he’d found out what exactly she did for a living. He’d grown up distrusting the police, and things had only gotten worse when they’d locked him up on a rap most people would have walked away from.

  But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted her, and he wasn’t used to not going after what he wanted. He was ninety-nine percent sure she wasn’t setting him up, though he had no clue what she thought they needed to talk about. She’d managed not to talk to him quite happily for eleven years. Unless she had some fantasies of her own, and his visit had stirred them up. He liked that idea, and he was willing to play along. He’d even chat with her afterward.

  But not right now. Right now, he had no plans to chat. On the drive over he’d been tossing around a few of his more repetitive fantasies, deciding which to…tackle first, and he’d gotten hot and uncomfortably hard.

  Christ, even in that uniform she’d turned him on. Now that was a surprise.

  Him fancying a copper—it was beyond inconceivable. “It’s funny,” he said, “I can usually spot the police a mile away, but you…”