His Fantasy Girl (Things To Do Before You Die)

By: Nina Croft

He went still. “Fuck.”


A knock sounded on the door, directly in front of her. The handle turned as Logan grabbed her shoulders, stood her up, and pushed down her skirt. She reached out resting her hands on the back of the sofa, took a deep breath.

“Looks like the governor’s back, sweetheart.” Logan’s tone held a wry amusement. “Why the fuck didn’t I lock that door?”

Her legs were shaking and little tremors of residual pleasure raced through her body.

A man appeared in the open doorway. Déjà vu. Tall and handsome, he was an older version of Logan, minus the tattoos: Rory McCabe, Logan’s father, and the same man who had caught them last time.

Could this get any worse?

“Am I interrupting something?” Rory asked.

“Yes,” Logan snapped.

“No,” she said at the same time. No way could she go through with this now. She’d have to go away, build up her defenses, arrange to see Logan in a public place, and then she’d tell him about Jennifer. But right now she was so out of here.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “but I’m late for work. I have to go, I…” She clamped her lips closed. There was nothing else to say. She shuffled around the sofa, giving Logan a wide berth, grabbed her handbag from where he’d dropped it, and headed to the door—fast. Rory McCabe stepped aside for her. Nearly out, but as she went through the door, she couldn’t resist one quick peek back. Logan was watching her, hands shoved in his pockets, a thoughtful expression on his face.

She really didn’t want to know what he was thinking. Instead she made a dash for freedom.

Chapter Three

Logan stayed behind the sofa, where the fact that he was about to burst out of his jeans would perhaps go unnoticed. She’d come looking for him. He’d really thought she’d never turn up here. A grin tugged at his lips.

Rory closed the door and turned to face him, brows drawing together. “You look pleased with yourself.”

Logan probably looked like a grinning idiot. So, maybe she wasn’t the wild woman he remembered, but she’d felt good in his arms, hot and wet and so sweet.

“Who was that?” Rory asked. “She looked vaguely familiar.”

That was interesting. Somehow he doubted Rory would remember her from eleven years ago, which meant he had seen her someplace since. Had she come looking for him before this, and maybe chickened out or simply not found him? “An echo from the past.”

“And what did your echo want?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair. He’d presumed she’d had a rethink after he’d left yesterday. Decided she wanted to see him again. Now in hindsight, he wasn’t so certain. She’d said she needed to talk to him, but he hadn’t exactly given her a chance. Just jumped on her. But Christ, how many long nights had she kept him company, how many times had he jerked himself off to her image in his head. He knew it was partly because she’d been the last woman he’d slept with before his life had turned to complete and utter shit, but it was also more than that. They’d shared something pretty special and he’d meant to track her down and do it all over again. How, he didn’t know, as she’d only told him her first name, but he would have found her somehow. Except he’d never gotten the chance. “I don’t know what she wants.”

Except she’d wanted him.

Against her better judgment he was guessing. He was coming down from the shock of seeing her and his curiosity was rising. Shit, his fantasy girl. “Something,” he said. Hopefully helping him relive a few of his fantasies. If Rory hadn’t turned up he’d be deep inside her right now. That thought wasn’t helping his hard-on go away. “But we didn’t get around to discussing it.”

Rory sat himself down on the sofa and rested his head back, while Logan poured them both a scotch. He handed one to his dad, took the seat behind the desk, and sipped his own drink.

“Where the hell have I seen her before?” Rory muttered, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Rory knew a lot of people, many of them seriously dodgy. Logan hoped that wasn’t the case with Abby, as he’d sworn off dodgy years ago. No way was he ever getting involved in anything related to his father’s old life.

Rory McCabe was now totally legitimate, but that hadn’t always been the case. The family business had been started up by Rory’s father and built on illegal gambling, drugs, and prostitution. Rory had decided to go straight after marrying his second wife, Judith, a rich American socialite who had refused to have anything to do with him unless he turned his life around. Declan, Logan’s half brother, had been groomed to take over and show a respectable front to the world. Logan hadn’t resented his getting the position—Declan did it so well. Logan was never going to convince anyone he was respectable and he had no intention of ever trying. He knew what people saw when they looked at him.

He was a product of Rory’s first marriage to an exotic dancer who he’d knocked up. They’d married because of Logan but couldn’t stand each other and had quickly separated. Logan had lived with his mother until he was ten, used as a bargaining chip to get money out of his father. Finally, Rory had gotten so pissed off he’d made her a one-off offer she couldn’t refuse and he’d gone to live with him. He occasionally saw his mother. Made sure she was okay. She wasn’t all bad. She’d just hated Rory more than she loved him. He could sort of understand that, but the whole experience had left him with a less than rosy view of marriage.

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