The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

She rolled her eyes. “Coming, Dad.”

  The man lifted his chin. “Logan.”

  “Frank,” Logan replied flatly.

  “I’ll see you around. I have to get back to my club. My father prefers to be over here,” Molly said with a glimmer in her eye.

  “Yeah, sure.” Logan’s tone didn’t give anything away.

  “Molly,” the man said sternly. “The DJ is having some technical difficulty.”

  With another roll of her eyes, she replied, “Coming, coming,” then she turned back. “You’d think my father would know what to do when the breaker blows.” With that, she hurried toward the older man and followed him through the door, which must have connected to the club-like side.

  Logan swiveled on the stool and his knees touched mine. More sparks shot through me. I wondered if he felt them too. If he did, they must not have bothered him because he didn’t move away. “So I’ve got some bad news.”

  I tilted my head. “Oh, no, what is it?”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, but there’s no spare tire and the vehicle is going to have to be towed to the station.”

  “Can’t he just patch it?”

  He shook his head. “No way. I saw it and it’s beyond repair.”

  I looked at my watch and sighed. Michael probably already had Clementine home by now. Distressed, I said, “Are you sure there’s nothing they can do? I need to get to work tonight and it’s a little far to walk.”

  Logan became very serious. “The tire isn’t repairable. He has to order a new one. Unfortunately the station doesn’t stock the one that fits your SUV. He says it will be ready tomorrow afternoon. It’s doubtful any garage around here stocks an expensive tire like that, but do you want to call your husband and see if he knows of someplace else you might want to try? Because there is no way you should walk anywhere this late.”

  “My husband?” I laughed out loud.

  Logan furrowed his brows. “Yeah, O’Shea.”

  I laughed again. “Michael isn’t my husband.”

  His eyes flickered in surprise. “Sorry, I just assumed.”

  I swore I saw a shadow of doubt so I held my left hand out. “See, I’m not married. No ring.”

  Strangely, relief seemed to cross his features.

  I’d already checked out Logan’s hand back at Michael’s office and I hadn’t seen a ring, or a tan mark, or an indentation, so my assumption was the young McPherson wasn’t married either. But the lipstick-stained cup meant he might have a girlfriend.

  “Is the little girl your daughter?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. Clementine is my niece. Michael is married to my sister.”

  Is, was. I wasn’t really sure which, since she was MIA.

  Logan didn’t look confused, but I still thought I should probably explain. “My sister has been in rehab for the past three months, and—”

  Before I could finish the well-rehearsed lie Michael had told me to tell everyone, the door opened, and with the music on pause the mechanic’s voice bellowed through the bar, “O’Shea! Elizabeth O’Shea.”

  “That’s me,” I said, this time to the man in the blue quilted jacket calling my sister’s name. I was Gabrielle Sterling. Long ago called Gabby, now called Elle. But after so many months, I was used to being called by my sister’s name. It was the name in which the car was registered and the name on the Triple A card. It was the name on the credit cards I used. It was the name associated with everything in her life. It was the name I never got a chance to call her.

  Logan looked at me questioningly.

  My plan was that I would use her credit cards and car only temporarily. Until my business got up and running. Unless she returned first, then I’d be more than happy to return them both. I didn’t like my situation, I didn’t like relying on Michael, but if I wanted to stay stationary and be near Clementine, I didn’t have much of a choice. I gave Logan a little shrug. “Michael’s letting me use her car until I get my own.” That was all he needed to know.

  He said nothing.

  I didn’t like how my statement sounded and felt very uncomfortable admitting it to him. “I should take care of this. Thank you for the drink,” I said, standing and reaching for my keys.

  He placed them in my palm. “Tell him to take the car. I can drive you wherever you need to go.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I’ll just ride with him to the station and call for a rental. I’m sure they have a company they work with.”

  Looking nervous, he shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

  My eyes locked on his and all I could see were the brown flecks surrounding his green irises. They were mesmerizing. My tongue felt tied for a moment, but finally I spoke. “Why do you say that?”

  “I’m not really sure—something about him seems off.”

  “Oh, the alpha male thing,” I gave a huff of laughter. “I’ll be fine.”

  Concerned, he said again, “I’d rather you didn’t ride with him.”

  I wasn’t sure what to think but felt I should trust his judgment. “I’ll take a cab then. I can’t ask you to drive me around. You know what? Maybe I should just call around and try to find someone who has the tire in stock.”

  He looked at his very expensive watch, then back at me. “Like I side, doubtful. The tire is too expensive for most shops to keep in stock. Besides, it’s a Friday and after six. Good luck getting anyone to answer, even through Triple-A.”

  He had a point.

  “Just let me help you,” he insisted.

  “I don’t want to inconvenience you. Like you said, it is Friday night. Don’t you have a date or somewhere else to be?”

  The lipstick-stained coffee cup came to mind.

  He stared at me and then ever so slightly shook his head. “The only thing you’re interrupting is my planned date with the Four Seasons room service menu. But since you’re going to let me take you out to dinner, I think I can forgive you for that one transgression.”

  Wariness crept over me. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  His grin was wide. “If you don’t know that by now, I can’t help you answer that.”

  I tilted my head in contemplation.

  Logan was determined, and he continued to watch me.

  A fleeting, what-do-I-have-to-lose thought had me smiling at him and then when he smiled back, I thought about how long it had been since I shared a moment like this with anyone.

  Why not? So what if I’m attracted to him? Dinner is dinner; it doesn’t mean things between us need to go farther if I don’t want them to. Even if it does, so what if we fuck? That’s what two people do who are attracted to each other. My terms. My rules. I’ll make that clear. One night and we could both move past this strange attraction. It could work out perfectly for the both of us. And besides, I did skip lunch and I’m hungry.

  My eyes slid toward the mechanic, who appeared to be losing his patience, and without further hesitation, I nodded in agreement. “Dinner it is. Just give me a minute.”

  As I walked, I felt Logan’s eyes on me and knew the attraction was mutual, but for some reason that knowledge didn’t make me second-guess my decision. I quickly looped the oversized silver and black fob off my key ring and handed it to the mechanic. “Here’s the key. Can you deliver the vehicle to where I work at 40 Charles Street tomorrow once it’s ready?”

  He nodded and then scribbled down the address. “The total will be four hundred and sixty dollars—that includes the delivery fee of fifty dollars.”

  Once upon a time, I might have winced at the amount for a single tire, but leading a life of domesticity was expensive, as I’d come to learn over the past three months. Without hesitation, I pulled out my credit card, or rather my sister’s, and handed it to him.

  Michael and I had an agreement: he’d cover me until my new business got on its feet and I could pay him back. In return, while he did what was needed to make things right for what Lizzy had done, I would help him with Clementine. She had a nanny, but
with her mother missing and out of the picture, she needed as many constants in her life as possible. Michael of course, did his best, but he did work a lot. Things were going to have to change soon, but since my arrival I had created a routine with her that worked wonderfully—Wednesday morning breakfasts, Friday afternoon walks, Saturday night sleepovers, and Sunday dinners.

  The mechanic handed me the pink carbon beneath the yellow original.

  “Have a good night,” I said.

  He gave me a nod. “You too.”

  Hmmm . . . he seemed fine. I’m not certain what Logan found to be off about him.

  The music had started to blare again, this time even louder. “Ready?” Logan’s warm breath was in my ear before I’d even turned around. I heard him just fine, as if my body had become attuned to his in this short period of time.

  That should have worried me. But the shiver that ran down my spine erased any worries. With a slight turn of my head, I responded, “I am, but you don’t even know where you’re taking me. I could be asking you to drive me across town for all you know.”

  The crowd had seeped into this room without me even noticing and it was no longer the after-work crowd. This was the Friday night crowd. The space between the booths and the bar acted as a second dance floor. Bodies pressed together. People moved. Sweat dripped down women’s bare backs and men’s necks. The tempo seemed to overtake everyone and lust was in the air.

  Did he feel it too?

  The pounding pulse of the music had me lost for a moment. I almost considered pressing myself against Logan and wrapping my arms around his neck so we could move together in a sinful manner.

  Logan, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share that idea. With his jacket on, he slid beside me and handed me my hat and coat. Bringing me back to the conversation I’d almost forgotten about, his mouth was at my ear. “That’s not true. I know that first we’re going to eat at a much quieter place I know around the corner. After that, I’m happy to take you wherever it is you work that you considered walking to because you had to get there so badly. And later I’m taking you back to your place.”

  There was an edge of expectation in his voice that coming from another man might have caused me to walk away, but from him, it seemed harmlessly flirtatious.

  “Lead the way,” I said, needing to escape this orgy-filled place that seemed to be affecting my libido in the strangest of ways.

  Leading us through the throng of bodies and out the door, he turned and asked, “Do you know what the Irish say about green eyes?”

  “That they’re always smiling?” I guessed.

  He shook his head. “That they leave an invisible trail of magic surrounding everything they see.”

  I laughed sarcastically. Little did he know, nothing could be farther from the truth.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LOGAN

  “What’s so funny?”

  She averted her gaze. “Nothing.”

  Elle wore a sad smile that told me her laughter was anything but genuine. And for some insane reason, that only made me want to fuck the sadness right out of her—right where we stood.

  Aside from the demons I could see in her eyes, she was sexy as hell, and even though I knew better than to be captivated by her, I couldn’t help myself. There was just something about her. And knowing she was unattached . . . That didn’t help things in the least.

  With a shake of my head, I opened the door. The sky was dark, but at least the rain had let up. I looked around but didn’t see anyone. Even so, I pulled out my knit cap and tugged it over my head.

  If someone spotted me with her, we were both fucked.

  Paranoid?

  Nope.

  I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I saw her tire. Someone had slashed it. And there was no way it was a coincidence. Patrick must have already found out about her and I was pretty sure that mechanic’s shop was on his payroll. “This way.” I directed her to the right, veering down the closest alleyway.

  Her big green eyes weren’t just looking at me; they were watching me, much in the same way I had been watching her since she first turned around at O’Shea’s office.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To an authentic Irish pub.”

  Elle eyed me suspiciously.

  “What?” I found myself asking again.

  “You mean that wasn’t one?”

  “Ha, once upon a time it was, until Frank let his daughter take over. Molly rented the abandoned space next to the original structure and ever since has been slowly converting the place into a dance club.”

  She whipped her head toward me with an excitement in her eyes that I could have eaten up. “I knew it. I could tell the moment I walked in.”

  “Yep, it’s obvious, but Frank refuses to give up the pub even if the club is encroaching on his space.”

  She was still facing me, and there was another glimmer in her eye.

  “What?” I asked yet again, this time raising a brow.

  She bit her lip. “Are you even old enough to drink?”

  Surprised, I almost choked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, I’m not.” She wasn’t about pretense. It was a welcome change. And it was such a turn-on.

  Amused, I asked, “Just how old do you think I am?” I walked ahead and turned to face her. I wanted to see her expression when she answered.

  She hesitated a moment before answering, “Not quite twenty-one.”

  “Ahhh . . . you’re killing me.”

  She smiled. “I’m totally serious.”

  I kept walking backwards. “You’re a few years off. I’m twenty-seven.”

  Her eyes swept over me again and then narrowed in doubt.

  The alleys were empty. No one was around, and I felt myself start to loosen up. No one was going to see us. I put my hand on my heart. “I’m wounded. You don’t believe me?”

  With a hint of smile she said, “No, I don’t.”

  Now I found myself reaching into my back pocket and pulling out my wallet. Opening it, I handed her my driver’s license. “Here you go—definitive proof.”

  She bit her lip as she studied it.

  I wanted to bite it for her. I wanted to taste her lips on mine. I wanted to feel her skin and touch her hair. It wasn’t only one thing that attracted me to her; it was everything about her. The way she smelled, the sound of her voice, the way she walked, the way she made me laugh. I shouldn’t be admitting it, not even to myself.

  Her grin widened. “Yes. It appears you are older than twenty-one.”

  “Phew. Now I can sleep tonight knowing you believe me.”

  She tried to contain a giggle with a hand over her mouth.

  I stopped and she almost ran into me. “And you?” I countered, leaning inches from her lips.

  She handed me my wallet and stepped back. “How old do you think I am?” she teased.

  I took my time. I knew we should hurry off the street. I knew I was being stupid. But I didn’t want to rush this moment. I was enjoying it too much. “I don’t know. Come here.”

  She easily followed my lead.

  I dragged her under the streetlight and let my eyes sweep over her. I didn’t have to, though. I’d already memorized her features. She had a small nose, heart-shaped lips, smooth porcelain skin with a smattering of freckles on her nose, hair the color of cinnamon, and a body that would make any hot-blooded male look twice. I scratched my chin. “Hmmm . . . I’m not sure. My age. Maybe a year or two younger.”

  She threw her head back. “Just a few minutes ago you thought I was old and married.”

  Practically mesmerized, I watched her carefree style. She wasn’t like most women. Or most of the women I came in contract with—the ones from the New York City upper echelon who prided themselves on packed social calendars and their looks. She seemed tough. Able to take care of herself. She seemed to be a fighter, like me. “First of all, I only thought you were married. You’re th
e one putting the word old with married,” I playfully countered.

  She pulled her lip between her teeth in contemplation. “You might be right,” she conceded.

  Our eyes locked and I had to lick my lips as she chewed on hers again.

  “What did you say?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  My grin couldn’t be erased even if I tried.

  “I turned thirty last December,” she blurted out.

  “An older woman.” I winked.

  She started walking.

  When I took my place beside her, she glanced over at me and nonchalantly joked, “Just call me Mrs. Robinson.”

  My cock twitched at the thought of her seducing me—the game of a young college boy and an older experienced woman definitely had my attention. And although I’d already let my intentions for the evening be known, hers weren’t clear and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make sure she was on board with the fact that we were going to fuck. So I raised a brow and told her, “I’d love to.”

  Headlights lit up the alleyway and a car started to slow. My guard instantly went back up. My body tensed and my stance changed. The car passed and someone got out. My eyes focused, my hands ready for action, I watched as an older Chinese woman pounded on the back door of a nail salon. False alarm. Still, the moment between us was broken. Awareness took over where I had allowed playfulness to wrongly occupy my mind.

  With my hands shoved in my pockets, I put my head down.

  What was I doing?

  Once the car passed, I looked at her. She hadn’t noticed the car or my reaction. She was still lost in our Mrs. Robinson conversation and her response caught me off guard.

  She was blushing.

  I hadn’t been expecting that.

  And right then, I knew I was in trouble.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELLE

  I glanced up at the sign above the restaurant—The Hornet’s Nest.

  How appropriate. I shouldn’t have agreed to have dinner with Logan. After all, he was the son of the man Michael had just told me to stay away from.

  Yet I couldn’t fight the sexual tension between Logan and me. I’d never felt anything like it. And I wanted to give in.