But the buzzing wasn’t stopping. She shifted and reached up, her body stretching with the movement. It was then that her legs brushed up against somebody else’s and a hand came up to her hip, skimming over her skin before it went flat on her belly and pulled her entire body back.
Not a dream.
Nope.
She’d actually done it. Actually slept with Logan James, and now she was spooning with him.
“Someone keeps calling you,” he said before he pressed his mouth to her neck. His low sexy voice moved across her skin, traveling down her spine and making her shiver. She’d always thought his subtle southern drawl was incredibly sexy, but good God how was a girl supposed to react to it first thing in the morning?
She grabbed the phone and looked at the screen. She had five missed calls from her more than somewhat overeager assistant Brooke.
“It’s work. It’s probably about our flight.”
She glanced at the alarm clock to see that it was just after seven in the morning. She should’ve been up an hour ago to start dealing with their new arrangements on how they were going to get to Mirabelle, Florida.
Almost four years ago, Abby’s best friend Paige moved to the teeny tiny town. It hadn’t been a move that Paige had been thrilled about in the beginning, but once she’d met Brendan King—her now very hot mechanic husband—she’d changed her mind on southern living.
The fact that Abby now lived only three hours away was something that both women were beyond grateful for. And it wasn’t just Paige that Abby was eager to visit. She’d developed relationships with Paige’s new group of friends, and she adored them all. One of them being Melanie Hart, a math teacher at the local school and the reason behind today’s mission.
Dale Rigels had recently been diagnosed with cancer. Not only was he one of Mel’s students, but he was her little brother Hamilton’s best friend.
Dale hadn’t had the easiest life. A few years ago, his father had been killed by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. The kid had fallen on the wrong side of things after that, getting involved with a bad group of boys who liked to get high and drink. Mel’s husband Bennett Hart had taken Dale under his wing, and with the help of Hamilton, they’d gotten him back on track.
But life liked to throw curve balls.
Doctors found the cancerous brain tumor four months ago. The surgery was scheduled immediately, and though they’d removed most of it, they were now pumping his body with chemicals to make sure they got the rest.
A couple weeks ago, Mel had asked Abby to set up a possible visit with Logan. Dale was having a tough time with the treatment, and they hoped that a visit from one of his heroes would lift his spirits. And it just so happened to work out that Logan would be able to make it to Dale’s seventeenth birthday party.
The Stampede had been traveling for a week of away games, finishing up their last in Nashville the day before. When the Stampede headed home for Jacksonville, Abby and Logan scheduled a separate plane directly to Tallahassee, where they were going to make the hour drive down to Mirabelle. That was until the ice storm hit, canceling all flights coming in and out of the Nashville international airport.
And that was how Abby ended up in Logan’s cabin in the middle of the woods of Tennessee. Ending up in his bed had been a different story… one that involved a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and giving in to something she’d wanted for months now.
Him.
But in the light of day the consequences of their actions became a reality.
Logan was a client.
Not only had she never—and she meant ever—mixed business with pleasure, but there was a strict no fraternization policy for anyone working for or with the Jacksonville Stampede.
What the hell had she been thinking?
Logan shifted behind her, his hard—perfectly muscled—naked body moving against hers.
Oh right, she hadn’t been thinking.
Abby pulled out of Logan’s embrace and got out of bed before she headed for the bathroom, telling herself that if he wasn’t touching her she might be able to think straight.
* * *
Logan had hoped for another round in bed with Abby, but as she’d been on the phone hammering out their travel plans, no such luck.
His second disappointment of the morning had been showering alone. They’d needed to get ready and head back to the airport, so showering together wasn’t a possibility.
The third was her keeping a pretty good distance from him since she’d pulled away that morning and gotten out of bed. He had absolutely no regrets about the night before. Apparently that wasn’t the case for her.
And he was going to get to the bottom of it real quick.
“So what’s your plan, Red? You just going to act like last night didn’t happen?” he asked as he loaded their bags into the trunk of the rental car before he turned to her.
“No, I don’t think that’s possible.” A blush crept up the little exposed area of her neck and to her cheeks. “But it—”
“Don’t say it was a mistake.” He didn’t take his eyes off her as he reached up and closed the trunk.
“I wasn’t going to.” She took a deep breath before she let it out. It was cold outside and her breath hung in the air between them. “I was going to say it can’t happen again.”
“It can’t?” he asked slowly. “Well that’s disappointing.”
“Logan, I—”
“No,” he cut her off again. “No need to explain.”
He got it. He did the brush-off all the time. He’d done it well and he’d done it often. But he hadn’t been finished with Abby.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t more than a little frustrated with her change of heart. He’d been resisting her for what felt like forever now, and he would’ve liked a little bit more time enjoying all of what she had to offer.
And damn did she have a lot to offer.
It had been a while since he’d been able to get that lost in a woman. Really he was pretty sure he’d never gotten that lost in a woman, and it had been about way more than just her body. He’d been looking forward to exploring whatever that more was in detail.
Well, he was just going to have to get over that little pipe dream now, wasn’t he?
And he was doing okay until they got into the airplane and he was sitting right next to her. Closed confined spaces and the smell of Abby’s perfume didn’t mix very well with his mental state. It made him think about what it had been like kissing her, what it had been like moving inside of her.
He didn’t get his fascination with her, either. He was around beautiful women all the time, and none of them was as complicated as the one next to him.
It was more than somewhat baffling to the mind that something so tiny could be the biggest pain in his ass.
He didn’t get it. He truly didn’t get it.
When he was out on the ice, he was dealing with other hockey players who were two hundred and ten pounds of amped-up male and wouldn’t even hesitate to smash his face into the boards. So one would think he could handle the pint-sized redhead.
But if Abby Fields was anything, it was determined. Where many of the publicists didn’t bother asking Logan to do anything anymore, she was new and hadn’t given up yet. After three months, her insistence hadn’t lessened at all, and he had a feeling it never would with her. He just got that vibe.
He’d been more than resistant to work with the Stampede PR department over the years. He was absolutely fine being in the spotlight when he was out on the ice, but off the ice? No.
He wasn’t one for being exploited. He was a firm believer that his personal life should be private. He saw it all the time, guys going on reality TV shows, having cameras in their faces for twenty-four hours a day. He watched as some offhand comment cost them the respect of fans and their divorces got played out in the tabloids.
He was pretty sure that no one’s life could hold up under the scrutiny of being entirely in the public eye. People made mistakes, an
d some pretty big ones at that. He wasn’t taking the risk with his privacy.
It just wasn’t for him, and he said “no” about 90 percent of the time. But there were certain things he just couldn’t say no to. What they were doing today was definitely one of them.
It had been eight years since his daughter’s death. Eight years since he’d held Madison in his arms, since he’d felt her arms wrapped around his neck, since he’d heard her sweet little giggle bubble out of her mouth.
If there’d been anything that could’ve been done for his daughter, anything that would’ve given her just a little bit of joy in her last days, and somebody hadn’t done it for her? Yeah, he wouldn’t have gotten over that.
Not that he’d gotten over anything that had to do with Madison’s death. She’d left this world just after her fifth birthday. She’d been gone longer than she’d even been here.
It still hurt like hell.
It would always hurt like hell.
And just like his daughter, the kid they were going to visit only had one parent by his side.
Logan met Cassidy Thomas during his freshman year at the University of Michigan. They’d only been dating for two months when she told him she was pregnant. He still considered it a miracle that she actually went through with the pregnancy. But he was pretty sure that had more to do with her God-fearing mother than anything else, not that Lana Thomas ever was all that involved with her granddaughter, either.
Cassidy bailed after Madison’s diagnosis, but she’d never really wanted anything to do with her daughter in the first place. The pregnancy had been an accident, and Cassidy made sure to remind Logan of that fact often.
How a mother could walk out on her dying child he did not know, but Madison had been better off. And it wasn’t like she’d been alone. Logan’s parents, brother, and sister had all been there, had all loved her.
His family did everything they could for his daughter, no questions asked. So stranger or not, he could return the favor for someone else’s kid, no matter how hard it was.
At least they weren’t going to a hospital. Those visits were the hardest for him because they always brought him back to Madison’s last days.
He shook his head trying to pull himself out of the past. Abby shifted next to him, and he caught the smell of her perfume again.
Fantastic.
He grabbed his headphones, sticking the buds into his ears and settling in for what promised to be a long-ass flight.
* * *
Abby stood on the edge of the room, sipping her hot coffee and trying to look at anything and everything besides Logan. There was enough going on to keep her somewhat distracted.
The room was filled with people, Dale’s family and friends taking up the limited space in Virginia Rigels’s living room.
“Dale’s father always loved hockey,” Virginia said as she came to stand next to Abby. She was a very pretty woman, small and curvy with dark brown hair and a certain amount of exhaustion behind her hazel eyes.
“Vince was from Minnesota. Grew up playing the game. But then he joined the Marines and spent the last part of his life in the desert.” A sad smile turned up her mouth. “He missed the ice. He’d watch games with Dale when he was home.”
“Mel told me that Mr. Rigels was a huge Stampede fan.”
“He was. They were his team as soon as he moved to Florida. He was a fan of Mr. James pretty much the instant he was traded to the team. Whenever Vince was stationed overseas, Dale would write him letters with blow-by-blow accounts of the games. That was their thing. I wish Vince could see what the team was doing this year.”
To say that the Stampede was having a good season would be an understatement. It was the middle of February and not only was the team forty-two and fourteen, but it was currently on an eight-game winning streak.
The players were doing phenomenally, including Logan. For the last two years he’d been ranked in the top ten players in the league for assists. Jace Kilpatrick, another forward on Logan’s line, was ranked as a top scorer. The Stampede’s captain, Andre Fabian, was the third on the line, and when the three of them were out on the ice they dominated.
It was something to see the three men working together. It was like they read each other’s minds, anticipating moves with a skilled accuracy before they were even made.
“I can’t thank you enough for setting this up with Melanie,” Virginia said, reaching out and putting her hand on Abby’s arm. “This means the world to Dale… and to me.”
“It was no problem.” Abby reached out and covered Virginia’s hand with her own. “As soon as I told Logan about it, he said yes.” Though this was something she still didn’t quite understand.
She was used to hearing “no” from him. Sometimes she wouldn’t even get her entire proposal out before he’d shake his head.
His words from the other day echoed in her head quite clearly.
“Look, I don’t like my personal life being exploited for the public. Just because some people know who I am because I play hockey doesn’t mean they deserve to know what I ate for dinner, or if I prefer boxers or briefs, or the last woman I took to bed.”
Well, today she knew the answers to all three of those questions: filet mignon and asparagus with hollandaise sauce; neither as he liked to go commando; and her.
Not that she’d be reporting any of that information to anyone. In fact, this entire visit to Mirabelle was off limits for PR endeavors. Logan had made a point about it. He’d said he’d be more than happy to do it, but Dale and his family were in no way to be exploited.
Logan didn’t care who the kid told, or what photos he wanted to share on whatever forms of social media he used. The Stampede were just off limits to use them.
“If it comes out in other ways, so be it,” he’d said, and shrugged when she’d gotten him to agree to it weeks ago. “But I’m not using his sickness to make myself look good.”
He was honorable, that was for sure. And a whole host of other things. She liked him way more than what was professionally acceptable.
Well, the night before had proved that. Proved it in spades.
Abby shook her head and tried to focus on the woman next to her as opposed to the man across the room. But Virginia didn’t let her.
“I’m pretty sure he’s never going to take that jersey off.” She nodded at the group of men. “Or that beanie.” She beamed as she squeezed Abby’s arm. She let go and excused herself, going over to her son.
Logan had brought the kid enough Stampede merchandise to keep him clothed for a good long while. Hats, T-shirts, sweatshirts, and then there were the hockey pucks, one of Logan’s personal hockey sticks—the list went on and on. The knit hat that Dale was currently sporting was black with the team mascot Pete the Elephant on the front. Logan had been wearing it, but the second he met Dale he’d quickly pulled it off his head and placed it on Dale’s bald one.
A cold front had settled in over the South and it was averaging below freezing. Abby had dealt with her fair share of chilly weather when she lived in Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., and they might not be dealing with snow, but it was still pretty cold. She had no doubt that Dale was feeling it.
But the kid was all smiles at the moment. He and his best friend Hamilton—who was on the other side of Dale, a brand-new Stampede ball cap of his own pulled backward on his head—were sitting at the dining room table with Logan, and the group of men that had been aptly dubbed the Men of Mirabelle.
Mel’s husband Bennett was sitting on the other side of Dale. He was both a mentor and a bit of a big brother to the kid. Paige’s husband Brendan was next, followed by her brother-in-law Jaxson Anderson. Nathanial Shepherd, more commonly referred to as Shep, was also at the table. He was the local bartender and he had a close relationship with both Dale and Hamilton; the boys had been helping on the remodel of the inn that Shep and his wife Hannah lived in.
The plan, before Logan and Abby had gotten delayed in Tennessee, was for Logan t
o stay in one of the completed rooms at the inn. If that had happened, Abby wouldn’t have slept with him, because she’d planned to stay the night with Brendan and Paige.
She didn’t regret her decisions from the night before. She’d given in to something she wanted. But how did the saying go? Too much of a good thing is a bad thing.
So it didn’t matter how good what you wanted looked with his shirt off, or if you hadn’t been given enough time to map his muscles out with your fingers, or explore the tattooed M on his left shoulder blade.
She guessed it was the University of Michigan M as that was his alma mater and he’d played on the hockey team for all four years of college. Except his was filled in with black ink. She hadn’t really gotten to see him from behind—a damn shame really—so she didn’t know any more than that.
But maybe that was a good thing.
Overindulgence could lead to disastrous consequences, and Abby had a feeling that Logan would be worse than the effects a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream would have on her thighs.
But it was beginning to become difficult for her to hold strong with her decision, because every time he laughed she’d feel that flutter low in her belly. Actually, it wasn’t a flutter anymore. It was a full-on tidal wave.
“I’ve seen that look before.”
Abby turned to the side just as her best friend Paige walked up, balancing her son Trevor on her hip. The toddler would be two at the end of May, and he was speaking up a storm these days. He was the perfect blend of mother and father, with Paige’s dark brown hair and Brendan’s light blue eyes.
“Ab-we!” He leaned to the side and reached for her. She complied with his demands immediately, putting down her cup of coffee before lifting him from Paige’s arms and settling him on her side. He rested his face in the crook of her neck, content with his new location.
“He’s tired. Too much excitement for the day.”
“I wish I could take a nap, too,” Abby said as she began to rub his back soothingly. “And what look are you talking about?”
“The one you keep giving your hockey player.”
Abby’s hand faltered for just a moment. “He isn’t my hockey player.”
Undressed Page 2
