They’d spent the previous night apart—she stayed at work late and he had to get up early for training and practice. He’d missed her and he had every intention of making up for lost time.
Abby was the one who pulled her gaze away first as the door next to her opened and Dumbass from the PR department walked through it. The smile on her face disappeared and her back went up instantly. She was clearly uncomfortable around this guy, and it took everything in Logan to stop himself from walking across the room and going to her.
But Abby was the one moving away toward Dale and Hamilton. Their five minutes was up and the team needed to get ready for the game. Logan headed in that direction as well, wanting to get a quick word with the boys before they left.
“Thank you so much for letting them come down here,” Abby said to Coach Bale.
“Something like this? Not a problem. You boys better come to more games, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Dale and Hamilton said in unison.
Abby turned to look at Logan and he gestured to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
She nodded before she led the way, Dale and Hamilton in between them. When they stepped out into the hallway, Dale turned to Logan and stuck out his hand. The kid had a firm grip and he looked Logan straight in the eye when he spoke.
“I really can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”
“You deserved something fun.”
“I’m not talking about tonight.” Dale shook his head as he let go of Logan’s hand. “I’m talking about the fact that you paid for my hospital bills.”
Logan stilled as he shook the kid’s hand. No one knew about that. He could feel Abby’s stare boring into the side of his head, and he saw her jaw drop from the corner of his eye.
He had no idea what to say. He couldn’t lie. Couldn’t tell the kid that it hadn’t been him. It just didn’t feel right.
“Look, I know the donation was anonymous. But as it happened about a week after I met you, and there aren’t any other millionaires that I’ve met, I figured it was you. You were my hero long before you came to visit me two months ago. And it had everything to do with your mad skills on the ice.”
Logan laughed.
“But now? Now you’re the man who is keeping my mother from working herself into an early grave. Something that she would’ve had to do to keep me out of an early grave. You’ve given us both a gift. And I want you to know that I’m going to pay it forward. One day, I’m going to give it back to someone else just because it’s the right thing.”
“You sure you’re only seventeen?” Logan asked, beyond impressed with the kid.
“Pretty sure.” He nodded.
Logan held his hand out for another handshake, but when Dale put his hand in Logan’s, Logan pulled the kid in for a hug. When they broke apart, Dale had to reach up and wipe his eyes, and Logan felt his throat constrict just a little bit.
“You ever need anything, you call me, okay?”
Dale nodded again.
“And like Coach Bale said, you better come to more games.”
“We’ll be there.” Dale grinned.
“I’ll see you later, Hamilton.” Logan shook the hand of the other kid before he turned back to the locker room.
He caught Abby’s gaze, saw the shock and awe in her eyes, and the tears that trailed down her cheeks.
“Don’t look at me like that, Red,” he said just low enough for her to hear.
“I can’t help it.” She glanced down the hallway, empty besides Dale and Hamilton, before she turned back to him and grabbed the front of his jersey. “You’re a good man, Logan James,” she said right before she pressed her lips to his.
Her tongue dipped into his mouth and he opened wide, letting her inside in all of her splendid glory. But it was over pretty much the second it had started. She let go of his jersey and pulled back.
She straightened her dress before she turned back to the wide-eyed boys and pointed her finger between the two of them. “You didn’t see that.”
“See what?” Hamilton asked, cracking a smile.
“I think I just went temporarily blind,” Dale said as he shrugged.
She moved toward the kids, putting her hands on their shoulders as she led them away. Both boys were already taller than her. Hamilton probably just under six feet, and Dale not that far behind.
Abby looked over her shoulder at Logan just before they rounded the corner, giving him a smile she reserved just for him. He couldn’t help mirroring it as he turned and headed back to the locker room.
He’d chosen to ignore the conversation he’d had with Liam on Sunday. Had told himself he wasn’t going to worry about it. Was sticking to his guns that it was too soon to have fallen for Abby.
The thing was, he was only deluding himself.
He had fallen in love with her. Had fallen in love with her two months ago, in a cabin in Tennessee, on Valentine’s Day.
* * *
To say that the game was intense would be an understatement. Abby was on the edge of her seat all night as the score bounced back and forth. In the beginning of the third period, the Rangers pulled ahead by two, but then Logan managed to do something remarkable.
He’d gotten a hat trick rounding out the Stampede’s score to an even six over the Rangers five. He scored that last goal with nineteen seconds left on the clock, and the roar from the crowd had been deafening.
She watched the team skate around the rink, watched as Logan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the crowd and landing on her.
He’d been the final factor in her decision tonight. He’d been the reason she’d gone up to the president’s box during the first intermission and told Gemma she’d be accepting the job at St. Ignatius. He’d been the reason more than anything else.
She was done hiding their relationship. Done keeping one of the best things that had ever happened to her a secret.
He’d frustrated her so much when she first met him. She’d thought he was difficult, and moody, and uncaring.
But she’d been wrong. So damn wrong.
Well, she’d been mostly wrong. He could be difficult, complicated as he liked to say. And there were those moments when he could be moody. But he wasn’t uncaring. No, he was the kindest man she knew. Compassionate beyond words.
She still couldn’t believe he’d paid for Dale’s medical bills. There were very few people in this world who would do that for someone who was practically a stranger. But Logan had. He’d done it selflessly. People were shaped by their pain, Abby knew that good and well, but he’d done something remarkable with it.
Since Abby was ten years old she’d been terrified of giving her heart to a man, and she’d done a pretty good job of keeping it guarded. Until Logan James came into the picture. After that first night they spent together, she never had a chance.
Who was she kidding? She’d been fighting a losing battle from the moment she met him. But if she was going to give her heart to anyone, there was no one better than this man.
She was all in. The certainty of her decision was staggering and she was more than a little dazed as she said goodbye to everyone and headed down to the pressroom at the arena. A couple of players had been requested for interviews for the post-game wrap-up, Logan being one of them.
When Abby walked into the room she spotted Dingle in the corner talking to Howard Lewis. Lewis was a reporter who was known for not having a soul. He was the one who wrote the article about Logan and Proctor getting into a fight in the locker room, the one who knew way more of the story than anyone outside of the Stampede should.
She watched as the two men shook hands, and an uneasiness tightened her stomach.
But before Abby could say or do anything—though really what the hell was she going to do?—Coach Bale, Logan, Jace, Andre, and Proctor filed into the room. All the players sported wet hair from their recent showers, and they all wore button-up shirts in varying shades of gray, and black blazers.
The room f
illed with flashes as the men all took their seats behind a long table. Logan and Andre on Coach Bales’s left, Jace and Proctor on the right.
Abby looked over toward Dingle, who was making his way to the back of the room. The look of excited glee in his eyes made the back of her neck prickle.
* * *
Logan normally didn’t mind press conferences. He would sit there and answer as many questions about the game as the reporters threw at him, no problem. But tonight he was eager to go home, eager to celebrate tonight’s victory with Abby.
“I have a question for Mr. James,” one of the reporters said as he focused on Logan. “You’ve been playing hockey in the majors for seven years now. The last four years, this year in particular, have definitely surpassed your career in the beginning. What’s different now?”
“You’re only as good as the team you’re on. Jace, Andre, and I have learned to anticipate each other’s moves. I’d say it has way more to do with us figuring each other out. Our line just clicked and you’re seeing the results of that.”
“So you work better with them more than other players?” another reporter asked. “For example, Kent Proctor. It’s no secret you two had an altercation earlier this season. Does your off the ice relationship affect you on the ice?”
“Our off the ice relationship? You make it sound like we’re going to prom or something.”
The room filled with low chuckles.
“Kent and I are colleagues. We mesh just fine on and off the ice.” At least Logan thought so. They dealt with each other when they were playing and ignored each other the rest of the time.
“And what about your other off the ice endeavors?” a voice called out among the flashes.
Logan looked to the left and spotted Howard Lewis, a prime example of why he tended to dislike the media.
“It’s no secret that I like to keep my personal life private,” Logan said. “So my off the ice endeavors aren’t up for discussion.”
“What about when you bring your personal life into the public? There were two kids in the locker room tonight before the game started, your personal guests for the evening.”
“We had a few minutes before the game started, and I invited them down. It’s not unheard of. And a lot of the guys had guests at the game tonight.”
“Yeah, but one of your guests is a kid who’s in remission from cancer. You visited him in his hometown a couple of months ago and you paid his hospital bills. That’s a pretty generous thing, don’t you think? Remarkable even.”
The only sound that could be heard was the constant click and flash from the cameras.
How the fuck did he know?
“I don’t know where you’re going with this, Howard,” Logan said.
“You’re visiting the cancer ward at St. Ignatius and bringing other players.” He indicated Andre and Jace with the end of his pen. “Dressing up as superheroes and such is a pretty exceptional thing. And I was just wondering if you were going to go further with this new endeavor of yours?”
Okay, so this was a story that he knew wasn’t going to stay secret for long. It was only a matter of time before someone found out, but Logan knew by the look in the guy’s eyes that this wasn’t where the story was about to end.
“I haven’t thought that far out.” Logan shook his head slowly, a foreboding in his stomach.
“Well, you’re becoming an example, Mr. James, and for much more than your athleticism. I’m sure your fans would be fascinated to know where this motivation came from. Is this a new mission that has to do with your daughter who died from the disease eight years ago?”
The room filled with an incessant chatter, questions indiscernible among the masses, but Logan could barely hear it above the buzzing in his ears.
This wasn’t happening.
Was. Not. Happening.
Madison was off limits more than anything else in his life. She wasn’t anybody’s business. She wasn’t a spectacle, someone to be pitied. No, none of that.
She was his daughter. Not a story.
The walls around him began to narrow, started closing in on him. He had to get the fuck out of here.
He wasn’t even aware that he’d stood up, and he was pretty sure that the force guiding him out of the room was something beyond him. Because every other instinct told him to turn around and knock the shit out of Howard Lewis.
* * *
The need to get Logan alone and talk to him was overwhelming, but that wasn’t going to happen. There were seven people currently crowded in the office Abby was standing in: Adam Lindbergh (the head of the PR department and Abby’s boss), Coach Bale, Rodger Dingle, Dominic Ferguson (Logan’s agent), and Brooke who couldn’t tear her eyes away from the TV mounted on the wall.
A series of images flickered, first the clip of Logan walking out of the press conference. Next flashed a couple pictures of Dale and Hamilton in the locker room, talking to the players as they got their hats signed. Then the one of Madison that had been attached to her obituary.
Abby was battling between panic mode and crisis mode. She was the reason this was all happening… well, part of it anyways.
Rodger Dingle was the real reason.
The puzzle pieces were all falling into place, Dingle coming out of her office the day before. She hadn’t logged out of her computer, hadn’t locked her office. There had never been a need for it. Why would she be concerned that another person in the PR department might go through her things and leak information about the team they both worked for?
She’d made it so easy for him, too. Those files had been right there on her desk, Logan’s on top. And then all of her e-mails had been right there for him to pull up as well. The e-mail with the picture of him at the hospital that was now flashing across the screen.
“I want to know how the hell he found out about all of this.” Logan’s jaw ticked as he pointed to the screen.
“I’m sure the kids tweeted those pictures. Posted them on Facebook or whatever,” Dingle said.
“I don’t think so.” Abby shook her head. “Neither of those boys are on Twitter and their Facebook pages are private.”
“How do you know?” Dingle asked, his skepticism clear as he looked at her.
“Because I talked to both of them after this happened.”
“It just takes one person who is friends with either of them to share it. Then it’s all over the Internet,” Lindbergh said. His round face had taken on a red hue and he kept running his hand across his bald head.
“I know that, but Howard Lewis knew a lot of information, much more than can be found on Facebook. Logan visited Dale months ago, and it’s just coming out now. Just coming out today, along with everything else.” Abby’s eyes narrowed as she turned to look at the man who she knew was responsible for the leak.
“I don’t understand why we weren’t sharing this information in the first place,” Dingle said. “It’s great press.”
“He’s a kid recovering from cancer. His disease isn’t something for us to use for good press,” Logan ground out through his teeth. “He wants to share it, he can. It isn’t something for us to exploit.”
“But you did take the opportunity to exploit it. Didn’t you, Rodger?” Abby asked. “I saw you talking to Howard before the conference, maybe you know how he got that information.”
“You’re accusing me of doing this, D.C.? Telling secrets? Selling out our players? I think if anyone’s moral integrity for this job needs to be looked at, it should be yours. You know James here on a much more intimate level than I do.” He took a step closer to her, the malevolence in his eyes clear. “Now I know the secret to your success. You screw your clients. But I get it, you have to be on the bottom to get to the top.”
Abby reeled back like she’d been slapped.
Logan moved from his corner of the room, the rage radiating off of him as he stepped between her and Dingle and got right up in the other guy’s face. “I’d be careful with what you say about Abby, Dilbert.”
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“It’s Dingle,” Rodger said as he puffed out his chest.
“I don’t fucking care.”
“Logan.” Abby reached out, her fingers wrapping around his forearm as she gently pulled. “Stop.”
He came with little resistance, let himself be led away. And really Abby needed to put as much distance between the two of them as possible, because if she could prove that it was Dingle behind this, there was no telling what would happen.
“You see?” Dingle said as he turned to Lindbergh. “You see?” He waved his hands frantically at Logan and Abby. “This is what I’m talking about. If anyone was able to get insider information on James it was D.C. over here.”
“Abby, is this true?” Lindbergh asked, turning to look at her. “Do you and James have something beyond a professional relationship?”
There was no more denying it. “Yes.” She nodded.
“I see.” Lindbergh’s head knocked back just slightly on his neck, and his eyebrows rose up his forehead. “Did this start before or after the altercation in the locker room between James and Proctor?”
“Before.”
“Well, this complicates matters.” Lindbergh shook his head.
“All of the problems started to happen when she showed up,” Dingle said, shaking his head, acting justified in his disapproval. “The whole situation with Kilpatrick getting caught at that private club with that singer.” He ticked off one finger on his hand. “The altercation in the locker room.” He ticked off a second finger. “This.” He ticked off a third finger. “Do you get your contacts at the hospital to spy on him or something? Get Gemma Faro to send you pictures of him in those ridiculous superhero costumes?” He gestured to the TV as the picture he was talking about came up on the screen.
And there it was.
“How did you know that, Rodger? How did you know Gemma sent me that picture?” Abby asked.
“I…” Dingle froze, his hand still in mid-air, his mouth hanging open.
“Something else that should be noted,” Brooke said, walking close to the TV that she hadn’t pulled her gaze from once. “Neither Dale nor Hamilton took this picture. Look,” she said, pointing, “they both have their phones in their hands. You can clearly see them.” She turned and looked at Abby, sweeping her long blonde hair off her shoulder. “Who else was in the locker room?”
Undressed Page 13
