by Nina Croft
She shoved her head under the pillow and hoped the world would disappear. It didn’t. Light filtered in through the curtains, but everything was still quiet in the house.
Last night she’d thought he might come after her, attempt to continue the conversation, and she’d lain awake for a long time. Finally the slam of his bedroom door along the hallway hinted that he wasn’t coming. That should have settled her, but she’d tossed and turned. When she finally fell asleep, it was only to land in the middle of a nightmare—Logan making out with the stripper she’d seen him with that time at the club, all fake red hair and huge fake breasts. Abby had tried to run away, but somehow she was handcuffed to the bed. “You wanted to marry me,” Logan had sneered in her dream. “Do you really think a man like me will be satisfied with someone like you?”
She punched the pillow. God, she was screwed up and a total goddamn cliché. And now she felt tired and cranky and she had to go to work. Jenny was spending the day with Logan, and no doubt they would have a fabulous time together without her, because she was a miserable, boring bitch.
Anyway, it was Logan’s fault. How could he have asked her to move in, especially after what she’d just told him? She was quite aware that, once again, she had totally overreacted. But then, Logan had that effect on her, made her behave in ways she had never thought she would, like some sort of bad-tempered, uncontrollable harpy.
Who’d asked him to marry her.
She didn’t even want to marry him. He was totally unsuitable husband material. He’d never fit in with her lifestyle or her friends.
Except he was doing a pretty good job of being a father to Jenny.
And she’d hurt him. She hadn’t thought she had that power. But her reaction to his proposition had come as a shock to him. Maybe he was used to women who would jump at the chance. And if she was honest, if it wasn’t for Jenny, perhaps she would have jumped, taken what she could get of him, for as long as she could, and dealt with her broken heart at the end of it. But Jenny was there, and Abby knew now that if she allowed herself to get in any deeper, the inevitable breakup would be that much harder, and she needed to be able act as though it didn’t matter—for Jenny’s sake. Which meant living with him was not an option.
In fact, from now on, she was maintaining a distance. She’d let this go way too far.
The sound of a door banging told her that someone was up. Time to go out and face the day. She struggled out of bed and into the shower. The water revived her a little, though not enough. She tugged on clean clothes, but she couldn’t be bothered with makeup or doing anything fancy with her hair so just pulled it up into a ponytail.
Voices drifted out from the kitchen as she came downstairs. She hesitated, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. The voices stopped as she entered. Jenny was at the table still in her pajamas. Logan stood at the stove with his back to her, dressed in faded jeans and a gray T-shirt. His feet were bare. In her black pantsuit, she felt the odd one out. So what was new?
“Dad’s making bacon and eggs,” Jenny said.
She nodded, sinking down opposite her. What she really needed was coffee, lots and lots of really strong coffee. She could smell it somewhere, and she glanced around, her gaze finally settling on the coffee pot across the room. She was pushing herself up as Logan turned. He brought a plate of food and placed it in front of Jenny. It looked perfectly cooked—she was impressed.
“You can cook?” she said.
He gave her a cool look that told her he hadn’t forgiven her for last night. “What? You think a man like me wouldn’t be able to cook?”
She flashed him a warning look—she didn’t want Jenny picking up any of their bad vibes—but Jenny giggled. “Mum can’t cook anything but toast, and she usually burns that.”
Logan grinned. “Really. Little Miss Perfect can’t cook?”
Jenny giggled again, while Abby gritted her teeth and forced a smile.
“You want some?” Logan asked.
Her stomach churned at the thought. “Just coffee, please.”
He crossed the room, poured her a mug, and placed it in front of her. She hung her head over it and breathed in the fumes.
Last night, she’d avoided speaking to him over the dinner table while Jenny acted as a buffer between them. This morning they didn’t need a buffer. He was pretty much ignoring her, and after ten minutes, she could sense Jenny’s puzzled glances between the two of them. This was what she’d worried about: that any altercations between her and Logan would spill over on Jenny. Their daughter wasn’t stupid.
But this morning she didn’t have the strength to fight it or make it better. She gulped down the coffee, burning her mouth in the process, and stood up. “I need to go to work.” She crossed to Jenny and dropped a quick kiss on her head. “You have a good day, and I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay, Mum.”
Logan followed her out into the hallway, and her heart sank. She didn’t need this right now. Grabbing her bag, she made for the door. He halted her with a hand on her arm, and a shiver ran through her. A simple touch and her body came alive. She stopped and turned slowly.
His expression was cool. “I just want to say you can relax. I’ll back off. You’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with me. We’ll need to pretend to be friends for Jenny’s sake, but I won’t push you for anything else.”
She bit her lip. She should be happy, but heat was rolling through her, and her eyes pricked. She had to get out of there before she made a total fool of herself. This was what she wanted. Accept it and get out.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
For a second, she thought he might say something else, but he nodded and turned away. Abby let herself out of the house, blinking away the tears.
She never cried.
It was messy and uncontrolled and just not her. But she drove the car out of the drive, around a corner, and pulled up on the edge of the road.
And bawled her eyes out.
After five minutes, she sniffed and pulled the tatters of herself together. She had her mum, Jenny, a great career, and maybe a new job to look forward to. There was no reason to feel like everything was over.
Chapter Twelve
Logan pulled up in front of the house and sat for a minute, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He hadn’t seen Abby for a week. Not since the disastrous night he’d asked her to move in with him.
He missed her.
And it wasn’t only the sex, though God, he missed that. He missed her company. He liked her, and he’d spent an inordinate number of hours trying to work out why. What was there to like? She was uptight, screwed up, and thought he wasn’t good enough.
Maybe he wasn’t good enough.
Not for her and her impossibly high standards, anyway. And he never would be. So there was no point in trying. He’d save himself a whole load of pain if he accepted that now. Because if he got in any deeper with her, and she turned her back on him…
The muscles in his gut tightened. Christ, it wasn’t as though he had a good track record; his own mother had dumped him in exchange for a paycheck. However crappy a mother she had been, he’d loved her, and he never wanted to go through that again. There was probably something about him… Shit, he was getting maudlin.
The one thing he could do was offer his daughter unconditional love. She would never feel the way he had.
He hadn’t seen Jenny since the sleepover, either. Today they were going out for lunch, but he was hoping he would get a few minutes with Abby first. Not that he had any clue what he was going to say to her. He just wanted to see her, hear her voice.
Was he losing it?
Probably.
He got out of the car and headed up the drive, but when the door opened, Rachel stood there, and his heart sank.
“Hi, Logan, you want to come in? Jenny is getting her things.”
He followed her into the lounge and stood shifting from foot to foot, feeling like a teenager in front of his girlfriend
’s mother. Except Abby wasn’t his girlfriend. Finally he could hold back the question no longer. “Is Abby around?”
Was that pity flashing across her face? Was he so fucking obvious?
“I’m afraid she had to go in to work early.” She smiled brightly. “So how are you and Jenny getting along?”
“Good,” he said, but was saved from any more polite conversation by Jenny appearing at the door.
He couldn’t believe the extent of his disappointment. He’d done such a great job of not seeking her out this week, and he’d looked on today as his reward for good behavior. But it wasn’t Jenny’s fault, and he forced a smile. “What would you like to eat?”
“Pizza.”
“Pizza it is.”
“Dad?” she asked as they drove through the city.
He cast her a quick sideways glance. He recognized the tone now—she was about to ask him something and wasn’t sure what sort of answer she would get. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Before we go to lunch, can I see where you work?”
He hesitated. What was the right answer? While he was proud of what he’d achieved with the clubs, he didn’t think they were a suitable place for a ten-year-old. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to think something bad went on there, or that he was hiding something.
Christ, it was difficult knowing what was right. Maybe it was all about finding a balance. He took a deep breath. “It’s not a place for children, but how about we park the car there and you can take a look from the outside.”
“Okay.”
He blew out a breath. Not so bad. “So have you decided about school next year?”
“I think I’m going to stick with the local one.”
“Is that because all your friends will be going there?”
She thought for a moment. “Partly. Me and Mum spent some time looking at different places. We even looked at boarding schools—there’s one where you can take your own pony.”
“You don’t have a pony.”
“I know. It’s tragic.”
He chuckled.
“But mum’s on her own now,” Jenny continued. “So I can’t leave her. And the day schools I could go to in London don’t seem any better than the local.”
“No ponies?”
She wrinkled her nose. “None. And the local school has a really good reputation, just as good as the ones you have to pay for, so I don’t see the point.”
God, she was bright. Had he been that sensible at ten? Somehow he doubted it. “How about riding lessons for your birthday?”
“Really? Can I?”
“Only if your mother agrees.” Was he going to get in trouble for this? Maybe he should have checked with Abby first. But at least now he’d have a legitimate excuse to seek her out.
Half an hour later, he drove the car down into the underground parking below the club and switched off the engine. “Come on, let’s go find that pizza.”
They took the stairs up to street level and out into the alley that ran along the side of the club. It took up the width of one block.
“This is my club,” he said, waving a hand at the building. “At least, this is one of them. The first one my dad opened, years ago.”
“It’s huge.” Jenny peered into one of the windows. “I can’t see anything. The glass is all dark.”
“There’s not much to see. Just a big room where people dance.”
As they came out onto the main street, where the club’s entrance was situated, the big black double doors opened, and Carly—the dancer they had taken on the day Abby had first come here—stepped out. She was dressed in sweats and a tank top, her bright red hair pulled into a ponytail. When she saw Logan, she stopped and gave a huge grin. She closed the space between them, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. “Just wanted to say thank you—Jerry took me on permanently last night.”
“You deserve it.”
“Well, thanks anyway for giving me a chance.” She cast Jenny a curious glance.
“This is my daughter,” Logan said. “Jenny, this is Carly. She works as a dancer at the club.”
Jenny was eying the rose tattoo on Carly’s shoulder. “Hello.”
“Nice to meet you, Jenny.”
“She’s really pretty,” Jenny said as Carly disappeared down the street. “Can I be a dancer when I grow up?”
Crap.
What the hell was the right answer to that? Not that he had anything against dancing as a career, but he wasn’t so sure Abby would agree. “Perhaps, but it’s really hard work,” was all he could come manage.
She stared after Carly almost wistfully. “Dad?”
There was that tone again. A tic started up in his cheek. “Hmm?”
“Can I have a tattoo?”
Again—what the hell was he supposed to say? “How about we talk about it when you’re older.”
“How much older?”
What was reasonable? Why hadn’t he discussed this stuff with Abby? Probably because they were too busy working through his fantasies to get down to serious topics. That needed to change, because this parenting thing was a minefield. Maybe there were books he could read or classes he could take.
“Eighteen?” He sounded tentative, but he had no clue what the right answer was.
“Brilliant.” Jenny grinned, and he breathed out in relief. “Mum said sixty-five.”
Crap.
Time to change the subject. “You know, I met your mum right here, in that club.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “It was her eighteenth birthday.”
“Was she your girlfriend? Is that how you had me?”
It occurred to him—as he wiped the sweat from his forehead—that he’d been getting off easy up to now. His daughter had obviously been saving up the difficult stuff. Explaining what a one-night stand was and how he’d had one with her mother was not an option. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’m starving. Should we go get that pizza?”
She gave him a look that made it clear she saw straight through his diversionary tactics, and he scrubbed a hand over his chin. “She wasn’t my girlfriend exactly, but we did like each other, and I’m sure we would have been if…” Christ, how much to tell her? What did she already know?
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you couldn’t be with us because they locked you up. Mum told me”
She had? What else had she said?
“And that it wasn’t your fault,” Jenny continued, as if hearing his unspoken question. “You were just looking after your brother.”
Something warm twisted inside him. Abby might not want him in their lives, but she was doing her best to ensure it worked. He made a mental note to say thank you. Another excuse to go see her. God, he was pathetic. “Yeah, that’s what happened.”
Jenny cocked her head. “I wouldn’t mind a brother. Then I’d have someone to look after me. Or someone for me to look after. That would be nice.”
He bit back a smile. “You’ve got your mum and me to look after you. Come here.” As he held out his arms, she stepped in close. He hugged her tight for a moment and then kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go get some lunch.”
A little while later they were seated in his favorite pizza place. They gave their order and he sat back. He’d resisted asking on the way here, but now he couldn’t refrain from just one question. “How’s your mother?”
Jenny took a sip of Coke then stared him in the eyes. “I think she’s avoiding you.”
It occurred to him that maybe he should find a safe way out of this conversation that he shouldn’t have started in the first place, but somehow the words just popped out. “She is? Why do you think that?”
“Well, she was supposed to be looking after me today, but she phoned Gran and asked her to come around. She told Gran that work had called and she had to go in, but they hadn’t. She could have waited until you’d picked me up.”
He had no idea what to say to that, but he didn’t have to worry, Jenny was on a
roll. “Maybe it’s because she’s got a new boyfriend.”
He looked up, but her expression was guileless. “She has? That’s nice,” he said, lying through his teeth. A new boyfriend? Christ, she was a quick worker. Unless she was already seeing this new guy while she was screwing him. No doubt he was someone suitable, someone responsible, not a tattooed ex-con with commitment issues.
There. He’d admitted it to himself. He had issues. She was right to stay away from him. And he wasn’t going to rise to Jenny’s bait. He really wasn’t. He was quite aware that Jenny was indulging in a few daydreams of a happy ever after between him and Abby, and while he didn’t want to burst her bubble—and he didn’t want to think too hard why that was—he didn’t want to encourage her either.
Jenny didn’t need any encouragement. “His name’s Jack and he’s a detective. She works with him.”
A fucking detective. That was rubbing it in.
“He’s nice.” Jenny added when he didn’t say anything.
“She brought him home?” She’d better not be sleeping with this guy.
“I’ve met him before—they’ve been friends forever. But this was different. They went out for dinner, like a proper date.”
Ha. So much for not going on dates. What else had she lied about?
The food came and they were silent while the waiter placed their pizzas in front of them. Jenny’s was vegetarian as well. Was she trying to impress him? He wasn’t hungry, and he was fighting an almost irresistible urge to grill his own daughter for details of her mother’s love life. He was a goddamned mess.
“He’s not as nice as you though,” Jenny said eventually. Perhaps she realized she was being less than diplomatic. “And he doesn’t have a motorcycle or a dog.” She took another mouthful. “Or any tattoos.”
At least his daughter liked him. Or she liked his bike and his dog and his tattoos.
After lunch he dropped Jenny off at the house Rachel was now sharing with Abby’s father. It was in Chelsea—a much more affluent part of town than the one Abby lived in—a townhouse, four stories high, and probably worth millions. She’d said her father was a lawyer; he obviously came from money.
