Offside (25 page)

By the end of the hour, she was in bad need
of a shower, surrounded by a bunch of girls who were more pumped
than ever to play hockey. But most importantly, for the first time
in a long time she had a glimmer of something—a spark. A vision of
what she could accomplish if she used her smarts and her
connections.

And the only person she wanted to share it
with was thousands of miles away.

Logan smiled at the woman across from him and
glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. He’d
been in Los Angeles since Monday morning and it was now Thursday
night. He’d visited former clients, met with new ones, and even had
lunch with a studio interested in some reality crap type of
television show. He was tired. He was cranky as all hell. And he
missed Billie something fierce.

All in all, it had been a successful trip—one
which he was looking forward to putting behind him. He’d met with
Drake Jefferies, CEO and founder of Vio-Tech—an electronics company
that made their millions or billions even, with video games,
several of which had scored lucrative movie tie-ins. Drake
Jefferies was an old college buddy of Logan’s and while planning
the launch for their newest gaming venture, he’d decided that he
wanted a custom-made bike—one that reflected both the company and
the game—and he’d called Logan.

That meeting had been the first of many
throughout the week and now he found himself, late on a Thursday,
sitting across from some rich man’s bored trophy wife—a bored
trophy wife who’d managed to touch his thigh as least three times
in the last hour.

Damn how he hated L.A.

“I’m not sure where my husband disappeared
to, but if you’ve had enough I can get you back to your hotel or,”
her husky, cigarette soaked voice lowered, “our offer still
stands.”

He’d had enough.

Logan stood, his mind already a half hour
ahead. His eyes already glued to his laptop where, via the magic of
Skype, Billie would appear and if she kept the promises she’d made
last night, he was in for one hell of an evening.

“Thanks Mrs. Krump, but I’m good to get
myself back. Dinner was great and though I appreciate the invite to
stay at your home, I’ve got an early flight and prefer the
hotel.”

Her collagen lips puckered, her botoxed
forehead tightened—though it never really moved or creased. This
was her version of a frown he supposed but damn if she didn’t look
like a crazed caricature of some freaky lady who’d spray painted
her skin orange and dyed the warmth out of her hair until it
resembled shiny, white straw.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll see you again
though?”

He was already heading for the restaurant
foyer, but paused, thinking his quick exit wasn’t the most gracious
considering her husband had just commissioned a very expensive
custom bike, for each of them. “Again?”

“When you bring the bikes out?”

Logan smiled and waved. “Thanks again. Tell
your husband I’ll be in touch.” He spied the old goat talking up
some young thing at the bar. These plastic, phony people were not
his thing and he couldn’t wait to get home. To get up close and
personal with the very real, very warm, and very natural Billie-Jo
Barker.

There was no way in hell he was coming back
out here. No way in hell.

Logan was still grouchy the next morning and
wasn’t exactly the nicest guy to sit beside on the plane ride home.
That didn’t stop the woman beside him, or the one across the aisle,
from trying to get his attention.

You’d think first class would be less
crowded, and he’d hoped to have some quiet time to himself, but it
wasn’t going to be. After a while his surly attitude wore through
their natural curiosity and they abandoned all hope of engaging him
in conversation.

[i]
Did you like L.A?

Not particularly.

Are you here on business?

Yep.

What do you do for a living?

I make things.

Are you married?

Nope.

Girlfriend?

I’m gay
.[i]

That had shut them up—thankfully—because all
he wanted to do was close his eyes and visualize Billie in that hot
little number she’d worn last night. Skype was his new best friend
and the bastard who’d invented the program was a fucking genius.
Billie had sashayed in front of her computer, her long limbs
dressed—or rather nearly undressed—in what she called lingerie but
what he called X-rated scraps of nothing. It was a few bits of
see-through material, with cutouts—cutouts for Christ sake—that
were just begging for a finger. Or two.

Which, she’d been more than happy to
demonstrate. That little performance had earned him a twenty minute
ice cold shower.

Logan shifted and groaned. He needed to clear
his head or he’d be sporting a hard-on to end all hard-ons for the
entire flight home. He glanced out his window into the clear blue
sky as a more sobering thought entered his mind. He still hadn’t
told Billie about his past with her sister. The timing had just
never seemed to be right and the more he pushed it to the back of
his mind, the more he decided that maybe it was a secret he could
keep.

Did that make him a creep? A lying
bastard?

He was pretty sure it made him something—he
just didn’t know what the hell that something was.

[i]
Coward
.[i]

It was dark by the time he claimed his
luggage and made his way out of the terminal into the parking
lot—and the cold—Christ was it cold. Though, with Thanksgiving
looming in the next weekend he shouldn’t be surprised. He tugged
his leather jacket up around his neck, slid into his truck and
revved the engine.

If he drove like the devil, he had a good
chance of making it back to New Waterford in time to meet the team
at The Grill. Logan glanced down at the last text he’d received
from Billie this morning.

[i]
Can’t wait to see you. Have
news
.[i]

The text was cryptic and it piqued his
curiosity but all thought of the meaning behind her words fled as
soon as he strode into The Grill. His body was strung tighter than
a violin string and his good mood vanished as his gaze focused on
the bar.

It was nearly midnight and the place was near
to bursting, but he spied his woman right away.

Billie-Jo stood bent over, listening to
something that Jason Danvers was whispering in her ear. For a
second the heat that suffused him clouded his vision and he
swallowed hard, a muscle working its way along his jaw as he aimed
for calm.

Except it was pretty damn hard when, from
where he stood, Danvers’ eyes were glued to that delicious
butt.

A butt that belonged to Logan and maybe it
was about time the whole damn town knew about it.

He strode through the crowd, saying hello and
offering quick nods to those who yelled his name as he passed.

He was almost to the bar when an arm snaked
out and grabbed him around the wrist, so quick and fast that he
nearly lost his balance. Logan whirled around, face weighted down
with a scowl and swore as Shane let go.

“Jesus fuck.”

Shane shook his head and took a swig from his
beer. “Don’t do it.”

Logan’s heart was beating a mile a minute and
he clenched his teeth in an effort to calm himself down and make it
stop.

“Seriously, you don’t want to cause a scene
in here, not with your ex’—he nodded somewhere behind Logan—‘over
there. She’s just itching to turn a screw in Billie and you don’t
want to be responsible for that mess.”

Logan exhaled. Shane was right.

“Besides,” Shane grinned and took a step
toward the bar. “She told me you’re way better in the sack than
Danvers is.”

“Asshole,” Logan muttered as he followed his
friend up to the bar.

“Forest,” Duke said jovially. “Beer?”

He nodded, his eyes immediately on Billie.
She’d slowly turned around, a beer in one hand, the other tucked
into the front pocket of her jeans.

“Logan,” she said casually, her eyes
glistening in the lowlight from the neon signs behind the bar. She
took a sip from her bottle, her tongue flickering along the edge.
“I didn’t even notice you were missing until what,” she turned to
Jason and giggled, “the third period?”

He grabbed his beer from Duke. Was she
drunk?

“Really?” he retorted. “Who the hell kept you
out of the corners?”

Jason downed his mug and ordered another.
“That would be me, Forest. Don’t worry. We picked up the slack. No
one is going to touch Barker.”

“Damn, right,” Dearling declared, his large
gut jiggling as he tried to get closer to the conversation. “Did
you tell him about the tourney next weekend?”

Billie raised her eyebrows. “Not me. I
haven’t seen the guy since last Friday.”

“We decided to enter the Cornucopia
tournament in the city.”

“Really,” Logan’s gaze shifted from Mike
Dearling to Shane. “Doesn’t that include a lot of teams from across
the state?”

“Yeah,” Dearling nodded. “Should be good
competition.”

“Sounds good,” his gaze settled on Billie.
The tip of her tongue was slowly rimming the bottle in her hands
and he was very aware that the bulge between his legs was going to
grow to epic proportions if he didn’t do something.

He took a long drink from his beer and tried
to think of other things. Simple things. Things that didn’t include
crotch-less lingerie and peek-a-boo skirts.

“So, Logan, I was just telling Jason how cool
this whole Skype thing is.”

His eyes shot to hers once more and he nearly
choked on his beer. Forcing it down he set his half empty bottle on
the counter, not liking the way every guy within ten feet was
focused on Billie.

Billie-Jo Barker. His, Billie-Jo Barker.

“What the hell is that shit?” Dearling
enquired as he staggered a bit and nearly knocked Billie over.

“Whoa,” Jason said, “be careful buddy.”

Billie set her beer down as well and Logan
noted it was over half full. “Do you know what Skype is,
Logan?”

“No,” he said slowly, his eyes burning a hole
through the fitted, pink button down top she wore. It had ridden up
a bit, exposing her belly ring and a generous expanse of smooth,
toned skin.

He needed to get her out of here before he
was forced to pound his fist into every single guy in the bar.

“It sounds like some foreign made up thing if
you ask me.” His voice dropped to a dangerous level.

“It’s this really awesome program on your
computer where you can chat with someone in real time and see them
while you’re doing it.”

“Ah huh,” he answered, remembering exactly
how they’d chatted the night before. Their Skype conversation had
consisted of Billie explaining the intricacies of her new lingerie
and then demonstrating said intricacies until he’d just about
died.

“You should try it sometime,” she
continued.

Jezebel.

“You know,” she licked her lips again and it
was then that he noticed they had a hint of red on them. Not too
much mind you, but more than the clear gloss she usually used for
him. What the hell?

His eyes moved to Jason who was staring with
open admiration at Billie’s mouth. How could you not? That damn
tongue was peeking out again.

“For when you go away on those long business
trips. It’s a great way to keep in touch with family.” She smiled.
“Your mother for instance.”

Mother?

“I’ll think about it.”

He’d had enough and leaned forward. “Actually
I need to talk to you about something.” He nodded toward the door,
amazed that he didn’t sound like a raving, sexually starved
lunatic, because that’s exactly how he felt. “Do you mind?”

She sighed and flicked a long, silky wave
behind her shoulder. He watched the way it slid back into place,
like a snake settling in to rest.

The woman knew how much he loved her hair and
she was going to pay for that one.

“I was thinking of having another drink.” She
looked at him, a wide-eyed angel—a tantalizing temptress. “Can it
wait?”

“Not really.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes
soft and full of mischief. “All right, I should call it a night.”
Billie grabbed her coat off the bar and waved to the guys. “Thanks
for a great game guys. See you next week.”

“You’re leaving already?” Jason stood. “I can
take you home.”

Logan grabbed her elbow. “It’s okay, Danvers.
I’ve got this.” He ignored the smirk tossed his way by Shane, and
turned toward the door. He wasn’t in the mood for anything other
than the woman in front of him, between his legs and begging for
more. Begging for something only he could give her.

He pushed Billie forward, his hand on her
back as she wove through the crowd.

“Hey,” she swore beneath her breath. “Slow
down.”

But Logan didn’t slow down until he had her
outside The Grill and next to his truck. She hesitated and glanced
around.

“There’s no one out here,” he said tightly,
for the first time really hating their dumbass arrangement. Logan
decided right then and there that he was done playing games. He was
done hiding.

“Get in,” he unlocked his truck.

“Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“No,” he answered truthfully, looking
pointedly at the seat behind her.

She slid inside and he slammed her door shut
before rounding the vehicle and jumping behind the wheel. He was
home in five minutes and they were through the front door of his
house exactly twenty seconds later.

“Logan,” she breathed.

Did she say his name out loud? Or had it been
swallowed when he claimed the mouth he’d been dreaming about for
days. He didn’t know and he sure as hell didn’t care. All that
mattered was getting Billie naked so that he could touch her. See
her.