Page 34 of Risky Game

Watch Logan throw his daughter around in a pool half-naked.

How hard could that be?

I pretended to read while I snuck glances at Logan.

I’d been right. Not only was watching him hard, but his entire body was also defined and hard. The way his abs rippled and his biceps popped when he threw Amelia through the air was enough to have me pressing my thighs together.

The water dripping off his hair, the way he shook it back all while laughing at something Amelia said made my toes curl into the lounge chair.

By the time they were done playing in the pool and Logan had ushered her inside after forcing a reluctant, “Good night, Miss Ruby,” in my direction, I was ready for a drink.

Which was exactly what Logan found me doing in the kitchen when he returned, faster than usual.

Thankfully, fully clothed and rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Oh God. A drink is just what I need tonight.”

He grabbed a beer from the fridge while I tried hard, so very hard, not to notice the way his shorts cupped his perfect backside.

“Amelia went to sleep that quickly?”

“She was yawning and tired. Kept it to one book. Any chance you’ll sit outside with me again?”

Ahh… the first reference to the last time. If he could brush it off, so could I. “I promise not to fall asleep again.”

He shrugged and bent down, coming back up with a bucket. He filled it with ice and while the clatter rang through the room, he smirked at me. “Didn’t mind it the last time. Wouldn’t mind it again.”

Well, damn.

Good thing he was bringing all that ice. I’d probably need to dump it over my head. That is, if I heard him correctly.

I was still gaping at him when he turned, grabbed my bottle of wine, winked at me, and plunked the bottle into the bucket.

He winked! There was no way to miss that. What in the world was going on?

Next thing I knew, he was at the back door, sliding it open. “Are you coming? Or am I drinking this wine alone?”

Uh… he thought he could get me moving by threats of drinking my wine?

He was right.

I scurried right after him, directly into my next form of torture.

When did I become a masochist?

Tonight. Tonight I became a masochist because I was following him outside, and it had nothing to do with the bottle of wine he held hostage.

My phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced at it and promptly tripped over my feet as I read Gina’s text.

Bang the boss yet?

“You okay?”

I jerked my head up, cheeks on fire from the visions that assaulted my brain at Gina’s text.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” I waved my phone in my hand. “It was a text from my friend Gina.

“Oh?”

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