Page 13 of His Fantasy Girl

He’d moved house for a dog?

He climbed out while she was still trying to process the information, and came around and opened the door. She scrambled out, suddenly off balance.

The house was big, with a wide staircase leading up to a dark red front door, seeming more a family home than somewhere a bachelor would live.

“You’re not married are you?”

“Christ, no.”

His answer was emphatic. Obviously, not a big fan of marriage then.

What a surprise.

She stood for a moment staring up at the building, wondering what the hell she was doing here. Had she been totally deluded? She’d thought that she could keep her emotional distance, tell him about Jennifer, and allow him limited, controlled access if he wanted it. And it would all be smooth and painless. She’d always liked everything nice and clean cut, organized. As a child she’d striven to be the perfect daughter, then the perfect mother. She worked hard to be the best she could at her job. Now she had a weird sensation that she was about to screw up majorly. For one thing, she was getting the inkling that Logan wasn’t going to be controlled about anything.

She cast him a quick glance. He was standing by the front door, looking down at her. She couldn’t read his face; he was amazingly good at hiding his expression, though as she stared, something hot and dark gleamed in his silver eyes. He pushed open the front door and stretched out a hand toward her. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Hmm, there was absolutely nothing humble about Logan, including his abode. But she forced herself to step forward, jumping as the front door clicked shut behind her. She was in a wide hallway, decorated in cream and dark red. It felt like a home. A number of doors led off from the central area and a staircase led up to the upper floor. The floors were wood and everything gleamed. She became aware of a scrabbling noise as Logan headed toward the door opposite. “Stand back,” he muttered and opened the door.

A huge dog hurtled out, sliding on the shiny wood floor. An unrecognizable breed, maybe some Great Dane, Alsatian, a few other things. He hurled himself on Logan, who rubbed his head, then the dog turned and raced toward Abby. She held her ground and he skidded to a halt, thrust his head against her groin, and snuffled.

Abby crouched down, pushed him away slightly, and stroked his massive head. “He’s lovely.”

“He’s a total monster. My brother took him in as a stray then decided he wanted to go traveling.”

“So you took him.”

“He’s a guard dog.”

Someone who liked dogs couldn’t be all bad. “Of course he is.”

“You like dogs?”

“Yes. I was never allowed one as a child—my father hated the mess.”

“Grunt,” he called to the dog, who whined and nudged Abby in the stomach. “He’s not very well trained. Grunt, come!”

The dog reluctantly turned and loped off, following Logan. She stepped closer and watched as Logan opened a door to the back garden and the dog bounded out. Logan closed the door and turned back to her. For a minute he studied her, head cocked on one side, a question in his eyes.

“What?” she asked.

Chapter Four

She sounded vaguely belligerent, as though she was gearing herself up for a fight. Pity. He had no plans to fight her. He hadn’t meant to go back to the police station. He’d been shocked and pretty much horrified when he’d found out what exactly she did for a living. He’d grown up distrusting the police, and things had only gotten worse when they’d locked him up on a rap most people would have walked away from.

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted her, and he wasn’t used to not going after what he wanted. He was ninety-nine percent sure she wasn’t setting him up, though he had no clue what she thought they needed to talk about. She’d managed not to talk to him quite happily for eleven years. Unless she had some fantasies of her own, and his visit had stirred them up. He liked that idea, and he was willing to play along. He’d even chat with her afterward.

But not right now. Right now, he had no plans to chat. On the drive over he’d been tossing around a few of his more repetitive fantasies, deciding which to…tackle first, and he’d gotten hot and uncomfortably hard.

Christ, even in that uniform she’d turned him on. Now that was a surprise.

Him fancying a copper—it was beyond inconceivable. “It’s funny,” he said, “I can usually spot the police a mile away, but you…”

“Me what?” The belligerence was still there.

“Well, let’s just say I would never have guessed it. And I’m willing to overlook that little character flaw. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. Good. Neither was he. “Come through.”

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