Page 23 of His Fantasy Girl

Of course. He’d been arrested the day after he’d first met her, had been denied bail, and sentenced to eighteen months. He’d gotten out on good behavior after twelve, but he would have been inside when she had the baby.

“I was eighteen,” she continued, “My father is a lawyer, and I was supposed to be starting law school that autumn. So yes, visiting my baby’s father in prison was a little outside my comfort zone.”

“And after that?”

“It seemed easier to…ignore your existence. It never occurred to me that you’d want to know. We had a one-night stand. There was nothing between us.”

“Except a baby.”

She went silent, tracing an invisible pattern on the tabletop with her fingertip. Finally, she looked up. “I did what I thought was right for my daughter.”

Yeah, because having a man likehimfor a father was obviously a shitload worse than no father at all. He couldn’t believe the bitterness that washed over him at that thought. He was used to people taking a look at him and presuming he was a badass. It had never bothered him before. Hell, he’d taken a certain pride in it.

“So why didn’t you tell her I was dead? That would have been nice and clean. No nasty, unsuitable ex-con of a father to explain away.”

“I won’t lie to you. I thought about it. I was still thinking about it when you came to see me.” She rubbed at her forehead dislodging a strand of mahogany hair, ruining the perfect exterior. He had an urge to yank out the pins, mess her up further. “But it isn’t fair on Jenny to lie. She has a right to know. And one day she’ll find out. So I checked you out, and when I found out you hadn’t been in any more trouble, I—”

“Decided to tell me the good news.” Jesus, how much had she checked him out? He was a wealthy man. Was that what it was about—money? But he didn’t think so, however angry he was. “What about me?” he asked. “Was it fucking fair on me? Did you ever think about that?”

Her eyes widened, no doubt at the anger in his voice. Then she slowly shook her head. “No. It was never about you. Always about Jenny. I don’t know you…didn’t know you. I had to think about what was best for her. And I have to tell you, if you’d been to prison again after that first time, I would not be here now.”

Part of him could understand that, but most of him was seriously pissed off. What the hell right did she have to judge him? And find him wanting?

“I’m her mother. It’s my job to protect her.” She picked up her hat, and he realized that she was leaving. She’d dropped this bombshell and now she was going to calmly walk way.

“I have to get back to work,” she said.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he needed some time to let this sink in, to think it through before he said anything else, because he suspected that right now he might say something he would ultimately regret.

“Call me when you decide what you want to do.”

What the hell was there to decide? “I want to meet my daughter.”

“Well, call me when you’ve calmed down, and we’ll discuss it.”

He gritted his teeth; he was goddamn calm.

“My number is on the back of the photo,” she said and slid out from the booth. He sat back and watched her walk away, hat clutched in her hand. As she reached the door, Rory entered. He held the door for her and spoke softly. She snapped something back. Logan couldn’t hear what she said, but whatever it was made his father raise his eyebrows.

Finally, the door closed behind her.

Logan sat back in his seat, his mind whirling. He wasn’t quite sure if he’d imagined the encounter. Picking up the photo, he studied it some more. No, she was definitely real.

He glanced up to see Rory standing beside the booth.

“What did you say to her?” Logan said.

“I asked her what the fuck she was doing here.”

Logan shook his head. “And she said?”

“She said ‘go to hell.’” He grinned. “You know I might quite like her…if she weren’t a cop. So what put her in such a pissy mood? And whatwasshe doing here?”

Logan handed him the photograph. “It seems I have a daughter.”

Rory studied the picture for a few seconds and whistled. “Holy shit.” He shook his head. “You and the police sergeant?”

“Well, she wasn’t a police sergeant back then.” No, she’d been an eighteen-year-old girl. Could he really blame her for the choices she’d made? Hell, yeah, when those choices included cutting him out of his daughter’s life. He could sort of understand why she had done it, but he wasn’t ready to let go of his anger just yet.

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