Page 26 of His Fantasy Girl

At that moment a loud rumble came from outside on the street, as some sort of vehicle pulled up, followed by silence as the engine was switched off. It sounded like a bike. He’d come on a motorcycle?

Her mum crossed the room and peered out through the window. “Holy crap,” she muttered.

“Mum!”

“Sorry, but…”

Abby came up beside her and stared out through the glass. Logan sat astride a huge, gleaming black Harley. Jenny came to stand next to her, and Abby put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. As they watched, he pulled off his helmet. His black hair was tied back into a ponytail, revealing the sharp angles of his face. He wore black jeans and a black leather jacket. He didn’t look like anyone’s dad.

“Isthatmy dad?” Jenny asked in awed tones.

“Yes.”

“Sara is going to be so jealous.”

Abby caught her mother’s gaze over Jenny’s head, and her mum grinned.

Out on the street, Logan swung his leg over the gleaming machine with an almost animal-like grace. He stood for a moment studying the house, and she had the urge to step back out of sight. But there was no hiding today.

This was really happening.

“Are you sureyoudon’t want to go change, Abby?” her mum asked. “Put on a pretty dress? Some makeup perhaps?”

She was wearing tailored black slacks and a white shirt. Boring, but somehow she didn’t think Logan would be taking much notice of her today. This was about Jenny. She’d wanted to merge into the background.

“No thanks.”

“At least take your hair down.”

She frowned.

“Yes, mummy. Don’t you want to look pretty for daddy?” Jenny reached up and tugged the clip from her hair so it tumbled over her shoulders.

“Hey.”

The doorbell rang and she had no time to do anything about it. Taking a deep breath, she gave Jenny and her mum a quick smile and headed into the hallway. Then she took another deep breath and opened the front door.

As Logan walked up the drive, a prickle ran down his spine. He glanced to the side and saw the curtain twitch.

Was Abby watching him, regretting that he had ever come back into her life?

Was his daughter there?

Christ, get a grip.

He couldn’t remember being this scared since his first night in prison. As he came to a halt at the front door, he closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then pressed the doorbell. It seemed like an age before he heard footsteps. The door opened and Abby stood there. He glanced behind her but she was alone in the hallway.

“Hi,” he said, handing her the bottle of wine he carried and resisting the urge to wipe his palms down his pant legs.

I can do this.

“Come in.” She moved aside so he could pass, closed the door behind them, and followed him. “She’s through there with my mum,” she said waving a hand toward another door. “Did I mention my mum would be here? She lives with us. We would never have managed…” She was talking fast, and sounded as nervous as he was. That calmed him a little. As she leaned past him to open the door, he breathed in the scent of lemons, and the familiar smell dragged him back to the other night, the taste of her, the feel of her wrapped around him.

He slammed a lid on those memories. Now was not the time.

The door led into a lounge, but their surroundings faded as his gaze latched on to the girl standing in the center of the room, hands clasped in front of her, silver-gray eyes huge. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped through the door. There was no mistaking his daughter, and the knots in his stomach tightened as they stared at each other.

“Hello.”

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