Page 59 of His Fantasy Girl

“I did warn you,” said Jack. Her eyes narrowed on him. He didn’t take the hint. “I told you hanging around with McCabe wouldn’t do your career any good.”

At his words, fighting mad turned into furiously angry. She stalked toward him and stopped, hands on her hips. “Piss off, Jack. It’s unfair and you know it.Andit’s a fucking double standard.”

His eyes widened. He’d probably never heard her swear before.

“Those sanctimonious, hypocritical pricks in there had the nerve to tell me that a detective must be above reproach, when Brayden has been screwing around on his wife with PC Kinsley for the last three months. How circumspect is that?”

Jack glanced around. “Shh.”

“What? Worried your boss will hear? It’s not as if everyone doesn’t already know.”

“Come on. Let me give you a lift home. I’ve got the car today. You can apply again. You’ll get in. Just…”

“Just what? Be more circumspect. Maybe you expect me to kick Logan out of Jenny’s life. Would that help?” He shrugged. “Go away, Jack.” Without waiting for him to answer, she whirled around and stalked away.

Logan sat, feet up on the desk, staring into space. There was probably something he should be doing, but he couldn’t think what. And if there wasn’t, he should be at home, not sitting in his office like some lovesick idiot. He’d gotten Abby’s shift times off Jenny and knew them by heart. She wasn’t working tonight. She’d probably be at home. Maybe he should go round, park outside her house, try and tempt her out.

He’d been so good, keeping his distance, but he was fed up with being good. It wasn’t in his nature, and he had to work too hard.

But she couldn’t come out, anyway. Her mother had moved in with her father, so Abby would be alone with Jenny.

Just as well.

The phone on his desk rang, and Logan picked it up. It was Mark, the bouncer working the door tonight. “Thought you might want to know, your Sergeant Parker just came in.” The entire staff had been amused by Logan’s new relationship with the law.

He frowned. He’d seen her briefly when he dropped Jenny off two nights ago, but other than that they hadn’t spoken since he’d walked away a week ago. And it was killing him. So many times he’d thought about going to her. He wanted her back in his bed, or his truck, or up against the first convenient surface he could find. Now she had come to him, and excitement zinged in his blood. But it was after eleven. What was she doing out so late?

“Is she alone?”

“No, she’s with two girlfriends. And boss, she’s drunk. Made it clear she wasn’t here to see you, just to party.”

Drunk? Party? Neither sounded like Abby. What had happened? “Put her in the VIP section.” He thought for a second, remembering what had happened last time she had been drunk in this club, and it wasn’t going to happen with anyone else. “Don’t let anyone near her, and I’ll be right out.”

He put the phone down and stared at it for a minute, then jumped to his feet, a grin tugging his lips.

She’d come to him.

Even if she denied it.

There were hundreds of other clubs in London if she wanted to party. No, whatever she said, it was him she wanted.

He made his way through the main room. The club was packed tonight, the lights dim, the air throbbing with the beat of the music. Carly was up on one of the podiums, looking classy in a black strapless dress and black heels. She gave an extra wiggle and blew him a kiss as he passed.

The bouncer opened the door to the VIP section as he approached. It was quieter in here, more subdued, the music lower, though the place was just as busy, and the small dance floor was packed. He saw Abby straight away and paused to study her. She was seated opposite two women, both blondes, in one of the plush red velvet booths that lined the walls. Mark stood in front of the little group, huge, arms folded across his chest, taking his scaring-off-potential-predators role very seriously.

She peered around Mark and caught sight of him, waggling her fingers. He moved forward, coming to a halt in front of her. Abby wasn’t dressed to party, but in a black pantsuit and white shirt—the sort of thing she usually wore for work. Her face was free of makeup, her hair in its usual bun, although some curls had come free. He was guessing the party was a spur of the moment decision rather than a planned outing.

Logan nodded to Mark, and the bouncer headed off. Abby sat up straight, pushed her shoulders back, and smiled. “Good evening, Mr. McCabe.”

His lips twitched. “Good evening.” He looked to her friends. Was she going to introduce them, or was she going to try to pretend there was nothing between them?

Because he wasn’t good enough.

But she waved a hand in their direction. “This is Melanie and Susannah. My friends.” The waving hand wandered in his direction. “And this is Logan McCabe, bad boy, ex-con, and father of my daughter. And I”—she tapped herself on the chest—“am Abby, police sergeant and fantasy girl.”

“Hi, Logan,” said the one called Melissa, then she shrugged. “Sorry, we wanted to take her home, but she insisted. I think she wants to talk to you.”

“No, I don’t,” Abby said. “Logan and I are best if we don’t talk. If we talk things go bad. So, no, I don’t want to talk to Logan.” She thought for a moment. “I think I want to dance with Logan.”

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