Page 61 of His Fantasy Girl

She shook her head and swayed. “They said I needed to be more circumspect in my private life. But I’m Logan McCabe’s fantasy girl, and apparently that’s not very circumspect at all.”

Shit. She was going to hold him responsible for this, and his good mood crashed. He’d fucked this up for her. He’d no doubt she would have made detective if he hadn’t been on the scene.

“I don’t blame you,” she said as if reading his mind. She put her mug down and shuffled along the sofa until she was next to him then patted his arm. “I blame them. They’re hypocrites and…and stupid people.”

He chuckled. Stroking her hair back from her face, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, the skin soft beneath his touch. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your job. But maybe you were right. I’m not good enough for you.”

“No, no, no.” She leaned into him heavily. “It’s me who’s not good enough. You’re perfect. Just perfect. If you weren’t so perfect, I could be your fantasy girl, and when you’ve run out of fantasies, we could say good-bye and it wouldn’t hurt. But you are, so I can’t.”

She wasn’t making a lot of sense. He was as far from perfect as it was possible to be. He’d always been happy with the way he was. Now he wished he could be somehow better for her. Jesus, he was getting maudlin.

He rose to his feet and held out a hand. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“You look tired. I’ll tuck you up in bed.”

She pursed her lips and thought for a moment before giving a small nod. “Okay.” Her hand slid into his, and he tugged her up and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

They were both quiet on the drive, though she turned to him at one point. “This isn’t the way home.”

“You can have a sleepover at mine. I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

He cast her a look, actually she was sobering up fast. “A little bit tipsy.”

“So why can’t you stay at my house?”

“Because Grunt doesn’t like me to stay out all night.”

“Fair enough.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Within seconds, her breathing changed, and she was asleep.

She hardly awoke as he led her to the spare room where she’d slept the last time she was here, but she balked at the door, blinking up at him. “No, I want to sleep in your room. You have to keep an eye on me.”

He didn’t argue. This might be the last chance he got to sleep with her, and while he had no intention of making love, not when she was so out of it, it would be good to hold her.

He didn’t think he’d ever slept with a woman and not had sex. But Abby was different in so many ways.

Taking her hand, he led her down the hallway and into his room. She peered around, blinking slightly, then kicked off her shoes, crawled onto the bed, and burrowed under the bedspread. She punched the pillow once, snuggled her face in it, and was asleep in seconds. Logan stood looking down at her, just her head showing, her dark hair spread across the pillow.

Something warm uncoiled inside him, and for the first time he acknowledged that his feelings for Abby went way beyond friendship. He just wasn’t capable of putting those feelings into words.

Which was probably for the best. Because they made no difference. He was still no good for her.

All the same, he wanted to make things right for her, to go punch those sanctimonious bastards in the face, but that would hardly help. No, the only thing that would help is if he disappeared from her life, and that was impossible with Jenny between them. But he could distance himself. Avoid getting between Abby and her dreams.

What couldheoffer her? Fuck all, that’s what.

Sighing, he scrubbed at his scalp, trying to shift the dull headache. He was a little puzzled that she didn’t blame him for her not getting the job. That was a total turnaround from what she’d told him the night of Jenny’s sleepover.

And she thought he was perfect. Hah. Perfect for what? He certainly wasn’t perfect boyfriend material. And definitely not perfect husband material. A shudder ran through him at the thought. Look at Rory and his two marriages. The first had been, from all accounts, a trip to hell. His mother and father had lasted until six months after he’d been born, and Rory reckoned it had been the most miserable six months of his life. And while his second marriage had lasted much longer, and neither seemed inclined to seek a divorce, they spent the absolute minimum of time together, usually with the Atlantic Ocean between them. He’d thought Abby was like Judith, his father’s second wife—uptight, prim and proper. But with Judith it went deep to the core. That was her true self. With Abby, it was a mere surface veneer, covering the real woman. But then, from what he’d gathered, she’d grown up thinking she had to show a perfect front to the world. Sort of the opposite of him, who’d grown up believing he had to show a tough, badass attitude.

Beneath that surface layer was the wild girl of his fantasy, but she was too ingrained in her ways to change now. She’d decided what she wanted in life and no way did he fit in. So he’d have to accept being Jenny’s father and Abby’s friend. From a distance.

Leaving her sleeping, he went downstairs and let Grunt out into the garden for a last sniff around. Once the dog was settled back in his bed, he returned to his room. He shut the door behind him, not quietly, but Abby didn’t move. And she didn’t stir when he went into the bathroom, or when he came out five minutes later, drying himself. He tossed the towel onto the chair by the bed, and slipped under the covers. Her back was to him and he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. His dick was happy to be there, but he ignored the way it stiffened against her ass.

Abby was the sort of woman you had for keeps. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the sort of man who anyone kept long-term. He’d always known that. He’d screw up somehow. Better he backed off now and let her have a good life.

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