Blindsided Read online

  “Hi,” he managed to get out as his brain took in the shim mery black hose, the black spike heels and the deep pink silk robe. Just-above-the-knee deep pink robe. Technically, she was covered, perfectly decent. And it had zero effect on the direction of his thoughts. He swallowed and held out one of the wineglasses. “I brought you something.”

  “Thanks. I love Zin.”

  Yeah, he’d guessed that; it was pink. He hadn’t guessed how damn well it’d go with her robe, though. She looked like she’d just fallen out of an ad, one of those drink-our-wine-and-you’ll-get-blow-your-mind-lucky ads. Jesus. He should probably rethink this whole get-her-attention thing. He hadn’t planned on it being a two-way street.

  “Where’s Nic?” she asked as she closed the door behind him. “Isn’t he going to dinner with us?”

  Nic? Oh, yeah, Nic. “Someone has to ride herd on the team. Since he’s the assistant coach, it’s his job tonight.”

  She sipped, smiled and stepped into the bathroom. “I’m almost ready. Give me two minutes.”

  And then, in an act of pure mercy, she closed the door. Logan took a big gulp of wine, shook his head hard and headed for the desk on the far side of the room. He threw himself into the chair and swiveled around, looking for the remote to turn on the television. It wasn’t on the desk. But her purse was. Not the brown leather thing she’d had on the bus. This one was little and black and spangly. If she was planning to wear a dress that went with it…

  The remote was on the foot of the bed. He snatched it up and hit the power button and then the code for ESPN. What sport, what teams, didn’t matter. His brain needed a distraction. Soccer was on one channel. Talk shows on two of the others. He went back to the soccer.

  The bathroom door opened and Cat stepped out, wineglass in hand. He took one look at her and turned off the TV. It was too late for distraction, too late to rethink his plan. He was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. He’d had no idea. None. If he could get through the evening without making a serious move on her, it would be a fricking miracle.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. She turned her hip and looked back over her bare shoulder. “Is my hem coming down? Is there a stain?”

  They needed to be someplace public and quick. He took another gulp of wine and stood. “You look just fine.”

  “Then why do you look like a cat choking on a hair ball? If something’s wrong, for God’s sake tell me what it is.”

  There was honest and then there was too honest. He took a deep breath and hoped for the best. “That neckline’s pretty daring.”

  Her mouth fell open and she turned to look at herself in the mirror over the bureau. “Oh, please!” she said, facing him again. “It’s very conservative for evening wear these days.” She grinned. “And besides, I told you Van Ecks has a thing for cleavage. This is meant to totally distract him from the negotiations.”

  Distract? “He’s a geezer. It’s likely to kill him.”

  She laughed. “I doubt that. If he keels over, it’ll be because he’s hoping I’ll straddle him to do CPR.”

  Oh, God. He could have done without that mental image. Logan picked up her purse and took it to her. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She put her glass on the bureau and headed for the door. Logan drained his before setting it down and following. “Just out of curiosity,” he said as they waited for the elevator. “Do you always travel with that dress in the suitcase?”

  “Sure do. It doesn’t take up much room and it’s always better to be prepared for the unexpected cocktail invitation than not. Having to shop for a dress at the last minute in a town you don’t know is a major frustration.”

  He could write a book on frustration right about now. And he suspected that it was only going to get worse as the evening went on. The call light blinked out and the doors opened. Jace, Georgie, and Tiny were inside the car, obviously headed for the motel pool.

  “Miss-usss T.,” Jace said as they stepped in to join them for the ride down.

  Tiny swallowed a couple of times, but managed to whisper, “Wow.”

  “Wow?” Georgie countered, grinning. “Nuh-uh. That’s hot damn, honey, I’m in three twenty.”

  A pretty pink color washed over Cat’s cheeks. “Thank you, I think,” she offered as the doors opened and she led everyone out.

  Logan motioned for his players to go ahead. They stopped dead just outside in the hall and watched Cat walk toward the lobby. None of them were actually drooling. But it was only a matter of time.

  “Aren’t you all on your way to somewhere?” Logan asked dryly. All three of them started. With stupid, knowing grins they wished him a fun evening and headed off toward the pool, elbowing each other into the walls.

  Fun. Yeah, right. Business meetings were never fun. Either they were so boring he could barely stay awake, or they were verbal chess games where it was against the rules to say anything in plain English. Adding in a sexy blonde in an off-the-shoulder dress with a neckline that screamed no bra and a hem that was going to slide to mid-thigh the instant she sat down…. Well, he wasn’t likely to fall asleep, that was for sure. But God help them both if Cat was counting on any help from him in the negotiating department. His brain had slipped below his belt and it wasn’t the least bit interested in rising to any occasion that had to do with hockey.

  Logan shook Ralph’s hand, thanked him for being reasonable, and then left him to wait for his driver at the motel’s front door. Cat stood at the elevators, her smile wide and her eyes twinkling bright enough that he could see her excitement from across the lobby. She’d been incredible. The minute she’d walked into the restaurant, Ralph’s jaw had dropped and he’d never fully recovered. She hadn’t taken advantage of him, though. She’d been fair and honest. Both teams were getting a good deal. And Ralph could go to the next owners’ meeting with bragging rights to what were probably the only trade negotiations in the history of the game to have been sealed with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  Yeah, it had all gone down beautifully. And he hadn’t been the lump he’d imagined going in, either. It was hard to believe that being blind in one eye could be a positive, but having Cat sit on that side had really helped. Not exactly out of sight, out of mind. He’d have to be in a coma not to know she was there. She smelled like island flowers of some sort and her laugh made him warm from head to toe. But not being able to see her unless he deliberately turned his head had worked for keeping his hands to himself and his brain in the conversation.

  Now all he had to do was get up to the second floor and through the good-nights without doing something stupid. It was a short distance. It wouldn’t take long. It was possible. Probably a little more possible for a man who hadn’t had six ounces of booze in a ninety-minute stretch, but he was willing to give it his best shot. On the polluted scale, he wasn’t exactly a superfund site.

  The elevator opened. Cat stepped in and held the door. He trotted the last of the distance and punched the button for the second floor as he went past the panel. Cat stood on his good side and beamed up at him as the doors slid closed.

  “That went exceedingly well, don’t you think?”

  “It went great. You’re a natural.”

  “And it was fun, too. I didn’t expect that. Who else has players they might want to trade?”

  Ding, lurch, slide and they were at the crossroads. A stone-cold sober blind man would have said they’d just have to check it out later, congratulated her again and wished her a good night. “Do you want to see the folder?”

  “Yes, please.”

  His conscience staggered and burped something about giving her a fair chance. “It’s in the room. Do you want to come get it now or have me give it to you the next time we’re on the bus?”

  “Oh, now. I’m on a roll.”

  More like thin ice on a warm day, he thought as they headed down the hall. His mom had always said things happened for a reason. Maybe this was one of those things. Cat wasn’t a ditz
and she hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck. She had to know that going to a man’s motel room had some potential for one thing leading to another. Maybe she wanted it to. He’d just take his cues from her.

  Jesus. There wouldn’t be any cues to take if Nic was in the room. Nic could have found a twinkie somewhere and invited her up to check out his scars. Or just be sprawled out alone, watching a game in his underwear.

  Logan put the key card it the slot and opened the door just enough to poke his head in and check the mirror over the bureau. The beds were empty. With a sigh of relief, he pushed the door all the way open, then stepped back and held it to let Cat go first.

  Logan stood there a second with the door in his hand, wondering what he should do with it. Close it and say to hell with appearances. Throw the bolt bar so it didn’t actually close, and look like a good guy.

  He threw the bar just as Cat said, “What’s this?”

  She was standing at the foot of his bed, a gotcha grin going from ear to adorable little ear. “A book,” he answered, knowing he was in for a grilling.

  “What kind of book?” All sweetness and light and faked innocence. She glanced at the back cover. She looked up at him and batted her lashes. “Well, I’ll be. It’s a romance. Wasn’t it just this afternoon that you were telling me that you weren’t interested in this sort of reading material?”

  He leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “I finished the Ludlum and the bookstore downstairs didn’t have anything on the rack except that kind of stuff. My choice was between picking one or doing without, so I decided to see what they’re all about.”

  “And what do you think so far?”

  Well, she’d asked. “Any book that has the heroine boinking the hero—in great detail, I might add—on page fifteen is okay by me.”

  Her mouth fell open in that delicious way it always did when she was surprised. “No way.” She flipped it over and looked at the cover. “It’s an historical.”

  “Check it out yourself. Page fifteen. I marked it.”

  “Ohmigod,” she whispered as she sank down onto the bed. She went to the first page, then back to the fifteenth, and then shook the book at him. “No self-respecting Victorian woman would do such a thing!”

  Gorgeously indignant again. Logan grinned. “Obviously she’s not all that self-respecting.”

  “Then she’s not a heroine. There are standards.” She tossed the book down on the bed. “That’s just awful.”

  “I was thinking that was the redeeming part of it. The hero is kinda…” He shrugged.

  “He’s kinda what? A first-class jerk?”

  “Well, more like a wimp. He doesn’t think like a man.” Cat’s brow went up and Logan gave it another try. “He spends a lot of time wondering what the heroine’s thinking and feeling. Real men don’t do that.”

  “They don’t?”

  She’d read way too many of those books. “Have you seen those redneck comedy guys? One of them says that men think only about beer and seeing something naked. He’s right.”

  She laughed. “I don’t believe it. They think about hockey. I know that for a fact.”

  He came off the wall and turned to adjust the thermostat. “Playing hockey’s how you earn beer money and pick up chicks.”

  She was laughing again and he was rolling the temp down another five degrees when the door flew open and Nic blew past, making a beeline for the honor bar.

  “Eh,” Nic said as he turned the key and pulled open the door. “Don’t let me interrupt or anything.”

  “What are you doing?” Cat asked.

  He took four bottles of beer out. “They cut us off in the bar.”

  “There’s a good call,” Logan observed as Nic kicked the bar door shut. “Where are you going with those?”

  Nic didn’t pause. “The pool,” he answered on his way out. “There’s a girl down there wearing a thong and a top the size of a couple of Band-Aids.”

  The door banged against the bolt bar. Logan looked over at Cat and gestured toward it in a silent combination of ta-dah! and I rest my case.

  She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You paid him to come through here and say that.”

  He shook his head and held up his hand, palm out. “Honest to God.”

  “Have you spent all evening thinking about…” She started and blushed.

  Just too adorable. “Beer never once crossed my mind. But the something naked part? Oh, yeah.”

  “It’s really not a low neckline.”

  And she really wasn’t offended by his interest. “It’s low enough for me. I can imagine the rest.”

  She thought about that for a second and then took a deep breath and stood. “I better be going.”

  As statements of intent went, it lacked a little on the conviction side. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “It’s either that or bolt the door so Nic can’t get in for more beer.”

  She gave that some thought, too. Her smile was definitely halfhearted. “I should go. May I have the folder?”

  She wasn’t out the door yet. And she was a thinker. The longer he gave her to do it, the more likely she’d be to keep on talking, to stay. He nodded and took his time getting to the desk. He had the folder in hand when she said, “Logan? May I be real up front with you?”

  Oh, man, she was so predictable. He managed to keep himself from laughing out loud, but there was nothing he could do about the smiling part.

  “Okay, bad choice in words,” she said, pressing her hands to her bare chest. Her blush deepened as his smile went wider. “But aside from that…” She sobered. Then went straight to apologetic. “Look, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find you attractive, Logan.”

  Aw, damn. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  “I’d also be lying if I said that I wasn’t flattered and tempted by your interest. But I know that getting involved with you is a bad idea. I’m the owner. You’re the coach. I’m a long-term woman and you’re a short-term man.”

  “You can save the you’re a country girl and I’m big city guy part.”

  “You see my point, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I see it.” He was the one who’d given her the time to think. It was his own damn fault she’d remembered that there was a line. He handed her the folder and gestured toward the door. “Doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed, though.”

  “Me, too. But I know that resisting temptation, just walking away, is the smart thing to do.”

  She was right. He knew it. He reached past her and pulled open the door for her. She stopped short of the threshold and looked up at him.

  “I have a confession to make.” She touched her lower lip with her tongue and took a shaky breath. “I didn’t wear this dress just to distract Ralph. I also wanted to knock your socks off.”

  Whoa. If she could be that honest, so could he. “You succeeded. My toes are kinda curled, too.”

  “I also wanted you to know that I’m not a Pollyanna.”

  The jury was still out on that one, but he knew what he was supposed to say. “I got the message. Loud and clear.”

  Her smile was faint. She didn’t move. God, he’d only thought her laugh had made him warm. The kiss me look was smokin’. It was also an invitation and he decided to take it. “Wondering,” he asked softly, “just how much further you can go and still be safe?”

  She blinked. And checked a backward step. “What makes you think that?”

  “It’s what I’m wondering.” He reached out and slowly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Reach any conclusions?”

  Hours ago. He slipped his hand through her hair and drew her against him. “Only that sometimes smart and safe are way overrated,” he murmured as he bent his head.

  Trouble had never tasted or felt so damn good. And a kiss had never gone from May I? to God, yes! as fast. The door hit him in the back when he let go of it to wrap his arm around her. The folder spilled on the floor, the sound muffled by her moan as he
kissed her hard and deep, cradling her head with one hand and skimming the other down over her backside.

  The sound of the elevator ding floated in the back of his mind. Nic’s laughter exploded in the front. He jerked his head back and took Cat firmly by the shoulders, saying, “They’ve thrown them out of the pool.”

  She blinked and then jumped out of his grasp. “Oh, God.” In the next second she was squatting at his feet and gathering up the spilled papers. He’d dropped down beside her to help when Nic stopped in the hall.

  “Eh.”

  Logan didn’t look up. “Eh, yourself.” He neatened the papers he’d collected and handed them to Cat as they stood up. Her gaze met his and he gave her a quick wink and an it’s cool smile. “Good night, Cat. If you have any questions about the reports, call. I’ll be up for a while.”

  She took the cue without missing a beat. “Thanks, Logan. I’ll have this back to you in the morning,” she said as she walked away. Over her shoulder she called, “Night, Nic.”

  “See ya!”

  Nic walked past him and into their room. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but you look pretty good in red.”

  Logan frowned, confused. He was wearing a charcoal-gray suit, a white shirt and a royal blue, Warriors team logo tie. There wasn’t so much as a speck of red anywhere on him.

  “Apparently the Feminist Avenger doesn’t wear that kiss-proof lipstick.”

  Shit! He flipped on the bathroom light and checked himself in the mirror. A slash of red cut across his lips from right to left. The memory flashed and his chest ached from a new rush of adrenaline. He grabbed a tissue and scrubbed it away.

  Nic filled the doorway and met his gaze in the mirror. “You don’t need to tell me the story,” he said with a smile. “I can guess. You just accidentally brushed your face against hers while you were helping her scoop up the papers she dropped, right?”

  That he hadn’t been as smooth at protecting Cat’s reputation as he’d hoped was bad enough. He was not going to provide a play-by-play.

  “Oooh, the Billy Bad Ass look. Feeling guilty?”

  “It’s pissed. Your sense of timing sucks.” He threw the tissue in the toilet and faced his friend. Get out of my way, he silently ordered.