Blindsided Page 17

  “What did he think about you making the big leagues?”

  He snorted and shifted in the seat. “He never let me forget where I came from.”

  Not a happy father-son relationship. “And your mom?” she asked, hoping he had better memories on that front.

  “She…” He cleared his throat and expelled a hard breath before he came at it again. “My dad worked second shift because the pay was twenty-five cents an hour more. Weekends were his time to unwind with the guys. He was into bowling and hunting and fishing. My mom was the one who did the rink time with me.”

  His mother had raised him. “She sounds like a good mom.”

  “Yeah. The only thing she asked me for when I hit the majors was the money to hire a lawyer so she could divorce my dad.”

  And he’d given it to her. And seen that she’d wanted for nothing. “She turned out a very good man, Logan. If I can do only half as well with Kyle, I’ll be happy.”

  “You’ll do fine,” he assured her with a hug. “What did your dad do for bucks?”

  “He was a plumber. He owned his own company and retired rich by Wichita standards.”

  “Did your mom spend her life hauling you around?”

  Only in my dreams. “She was the trophy wife. She was one of the ladies that lunch. She played tennis on Mondays. Did Junior League on Tuesdays. Bridge on Wednesdays. Thursday was for committee work. Friday was the day for private lessons on whatever she was into that month.”

  “What kind of lessons?”

  “Let’s see…. There was fencing. French cooking. Flower arranging. Art appreciation. And Robert.”

  “Robert, huh? The tennis pro at the country club?”

  Well, Logan got points for being quick on the uptake. “He gave her flying lessons.”

  “I’ll just bet he did.”

  Yeah, everyone had. “He gave her one big lesson on crashing a plane and that was that.”

  “Aw, geez, Cat. No wonder you hate to fly.”

  “Actually,” she admitted as the car pulled under the portico of an obviously upscale hotel, “I don’t think it had much of an…” She grinned up at him. “Pardon the pun…impact that way. There’s huge difference between a jumbo jet and a single engine. And to be real honest with you, I’d rather fly than eat French food. She was a better pilot than she was a cook. Dad always said that she was trying to kill us.”

  Logan shook his head in amazement and opened the car door before the driver had to come around. She crashed and that was that. Just gone without leaving an apparent ripple in her daughter’s life. Helping Cat out, he asked, “How old were you when she passed?”

  “Twelve. Dad lived another twelve after that. He didn’t go the trophy wife route again.”

  Since it didn’t seem to bother her to talk about it… “Did you miss her?”

  “You can’t miss something, Logan, that was never really there to begin with.”

  The bellhop came for their bags and Cat followed the man inside. Logan took care of the driver’s tip and then followed after her. He’d had a game to play in Denver the day of his dad’s funeral. He’d scored his first pro hat trick that night. Everyone thought he’d been playing through the grief. Of all the people in the world, he never would have guessed it would be Catherine Talbott who’d know the truth.

  “Ah, Mr. Dupree,” the desk clerk said, calling him back to the moment. “We’ve been expecting you. Welcome back to Des Moines, sir.” He laid a packet on the counter. “Your suite is ready. Room service has your order and will serve promptly at nine-fifteen as requested.”

  “Thank you.” He took the folder, tipped the bellhop and waved him off.

  “Suite?” Cat whispered as they walked into the elevator.

  Logan checked for the room number. Twenty-second floor. Top of the world in Des Moines. He pushed the button. “Room service, too. He’s really outdone himself.”

  “I’m getting nervous.”

  Logan grinned. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

  She laughed outright and nudged him with her shoulder. “That’s not what I mean. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. What do you think it’ll be?”

  “I don’t even want to imagine.” He had other things he’d much rather spend the creative energy on.

  “What’s he done to you in the past?”

  “The last one was saying he’d meet me for drinks. Only he didn’t show. The opposing team’s left winger’s wife did. Wearing nothing but a fur coat.”

  “So what happened?”

  That she had to ask… “You don’t want to know.”

  “Logan! You didn’t!”

  Pollyanna was alive and well and visiting Des Moines. “Hey, I’m single and she was easy. It’s the way it goes, sweetie. All the time.”

  “Did her husband ever find out?”

  “If he hadn’t, Nic would have been a good guy in the whole deal.”

  “And you consider him a friend?”

  He shrugged. “We’re even up.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  Looking back, it wasn’t something he’d do again. Telling Cat wasn’t something he was going to do even once. Not in detail. “I pretty much put the same shoe on his foot.”

  The car stopped with barely a lurch. The door opened with a soft chime and they stepped out into the hallway. He was sliding the card into the room lock when Cat quietly asked, “Are there any solid, traditional marriages in the big leagues?”

  “Sure, lots.” He pushed open the door and held it for her. “And a lot that aren’t. Same as everywhere.”

  Whether she heard him or not, he couldn’t say. And didn’t really care. She was dazzled by the room. The size, the architecture, the draperies, the baby grand piano, the whole nine yards. All of it paled beside the brightness of her smile, the wonder in her big blue eyes. He wandered in her wake, watching her, enjoying her delight.

  She looked back over her shoulder at him, her grin huge. “It doesn’t look like the kind of place that would have a mirror over the bed.”

  “That’s your biggest fear?”

  “No, a mirror and a trapeze is. I’m going to go check.”

  He laughed as she bounded across the living room, through the open French doors of the bedroom and disappeared. Now that he wasn’t totally distracted… He looked around. A huge vase of pink roses sat in the center of the cof fee table. The florist’s card was propped against the base. Ah, there was the zinger. The gotcha. Probably his credit card number. Just to let him know that this whole high-end ride was going on his tab. “Don’t care, Nic,” he said as he picked it up and pulled it out of the envelope.

  Take the shot. He turned it over and looked at the back. Nothing. He read it again. And again. Definitely Nic. Even though it wasn’t signed. Take the shot? What shot?

  “Good news, Logan!” He put the card in his pocket just as Cat leaned around the doorjamb and grinned at him. “No mirror, no trapeze. And you gotta come see this bathroom.”

  God only knew what Nic was trying to tell him; he’d figure it out later. Right now, all he really cared about was getting Cat out of her clothes and into the king-size bed. In the next five minutes. Two would make him even happier.

  “You could have a party in this shower,” she said, shaking her head as she swung the glass door open and closed. “With six of your closest friends.”

  “I’m not sharing you,” he said softly, kissing her cheek and taking the door in hand. He reached inside the marble stall and turned on the controls. He backed out as the first clouds billowed. One look at her at face… Never in his life had he so enjoyed simply being with a woman.

  “It’s a steam shower,” he explained. “I gather that it’s in the same league as first-class seats and limos?”

  “Yeah.”

  He took off his watch and checked the time as he laid it on the bathroom counter. Forty-five minutes before dinner arrived. “Wanna try it out with me?”

  He was a cynic at heart, she knew. He didn
’t believe in relationships that went beyond right here, right now. Players were traded to other teams. Wives were traded to other players. Nothing was worth holding on to. But as long as she knew that, as long as she understood that he’d pass through her life like he had all the others… She pulled her shirttail out and then the whole thing over her head. God, she loved how his eyes lit up, how deeply his cheek dimpled when he grinned.

  He pulled his shirt off, tossed it into the bedroom, then pushed the door closed. The mirror instantly began to cloud. Heated mist rolled over the glass walls of the shower enclosure and billowed around them. Her skin damp, her heart thumping in anticipation, Cat grinned, propped her foot up on the commode, and leaned down to undo the zipper on her boot.

  She sucked a slow breath and froze as Logan skimmed his hands up the center of her back. She murmured in approval as he unhooked her bra and smoothed the straps down her arms. Straightening, she let it fall away and leaned back into him as his hands came around to pluck her nipples. In the hazed mirror, were two vague shapes, one tall and dark and angular, one fair and short and curved and feeling lusciously hot.

  She pried off her loosened boot, nuzzled the back of her head against his chest and undid the zipper on her jeans. He cupped her breasts, bent down and kissed her shoulder, sending a wild current flaring into her core. Oh, yeah the clothes had to go.

  With a quick kiss in apology, she turned in the circle of his arms and put her other foot on the commode, bent over and reached for the zipper tab. And froze again as he stepped up against her backside and leaned forward to nibble at her earlobe.

  “Logan,” she moaned, fitting herself closer to his body. “If you don’t stop…” She moaned again as he lightly pinched her nipples.

  “What,” he murmured against her ear, “are you gonna do?”

  “Die right here.”

  “There’s an idea.”

  He shifted and for a half second she thought he might show her some mercy. She pulled down the boot zipper. And then threw her hands out, desperate for support as her knees went weak with delight, as he kissed his way down the center of her back and his hands skimmed down her sides, caught the waistbands of her jeans and panties and smoothed them over her hips. His mouth lingered at her waist, but only for as long as it took for him to get her clothes to her ankles. And then his mouth moved lower, onto the curve of her backside.

  She kicked free of one pant leg, and then tried to shift her other to the floor. His hands tightened around her hips, lifting her slightly so she could. The instant it was accomplished, he took the task from her, scraping her pants and remaining boot away with one hand, holding her hips in place with the other as he blazed a trail of fire downward. Didn’t he know she wasn’t going to try to get away? She wasn’t going anywhere but paradise. She leaned forward, her hands pressed hard against the wall, gasping in pleasure, hoping he hurried, hoping he took his sweet time.

  “Logan,” she moaned as his fingers slipped into her heat. “Oh, Lo—”

  That she was way too easy flickered through her mind. And then it was gone, crushed by pure pleasure. He pressed and she shifted obediently, willing to do anything he wanted in exchange for more. And he obliged, taking her breath away and sending her senses reeling. A quiver of delight shot through her. Then another, slower and deeper, turned want into sudden need. She whimpered, too desperate to put it into words.

  And she didn’t have to. The bolt of sensation came again and didn’t stop. It built and built and then exploded in body-quaking, breath-tearing deliverance. Panting, still trembling, she was putty as Logan slipped his arms around her and slowly drew her upright and back against him. She tucked her hands under his arms, let her head fall back against his chest, and hoped he didn’t expect her to say anything coherent any time soon. Awareness niggled past her satisfaction and she smiled. She could feel Logan’s erection pressed against her. Just when he’d managed to shed his clothes, she didn’t know. But she most definitely approved of the effort and the result.

  He nuzzled his lips against her ear again. “In case I didn’t say so. I really liked the bra.”

  Cat laughed softly, delighted. For a strip of spandex, a couple of barely there straps and two patches of see-through lace, it had cost a fortune. But she’d paid it, hoping it would drop his jaw. “Yeah, but did you even notice the matching panties?”

  “There isn’t enough there for them to be called panties.” He kissed her ear. “You’ll have to model it all for me after our shower. I promise to control myself next time.”

  “Then no deal,” she countered.

  He chuckled and eased his hold on her to lead her toward the shower. She went, surprised by how steady her legs were and thinking that she really owed him a sexual favor. Not, she admitted, grinning, that she was keeping score. Not that she felt any huge sense of obligation. No, she decided as she pulled the door closed behind them, the truth was she was going to get just as much pleasure out of it as he was.

  Logan closed his eyes and tilted his face up into the streaming water and shook his head, trying not to think about the delicious body pressed against his. He really needed to slow this down. He’d lectured himself all damn week about not racing to the finish line, about demonstrating a little more finesse and polish than he’d had in high school.

  His breath caught in realization and he jerked his head out of the streaming water. “Not a smart idea,” he said, trying to keep her from sliding any lower.

  “Why?” she asked, neatly twisting her shoulders out of his grasp and easing down onto her knees.

  She ran her hands up the backs of his legs and then onto his rear. He’d only thought he’d been hard before. “I don’t have enough fuse left to take it, that’s why.”

  She looked up at him and gave him the most wickedly confident smile he’d ever seen in his life. “Good.”

  Oh, man. She didn’t really intend— He gasped as she took him into her mouth. The intensity of the pleasure rocked him back on his heels. He shot his hands out to the sides of the shower to brace himself. Against a too quickly building tide he looked back down at her and growled, “If you don’t want—” She took more of him and he groaned, struggling to hold himself in check. “Cat. Aw, jeez, Cat. That feels too damn good. You gotta stop.”

  She smiled and hummed. She drew back and then rocked forward again. The sight, the feeling… His brain shut down and his body took over. He threaded his fingers in her hair and let her shred his best intentions, let her thoroughly and completely rock his world and blow his mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  I t was the coolest, most incredible ceiling she’d ever seen. Cat knew she was gawking, that she was an island that people were having to go around, but… All that wood. The height, the sheer open expanse. She had no idea when the rink had been built, but she did know that they didn’t make public buildings like this anymore. It was magical in a way. She could feel the ghosts of a thousand hockey games, hear the clash of steel and wood and bodies on the ice, the roar of the crowd swelling upward. She could feel the tension of hope and fear.

  “My sisters used to play with their dolls over there. Mom would spread out a comforter for them.” Cat brought her gaze down from wonder and focused it on Logan. His smile went a little crooked as he turned and pointed to the end of the concrete bleachers. “And that’s where Roger Tanner punched me in the nose as I came out from the locker room after a game.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. The next day his family moved to Cleveland.”

  “A lovely parting gift. Not quite as good as a year’s supply of macaroni and cheese, but, probably more heartfelt.”

  His cheek dimpled and his eyes twinkled. “You’re twisted.”

  “I know.”

  “Logan? Logan Dupree?”

  Cat looked past him. A short, middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a noticeable gut stood there, staring at Logan, a hockey bag over his shoulder and two sticks in his hand.

  Logan tu
rned. “Max!” he exclaimed a half second later, sticking out his hand. “Man, you don’t look any different than you did in the third grade. How are you doing?”

  He’d been bald and paunchy in the third grade? More likely it was the goofy ears that hadn’t changed. “Great,” Max supplied, pumping Logan’s hand, his smile going from ear to ear. It was a genuine, honest smile that somehow made the big ears seem just right. “Took over Dad’s construction company when he retired. Have a wife and three kids. Two boys and a girl. You?”

  “I’m coaching the pro team down in Wichita these days.” He let loose of Max’s hand and turned toward her. Drawing her up front and center, he said, “Cat, this is Max Hemmelmeir. We grew up together. Catherine’s the owner of the Wichita Warriors. We’re up scouting this weekend.”

  She took her turn at handshaking and got her own welcoming smile. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. You working at settling this wild man down?”

  “I don’t think that’s possible, Max. His ways were set long before I met him.”

  Beside her, Logan shifted his stance. “I see you’re still playing.”

  Max laughed and patted his belly with his free hand. “Hey, gotta keep in shape, you know. The Blues could call any day.” Logan was laughing, too, when Max reached out and gave him a thump on his washboard belly. “Hey, why don’t you come on out with us? It’s just a drop-in session. We’ll take it easy on you.”

  He glanced toward the ice and then winced ever so slightly before he looked back to Max. “I don’t have my gear.”

  “We can scrounge up enough for you. No checking since we’re all geezers and no one wants to risk a hip. The rental skates are new this season. C’mon, Logan. For old time’s sake. It’ll be fun.”

  Logan’s gaze slid to hers. “Oh, go ahead. You know you want to,” she said. “You play and I’ll just sit up in the stands and wonder why I didn’t hire Max instead of you.”

  Logan’s grin went slightly wicked. Max laughed and took off, saying, “Locker room two, man. See you there.”