Blindsided Page 18

“You really don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I’ve never actually seen you play. I’d like to.”

  He looked around, gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, said, “I owe you one, Cat,” and then literally trotted off.

  “And I am going to collect,” she promised watching him go and wondering if he’d be willing to stay in town for a second night. Their team didn’t play until tomorrow evening. As long as they were back by midafternoon… Of course he’d be willing. She didn’t even have to ask. He’d had a really good time in that shower.

  All the sticks went into a pile at center ice. Cat watched, fascinated, as Logan slid up to it and began throwing the sticks in alternate directions. One right, one left. One right, one left until they were all divided.

  It was so easy to tell him from the others. He was taller, leaner, more broadly shouldered than anyone else out there. And an obvious cut above. Two or three cuts, actually. There was an absentminded ease to the way he played. An effortless elegance to the way he skated past the others, moved them out of his way, took the puck and slipped it to others for the shot. Pure poetry in motion.

  Cat grinned and shook her head. There was nothing poetic about Logan Dupree. The man was direct, open, right there. There was no wondering about what he thought, what he meant, what he wanted. Which, now that she thought about it, probably explained why making love with him was so mind-blowingly good. With Logan there was no playing hard to get, no pretenses or games like Ben used to pull on her. No “you owe me.” No “you really expect something out of this, too?” No need to think and worry about meeting some top-secret performance expectation.

  With Logan… God, check the brain at the door. No thinking required. No worrying about whether or not you were good enough, knew enough, did the right things. Everything was right. And easy. So, so easy. Being with Logan—in bed and out—was a lot like how he skated. Smooth, effortless, absolutely to-the-bone instinctive. It felt good. All the way around. Like they’d been custom-made for each other.

  She blinked and then swallowed, trying to control the clench in her stomach. Yeah, she liked being with him. Liked it a lot. He was good at conversation. He was considerate and kind. And yeah, sex was beyond terrific with him. So? It wasn’t like she had a hundred other partners to measure him against. Ben wasn’t a tough standard to beat. There could be lots of other men out there who could trip her trigger just as well as Logan did. There might even be some who could do it even better. Okay, that was probably a stretch, but, still…

  This was an affair. They’d agreed to that right up front. It was supposed to be a physical deal and nothing more. Think ing about being custom-made for each was over the line, a clear violation of the ground rules. It was about two steps away from an I love you, Logan.

  Her stomach clenched again, harder, and then rolled. No. No, she wasn’t that reckless, that blind. It was infatuation. A really good dose of that, true, but that’s as deep as it went. And there was a good measure of lust, as well. Two years was a lot of pent-up hormonal action. And it was partly just wanting—for once in her life—to be a bad girl. To think only about herself for a while. Yeah, it was selfish, but it was also human and honest. It wasn’t a crime. Logan Dupree was sexy and wonderful, yes, but mostly he was convenient and willing. That’s all it was.

  But her insides weren’t listening to her brain. Oh, God. It was like flying. Only worse because there was nothing to turn her back on, nothing she could walk away from. It was all inside her. She was on the edge of disaster, just asking, just waiting to spiral out of control and into oblivion. It was irrational, groundless, she knew it, and it didn’t make any difference to the swelling sense of panic.

  Pill. Take a pill so you can get a grip.

  The cap went rolling, but she ignored it for the moment, her priorities clear. She dragged a single pill up the inside of the plastic tube and flung it into her mouth. It stuck toward the back. Her heart was hammering too hard, too frantically for her to get it swallowed. Water. She scooped up the cap. With it in one hand, the pill bottle in the other, she bolted.

  It took twenty-five minutes and a walk around the block, but the edge of panic finally began to wear off. She was okay now, she told herself when she went back inside. She had no idea why she’d gone off the deep end for a little bit, but she had it under control now. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself or torch their relationship.

  She wasn’t going to suggest that they stay another night, either. That just wouldn’t be smart. No, she needed some time and distance between them. The airport and plane thing was doable. It was pretty public. Then they’d land, shake hands and not see each other again for a few days. Logan was out of town most of next week. By the time he got back, she’d have all the fairy-tale cobwebs cleared away for good.

  He was taking his turn on the bench when she sat back down in the bleachers. He smiled and waved at her. She smiled and waved back, wishing that he wasn’t so damned handsome, so nice, so awesome in bed. Walking away from him was going to be a sacrifice. Cat chuckled, wondering how many women over the years had given him up for Lent.

  She cocked her head, a familiar sound catching her attention. Just exactly what it was, though…. It took a minute and the bolt of recognition came in slow motion. So did the skipped beat of her heart. She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Catherine. This is Florence.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Now, you just take a couple of deep breaths and calm yourself down. The EMTs say that it’s likely a minor injury.”

  EMTs! She was going to throw up. “Florence, what’s happened?”

  “Kyle was knocked unconscious during practice. Just for a second or two. But the rink people said they had to call 911 no matter what. They’re going to take Kyle to the hospital and we’re following the ambulance over.”

  They were still at the rink? Weren’t EMTs supposed to be in a hurry? What about the golden hour?

  Florence went on, saying, “There’s always so much paperwork to be filled out when you get there, you know. And they’ll want insurance information. The sheet you left us with all the information is still on the refrigerator door. Do you happen to know your policy number so we don’t have to go by the house and get it?”

  Insurance… “Yes. Yes, I do. Hang on one second.” She reached back into her purse and found her clutch. Damn the happy pills, nothing was moving at the right sped. Her fingers felt like they belonged to someone else. She found the insurance card and read the number to Florence.

  “Got it. And thank you. It will be fine, Catherine. Please don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry? How the—”

  “They just wheeled Kyle past,” the older woman interrupted. “He’s asked me to tell you that being carted out is not pimp and he wants you to sue the rink for extreme mental and emotional damage.”

  Deep down inside her there was a flicker of relief. If Kyle’s sense of outrage was intact, his brain probably was, too. But she wasn’t there to see and hear it for herself, to know whether he’d said it through clenched teeth or not. No, she was in Des Moines, having an affair. “I’ll be home on the next flight out of here.”

  “Catherine, dear, there’s no need for you to do that.”

  Oh, yes there was. “Call me the minute they get Kyle into an examining room, okay? I’m on my way.”

  “You being here four or five hours early isn’t going to change one thing,” Florence said. “My boys had their bells rung I don’t know how many times playing football. I know the routine by heart. Millie and I are perfectly capable of taking care of him. So you just come on home like you planned and don’t worry about him.”

  No. “I’ll talk to you again in a little bit. Thanks for calling, Florence. For being there.”

  She didn’t wait for Florence to give it another shot. Cat ended the call and flipped the cover closed. Tossing her clutch back into her purse, she took one
deep breath and stood.

  Logan watched her make her way down the steps to the glass that separated the bench from the bleachers. He met her there, looking up and knowing that something was way wrong. He made an educated guess. “So who’s having the crisis at home?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “You’re wearing the universal worried mom look. Sorta,” he added, recognizing the slightly fuzzy look in her eyes.

  “Florence just called. Kyle was knocked unconscious for a couple of seconds during practice. They’re taking him to the E.R.”

  All the bits of information whirred through his mind. Most of them connected neatly together. “And you’re feeling guilty for being here and not there.”

  She nodded and pressed her hand to her stomach. “I’m going to have the limo take me to the airport and head out.”

  She was thinking of flying alone? “If you’ll slow down for two seconds, I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you have appointments scheduled,” she countered, a desperate edge to her voice. “It’s bad form to walk out on them. You stay and I’ll see you later.”

  Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. “No problem.”

  “Thank you for not trying to talk me out of it.”

  He shrugged. “It would be a wasted effort.”

  With a tight smile she turned and walked away. His hands resting on top of his stick, he watched her pull her cell phone out as she went down the stairs and headed for the main door. He went back through the conversation, slowly, looking to see how the stray observations fit into the larger picture. She’d been zoned. She’d said Florence had just called. Odds were she hadn’t taken her pill and waited for it to kick in before she came down to talk to him. That meant she’d taken it before the phone call. Why? Their original flight was a good six hours off. It couldn’t be anxiety on that front. She’d waited until she was actually at the airport on the flight out of Wichita. Whatever it was that had spooked her enough to take a pill, had been sufficient for her to back away from his company, too.

  A possibility occurred to him and he glanced at the women sitting in the bleachers. If he’d run into Max, there might be some others around who remembered him from the old days. There were a few who wouldn’t have anything even remotely nice to say about him. He didn’t see any familiar—or glaring—faces. And besides, Cat was smart. She knew better than to believe jilted teenage girlfriends.

  Deciding he’d shovel to the bottom of whatever it was when he got home, he headed for the locker room. Taking his pants down off the peg, he sat on the bench and fished his cell phone out of the pocket. It rang twice before Nic said, “Eh.”

  “It’s Logan.”

  “Hey, having fun?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the nice touches. Look, I need a big favor. Cat’s boy got beaned at practice this morning and she’s hightailing it back home. I’m staying here to meet with the two kids and I need you to do two things for me. First, go check on Kyle at the E.R. The rink should be able to tell you which one they hauled him to. Second, meet Cat’s flight. She’s taken a sedative already, and if she takes another along the way, they’re going to pour her off that plane. She needs someone there at the end of the ramp to collect her.”

  “You got it, man. Wait a sec.” Logan heard a faint, distant voice. “Lakisha’s just talked to Cat,” Nic explained. “Kish is on her way to check with Liz in the pro shop to get the deets for us.”

  “Call me when you’ve checked on the kid. And thanks, Nic.”

  “What friends do, man.”

  He was about to close the phone when a thought suddenly came to him. “Nic!” he shouted even as he brought it back to his ear.

  “Yeah?”

  Logan sagged back against the wall and studied the toe of his rental skate. “Two more things.”

  Nic snorted and laughed. “Always is. What now?”

  “What did you mean by take the shot?”

  “If I have to explain it to you…”

  “Okay, so I’ve got the IQ of a brick,” Logan admitted. “What did you mean?”

  “That you’re pathetic. What’s the second thing?”

  “When you pick up Cat at the airport, see if you can get her to tell you why she bolted.”

  There was a long second of silence on the other end of the line. “Her kid’s hurt. Where the hell is your head, man?”

  “No, it’s more than that. Find out for me so I don’t walk into it blind, okay?”

  “Anything else, Romeo?”

  He ignored Nic’s obvious sarcasm. “Nah, that’s it. I’ve got a pickup game going, but I’ll take the phone out to the bench. Call me as soon as you know something.”

  He flicked the cover shut and then instantly opened it again and held it to his ear. The line was dead. He scowled and stood, his teeth clenched. He wasn’t a fricking moron. What did Nic know about anything? Especially women? Nic’s win-loss record wasn’t any better than his.

  “Take the shot,” he muttered as he headed back to the ice. “I did, pal. And scored big every time. All night long.”

  She was running on empty and knew it. Cat shifted the purse strap on her shoulder and headed for baggage return. One foot in front of the other, she told herself. Haul out the cell phone and touch base, see if anything had changed while she’d been courting death high above the plains.

  She had it in hand and was flipping up the cover when a familiar figure came out of the revolving door and headed straight for her. “Nic. What are you doing here?”

  “You look fricking messed up.”

  “I’m a little drugged, a little wound up, but I’ll be all right once I see Kyle.”

  “Your boy’s okay,” he promised her as they stepped to the conveyor belt and waited. “I checked him myself. When I left him to come here, he was shooting rolls of tape at the wall.”

  She blinked up at him. “He’s home already?”

  “He might be by now,” he supplied with a shrug. “But thirty minutes ago, he was still in the E.R. waiting for them to get around to doing a CAT scan. Waste of time and money, but hey, you can’t tell doctors a damn thing. They know it all. You can look at ’em and tell that not a one of them’s ever had his chimes rung.”

  “Better to be safe than sorry.”

  “They’re just covering their asses and running up the bill. The kid got dinged. He’s fine. When they’re all done playing with their machines, they’re going to tell you the same thing they could just as well tell you now. Watch his eyes to make sure they react to light and bring him back in if he goes wiffy on you.”

  “Still.”

  “Still, nothing,” Nic countered, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to come back early. Logan’s only going to be a few hours behind you.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  The first pieces of luggage came through the strips and rolled toward them. She watched them, hoping hers wasn’t going to be the last one off the damn plane. With no sleep to speak of last night, with the stresses of the day… God, her brain was so mushy she’d be lucky if she recognized her suitcase when it came around.

  “So…what?” Nic said softly. “Kyle was like an excuse?”

  She was really too tired, too wasted to do this. She sighed. “More like a sign from the gods of good sense.”

  “How’s that? You weren’t having fun?”

  Cat turned square to him and smiled. “I had a wonderful time, Nic. Thank you for all the lovely touches. The room was gorgeous and supper was delicious.”

  “So why’d you bolt at the first chance?”

  She rubbed her hands across her face and her fingers through her hair. God, she just didn’t have the energy to deny it or make up a good story. “I’ve discovered that this affair thing is a little more difficult to manage than I expected. I needed to step away and get my head back on my shoulders.”

  Nic nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cat went back to watching suitcases. Floral. Hers was a green floral, soft-sided deal. With a mult
icolored neon shoelace tied around the handle so she could tell it from all the other green floral soft-sided deals in the world.

  “So what you’re saying is that you’re falling in love with him and that wasn’t part of the plan.”

  Oh, God, she really wanted to cry. Just lie down on the floor right there, roll into a ball and cry. Her suitcase saved her. Escape was only moments away. She kept her eyes on it as it made its way toward her. “Let’s just say that when things are too easy, too good, it’s usually not good for you. Okay? The smart person sees the train coming and gets off the tracks.”

  “What if he’s falling in love with you, too?”

  “When it snows in Haiti.” She caught the handle and dragged her bag off the belt. “Which hospital is Kyle in?”

  “No way are you driving yourself,” Nic decreed as he took the suitcase in one hand and her arm in the other. “You’re too fried.”

  Yeah, he was right. She had no business being behind the wheel. She’d collect her car later. She let Nic lead her out the door and onto the walkway. “Where are you parked?”

  “Lakisha’s got my car. She’ll circle back around here in a minute.”

  Lakisha, huh? That was an interesting bit of information. Did Lakisha drive Nic’s car often? Apparently so, she decided as her secretary zipped the sports car to the curb, yanked the parking break, then scrambled over the stick shift and into the passenger seat. “Aunt Florence called just as Nic went in to meet you,” she said, flinging open the door. She leaned forward and flipped the seat so Cat could climb into the back, adding, “They’re on their way back to the house. And there’s nothing major wrong with Kyle.”

  “Told ya so,” Nic said, leaning close. “Not the only damn thing I’m right about, either.”

  Yeah? Cat silently growled as she climbed into the backseat. What do you know? Just what is it that makes you think I’m any more damn special to him than the thousand other women who have gone before me? Huh? What makes you think I’m going to hand him my heart just so I can hear him say, ‘Uh, it’s really sweet of you, but no thank you’? Not on a bet, Parisi. Not on a fricking bet.