Low blow.
She swallowed. “Strangely enough, no I didn’t mention that to him,” she said. “What do you want?” She wasn’t buying into the talking thing; she was guessing he had something else on his mind.
“Ask me nicely and I might tell you.”
She shot him a dirty look but didn’t even attempt to “ask him nicely.”
He shrugged then raked his gaze over her body, taking in her clothes or, most likely, her lack of uniform. “You’ve finished for the day?”
She nodded.
“I’ll give you a lift.” He glanced around at their surroundings. “This place gives me the creeps.”
She didn’t want to go with him. She wasn’t ready for the confrontation right now. Tired from the long shift, she wanted to go home. But Logan didn’t wait for an answer, just jerked his head in the direction of the car park at the back of the building. For a second she contemplated making a mad dash in the opposite direction, but that would be pathetic, so she hitched her handbag onto her shoulder and followed him. His ass in black leather was as impressive as it had been in faded denim, but really she shouldn’t be thinking like this. She was sure Jack had a great ass as well. Funny that she’d never really noticed it in the ten years since they’d met. She made a mental note to check it out next time she saw him.
Logan stopped beside a sleek black Ferrari. Wow. It suited him perfectly—long and lean and dark and no doubt a very fast mover. He opened the door, and she took a deep breath and climbed in. Inside it smelled of expensive leather and spicy cologne and a musky, male scent she knew was all Logan McCabe. Just the smell of him sent tingles to her belly. She was better than this.
He got in beside her, and suddenly all the oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the car and she couldn’t breathe. She swallowed, forced air into her lungs, and concentrated on slow, steady breaths. She waited for him to ask where she was going, but he started the car without speaking. The engine positively purred as he drove out of the car park and into traffic. It was slowing down now, after nine, and most people in this part of the city were already home. He drove fast but within the limit. She had no clue where they were going, but couldn’t bring herself to break the silence. Finally, he spoke.
“So you’re a cop, Sergeant Parker.”
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate; she didn’t have to justify what she was to him.
She’d been on the force for nearly ten years, had learned how to deal with the most difficult of characters and keep her cool. How did this man get to her? Could it be because none of those others had had their hands in her panties? None of them had made her come. Oh God, would she ever forget the feel of those long fingers, pushing inside her. She eyed up his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. They were beautiful hands, with olive skin and long fingers, short nails. The tail end of a tattoo trailed over the back of one, but she couldn’t make out what it was.
“You’re very quiet. I thought you’d be interrogating me by now.”
“Interrogating you about what?”
He shrugged. “Tell me one thing. Are you trying to set me up?”
She’d been gazing out of the window at the passing buildings, now she swung her head around to face him. “Of course not. Anyway, you came to see me first.”
“Yes. So I did. I have no clue why, but I actually believe you. So…?”
“So?”
“Yesterday, you said we needed to talk.”
They did, but right now she didn’t think she could make much sense. Would he hate her after she told him? Part of her knew she should have made more of an effort to tell him back when she had first found out she was pregnant. But he had been in prison. How could she? And maybe he’d want nothing to do with them. They’d had unprotected sex that night, which was majorly stupid, but she’d been drunk for the first time in her life, and he’d been the most exciting thing she had ever seen. She’d totally lost her head. But perhaps he’d made a habit of it and had left a trail of illegitimate children all across London.
“I have to admit, cop or not, I like the way you…talk.” Logan interrupted her less than happy thoughts. “Yesterday I liked it very much. Until we were interrupted. So I thought we could go somewhere where we could ‘talk’ without the risk of being disturbed.”
“Where are we going?” She glanced out of the window; they’d been driving along the embankment, the lights glinting on the dark water of the Thames, but now they turned off and headed north.
“My place.”
That was a bad idea. A really bad idea. “I don’t think so. I thought you were taking me home.”