She sighed. Things could never work out between them. He only wanted her because he was working through those fantasies of his. Deprived of any other females, he’d fixated on her. Otherwise he would never have thought twice about their night together. And fantasies, however exciting, were no basis for a relationship. Her mother might say she needed fun, but she had responsibilities—to Jenny, to her job, to Jack if she started going out with him, even to Logan. “We’re too different. Look at us”—she waved a hand between them—“under normal circumstances you’d never look twice at me. And you’ll get over this fantasy thing and go back to the sort of woman you usually…” She wasn’t quite sure how to finish the sentence so she shut up. From Logan’s sour expression, he was far from impressed by her speech anyway.
“My usual women? You mean strippers and lap dancers? Yeah. Perhaps you’re right. At least they’re honest about what they want.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And none of them ever made me feel like a second-class citizen. Jesus, I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m off. Tell Jen I’ll pick her up from school on Wednesday, and I’ll be in touch about Saturday.” And with that he turned and stalked away.
Chapter Nine
Logan paced the hallway, hands in his pocket.
Through the door into the reception area, Rory stood chatting with his wife, Judith, and Logan’s half sister, Tamara. Rory caught his gaze, an amused expression in his eyes. Bastard was finding this funny.
Where the hell was she?
After the way they’d parted last time, he wouldn’t be surprised if she cancelled, just to pay him back for being a grouchy bastard. But the strength of his reaction had shocked the hell out of him. He’d thought himself impervious to what people thought about him, and she’d brought him face-to-face with how big a delusion that was. He did care. At least about what some people thought. And he was still pissed off that she believed he wasn’t good enough to mix with her goddamned copper friends. As if he’d want to anyway.
All the same, he’d dressed with care today, in black pants and a white shirt. His fingernails were clean, and his hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. He tried to tell himself it was for his daughter, but he was quite aware he wasn’t being entirely truthful with himself.
He closed his eyes and saw again Abby’s look of abject horror when he’d asked if she wanted to show him off.
The sound of wheels on the gravel outside dragged him from his less than happy thoughts. She was here. He took a deep breath and strolled to the front door. As he opened it, a small red car pulled up between his dad’s Ferrari and Tamara’s Porsche. He recognized Rachel in the driver’s seat and for a second he thought maybe Abby really had backed out—in which case the party would be delayed while he hunted her down and hauled her ass over here. Then she climbed out of the passenger side, and the tension eased from him.
Dressed in a dark blue pantsuit, with a nipped in jacket that emphasized her small waist and the curve of her breasts and hips, she looked as pristine as ever. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, and she hooked it behind one ear as she waited for the others to get out. Jenny emerged from the back and Rachel from the front.
There was a commotion behind him, and Grunt pushed past, hurtled down the stone steps, and hurled himself at Abby. She staggered back under the force, then pushed him down and rubbed his huge head. “Hiya, boy,” she murmured. “This is Grunt,” she said to Jenny and her mum.
Well, at least she was pleased to see his dog.
“Grunt! Come!” Logan called, and the dog slunk away, casting them one last longing look.
He waited at the top of the steps as they followed the dog, coming to a halt in front of him. He ruffled Jenny’s hair and gave her a quick hug. She hugged him back—hard—which made him feel a little better. Turning to Rachel, he leaned in and brushed his lips across her cheek. He gave Abby a curt nod. He was probably being childish, but he wasn’t quite ready to forgive her yet.
“Come and meet my family,” he said. “Everyone’s here except for Declan and Jess. They’ve just flown in and are on their way from the airport, but they should be here any minute.”
“Oh goody,” Abby muttered, not quite under her breath, “more McCabe’s.”
Ignoring the comment, he led them through the hallway and into the main reception room, where Rory stood beside Judith and Tamara.
“That’s your grandfather,” Logan murmured to Jenny, as he steered her across the room with a hand at her back. Rory was also dressed in dark pants and a white shirt, but with a matching jacket. He didn’t look like Logan’s idea of a grandfather. Hopefully, Jenny wouldn’t be disappointed in her new family—they were hardly conventional.
All three stopped talking and turned to face them as they approached. “This is Jennifer,” Logan said, and he could hear the pride in his voice. He turned to Jenny. “Jenny, this is Rory, my father and your grandfather.” He bit back a grin as Rory’s eyes narrowed at the comment, but he didn’t refute it. “This is Judith, my stepmama, and Tamara, my sister.”
“We’re delighted to meet you,” Judith said. She leaned across and kissed Jenny on the cheek, followed by Tamara.
“Hey, I’m an aunt,” she said with a grin. “And you look just like me.”
Rory reached across and shook Jenny’s hand. “Welcome to the family.”