Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One (13 page)

“It’s the chocolate.”

“I don’t think so.” He nuzzled her ear, drinking in her scent—no smoke, no cosmetics, no perfume—just the scent of chocolate, Reddi-wip, and Skye. He nipped her earlobe, and then sucked. “Nope, I was right. It’s you. You taste sweet, hot, and sinful.”

He continued to kiss his way down her neck. Her fingers scissored though his hair and over his scalp, sending sparks of need right to his dick. Her pulse pounded beneath his lips. He raked his teeth over it and licked his way to the chocolate between her breasts, cleaning off all remnants of cake and frosting. Her back arched over his arm, allowing him access to whatever he wanted.

Logan tugged her against him, chest to chest, and her legs slid around his, opening herself to him. His need rioted against his better sense. All he wanted to do was
toss her onto the bar, peel off her clothing, and create a Reddi-wip bikini so he could spend the rest of the night licking it off. He settled for another kiss, taking her mouth the way he wanted to take her body—hot, hard, and relentless. His hand tucked into the waistband of her baggy sweatpants, pulling her against him, swallowing her groan when she came into contact with his erection.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he slid his hands under her ass when the sound of squirting whipped cream broke through their heavy breathing.

Skye pushed him away so hard, he hit the stool beside him. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I…” She pulled the neck of her sweatshirt up, covering her cleavage, while he did his best to protect her modesty and the family jewels. Skye was strong, embarrassed, and, from the way her dark blue eyes shone, pissed as hell.

He didn’t need to look to know who was standing on the other side of the bar. He did anyway. “Pop.”

The old man let out a shotgun laugh. “Oh, don’t mind me. I just came down for some cake. It needed whipped cream.” He kept his eyes on the plate of smashed cake and wilted whipped cream on the bar. “Looks like you two had the same idea—initially at least.”

Skye slid off the stool and ran into the kitchen.

Logan took off after her.

“Logan. Let her go.”

He stopped and spun around. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking up on us like that?”

“What the hell were you thinking taking advantage of Skye?”

“I wasn’t taking advantage of her.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Hell, no.”

“I take it you eighty-sixed the blow-up doll?”

“Of course I did. I’m no cheater.”

Pop looked him square in the eye and Logan cursed his luck. He was in for another one of Pop’s talks when all he wanted to do was make sure Skye was all right.

“I gotta admit whipped cream looks better on you than lipstick, but damn, Logan, Skye is my cook. I like her and I don’t want to lose her. Don’t forget she has problems of her own. She might be keeping them in her pocket, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. The last thing she needs is to be your rebound girl.”

“You said yourself I never loved Payton.”

“Just because you never loved her doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been with her for years. No matter what, you don’t go from being engaged to single without some kind of emotional backlash.”

“The only backlash I’m having is a profound sense of relief.”

“So you thought you’d celebrate by making Skye your very own hot fudge sundae? Ever hear the old saying ‘Don’t shit where you eat’?”

“That doesn’t apply. I’m only working here until Bree comes home.”

“And what are you going to do then?”

“Hell, I don’t know.” He sat, rubbed the back of his neck and then poured another tequila. “I just lost my job, my home, and everything I’ve worked for since I left school.”

“Another reason this is not the time to jump Skye.”

“I wasn’t jumping her.”

“You were about to.”

And he still wanted to. “It’s not as if I’m leaving.
I have Nicki to think of now. I can’t just uproot her after everything she’s been through.”

“Don’t go counting your chick before the paternity test comes back.”

He took a sip and looked over the rim of his glass to his father. “Nicki needs a father. She needs a family.”

“Logan, if you’re not her father, we’ll have to reevaluate. For all we know, she could be anyone’s daughter—even Slater’s.”

Logan laughed at that. “Unless Marisa had a motherboard and a USB port I didn’t discover, Slater wouldn’t have looked twice at her.”

“Come on, Slater might have been the ultimate computer geek, but he was still a boy. Every boy will look and touch if presented with the opportunity. Besides, I thought before that Nicki was Storm’s, which taught me not to jump to conclusions when it comes to you boys. You always end up surprising me. Until we find out differently, Nicki’s nothing more than your little sister.”

“She feels like more.”

“She feels like more to Bree and Storm too. That don’t make Nicki their daughter.”

“I’m not going to say anything to Nicki until I have confirmation.”

“Good.” Pop took another bite of his whipped-cream-covered cake. “Since you’ve lost your job, have you thought about what you’re going to do with yourself?”

“No.”

“I suggest you spend some time thinking about your future with or without Nicki before you start something with Skye.”

“I like her, Pop.” A lot more than he cared to admit. With Skye, he felt things he’d never felt before. Possessiveness,
protectiveness, and intense pleasure, well, until his father had shown up.

“And it doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous.”

“No, that certainly doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m not telling you to back off completely. I’m just suggesting you take it slow. Make sure what you are doing with Skye is an action and not a reaction to your newfound freedom.”

He refilled his tequila, took a big gulp, and felt the burn all the way down. “It’s not. But fine. I’ll take things slow—that is, if she ever speaks to me again.”

Pop nodded and headed back to the apartment, leaving him alone in the darkened bar with his bottle of tequila—a poor substitute for chocolate, Reddi-wip, and Skye.

*   *   *

Skye ran into her apartment, past the puppy’s crate, and headed straight for the shower to wash off the scent of Logan.

She pulled off her sweatshirt and tossed it on the floor along with her chocolate-stained bra—not that he hadn’t done his best to clean it off.

Her face was the color of a cherry tomato; she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or residual sexual frustration. How could she have been so stupid? God, she’d gone to the restaurant for a chocolate fix, and ended up with a fix of a totally different kind, with a man who, though now thankfully disengaged, was still on the do-not-touch list.

She adjusted the water, stepped into the shower, and was tempted to thunk her head against the tile. How the hell was she going to get out of this situation? She’d put her job and her fresh start on the line for a hot, chocolate-induced
make-out session with her boss, only to get caught by the owner of the restaurant.

The last thing she needed was people wondering if she had slept her way into the job. Besides, she loved working at the Crow’s Nest, she loved her apartment, she loved Pepperoni, and she felt appreciated for her talent for the first time in her life. She wasn’t willing to give that up and go home a failure. She scrubbed every inch of her body and turned off the water. Unfortunately, she couldn’t scrub out the memories of the way Logan kissed her, his scent, his taste, or the feel of him against her.

She wrapped herself in a towel, threw her clothes in the washer, grabbed her phone, and speed-dialed Kelly.

“It’s about time you got in touch with me. I was just about to send out a search party.”

“Sorry.” She sat on the edge of her bed and slid on her panties. “I got a job, an apartment, and a puppy.”

“Wow, you do work fast. I didn’t know you wanted a puppy.”

“I didn’t. The job kinda came with the apartment and puppy. It’s a long story.” She pulled her only other sweatshirt over her head and curled up under the down comforter.

“So you have your own kitchen—other than the one in your apartment?”

“Yes, and although the pay isn’t great, it’s a wonderful spot. I’m appreciated—or I was until tonight.”

“What happened?”

“That’s an even longer story. Suffice it to say the owner caught me making out with his son, who is, temporarily at least, my boss.”

“Is he hot?”

“Kelly!”

“Okay, he must be off the charts hot for you to put your job on the line like that.”

She groaned and ran a towel over her still wet hair. “God, my job isn’t even the worst part.”

“It’s not?”

“My boss is Logan Blaise. Ring a bell?”

“Not really. Care to fill me in?”

“Logan Blaise was, until earlier this evening, engaged to Payton Billingsly.”

“The Payton Billingsly?”

“See why I’m freaking out?”

“Oh, man. You’re kidding me. You got caught canoodling with Payton’s fiancé?”

“Ex-fiancé.”

“What the hell is Payton’s fiancé doing in…where the hell are you, anyway?”

“Red Hook, Brooklyn.”

“Red Hook? Seriously?”

“Yes. Red Hook is really changing. The community has banded together to clean up the streets and revitalize the neighborhood. It’s becoming known as a place for great restaurants and art galleries. It’s still a little gritty, and believe me, Payton was not pleased when she found out where Logan came from, but you’re missing the point here.”

“And that is?”

“Kelly, I got caught by the owner of my restaurant making out with his son—my temporary boss. Shit, he could be my permanent boss now that he and Payton are disengaged. When he dumped her, he lost his job and his home too.”

“I just googled Logan Blaise. My God, the man is gorgeous.”

“Kelly—”

“So, how was it?”

“What?”

“The make-out session, of course. Man, is Payton ever going to be pissed when she finds out Logan dumped her for you.”

“He didn’t dump Payton for me. He dumped her for a lot of other reasons I can’t get into, but it had nothing to do with me.”

“Are you sure about that? He certainly wasted no time sticking his tongue down your throat, did he?”

“He didn’t come after me, if that’s what you’re asking. We ran into each other—literally.”

“It’s sure going to be interesting to see how Payton spins this one. You know they were planning a New Year’s Eve wedding, don’t you?”

“I read the article in
Food & Wine
.”

“What happens if she tells your family?”

“She doesn’t even know I’m here. She has nothing to tell them.”

“How did you pull that off?”

“I hid.”

“I guess all those years we played hide-and-seek came in handy after all. Speaking of which, your brothers are worried about you. They told your mother that you’re on vacation. She’s been keeping the office up and running, but she thinks you’re coming back. Paddy’s been calling me on a daily basis. He didn’t even do that when we were together. He’s beginning to sound desperate, which I have to say is enjoyable.”

“I’m sorry he’s bothering you. What have you told him?”

“That I had no idea where you were, which, until now,
was the truth. So, back to your dilemma. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to tell Logan it was a mistake.”

“Are you nuts? What? Did he have a teeny weenie or something?”

“No.”

“So you checked out his size?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re evil?”

“Yes. Where did you run into Logan Blaise?”

“I went to the restaurant for a chocolate fix and ran into him when I walked through the doors to get to the front. I went in search of whipped cream; he slammed into me and smashed double-chocolate fudge cake all over my chest.”

“Sounds kinky.”

“It was. He licked the chocolate fudge off my chest and then his father interrupted us. I wanted to die.”

“Wow.”

“It was horrible. And you know what the worst part is?”

“Getting caught?”

“Besides that. The worst part is I never even got my chocolate fix. Not only am I jones’n’ for chocolate—”

“You’re jones’n’ for Logan Blaise.”

“Big-time.” She threw herself back onto the fluffy pillows on the bed. “And now I have to tell him it was all a big mistake and hope he’ll pretend it never happened.”

“Good luck with that. I give it three days tops.”

“Your support is overwhelming.”

“I support you, but let’s face it: Logan Blaise is like a Bugatti and you have the keys. You’re not gonna be happy until you take that boy out for a spin. It’s been forever since anyone has made you want to even put him in
first gear, and from what you said, you came in close contact with Logan’s instruments.”

“That’s it—no more
Top Gear
for you. You’re cut off, young lady.”

“No way. It’s my favorite show. The British one. What can I say? I have a real thing for Jeremy Clarkson.”

“He’s married.”

“And on another continent—therefore he’s safe to dream about. That’s the way I want my men—completely out of reach.”

“I take it things didn’t go well with Ted?”

“It went fine until I found out he’s as married as Jeremy.”

“Damn, are all men pigs?”

“I don’t know; you tell me. If I had a single man who looked like Logan Blaise licking chocolate off of me, I certainly wouldn’t tell him it was a mistake.”

“I need this job.”

“You also need to get laid. And it isn’t as if things like this never work out.”

“When do they work out, Kelly? Name one person who dated her boss and it didn’t turn ugly.” She waited a moment—Kelly didn’t say anything. “See, I have to tell him it was a mistake. I have no choice.”

“Fine. At least I know what to get you for Christmas.”

“What’s that?”

“A pound of Godiva and a vibrator—a large one from the looks of Logan Blaise. Sweet dreams, Skye.”

Logan’s alarm rang and he groaned and smashed his hand against the phone. His head was ready to split in two. Damn, he should know better than to drink tequila. When he pried his eyes open, he found D.O.G. and Nicki staring at him.