Big Girl Panties (2 page)

Logan regrouped and started over. “So. Are you coming or going? I'm on my way back. I live in New Jersey. Englewood.”

“Coincidence,” she replied politely, turning her head in his direction, the frown back in place. “I live in Englewood Cliffs. My husband had an account in Toronto that needed to be settled.”

The sense of karma returned like a wave crashing down upon him. It was a chance to right a wrong, to reach out to another person and at the same time bring himself back into balance. Logan waited a moment, wanting to choose his words carefully.

“You've been through a real rough stretch, I know. It's easy to let yourself go when you're focused on someone else. But the fact is, you're still here, very much alive, and far too young to hang it up. I could help you break some bad habits. Might even make you feel better.”

“And just how might you be able to do that?” She gave him a skeptical sideways glance, intrigued by the fact that he'd turned on the charm for her.

“I'm a personal trainer,” he told her, “primarily for athletes. We live so close to each other, I could get a program going for you with no trouble.”

She bristled. “Do I look like an athlete to you? Hate to break it to you, but the last time I played any sports, Billie Jean King was smack-talking Bobby Riggs.”

His smile grew wide. “Somehow I doubt that. That happened in the seventies. You probably weren't even born yet. And besides, I said ‘primarily.' ”

She didn't bother smiling back. “I appreciate your charity, but it won't be necessary. Thanks anyway.”

But Logan was feeling caught up in a rush of inspiration he hadn't felt in years, an idea beginning to take root. He threw his head back and laughed. “Who said anything about charity? I'm just trying to drum up business. Occupational hazard, I guess.”

He was sure she would never be able to afford his five-hundred-dollar-an-hour price tag, and he needed new business like a hole in his head. But besides wanting to make up for acting like a shallow ass, Logan was suddenly hit with the overwhelming feeling that a real opportunity was presenting itself. His job often bordered on mundane now. Lately he felt like little more than a glorified counter of repetitions, a naysayer to the latest in fad drugs and metabolism boosters. This would be a break from his normal slog.

When Logan first started training—long before working with Chase Walker, Eli Manning, and other professional ballplayers—he'd felt a real sense of accomplishment in showing a beginner all they were capable of. There was a real high in pushing someone to their limit, watching them transform, especially with women. The female body in motion was an entirely different animal. It had so much more natural balance, so much more grace. Logan thought about how it responded to weight training in a totally different and noticeable way. It had been too long since he'd enjoyed the challenge of showing a woman her true potential. And Holly was in no way Logan's type, so the sexual tension would be minimal. In the early stages of his career, that had often been a stumbling block when it came to female clients. He had long since acknowledged this unprofessional shortcoming with only a modicum of dishonor. Something about his testosterone and their estrogen, mixed with an endorphin rush, was sometimes more than he could resist. Adding fuel to that fire was the fact that most of the women he took on as customers were women he found attractive to begin with. He refused to feel bad about it. It was a problem that solved itself quite naturally as his client list grew long with the teammates of his most prestigious customers instead of attractive women. But with Holly, there would be no problem keeping it professional. She would be the perfect project. He could help her get back in the game of her own life and enjoy watching her transformation in the process.

Logan came up with a lowball figure and Holly stopped frowning, seeming to consider his offer. It was an offer presented to her by an extremely attractive stranger with dark skin, even darker hair, and big chocolate eyes.
Everyone likes chocolate,
she thought to her own amusement. He reminded her of a Saint Bernard puppy, the very type of dog whose job it was to come to the rescue of desperate people. A Saint Bernard puppy with lovely broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Or maybe he was, in which case it would serve him right to be saddled with her several times a week for a couple of months. Either way, what could it hurt? It had been so long since she kept company with anybody, there were probably worse places she could start.

For the rest of the flight, neither of them said any more about his proposal. Logan entertained Holly with stories of his time in Brazil, training in martial arts, hoping to distract her as the plane descended. And it worked—he kept her fully engaged and she barely noticed the plane touching down. They landed and made their way together to the parking lot. Before they parted ways, Holly asked him for his card, telling him she would take up his gauntlet and be in touch.

“Make the appointment now.” He jumped on the opportunity, not wanting to give her too long to think about it and come up with excuses. Without waiting for her to answer, he reached into his knapsack, handed her his card, pulled out his BlackBerry, and requested her cell phone number. “How's Thursday, six
P.M
.?”

She briefly looked down at his business card and wasted no time accepting. “You're on, Logan Montgomery.”

Chapter Two

L
ogan shut the front door to his tenth-floor luxury condo with his foot, balancing his knapsack, his duffel bag, the mail, and his keys. He reached for the wall switch with his elbow to turn on the lights, then made his way to the dining room table and began absently sorting through the mail, once again amazed at how much stuff could accumulate in just a few days. Bill, check from client, bill, magazine, check, advertising flyer, fitness merchandise catalog, bill, magazine, check from client.

He paused. He'd just taken on a new client, a spontaneous gesture made out of a combination of zeal and self-reproach. A client so far out of the realm of his current level of programs, the experience would practically make him a novice as well. He couldn't remember the last time he had a client starting from square one. He would have to bone up on his beginner's manual. It wouldn't hurt him to reinforce his own education. He went back to the sorting and stopped when the doorbell rang. He tossed the mail on the table, glanced at the clock on the wall, and crossed back to the door. It was pretty late for a haphazard stop-by. He opened the door and a lazy grin spread across his face.

She was long and lean, with delicate bone structure. Blond, perfectly styled hair, glossy pink lips, round doelike eyes. The hip-hugging jeans, blue satin camisole, and white leather jacket made her the perfect combination of waif and sizzling seductress. It was a look that had graced hundreds of magazine layouts and made Natalie Kimball a star.

“When you didn't answer my text, I figured you were out of town,” he drawled, moving out of the way for her to enter.

“Now, what sort of surprise would that be?” Natalie gave his cheek an affectionate pinch as she flounced past him and into his living room. She was feisty and he liked it. He followed behind her, appreciating the sweet breeze of her perfume.

“I just got home. Good timing; you'd make a great stalker,” Logan teased, joining her in the living room, where she stopped short and rounded on him, obviously disgruntled with his joke.

“I fly almost two hundred days a year,” she huffed. “I know how to look up a flight schedule. Don't flatter yourself, Logan, you're not that special.”

But he was that special, Natalie hated to admit, especially to herself. Logan Montgomery was a great catch and it hadn't taken her long to figure it out. He was everything a girl could want. He made his own successful living; he had famous friends. He was confident and gorgeous and charming, adapting to every situation with an ease he could have only been born with. He never told her how to handle her own affairs, unless she specifically asked his advice. He was easygoing yet smart about business. He never talked down to her, always appreciating her intelligence. And the
sex.
Logan made love to her like making women orgasm was his sole purpose in life and she was the only woman on the planet.

There was just one problem. Logan was so nonchalant outside the bedroom, bordering on aloof. Like he could stop seeing her tomorrow and he wouldn't lose one step. He was never the least bit disappointed when she had to turn him down. He never interrogated her as to her whereabouts or even seemed particularly interested in them aside from polite inquiries. He charmingly evaded any hint of commitment. He never showed a bit of jealousy at other men's attentions and outright advances. He wasn't overanxious to touch her in public when they went to events, though he occasionally did. It had been a welcome challenge in the early stages of their four-month relationship, but now she wanted to make a change—a change she couldn't seem to get him to endorse. It was beginning to drive her mad. She had been waiting in the parking lot of his building for an hour after receiving the suggestive text message saying that he was boarding a flight for home.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, quick to make amends, and closed the distance between them. “I was just kidding you. You are positively a sight for sore eyes, and I wish you had been waiting at the door”—he reached beneath her hair with both hands and pulled her in for a sound kiss; she was sweet and flushed and instantly yielded to his affection—“wearing nothing but a bow,” he breathed into her ear when they both came up for air. Satisfied he had quelled the beginnings of a fit, he set her back and swiped at her lower lip with his thumb to remove smeared gloss.

“Oh, if only that were true.” She sighed dramatically, searching his face. “I would wear nothing but a bow for the rest of my life.” She tried to match his casual demeanor. “But instead I'll be on a plane first thing tomorrow to Cali for the Reebok spread.”

“How long you staying this time?” he asked, his gaze focused solely on her mouth. Without even looking into her eyes, he could make her heart start racing. His eyes were already conveying the need, the desire, to taste her again. And more. It triggered the need in her.

“Maybe two weeks.” Natalie sighed again, already feeling weak in the knees. Her lips came together in a well-practiced adorable pout. “The agency lined up some other appointments to make the most of the trip. It might be longer if any of those pan out.”

“Then we better not waste any time.” Logan kissed her again, deeper, his strong arms peeling off her jacket and tossing it aside before pulling her in close again. His fingertips toyed with and then dipped slightly into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back.

“I guess I'd look like a real dick if I took you right here without even offering you something to drink.” He reluctantly withdrew from her and, grabbing her hand, led her toward the kitchen. “Thirsty?”

“Oh yeah, I'm thirsty,” she purred, and tugged him right past the refrigerator and down the short hall to his bedroom. Once there, she jumped into his arms, wrapping her long legs around him and planting her lips back on his. Logan easily carried her over to the bed and deposited her there, quickly shedding his clothes. She waited, hungrily watching him, knowing from experience that taking off hers was something he thoroughly enjoyed. He finished and stood before her, naked and magnificent, deciding what he wanted to remove on her first. She got tired of waiting. She reached out, and with one smooth touch, she watched his sex rise to full attention. Before she could do it again, he made his decision.

He grabbed Natalie's camisole and pulled it over her head, exposing unencumbered jutting breasts. Augmented, to be sure, but who cares? Cupping them, he kissed each one in worship, massaging the soft perky flesh, his tongue darting out, flicking around her nipple. A passion-filled push sent her tumbling backward and he pulled off her shoes, one at a time, tossing them over his shoulder. He unbuttoned her jeans and with an even quicker motion removed them, deliberately leaving behind her panties. He spread her legs, and going down to his knees, he kissed them, dead center, a thin layer of silk the only thing between his lips and her rapidly moistening mound. He ran his tongue along where her panties met her inner thigh and dipped it behind them, teasing her. He hooked his thumbs around the strings at her hips and pulled the panties off, kissing her there again. Moan after throaty moan escaped her as Logan danced his tongue around her folds, taking time with every pass at her clit. He lingered there, enjoying the sounds she made. When he had his fill, content that she was wet and manic, he picked Natalie up and, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, straddled her on his knees. He reached over to his nightstand and opened the drawer. Reaching in, he retrieved a condom.

“We wanna play it safe tonight, baby. I don't know where I've been.” Logan teased with his standard line. With them settled back on the bed, he held the foil packet out to her, holding on to one end.

“Make a wish.” He smiled devilishly at her.

I wish we didn't need these,
she thought. She placed her fingers right next to his on the condom and they tore it open. Logan caught it and rolled it on quickly before impaling her on his throbbing erection.

They groaned in unison. His hands firmly on her hips, Logan effortlessly glided her up and down until she found his rhythm on her own. She tightened her arms around his neck and rode him. And then, with a deep-throated moan, she dug into his shoulder with her long smooth fingernails and purposefully dragged.

“Watch the claws, kitten,” he murmured, deliberately arching away.

Insistently, Natalie continued to dig into his shoulder. She kissed his cheek, swirled her tongue around and into his ear, and then ventured to his throat. Kiss after kiss, and then teeth.

“No no no.” His voice husky with passion, he lifted her off his neck as soon as he felt it. “No biting,” he said, admonishing her with a slight shake. They had been at this juncture before. He liked her aggressiveness but loathed her unrelenting attempts to mark him. Her persistent choice of target was his neck—an attempt to send some sort of message that proclaimed he was taken. He wanted no part of it.

“Sorry,” she replied with feigned embarrassment, an effort to appear caught up in the moment. She pulled herself nearly off his shaft and then thrust herself fully onto him again, her muscles squeezing when their pelvises met. She heard him exhale in pleasure and repeated the action until she was sure he was caught back up in the ecstasy her movements created. And then she returned to the base of his neck. Trying to make her move resemble more of a kiss, she sucked in as she pulled her lips away. Successful in the strategy, she continued with it. The third time she did it, her mouth was too wet and the resulting suction noise was unmistakable.

“Natalie. What did I say?” He chided her and stood up, wasting no time separating them. He threw her back on the bed face-first, then quickly pulled her up. Before her knees could make contact with the mattress, he deftly drove himself into her from behind, scarcely missing a stroke. His whole approach changed. No longer generous and leisurely, he fucked her hard, grinding his hips with every thrust, ensuring he made contact with her most sensitive spot.

“Logan,” she groaned. He was so touchy about the love scars. Holding her unyieldingly around her waist, he filled her deliciously, faster and harder, working up to his own release. She tried unsuccessfully to resent the familiar tingle that was starting to build at her core as he masterfully ground into her again and again, in a way more punishing than pampering. The tingle began to flourish and spread until there was no other feeling besides it. Her hands clenched into fists and pounded the bed as she gave in. His legs stiffened and his grip tightened. She screamed his name into the bedspread as she came.

T
hey lay among the rumpled heaps of bedding. Natalie was nestled into the crook of his welcoming arm, her head resting on his chest. He pulled the sheet up over them both, to protect them from the chill air on their spent, damp bodies. Any hint of prior anger was forgotten with their mutual orgasms.
He even likes to cuddle,
she mused wordlessly, snuggling up to him. He was like a lovemaking demigod.

“Damn, girl.” Logan rolled his neck and shoulders against the pillow at the headboard, bringing out the sting of the fresh scratches on his back. “I think I'm going to need some Neosporin. It feels like you shanked me.”

Natalie giggled, not the least bit inclined to move. Her head rolled along with the rippling that came with his muscles flexing. It was like riding a pectoral wave, pure exhilaration. “Oh come on,” she teased when they settled back down, “I thought you were a tough guy. But I'll be more than happy to rub you down with whatever you need to prevent infection. Want to check my nails for rust? Are you up to date on all your shots?” She held up a hand in front of him.

“Very funny,” he laughed, playfully swatting down her hand with one of his own before rubbing her back. Then he remembered. “You realize if I find a hickey when I look in the mirror, I'm going to be seriously pissed.”

She picked up her head for a quick inspection and debated whether or not to say anything. She could see a faint outline of her overbite and maybe a touch of bruising in the dim light cast from the hallway. With her luck, it would be gone by morning. Natalie wrinkled her nose, conceding that she should have just bitten him harder the first time, when she had the chance—before his guard went up. She could have handled his wrath if she had gotten the job done. It was certainly low enough on his neck that it wouldn't be seen if he needed to dress up. She was hopeful she could keep him in bed for several more hours and spare them both the confrontation. She settled back down on his chest, her hand drifting down his solid belly, maybe to take his mind off the topic at hand.

“So wear a shirt with a collar. I don't see what the big deal is.” The words slipped out despite her best intentions and her wandering hand stopped just short of his groin.

“The big deal,” he replied, “is that I don't appreciate having my sex life tattooed all over me.”

“You know,” she said, a mixture of sulk and condescension, irritated by his deliberate use of the word “sex” instead of “love” when describing their bedroom activities, “there are men out there who would be showing off that sort of thing from me.”

“Then maybe you should be sleeping with them,” Logan immediately replied, his easygoing nature starting to feel the strain. Why did she have to constantly remind him of her attractiveness? It was so covertly needy. When she wasn't throwing her desirability in his face, he had to remind her of just how beautiful she was. Or worse yet, had to listen to her voice her dissatisfaction with herself. She was a model for Christ's sake; her whole paycheck was based on what she looked like.

Logan liked Natalie from the minute he met her in Las Vegas, at the sports expo. She was doing modeling work and he was attending. He never made an attempt at hiding his appreciation of her firm, nubile body. In the beginning she was mysterious and alluring. Her life was much like his, busy and exciting. She was bright and witty, which added to her appeal. Every time they got together was a hurricane. Each moment of the obligatory “going out” part of the evening was spent in anticipation of when they could get behind closed doors. Logan reflected on how Natalie turned from a seemingly shy little sex kitten into a tigress with a few well-placed strokes of his hand, how she always left him wanting more. But the last few weeks had felt more like a boring game of seesaw. He could understand the occasional day when a woman felt unattractive or insecure and needed to go fishing for a compliment, something he was always ready and willing to supply. But lately all their conversations led in the same direction and ended up in the same place. It was a place he was getting tired of avoiding.