Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) (15 page)

She rewards me with a toothy grin.

“I need to see you, be with you.”
Fuck you
. “Let me take you to dinner tonight. Someplace quiet, where we can talk, and hear.”
Someplace I can touch you
,
worship you, make long sweet love to you.

“I’m sorry, Logan, I’m flying to London.” She looks at her watch and frowns. “My car should be here any minute.”

“When will you be back?” I ask, my voice rising, sounding desperate. I don’t care. I am desperate.

“If all goes well, Thursday.”

“I have a game on Friday. Will you come?” I beg. This woman has turned me into a whining, begging, high-voiced, wuss man.

Big sigh. “I don’t know, Logan.”

“Please, Angel. It’s just a game. Then afterwards we can meet up and I’ll take you to dinner.”

Her iPhone chirps and she looks out the window. A black Range Rover drives up across the street and pulls to the curb.

“That’s my ride; I need to go.”

She stands and I follow, latching on to her arm. “Please, Sam,” I plead. I don’t care if I sound like a pussy, I need to see her, touch her, or I will
fucking lose it
!

She takes my hand. “Walk me across the street.”

I nod and we exit Joe’s. While we stand at the corner waiting for the light to change, I beg again, making sure she looks into my eyes. She said they were sad and I’m hoping they looked as desperate as I felt. “Will you come?”
Please say yes. Please say yes.

She nods. “Okay.”

Relief and joy wash over me. I want to kneel and kiss her heeled feet but I manage to reel it in and go with a smile. “It starts at seven. I’ll leave you a pass at Will Call. Ask for Shawna.”

“Okay.”

The light changes and we walk across the street. As we approach the Rover, the rear passenger-side door opens and a blond, suited Mr. Universe type steps out onto the sidewalk. When he sees Sam, he grins wide. She returns it. I hate him.

When we reach the Rover, they hug and she kisses him on the cheek. I’m going to deck him.

“I didn’t know you were back,” Sam tells him.

“Yesterday,” he says, and looks my way.

“Lee, this is Logan.”

He grins, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

I shake his hand. “Likewise.”
Get your fucking hands off
my
angel.

“You know who he reminds me of, don’t you?”

She nods. “Jules thinks so, too.”

I look between the two of them.

“You remind me of Sam’s brother-in-law. He gave me the same look you just did, the first time we met,” he chuckles.

I so hate him.

“Where is Jules? I was told she was with you?”

“She gave Logan and me a moment. She’s just around the corner. We’ll pick her up on the way.”

He nods.

I take her hand and pull her against me. Holding her tightly, I look over her shoulder at Mr. Universe.
She’s mine. Every perfect inch of her, mine. You get me, Mr. U?

He just grins.

I pull away from our embrace. Making sure I still have Mr. U’s attention, I bring my lips to hers, kissing her possessively.

Needing to breathe, we end our kiss. Sam looks up me, flushed and perfect. “Good gawd dang,” she says in her silly Southern accent. “That was hot.”

I look into her eyes. “See you on Friday?”

She smiles. “With bells on.”

I kiss her behind her ear breathing her in, not wanting to let her go.

“Logan, I have to go.”

I man up and release her.

Lee steps aside and she climbs into the back of the Rover.

Lee grins. “Logan,” he says, and tips an imaginary cap before joining her.

I watch as they pull into traffic.
I hate that man, and every one of his muscles.

I
walk up to the Will Call booth at Madison Square Garden and stand in line. My hands are sweaty, my heart racing.
What the hell is wrong with you? It’s just a friggin’ hockey game.

When it’s my turn, I plant a smile and say, “Hi. My name is Samantha; is Shawna available?”

“Sure,” the man at the window says. “Give me a sec. She’s in her office.”

I watch as he knocks on a door at the back of the Will Call booth. The door opens and he enters.

When he comes back out a woman is following him. After pointing her in my directions, he steps in front of the other window, helping the next person in line.

She looks up at me through the glass. “Hi. I’m Shawna, what can I do for you?”

“I’m Samantha, Sam. Logan Romano told me to ask for you.”

Her smile warp-speeds into a frown. “Step aside and I’ll be right out,” she says, with obvious disdain.

A few minutes later, she comes out a side door and hands me a pass. I look it over.

“Do you know where section 105
is?”

“No. I’m not familiar with the sections.”

She rolls her eyes at me.

I’ve had my fill of Shawna. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can find it.” I walk away and she runs after me.

“Hey, Sam.”

I turn.

“I’ll show you where it is.”

I wave her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s my job.”

Not for long, if I have any say.
“Okay, lead the way.”

I follow her down the corridor and into the arena. When we reach section 105, she points to my seat. “You don’t have to sit in that exact seat, if you don’t want to. The whole row is Romano’s balcony. And as you can see, there are vacancies. I guess that makes for better odds, right?”

“Balcony? Odds?”

She faux smiles and walks off without clarifying.

I look at my pass, recheck the number, and sit. I’m late; the game is already in play. I easily find Logan. He’s right in the center of things. Maybe that’s why they call his position the center. I have no clue. I was going to Google hockey basics, aka hockey for dummies, but my week in London was beyond crazy. I was lucky to have time to pee.

My heart skips a few beats when a player from the opposing team pushes him against the glass. They seem to have words and the crowd roars and chants his name, I think? A referee skates over to them and they part. I blow out a breath.
Fuck, I can’t do this.

I watch him and the game for a few more minutes. Feeling the hair on the back of my neck rise, I look around. I catch the eye of a woman three rows behind me. She looks positively evil, the Queen of Evilton. I give her a half smile as she continues to give me a look that would sink a lesser woman. She has on so much makeup her face seems to be drowning under it. I feel sorry for her pores. I look at the two women sitting next to her. They all look similar, painted faces, big, phony, pointy ta-tas, and long claw-like gels. All three of them are wearing evening-style dresses and five-inch fuck-me heels.
Maybe it’s 80s night? Maybe they’re prostitutes?

“Looks like Romeo has a new Juliet,” says the woman sitting to the right of Queen Evilton. The woman on her left finds her comment funny, and laughs.

I ignore them. Obviously, I’m not in on their game or joke, and I don’t care to be.

“Look, girls. She’s too good for us,” Evilton says.

Who are these women? What’s their problem?

A cute brunette, wearing scrubs, walks up next to me. She smiles at me then yells up at Ms. Evilton, “Hey, Jodie. Ran into my brother-in-law at the hospital. I mentioned I was going to the game, and he asked me to give you a message. Call his office on Monday. Something about him needing several more hours for your lift and lipo.”

Ms. Evilton’s face flushes red. Her companions laugh.
So much for camaraderie.

Scrubs chuckles and sits next to me. “I knew that would shut her up. My brother-in-law is her plastic surgeon. God knows I love knowing that fact.” She holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m George.”

I shake it. “Sam.”

We laugh.

“Short for Samantha?”

I nod.

“Short for Georgina,” she says, and leans into me. “I’m pretty sure my parents were doing drugs at the time I was conceived. But they swear to God they were as sober as church mice when they named me.”

She turns in her seat and removes her jacket. I notice the badge holder around her neck. “You work at NYU Medical Center?”

She lays her jacket over her lap. “Yeah. I’m an ER doc.”

“Do you know Dino Coletti?”

She lifts a brow.

“Oxymoron?”

She nods. “Everyone knows Dino.”

“Yeah, he gets around.”

“Are you two...? Did you two…?”

I laugh. “God, no. He’s… a family friend.”

“He’s in Oregon.”

I nod. “Yeah, he told me.”

“So, you’re a close family friend?”

“You could say that.” I change the subject. “Come to a lot of games?”

“I’m dating a player. Mike Carson, left wing.”

I nod, having no clue as to who he is, or what a left wing is, or does.

“I’m assuming you’re dating or… you know Romano.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“You’re sitting in the balcony.”

“What does that mean?”

“Do you know anything about hockey?”

“Not a lot.”

“Do you know what a puck bunny is?”

“No, but by the way your nose just scrunched up, I’d say they’re like groupies, hockey whores.”

She laughs. “Hockey whores. That’s awesome. You’re right; they’re hockey groupies. Their sole purpose in life is to hook-up with hockey players.”

“And let me guess. The balcony is where Logan’s bunnies sit.”

She nods. “His nickname is Romeo Romano. His bunnies are referred to as Juliets, and they sit in—”

“His balcony,” I finish for her.

“He didn’t tell you any of this?”

I shake my head.

“You see those three girls at the end of the row?”

I look down the row. “Yeah.”

“I have no idea what their names are. I call them Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dumb, and Tweedle Dumber.”

I frown.

She holds up her hands. “Hey, I call it as I see it. I’ve sat next to them a couple of times, and I’d bet between the three of them they might have the IQ of a slug.”

I smile despite myself. “That’s not very nice.”

“I know it’s not. But it is what it is.”

“So, what’s with the 1980s junior prom queens?”

She laughs. “God, you’re funny. I call them the Stepfords.”

“Wives?”

“Girlfriends, wannabe wives.”

“What’s their problem?”

“They feel threatened by you.”

“Threatened? That’s ridiculous.”

She raises a brow.

“What?”

“Sam, you’re gorgeous and you’re not even wearing any makeup.”

“I am. I’m wearing mascara.”

She rolls her eyes.

I look up at the Stepfords and quickly look away. “Good God. I might have to call security.”
Or Lee.

George looks up at them. “Holy hell. That might not be a bad idea. They’re not usually this hostile toward a bunny.”

“But I’m not a bunny.”

“They don’t know that. You’re sitting in the balcony.”

She’s right. I’m smack in the middle of the balcony. I look down at the Tweedles and wonder if that’s what Logan thinks of me.
Does he think because I only wanted to hook up that I’m some kind of whore, or groupie? That’s just stupid; he knows I’m not. But why did he seat me with his bunnies? Why would he put me in this situation? Is he trying to make me jealous?