Page 162 of Sin Bin

Logan chuckled and curved his arm around Meadow’s waist, his palm resting on her hip in a protective and possessive gesture. It set her heart racing and raised more than a few eyebrows.

Jenna looked her over approvingly and gave her a big thumbs-up. “Absolutely stunning.”

Logan smiled down at Meadow, his eyes glowing with pride. “She certainly is.”

She smiled shyly as they moved forward, buoyed along with the crowd. The luxurious ballroom was packed to capacity with Rebels players, coaches, trainers, wives and girlfriends, puck bunnies, and a slew of other people Meadow couldn’t identify.

She felt somewhat dazed as she looked around at all the beautiful women in sparkly designer dresses latched onto the arms of multimillionaire athletes and businessmen. They milled around eating hors d’oeuvres, laughing and chatting to the sound of clinking glasses. Being there felt positively surreal to Meadow. Like she was living somebody else’s glamorous life.

Logan led her through the crowd, introducing her to more of his teammates and coaches. She couldn’t help admiring how tight-knit the Denver Rebels were. From top to bottom, they seemed like one big happy family. She was elated for Logan, and she was grateful that he’d finally found somewhere he belonged.

The attendees also included a who’s who of Las Vegas elite—movers and shakers that Logan had met through his philanthropic projects. He introduced them to Meadow, making her blush as he spoke glowingly of her volunteer work and her advocacy for foster care children. By the time he finished singing her praises, she’d made many powerful contacts who told her to call them if she ever needed any favors.

In keeping with the Ocean’s Eleven theme, the deejay played jazz and swing music that evoked Rat Pack vibes—Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby and Sammy Davis, Jr. The white-jacketed waiters bustled to and fro with whiskey cocktails and martinis, serving guests huddled around roulette and blackjack tables.

As Logan and Meadow stood around socializing with their friends, she could see women circling like sharks and glaring daggers at her, clearly hoping she would disappear so they could have the birthday boy all to themselves.

“Don’t leave his side. Not even for a second.” Jess looped her arm around Meadow’s shoulders, her other hand wrapped around a sweating martini glass. “The second you give those skanks an opening, they’re gonna be all over him like piranhas in a feeding frenzy, and the next thing you know, they’ll have him sneaking upstairs for an orgy. Trust me. I’ve seen it happen. That said,” she purred, looking behind Meadow to where Logan’s hand stroked the bare skin exposed by her backless dress, “I don’t think Mr. Brassard’s gonna be sneaking off anywhere tonight. You guys have been attached at the hip since you arrived. Forget not letting you out of his sight. Has he even allowed any daylight between your bodies?”

“Not much,” Meadow murmured, glancing sideways at Logan. He was talking to the others, oblivious to her conversation with Jess.

“He’s just as bad as Reid and Viggo, and you guys haven’t even boned yet.” Jess grinned. “You’re in trouble.”

Meadow merely smiled and toyed with the swizzle stick in her martini glass, bobbing the olive in the clear liquid as Logan’s lazy caress wreaked havoc on her senses.

When the guys decided to play blackjack before dinner, the girls accompanied them to the table, each standing behind her man like arm candy in some heist movie. The fellas looked as slick and suave as James Bond as they sat playing blackjack and drinking whiskey, their banter interspersed with low laughter.

“Look at our Rat Pack,” Jess said teasingly to the girls. “I guess Reid could be Sinatra with those blue eyes. And Nelson can be Sammy Davis, Jr—the token black guy.”

The joke drew chuckles from everyone but the stunning brunette standing behind Hunter, one perfectly manicured hand resting possessively on his shoulder. She was the epitome of icy sophistication in her sleek white evening gown, her dark hair swept up in a flawless topknot.

“I don’t like Hunter’s date,” Jess leaned close to confide to Meadow. “She looks like an escort. A high-class one, granted. But still an escort.”

Meadow rolled her eyes. “She’s not an escort. She works for the government.”

“As what? A sex operative?”

“No. As a chemist.”

Jess’s eyebrows lifted. “A chemist?”

Meadow nodded. “Logan says she’s one of the women who, ah, entertains Hunter when he comes to town.”

Jess smirked. “I bet she does entertain him.”

“Why do you care? You have Dubinski.”

Jess shrugged. “I’m keeping my options open just in case things don’t work out with Dubs. I mean, Hunter is gorgeous and we’re both in grad school. We have a lot in common.”

Meadow shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”

Jess furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

Meadow just laughed and sipped her martini.

“This is amazing, isn’t it?” Jess waved her hand around at the splashy party. “This is the life.”

As if on cue the lights went down, and a large screen lowered from the ceiling above the stage. There was an excited buzz as people turned to whisper to their neighbors.

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