Page 17 of Not By the Playbook

A gasp escapes her when I lean down to nuzzle her neck and breathe in her now-familiar scent. Her back is flat against me, chest to pelvis, and when she squirms, I have to hold back a groan. The only consolation prize here is being able to touch her in front of Jenna. This is no longer a game of pretend, but of temptation. Though I think it’s torturing me more than her. While I know Becs is not unaffected, her willpower puts her ahead in our little game. My flesh, on the other hand, is weak, and I’m ready to beg for her sweet, sweet pussy. I kiss her neck one more time and then slowly straighten to meet Jenna’s gaze.

“Morning, Jen,” I say.

“Logan.”

The coffee machine behind her beckons, and I release Rebecca to go pour myself a cup then lean back against the counter. “Sports?” I incline my head at the paper by Jenna’s saucer. She flips to that section and swivels in her stool to hand it to me.

“Thanks.” I take a long, slow sip of my coffee. “So whatcha have going on today?” I ask idly. Whatever she does, I'm doing the opposite, even if it means she runs me out of my home.

“I was actually catching up with Rebecca here.” She turns back to Becs whose posture is ramrod straight. “You were telling me about your plans? What you think you’ll be doing in a few years?”

I scowl. “Isn’t the interview over?”

Annoyance flares in Becs’s eyes, “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Kiss ass” I mouth over Jenna’s head. I know Becs saw, but she ignores me, all her attention on my sister.

“I eventually want to focus on employee development.”

Jenna nods. “I’m glad to hear you have a forward-thinking strategy.” She slides a glance at me. “Some people don't plan for the future.”

And it starts.

“Some people make enough money to see them through.” I keep my voice light even as I grip my coffee cup. It's an old argument, and I'm not in the mood. I'd rather drag Rebecca back into the bedroom, shut the door on Jenna's face, and give her a better reason to frown than the beaten-to-death topic of my approaching retirement.

“So what? You’re going to wait until you’re on the edge of retirement before you decide what's next?” She and my parents think the life of an indolent is criminal even if they are wealthy. It’s not like Iwantto do nothing. I just haven’t figured things out yet.

“Well, my millions of dollars will cushion the fall, so don't you worry. You can call me Scrooge McDuck as I wade through my ravine of money.”

Becs snickers but rushes to disguise it with a cough. She rounds the counter to drop her cup in the sink and slides an arm around my torso. “Logan’s thinking about his options,” she tells Jenna, then peers up at me. “Honey, weren’t you just saying last night that you were interested in the work ESPN is doing?”

I snort, recalling last night’s football lesson. I’d said, “ESPN needs to work on their shitty commentary.”

“Really?” Jenna’s gaze swings to me.

I arch an eyebrow at her and take another sip. “Rebecca said so, didn't she?” I’m not thrilled that Becs answered for me. But, as I consider her words, I’m actually surprised I didn’t think about a commentator position myself. Maybe this whole HR thing won’t be wasted on Rebecca after all.

“Hmmm…” My sister’s perusal makes me tug Rebecca tighter to my side like a damned security blanket.

Becs’s gaze darts back and forth between us. She clears her throat and attempts to change the subject. “Would you like some breakfast? I can make French toast.”

Jenna’s eyebrows draw together. “Logan is lactose intolerant.”

Ah yes, dietary restrictions would be something a good girlfriend would know. Becs stutters, “Ah, I was thinking of using soy milk.”

Jenna tips her head to the side, her gaze narrowing further. My sister, the bloodhound. “Logan hates soy milk.”

“Becs meant to say almond,” I insert smoothly. I drop a kiss against her curls. “Babe, how about we just go out to brunch? I feel like an omelette from Lacroix.”

Instead of thanking me, Becs jabs an elbow into my side and darts a glance at Jenna. I guess I did promise her breakfast. With a deep sigh, I turn to my sister, “You wanna come?”Say no.

“You two go ahead. I have to call my contractor.”

Thank you, Jesus.

Chapter Ten

LOGAN

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