Page 129 of When He Plays

What else was he to do?

He ran to her. Yanked her into his arms and held her as tightly as he could. He kissed her frantically, desperately, passionately. She was warm and sweet and safe in his arms, and he never, ever wanted to let her go.

His future was with her.

Yeah, okay, fine, Jezebel had been right on that one—the future mattered far more than anything else.

He pulled his mouth from Charlotte, glanced over to grudgingly tell Jezebel that she might be on to something…

But the CIA boss had vanished.

So he turned around and passionately kissed his wife.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“What if she doesn’t like me?” A heavy weight settled in the pit of Charlotte’s stomach even as nerves had her hands trembling.

She’d faced off with drug dealers. Terrorists. She’d infiltrated elaborate, underground networks, but the coming meeting had her breaking out into a cold sweat.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan assured her as he opened the door to the right. “My grandmother will love you.”

But what if she didn’t? Charlotte bit her lower lip. Uncertainty quivered through her, and she was afraid. Really, deeply afraid. Because she knew how much Logan loved his grandmother. And if his grandmother didn’t like her⁠—

What? Do you think Logan will stop liking you, too?

No, no, she did not think that, it was just—this was his grandmother!

“She’s having a good day.” Happy words from a woman in bright blue scrubs with a heart clipped to her name tag. Frannie. “I told her you were coming.” She gave Logan a pat on the shoulder as she swept past him. “She’s been looking out the window and waiting for you all morning.” She bobbed her head toward Charlotte. “Enjoy your visit.”

Charlotte crept forward a bit more, peeking into the room. Not just a room—more of a suite. A very lush one, at that. But it wasn’t fancy or modern. In fact, the whole place looked like⁠—

“I had them recreate her old house in here,” Logan explained. “As much as they could. It makes Nana feel more comfortable. Especially on the days when her memory slips.”

Charlotte knew that his grandmother’s dementia had been getting worse. And that Logan had sent her to see every specialist available, that he’d tried every therapy and…

And now he just loved her because, unfortunately, the last trips to the doctors had revealed that there wasn’t anything new to be done. His Nana had also suffered a series of heart attacks last year, and her body had become even more frail after a stroke a few months back.

He advanced into the suite, and Charlotte followed on his heels.

She saw a woman sitting near the big, picture window. Her gaze was directed outside, and her profile looked so bright and hopeful.

Logan cleared his throat. A delicate sound from a hard man. “Hello, Nana.”

Her head turned. Her eyes—the same shade as Logan’s—lit on him. The smile that curved her lips was more brilliant than any flashing billboard. “My Logan!”

She was in a wheelchair. Charlotte hadn’t realized that, not at first glance.

His grandmother turned the chair, and her arms lifted eagerly toward Logan.

He eliminated the distance between them and curled her into a big, warm hug. “You’re even more beautiful today,” he said to her, voice warm and charming, “than you were the last time I visited you.”

A sweet tinkle of laughter came from his grandmother.

He eased back. “I have someone for you to meet.”

His Nana’s eyes widened. “You brought a friend?”

“More than a friend.” He stepped to the side and motioned toward Charlotte.