I am so flattered by the response to this story. You guys are the BEST! I'm on a writing frenzy and I completely changed my mind on how to continue 'Love Game'. I wanted to keep it under ten chapters, but that is not going to happen. Looking over my notes, it seems more like forty! Hope it still lives up to your expectations. Enjoy and review please!!

Disclaimer: I do not own GG!!

Logan Huntzberger was rarely caught off guard but Rory had succeeded in doing so. He hadn't expected her to lean in close enough for him to feel her breath tickling on his neck, or to smell the faint perfume on her skin. He was captivated, momentarily paralyzed by her body so dangerously close to his and her inviting eyes looking up at his.

She had already turned away, making her way through the crowd before he regained his composure and the ability to say something. He couldn't just let her walk away.

"Yeah! See you around, Birkin," he called out after her. It was a little too late and even he heard that it sounded just a little lame. She looked around, acknowledging him with a soft smile before continuing her route to the door.

He tried to salvage what was left of the cool-boy image he created on the plane with his signature smirk, but she didn't look back. His eyes followed her every move, while his mind willed her to look back at him; to grant him another one of those bedazzling smiles or a short wave. Something from her to acknowledge the moment they had just shared, but she simply took the coffee her driver held out for her, took a quick and much-needed sip and left with the glass sliding doors unceremoniously shutting behind her.

Logan absentmindedly rested his hand on the back of his neck, closing his eyes and slowly dropping his head, moving it left to right to stretch out the suddenly tense muscles in his neck, shoulders and back. A soft groan escaped his lips. What just happened?

He possessed the ability to stun girls with his tone, look and the anticipation of his touch. It was a powerful feeling to know he could affect someone simply being in his, but in this case mostly her, presence. He never had anyone so blatantly take away the power that made him notorious and he certainly never expected to be on the receiving end of such a play, but all it took was her face to be a mere two inches away from his and he felt his stomach knot up, his palms get sweaty and he got caught up in the overwhelming urge to close the gap between them.

He did not care for the unexpectedness of it all. The Bachelor Boys of London did not get sweaty palms and they certainly did not allow themselves to feel self-conscious about it. He scolded himself for letting her affect him so much, wiped his hands on his jeans and refocused his gaze on the baggage belt. All is effort went into concentrating on spotting his black Johnston & Murphy luggage.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help his heart skipping a beat as his cell vibrated in his pocket.

"Ha! She misses me already", he told himself arrogantly, slightly comforted by the fact he wasn't the only one, but the smile that was threatening to break-out on his face quickly turned in to a frown when he realized it wasn't her number flashing on his screen, but his father's.

He contemplating letting the call go to voice-mail, but he knew that was going to cause more trouble than his last few moments of peace were worth.

"Dad, hey," he said, trying his best to keep his tone light and airy.

"I don't need to hear your excuses, Logan." Mitchum spoke in his no-nonsense tone; letting him know that cracking a smart-ass remark about his 'friendly' greeting was pointless. "Your flight landed more than thirty minutes ago," he continued. "Did you or did you not understand that your presence is required at the funeral?"

"I'm waiting for my bag," Logan explained, clenching is jaw as he struggled not to kick-start a shouting match right there.

"Nonsense," Mitchum dismissed his son, "I arranged for you to be escorted off that flight! That includes luggage!"

"Well, Dad…" Logan weighed his words carefully, "I'm standing at baggage claim now, so someone must have not gotten the message…."

He braced himself for the lashing is father was undoubtedly going to give him, but instead his father went off on a vindictive rant about how commercial airlines were worthless and staffed by complete idiots. He couldn't help but smile as he reveled that he wasn't on the receiving end of his father's harsh words for a change. He contemplating on hanging up, but he was grateful to spot his bag on the carousel, giving him a legitimate excuse to escape.

"It's fine, Dad," he said, as he casually swung his bag over his shoulder, "I've got it. I'm on my way. No need to send the lawyers…."

Mitchum hung up in a huff, causing Logan to roll his eyes. He stopped at the vending machine and purchased a Coke and a Snickers bar for himself and picked up the same for Frank, the driver he had grown quite close to during his sporadic visits to the homeland. The men shared an insatiable appetite for all things caffeine and all things chocolate. Fizzy drinks topped the list, not only because they contained the much desired substance, but because they proved to be excellent mixers.

"Mr. Huntzberger!" Logan immediately recognized Frank's face in the crowd and he upped his pace as he walked towards him.

"Frank!" Logan exclaimed as he approached him. "None of this mister bull, man."

He hated that Frank treated him like he was working for him. He was technically, but Logan was never one for formalities. He knew Mitchum instructed Frank to act a certain way and it always took Logan a little while to loosen him up a bit.

Frank gave him a short nod. "As you wish, sir."

"Frank," he scolded gently. "Just call me Logan, okay?"

The middle-aged driver nodded again and gratefully took the soda and candy his boss was holding out for him. "I'm sorry the nature of your trip is such an unhappy one."

Logan gave him an appreciative nod. "Thanks, Frank… but I didn't know him."

"But still…" Frank sighed as he held open the door, "It is a sad occasion."

He knew Frank would not understand that Logan saw this strictly as a business associated job. It was just another conference call, another evening of wining and dining potential investors or giving a presentation for the stakeholders. The emotional impact of losing a loved one was completely wasted on him. Still, he did not want Frank to be brought down by his cynical streak so he nodded sympathetically as he slid in the backseat of the town car.

Frank maneuvered his way out of the crowed airport parking lot and onto the freeway effortlessly. It would be another two hours easily before Logan would arrive in Hartford so he opened his soda bottle and took a swig, savoring the fizz as the liquid hit is tongue. He most certainly wasn't looking forward to this visit and he sincerely hoped he would be able to fly back out to his secure London as soon as the funeral was over. A pair of blue eyes involuntarily flashed through his mind, followed quickly by a jilt of excitement and slightly sweaty palms.

Logan took another swig of his soda and stared pensively out the window. He wasn't so much concerned with women's features flashing through his mind, as this happened on a fairly regular basis. Granted, these were slightly different images; however, never had it managed to cause sweaty palms and this bothered him. He watched the cars passing them by and he wondered if she was in the backseat of one of them. After all, she was a Connecticut Girl, she'd let him into her mysterious world that much.

His phone buzzed once again and he sighed inwardly, wondering what Mitchum wanted now. He was surprised to see it was a text message from none other than the girl that was occupying his thoughts. He internally ordered his heartbeat to return to normal and he pushed the images of her to the back of his mind, though he couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he anxiously opened the text.

"Apples are more powerful than caffeine at helping to stay awake. – Rory."

He smiled at her completely random, yet cute message. It wasn't what he had expected. He had thought he would be the next to make a move, or that Rory would send him a thank-you. Not that he expected a thank-you, or needed a thank-you. He comforted her because he wanted to; though it wasn't entirely a self-less act since he got the benefit of holding her hand, having her fingers laced with his. However, she did strike him as the type to thank profusely and he wasn't getting that vibe from this message.

Logan lazily flipped his phone open and shut. She was playing a very intriguing game. She was hot one minute, cold the next and continuously a challenge to figure out. Without really much thought he decided that he should call her.

"Hello?"

"Thanks for that useful tidbit of information, Birkin," he said. "It'll be helpful tonight when I'm wide awake, tossing and turning in bed…" he trailed off, realizing his comments could be interpreted differently, if she happened to be in a suggestive mood. "Jet-lag induced, of course," he clarified quickly.

"Naturally," she replied and he swore he could hear her smirk through the phone. "So, did you get your bags?" She talked casually as if they were longtime friends.

"I did actually," Logan replied, "and they turned out to be the perfect getaway…"

"Really, why?"

"My Dad," Logan sighed, "He called and prepped me for the meeting tomorrow…"

"I'm sorry," she answered, sounding sincere.

He hated that he brought up Mitchum to her. That was his cross to bear and nobody else's and yet he couldn't control it. She had a weird way of getting him to open up.

"And what about you, B?" he asked, gently steering the conversation back to something closer to his comfort zone. "Happy to have both feet firmly on the ground?"

He didn't wait for her response. "Though, as a good Samaritan I feel obliged to tell you that more people die in road related accidents than plane crashes…"

She cut him off, laughing. "I know the statistics," she answered, her breathing still a little unsteady due to her contagious laughter. "But at least I'm in control."

"Your driver is in control," he countered playfully and paused. "But then I suppose you control him, too…"

"I take offence," she deadpanned. "My driver and I have a perfectly happy working-relationship, thank-you-very-much," she quipped. "I trust him."

"With your life apparently," he added teasingly.

"Yeah," she sighed and Logan felt the conversation lagging; however, Rory appeared fine with it since she made no effort to end it.

They sat there in silence. He clenched the phone between his ear and shoulder, listening to her steady breathing and watching the cars buzz pass. After a while, he realized they were stuck in traffic.

"God," he exclaimed, "Traffic is such a pain!"

She hummed in agreement, but it really wasn't convincing.

"You don't sound too thrilled about the prospect of home," he remarked.

She let out a weighty sigh. She might contain the ability to reduce Logan to a puddle of mush and have him pour his heart out, but it was clear he did not have the same effect on her. "I'm not," she finally replied.

"Your own version of my dad got you down?" Logan chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, but it turned out that this wasn't a laughing matter.

"Can we just not talk about it?" she said sharply. Logan frowned. Her tone didn't upset him, since he knew instinctively that she wasn't deliberately giving him the brush-off. She simply did not want to talk about it. What bothered was that she did not want to talk about it with him. What surprised him was that he wanted her to talk to him about it. He wanted to help her, listen to her and that was something he reserved for only the closest in his inner circle. Instead of prying, he decided he would wow her with his vast account of useless and sometimes disturbing facts.

"Do you know why honey is so easily digested by humans?" he asked casually.

"No." Her tone was laced with curiousness – the sadness from before had evaporated.

"Because it's already been digested by bees."

She snorted before she yelped and cursed loudly, impressing Logan with her linguistic skills.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I spilled coffee on my jeans," she confessed sheepishly. "Damn it. These are my favorites!"

"Did you burn yourself?" He surprised himself as to how concerned he sounded.

"It was warm," she admitted, "but I'm not burnt."

"I'm glad," he nodded, before realizing that her coffee had to be at least a few hours old. "That's some pretty powerful stuff they make at that airport!"

"How so?" she inquired.

He explained that he saw her take the coffee from her driver at which she let out another loud laugh. "You have stalker-ish tendencies, my friend," she chuckled, "And it's not the same coffee. I'm on my third cup!"

He nodded and felt a smile play at his lips. "Coffee addiction?"

"Hardly," she shot back playfully, "And, hello? Who was it that drank eight cans of Coke on the plane?"

"I'm not denying anything, Birkin!"

But she wasn't hearing it and bantered on. "I'll be two-hundred and fifty dollars that you are drinking a Coke right now!"

Sheepishly, Logan looked at his half-empty bottle of fizzy goodness.

"Would you like that cash or check?" he replied, trying to mask his amusement.

The pair continued to banter until Rory ended the call just as unexpectedly as her initial text message.

"Hey, do you know what the plastic things on the end of shoelaces are called?"

The question did not throw him as much as one would think. In the nine or so hours he had gotten to know her he had seen so many sides of her. He looked down to sneak a peek at his shoelaces. He saw the plastic things Rory was referring to and he knew what they were called, but it escaped him at the moment.

"I'm sorry to say I don't," he replied and waited for her triumphant tone to fill his ear, but it didn't.

"Well," she sighed, "Call me back when you find out. I'm curious."

And with that she hung up the phone, leaving him with his thoughts. He stared at his phone, reflecting momentarily on the conversation before wondering if she had a boyfriend. He felt his heart sink a little bit at the thought and scolded himself instantly.

Clearly, he was out of his mind. If she had a boyfriend she wouldn't be calling him for random, semi-flirtatious chitchat. He smiled contently before realizing he had scolded himself for the wrong thing. He was out of his mind for putting so much thought into all of this. Really; he might as well start waxing and reading Cosmopolitan!

He fixed his gaze on the window once more and noticed that his exit was drawing near. He was about to see Mitchum and for him to have any chance he needed to prepare mentally, which meant that the mysterious girl needed to be out of his mind. He popped open the mini-fridge and quickly located the friend he could always count on: Mr. Flasky.

He eyed his soda and rubbed his hands together. He had left the perfect amount of soda to mix. He quickly downed his concoction, welcoming the familiar burn of the alcohol at the back of his throat and sighed as he felt the numbness take over.

The car pulled up at the Huntzberger Estate and Logan was pleased. He was numb enough not to think about Birkin and he had consumed the exact amount necessary to drown out Mitchum's harsh tone. He slowly walked up to the door, knowing Frank would deal with his bags. The maid ushered him through the foyer, straight to his father's office.

"It's about damn time," Mitchum boomed, looking up from his papers. "Sit down."

"Hey, Dad," Logan said flatly. "Long time, no see. I'm good. The flight was actually quite pleasant. Thanks for asking," he muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"What's that?" The older Huntzberger questioned with his tone boarding on anger.

"Nothing, sir."

"That's what I thought," Mitchum rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for your shenanigans. This is an important time in your career and a pivotal part in the company's history!"

"I know," Logan said, nodding to emphasize that he understood what his father was telling him.

"So, the service starts at 11 o'clock. The Montgomery's, Fairchild's and Hamilton's are all said to be in attendance and these are our prime investors for the next quarter…."

"Uh, I'm sorry," Logan shook his head, "What service?"

Mitchum shot his son an incredulous look. "The cremation!" he exclaimed, "try to keep up, son."

Logan stayed silent for a moment as he listened to his father ramble on about pitches and propositions. He was out of his mind! "I'm sorry," he interrupted, "Isn't this your best friend's cremation we are talking about?"

Mitchum simply raised his eyebrows, as if to ask what Logan's point was.

He swallowed, knowing his father would scold him for voicing his opinions. "Don't you think it's just a little unethical to do business are your best friends cremation?"

Logan watched hesitantly as his father took a sip of coffee. "London has made you soft, boy," he dismissed his son's concerns. "It's been discussed and Richard wouldn't have had it any other way."

"Dad…"

"I don't have time for this," Mitchum interjected. "Skip the cremation and attend the wake. I don't care as long as you bag the investors by the end of the day…." He trailed off, wrapped up in the paperwork spread out over the desk.

"I just think it would be disrespectful. I didn't know the man," Logan tried to explain his reasoning to Mitchum, but he had already lost interest.

"Read these," he said dully and handed Logan a heavy binder. "Be on time. I don't want to look like a fool."

Logan was stunned by his father's inability to show emotion. He took the binders and waited for Mitchum to continue, but he didn't.

"You are dismissed."

It was two o'clock in the morning and Logan lay flat on his bed wide awake. After the semi-successful meeting with Mitchum, Logan took a shower, ate some dinner and flicked through the binder, hoping that sleep would come. However, his jetlagged body protested heavily and out of sheer boredom he read the binder from start to finish…twice. He even had gone so far as to make notes in the margins. Granted, this was in part to do with his promise to keep a certain blue-eyed, brown-haired, Birkin-toting beauty as far from his thoughts as possible.

The sudden buzz of his phone brought him from his indeterminate state. Maybe Finn was calling to make sure he got in okay, but he doubted that seeing that is was 9.00 pm in London and his friend was probably holed up in the pub. He was surprised to see her number flash up on screen.

"Can't sleep?" he asked lazily, rolling back onto the bed.

The other line remained quiet.

"Hello?" he asked again.

"I…" her voice cracked slightly. "I didn't know who else to call…"

He shot straight up. She sounded distant and hurt, as if she had been crying. Immediately, he wondered if the boyfriend he imagined broke-up with her.

"It's fine, B. What's wrong?"

The line remained quiet, save for a few sob soaked deep-breaths, confirming Logan's suspicion that she had indeed been , he would kick the boyfriend's ass!

"Uh," she paused, "I was wondering if you could tell me a good story."

"A good story?" he asked, slightly skeptical. What type of girl called in the middle of the night, sobbing, just to hear a good story?

"I've had a rough night," she explained in a small voice. "I knew you'd be up because of the jet-lag…" She waited a beat. "I just wanted to hear your voice," she added embarrassed.

Logan could practically feel her blushing. He did not exactly know what to make of the situation. He wanted her to come to him, but he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit uneasy at her plea. Nevertheless, he tallied the mental points list he kept and counted another on his side. It was obvious she was in to him. He smiled.

"Sure thing," Logan said as let himself sink under the covers again. "Oh, by the way, 'aglets' is the word you are looking for."

"I know," she responded, her tone much less worn than before. "I was just testing you."

"I see," Logan smirked. He didn't know if she was being truthful, but he was not in the mood to push her. "So, what kind of story would you like to hear?"

Logan continued talking to her until he heard her breathing even out. He paused, checking to see if she was asleep. He listened to her breathing steadily and he felt sleep overtake his body. It had been a long day, after all.

So? Why is Rory freaking out? Why is she turning to Logan and more importantly.... wil she still do so after the events next chapter?! I'll try to update asap! :)