Command Control

by Sara Jane Stone

  But deep down she’d always known her work would be a deal breaker. When she’d revealed her pen name, Kurt had focused on the graphic, sexual elements in her book. She’d explained that her writing was about a young woman learning to ask for what she wants in a relationship. But still he’d asked her to walk away from the publicity and all the opportunities that went with it.

  And she’d said no.

  Success was important to her. She did not want her children to grow up wearing shoes that were a size too small because she couldn’t afford new ones. She would not let Laurel’s baby grow up wanting.

  But Kurt hadn’t understood her drive. To him, revealing her identity equaled trouble, not book sales and a flush bank account that would provide for her family.

  “He asked me if I was a reporter,” Sadie said.

  “Logan?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you have many, many more guesses before he reaches erotica writer.” Laurel laid six slices of bread on the counter. She paused and looked right at Sadie. “This is your chance to have a fling with a man before you broadcast your secret identity to the world. Think about it. This time next month every man you meet will see you as the woman who wrote a bestselling erotica series.”

  Do you honestly want to walk down the street and have everyone look at you and think “that’s the woman who writes about threesomes”?

  Kurt’s words ran through her mind like a highlight reel from her breakup. She knew others would make the same assumptions. And as much as she liked sex, she was a “one man, one woman” kind of girl.

  “You’re right. I’m not looking forward to starting every first date with the guy wondering if I’m into the same things as my characters,” Sadie said, while Laurel turned her attention back to the sandwiches. “Okay, I might do it. If he’s interested.” And he was. She’d felt the proof when pressed up against him.

  6

  MIDDAY LIGHT POURED in the bedroom window as Sadie searched for her sneakers. They were her only pair of shoes suitable for farm chores. She finally found them buried at the bottom of her suitcase. While she was lacing them up, her cell vibrated on the floor beside her.

  “Anne-Marie,” Sadie greeted her publicist. “I hope you have good news.”

  “Good and not so good. Are you sitting down?” Anne-Marie demanded in her raspy smoker’s voice that made her sound like an evil woman hunting Dalmatian puppies to make a coat.

  Sadie glanced at the bedside clock. Eleven in the morning. She’d lost track of time when she’d sat down at her computer early that morning to write a few pages. She was already late, and pretty soon Logan would start wondering if she’d flaked on him.

  “I’m sitting, but I don’t have much time.”

  “Make time,” Anne-Marie said. “My good news—it is huge.”

  A thrill ran through her. “Huge as in a movie deal?”

  “Close. I just spoke with the producers over at Today in America. They want to reveal the woman behind MJ Lane on live TV during the prime-time slot the day your next book releases. In addition to the interview, they will do a piece on how you moved to New York City from Maryland to seek your fortune. How you struggled, working as a secretary by day and a waitress at night in order to support your father, who served our great nation. And how you used your precious spare time to write your first book.” Anne-Marie paused. “Your father is a veteran, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” And he was going to hate this story. The entire world knowing he relied on his daughter to make ends meet? He might not speak to her for months. There was even a chance he’d refuse to cash her monthly check. “He served.”

  “Wonderful,” Anne-Marie said. “After they talk about your backstory, they will bring you out for an interview. If we play our cards right, we’ll announce a major motion picture deal for Isabelle’s Command.”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Sadie cried.

  “Before you get too excited, you should know that it is a pretty big if at the moment,” Anne-Marie said. “The studio is backing away from the deal. They’re nervous about turning another erotica book into a major motion picture. The casting for that other erotica film hasn’t been easy.”

  “I don’t want to lose this, Anne-Marie.” Sadie wanted to see her work made into a movie. And she wanted to add the hundred-or-so thousand dollars from that deal to her growing safety net. “What if we can find a way to keep the press interested and talking about MJ Lane until the show airs?”

  “Perhaps. If the studio feels that you’re a big enough name to warrant the risk, it might work. How do you plan to do that without revealing your identity?”

  “I’ll think of something,” Sadie promised.

  “Think fast,” Anne-Marie said. “We don’t have much time. Now, for this interview you need to look like MJ Lane from head to toe. Something hot and sexy.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll start shopping online tonight.”

  “It needs to be perfect,” her publicist insisted. “This is the big break we’ve been waiting for. We’re sharing the morning show plans with all of the bookstore accounts and they’re begging for more copies on day one.”

  The morning show, the movie deal—this would change everything. She’d made more money than she’d ever dreamed of from the first book’s sales. But taking her career to the next level would solidify her savings. It wouldn’t just start her niece’s college savings account, it would fill it with some left over for graduate school.

  The success, the financial stability—it was everything she’d wanted from her professional life. But while her publicist rambled on and on about the perfect outfit and if they should hire someone to do her makeup, Sadie’s mind drifted.

  What would Logan think if he knew? Would he look at her differently? Probably. She didn’t want to find out. She liked the way he looked at her now, as if part of him wanted to run away, but the other part couldn’t resist her. Not the bestselling erotica writer, but Sadie, the woman who loved apple pie and beer, who was struggling to be a good sister and who failed miserably when it came to farm chores.

  But in a few weeks, after the morning show, Sadie Bannerman would be forever tied to her erotica-writing alter ego. She would never walk away from the publicity. But still, the thought was a little daunting. Only a few more weeks of anonymity. Maybe less, if the news leaked before her morning show appearance.

  “How many people know that Sadie Bannerman is MJ Lane?”

  “Only a handful at Today in America,” her publicist assured her. “And a few at the movie studio.”

  “That increases the chance of someone finding out earlier,” Sadie said.

  “It does,” Anne-Marie agreed. “But aside from that one photographer who snapped a few shots of you entering your building months ago, the press isn’t actively pursuing the story.”

  Not yet, but that had to change if she wanted to lock down that movie deal.

  “Anne-Marie, you saw the pictures that photographer took, right?”

  “Yes. They were garbage. Mostly shot from behind. When his editor called I told him I could not confirm or deny your identity because I couldn’t see your face. We don’t need to worry about him.”

  “But if someone, an unnamed source, confirmed that the woman in the pictures is MJ Lane, the paper would run them?”

  “Probably. But they would have a difficult time connecting those pictures to Sadie Bannerman.”

  “Still, people would start talking and wondering again.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Release one or two pictures. Keep the mystery alive,” Anne-Marie said. “Should I place the call?”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Sadie said. “But not yet. I want to think this through first. I’ll call you with my decision. I’m not sure I’m ready to alert the media just yet.”

  She had promised Laur
el a month. She’d said she would be here when her niece arrived. To keep her promise, she had a feeling the media would have to wait. If she released that photograph and someone connected her to MJ Lane, the timetable for her big reveal would fast-forward. She might have to choose between morning show appearances for her career and being here for her sister—

  Sadie shook her head. She didn’t want to face that choice.

  “I need to run, Anne-Marie. But promise me, no leaks. I want to control this story. I don’t want to cut my time here short or lose that deal.”

  For once, she wanted it all—family and career. If she could just find a way to make that happen.

  “I’ll do my best,” Anne-Marie said. “But think about making that call. It’s a good idea.”

  “I will.”

  Sadie hung up and grabbed the bag of steak sandwiches Laurel had prepared the night before, hoping they would excuse her tardiness. Not that Logan needed her help. She probably would have been in the way.

  When Sadie reached the barn, she opened the metal gate and searched for Logan. She found what she assumed was a newly constructed birthing pen, but no sign of the man responsible. Guessing he’d moved on to another task, she followed the fence line until she found him by the back pasture unraveling a spool of wire.

  “I guess you didn’t need my help after all,” she said. “I stopped by the barn. The pen looks great.”

  Logan shrugged. “It would have gone faster with another set of hands, but I made do. I figured you got held up. How is your sister?”

  “Still pregnant.”

  He set the wire down by the fence post. Reaching in his back pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. It was warm out today and his tanned skin glistened with perspiration. She couldn’t help but notice how his white T-shirt clung to his muscles. Her gaze traveled down his body. Despite the heat, he wore jeans, and—oh my—were those cowboy boots?

  Her sister’s words from the night before ran through her mind. I heard a rumor he rode a horse through Afghanistan.

  She would ask him about that, and more. Like why a year had passed since a man who looked like a movie star had kissed a woman. Maybe he’d been deployed for so long he hadn’t had an opportunity?

  “Want to give me a hand with the fences?” he asked, bringing her back to the present before her imagination ran wild with what-if scenarios.

  “I have to be honest with you. I’m not great with tools,” she said.

  “All you have to do is hold the wire in place.” He retrieved the spool. “I’m done with this stretch, but there is another section farther back that needs work.”

  “I think I can handle it.” She held up the brown paper bag. “But what do you say we break for lunch first? Steak sandwiches courtesy of Laurel.”

  He returned the spool to the ground. “Sounds good. There’s a nice spot on the other side of the trees to sit and eat. If you don’t mind the hike.”

  His gaze traveled down over her legs to her feet. The jeans and running shoes she’d worn to help with the chores didn’t exactly scream fun and sexy, not like his cowboy boots, but they seemed appropriate for the farm. He gave a nod and she assumed he agreed.

  They walked side by side through the cleared grass to the tree line. Logan didn’t say a word. He wasn’t a big talker, she realized. He chose his words carefully. Unless he was relaxed and laughing like the other day at the bookstore. But she had a feeling that wasn’t the norm for him.

  Today, he looked as if he was walking into an interrogation. As if he knew he owed her an explanation, but would rather have a root canal. She wanted him at ease. Smiling and teasing her like he had in the romance/erotica section.

  “I can’t remember the last time I went hiking,” she said.

  “I imagine you walk plenty in the city.”

  “I do,” she admitted. “But it’s not the same. When I was little my dad would take us hiking and camping every summer. I loved it. So did Laurel. I think my dad did, too, though he always seemed a little sad he couldn’t take us on more expensive trips. We would lie out under the stars and he’d tell us all about the places he’d seen. England, Africa, Germany, they all sounded so exotic.

  “But as kids, we loved visiting campgrounds, swimming in lakes and looking for wildlife. The only place we ever begged him to take us was Disney World. I think my dad was kind of horrified that we would rather see Mickey Mouse than Europe. He loved to travel. His job took him all over the world before we were born and my mom passed away.”

  They’d entered the wooded area while she’d rambled. She’d been watching her steps, carefully avoiding cow patties in the field, but now she looked up at the tall trees. Their branches touched overhead and the leaves blocked her view of the clear blue sky. Her foot slipped and she lurched forward. A hand reached out and caught her arm, preventing her from falling to the ground.

  “You all right?” Logan asked.

  “Yes. Thanks.” She glanced down at his hand, still firmly wrapped around her biceps. She drew her arm closer to her body and the back of his hand brushed against her breast.

  If this was one of her books, he would draw her up against that hard wall of muscle she was aching to explore and kiss her. One kiss would lead to more and soon she’d be naked, her back up against a tree while he drove her wild.

  But this wasn’t fiction. They weren’t here to explore her fantasies. He hadn’t even kissed her yet. And even if he did decide to tell her what was holding him back, even if he finally claimed her mouth, they would not be having sex against a tree.

  Sadie glanced at a cluster of evergreens. There was nothing sexy about bark cutting into her back. And without a blanket, the ground was not an option. He could be the most talented lover in the world and she would still be thinking about the things that might be crawling underneath her.

  Logan released his hold on her arm. “Not much farther now.”

  Sadie nodded and followed him out of the trees into the clearing. A group of flat, smooth rocks sat in front of a small pond. The forest and the surrounding mountains might be wild, but this place was landscaped.

  “Nice,” she said, taking a seat next to Logan on one of the rocks.

  “My uncle put this in years ago when he was thinking about selling a few acres. Thought it would make a nice home site. But then he changed his mind.” Logan opened the bag and pulled out the sandwiches. He handed her one and again their fingers touched. “Your dad. You said he liked to travel. What did he do?”

  “He’s a marine. Retired now and living in Maryland, but still a marine.”

  Logan nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “Actually, he left not long after my mom passed. He wanted to make sure we had a parent around. After he left the service he never had enough for plane tickets. We were just getting by.”

  And, okay, now she’d revealed more than she’d planned. Her potential vacation-fling did not need to know how hard her father had struggled to be everything to his girls and still make ends meet. But there was something about being with Logan, out here so far removed from her daily life, that put her at ease. Or maybe it was the way he listened, glancing over at her every so often.

  “How long have you lived in New York City?” he asked.

  “I went to college there. About eleven years.” She took a bite of her sandwich, watching as he processed that information and determined her age. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I wasn’t a child prodigy or anything. I’m not that young.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. He looked so damn serious. “I’m still older than you.”

  “And wiser?”

  Logan shook his head. “I doubt that.”

  He set down his empty sandwich wrapper. The man ate as if it was a race. Or maybe he was used to having to eat and run? She’d never been to a war
zone, but she could image there wasn’t a lot of time to sit around and savor a meal.

  “I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two,” she said.

  “About some things,” he said, his voice low. “But I get the feeling you could broaden my horizons.”

  “Maybe.” Seeing him in those cowboy boots, she wanted the opportunity. “But I’m still struggling with the no-whips thing. I think you should reconsider.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”

  Finally, he’d relaxed. He didn’t have that distant look in his eyes anymore. She watched as he drew his leg up, resting his foot on the rock. His boots were worn and dusty. They looked like they’d been to battle and back.

  “It is true you rode a horse through Afghanistan?”

  His laughter vanished and she wished she could take her question back. Better to keep him talking about kinky sex. Instead, she’d stuck her foot in her mouth and they were back to square one.

  He studied her as if looking for some clue. “Sure you’re not a reporter?”

  “Not even close. Fiction only. I swear.”

  “I don’t read much these days. I read the last Lee Child. Is that similar to what you write?”

  “No. I’ve only published one book,” she said, leaving out the international-bestseller part. “But it was a story about a young woman’s journey to self-discovery. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Yes, I did ride a horse on my last mission.”

  She pictured him mounted on a wild black stallion, his gun drawn as he raced into battle. That image—part Wild West, part Rambo—sent a shiver through her body. Of course, the reality was probably very different from the romantic version in her head. “Not going to tell me any more?”

  “I can’t talk about my missions.”

  “I can live with that. Just imagining you on a horse in your uniform? That’s pretty sexy.” She set her hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath her touch. And that, more than any fanciful story she’d created about his top-secret mission, turned her on.