Logan rushed toward her dad like he was going to physically remove him.
“Logan! It’s my dad.”
Logan halted, his head whipping toward her in question.
She nodded, her lips in a flat line. Now she had to explain her paparazzi dad stalking his own daughter.
Her dad stopped in front of her. “Hi, Sabrina.”
She held out her hand. “Let me see your camera. Did you take pictures of me and Logan?”
“No, I just got here.” He showed her, flipping through pictures of celebrities. Nothing of her and Logan. He studied her for a moment. “You look really happy.”
She ground her teeth. She had been happy. Now he’d turned a beautiful time to shit. “Been a while since I’ve seen you.” The last time had been at her disastrous wedding four years ago. In a forgiving mood, all starry-eyed about being a bride, she’d invited him.
“Better circumstances now for sure.” Her dad turned to Logan. “Hi, I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you.”
“Logan Campbell.”
Her dad nodded. “Yup.” He turned to Sabrina. “Sorry for hiding in the bushes. I wasn’t sure if you’d talk to me.”
She crossed her arms. “How did you find me?”
“Followed the trail—your connection to Claire Jordan, Logan’s investor meetings, your sudden wedding announcement. I was already in California.”
“Nice detective work,” she said.
He bobbed his head. “If I found you, it won’t be long before everyone else does. Can I please take a picture of you as a married couple? It’ll really help me out to get the scoop.”
She clenched her teeth. “No.”
Logan held up a finger. “Just a minute.” He pulled her back toward the house, whispering in her ear. “Let’s do it. It’s a big FU to everyone on our terms. Once he has the scoop, we won’t have any more paparazzi popping out of the bushes.”
She scowled. “My own dad sells me out.”
“We let him for a good reason.”
“He’s never cared about me. I didn’t even know he was my dad until I was thirteen. He showed up again when my mom started making some headway in her career as an artist. He wanted to sell pictures of her with her art, and she was happy to go along. I actually thought they might get back together because he moved in for a few weeks. But then he left again. I owe him nothing.”
“That sucks.” He glanced over to where her dad was fiddling with his camera.
“My people don’t commit.”
Logan took both her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. “My parents didn’t stick either.”
“So we’re both screwed up.”
He smiled down at her. “I say we go for it. Give him a big cheesy smile and then go on with our day.”
She looked over at her dad, who was turned slightly away, giving them a moment of privacy. Logan was probably right; a picture on their terms would be better than dealing with random people jumping out at them.
She called over to her dad. “Okay. One picture. We’ll stand in front of those bushes. I don’t want Claire’s house in the picture.”
“Great!” Her dad smiled, but she didn’t return it. He was a user.
She and Logan walked over to stand in place. Logan slung an arm around her shoulders.
Her dad lifted his camera, focusing it. “Stand facing each other, look into each other’s eyes, and smile. Sabrina, put your left hand on his shoulder so I can get the wedding band in the picture.”
She was about to say we’re fine when Logan turned her toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. He leaned down, whispering to her, “Come on, put your hands on me like you like me.”
She laughed and rested her hands on his shoulders. He smiled down at her, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked really happy, and that made her happy. A surge of affection for him had her smiling back.
“Perfect!” her dad exclaimed, the camera clicking away.
She snapped back to reality and turned to her dad. “You get the shot?”
He checked his camera and smiled. “Yeah. Nice.” He went over and shook Logan’s hand and then hers. “Thank you so much. This’ll keep me in the black for a month.”
Logan stared at him, his expression hard. “You’ve got the exclusive. I suggest you get it out there fast. We’re going out, and someone else might get the jump on you.”
“Absolutely,” her dad said, nodding. “Thank you.”
Her dad turned to go, but Logan grabbed his arm. “I don’t want you stalking us again, clear? I don’t care who you are, I’ll call the police.”
“We’re good,” her dad said, his gaze shifting away. “This is all I need.”
“Hold on,” Logan said. “I’ll open the gate so you don’t have to climb the fence again.”
Her dad actually blushed, glancing at her before staring at the ground, waiting. He shoved his hand in his pocket, fished out a business card, and handed it to her. “In case you want to keep in touch.”
She shoved the card in her purse, irritated. He was probably hoping she’d get in touch for the next big payday picture. “Bye.”
Logan did the code to open the gate, and her dad took off at a near run.
Logan returned to her side. “That went better than I thought it would. Are you upset?”
She shook her head. “I just want to pretend that never happened. Swear to God if my mother comes out of the woodwork, I’ll die.”
“What would she do?”
“Try to get the spotlight on her and her art. Her work has fallen out of favor. Art trends come and go, and she never moved on from her favorite subject.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I kinda want to see those erotic paintings.”
She glared at him. “I’m glad you find my embarrassing mother amusing.”
He shrugged. “I’m just curious.”
“Can we please go sightseeing now?”
He held her by the chin and kissed her. “Absolutely.”
Several minutes later, they finally took off in the Jeep. She really hoped that was the end of her family profiting off her.
Chapter Fourteen
Logan marveled over Sabrina. Now that she was being real with him, she was passionate with a snarky sense of humor. She didn’t hesitate to push back at him, asserting what she wanted, so he didn’t have to worry about steamrolling her. They had a real give-and-take, even better than their friendship, because now that she wasn’t acting the cool reserved professional, being more herself, they were on equal footing. Actually, she had the upper hand, though she didn’t know it, because he was way into her. The sex was amazing, she cooked like a gourmet, and the more he got to know her, the more he liked her. It scared him a little how much he felt so fast. He tried to rationalize it—maybe she was his rebound, maybe it was the fake marriage that promised a commitment that wasn’t actually there. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t deny he felt something…deep.
They’d had a blast sightseeing. He’d played tour guide, and when he’d realized how much she was enjoying herself, he dropped his two-hour decree and spent the whole day out with her. They’d moved freely through the city, no one bothering them, in their own happy bubble.
When they got back to Claire’s house, Sabrina cooked him a fantastic dinner with no recipe. Thinly sliced beef with basil, angel hair pasta, and salad. He even ate the salad because she put all these tasty things in it, toasted almond slivers and pear slices with a homemade dressing.
Now he leaned back from the table, full and satisfied. “I still can’t believe you made all this without a recipe. You should’ve been a chef.”
She smiled. “I enjoy cooking. After you do it enough, you get a feel for what goes together and how long to cook stuff.”
“I can barely cook a frozen pizza.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you can do more than that.”
“So you eat like this all the time? Gourmet cooking?”
“It’
s not gourmet. I save that for special occasions. Those meals take more time, as they should. Good things come to those who wait.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. Her lips parted, her gaze on her hand. “Is that your subtle way of saying I need to wait before I seduce you again?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I meant the meal.” She glanced back toward the kitchen. “Though we should probably scrub the pots and pans before everything sticks, and when I say we, I mean you.”
He laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. “Okay, I can take a hint.”
“If I had more ingredients, I would’ve baked you a nice dessert.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “You bake too?”
She tossed her hair and batted her lashes. “My friends call me a domestic goddess.”
“You totally are.”
“I just find it relaxing. It’s stuff I didn’t have growing up. You know, meals from scratch, a cozy home, so I learned how to make that happen.”
“I grew up in a cozy house, but we never ate this good. Now I’ve got a big house that’s mostly empty.”
“Maybe for you coming from a house crowded with people, you like having all that space.”
He grinned. “I just thought it was because I was too lazy to pick out furniture.”
She laughed. “That too.”
He stood and gathered their dishes, heading to the kitchen. He set them in the sink and ran the water.
Sabrina followed him in. “Do you know how to wash dishes?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Please. You think I’m a heathen?”
“Okay, okay. It’s just that before you put everything in the dishwasher.”
He started loading it. “Yes, but I said I’d scrub the pots and pans, and I will.” He finished loading everything possible into the dishwasher while Sabrina watched. “I got it. You don’t have to supervise me.”
“Watching you do domestic chores gets me hot.”
He barked out a laugh. “I get the feeling you’re using reverse psychology on me, counselor.”
“It really does,” she insisted. “Do the pots and pans.”
He shook his head, not entirely convinced, but on the off chance it got her hot, he was totally going to seduce her as soon as this chore was done. He grabbed a paper towel and squirted some dish soap on it.
“Hold on.” She dug around under the sink and pulled out a clean scrub sponge. “Here, try this.”
He got to work. “So what kind of dessert can you make?”
She leaned against the counter next to him. “Let’s see, I guess it depends what you’re in the mood for. Cookies, brownies, flourless chocolate cake, chocolate mousse, fruit pie—”
“Whoa. Let’s start with the pie. What kind of pie?”
“Whatever kind you like. Apple would probably be easiest to find this time of year.”
“Yes, please. What else can you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“How far do your domestic goddess skills go?”
She shrugged. “Guess that’s a matter of opinion. My friends like coming to my apartment. They say it always smells like cinnamon and vanilla, and the furniture is so cushy. I made the accent pillows and knitted the throw blanket.”
His eyes widened. “I need to see your place.”
“So after this…we’re going to keep seeing each other?”
He stiffened, surprised she’d thought it was just for the weekend. Well, he had said they were having a weekend honeymoon, but he’d assumed they were both into it enough to keep it going. Fuck. He set the pot down and turned to her. “I think we should.”
“Why exactly?” she asked softly.
He scrambled to think of something good without showing his hand. He didn’t want her to know how hooked he was because if this was all just fake to restore her rep, he was in trouble. “Mutual pleasure.”
She pressed her lips together. “Until…”
“I don’t know. Let’s play it by ear.”
She nodded once, turned, and started banging around in cabinets. He got the feeling she was pissed.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just looking for a dish towel.” Slam. “Not there.” Slam. “Got to have them somewhere, right?”
He turned off the water, dried his hands on a paper towel, and caught up with her right after she slammed cabinet number five. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, sliding his hand under her hair and cupping the back of her neck. “Sabrina.”
“What?” she snapped, definitely pissed, but she was staring at his mouth, her breath coming faster. She wasn’t touching him back, though, her hands at her sides.
“I know we’re doing the fake-marriage thing, but I told you this part was real.” He brushed his lips over hers, coaxing. “Don’t be mad.” Another brush of the lips. “Just enjoy.”
She sighed. “I leave tomorrow morning, and I just need to know where I stand. So once we’re both back home, fake honeymoon over, then we’ll still see each other because of mutual pleasure, as in fucking?”
He got hard, hearing her sweet mouth say fucking, but her brown eyes were searching his, so he gave her the truth. “As in more than fucking.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. The beast was back. He didn’t want to hug her, he wanted to bend her over the counter and bury himself deep inside. He cared about her, but the intense need when she was pressed against him made it impossible to hold back. He wrapped her hair around his fist and tugged, tilting her face up to look at him.
She flushed pink, the pulse in her throat beating rapidly. He stroked his fingers down her throat, loving how she responded to him. He was about to lean down and run his tongue over that pulse when she spoke.
“The cabinet slamming was passive-aggressive of me. I apologize. From here on out, I’ll be a better communicator.”
He shook his head. “You’re too damn sweet. Don’t apologize for being mad.”
She met his eyes. “I was mad because it sounded like it was just fucking, but, for me, it’s definitely more. I should’ve said that right up front. I’m still kind of new at the relationship thing, but I really want to be good at it. In theory, I’m an expert, for other people, anyway, but for me not so much.”
“So self-aware,” he teased. “If this is you throwing a fit because you don’t know where you stand, I’ll take it. I don’t need you to be an expert at this.” He spoke against her lips. “I just need you to be with me.” He kissed her, letting her know how much he wanted her, a demanding kiss that ignited between them. Her tongue tangled with his, her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close, her pelvis pressing insistently into his.
The dishes could wait. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. It should’ve scared him, but he was too far gone. He went for it.
~ ~ ~
One pretend day of married bliss was all she got before she had to fly home. Logan would be staying on until Wednesday for more time at his big investor’s office. She told herself this wasn’t goodbye. He’d fly home, and they’d continue in some new phase of their relationship. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that was. She liked him way too much, and if she was honest with herself, she’d been slowly falling for him for months now. Some part of her wanted a do-over with him, where she got to him before he was involved with Olivia again, before any of this whole mess with her in the spotlight. There were just too many added stressors on a brand-new relationship.
It was Sunday morning, and she was all packed. There was nothing left to do but say goodbye to Logan and drive her rental Jeep to the airport.
She stopped in front of him by the front door, tried to smile and failed miserably. “Welp, goodbye. I guess I’ll see you back home.”
One corner of his mouth curled up. “Don’t sound so sad. I’ll be home in three days. You can survive that long without me in your bed.”
So, okay, yes
, the sex was phenomenal, but she was a little concerned that it eclipsed everything else. Not that she didn’t enjoy it. He was a demanding but generous lover, and it worked for her. Big time. But all this emotion was building up inside her, and she was positive he was not at the same place. She just needed a tiny hint that she wasn’t alone in these deep waters. “You think we should keep pretending we’re married back home?”
“Sure, no big deal.”
“Maybe we should tell our friends the truth.”
“Let it ride. We’ll tell them once the dust settles and your rep is golden again.”
Another thought occurred to her. “What if there’s reporters snooping around? Won’t it look odd that we don’t live together?”
He laughed and gave her hair a tug. “You worry too much. I’m sure all the attention on us will die down. You don’t have any more TV interviews scheduled. You’ll go back to work, I’ll go back to work, and we’ll catch up for lunch or whatever.” He winked.
“Whatever as in sex.”
He held up his palms. “Whatever is what you make of it.”
She let out a breath of exasperation.
He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a quick kiss. He dropped his hand. “Have a safe trip. I’ll see you soon.”
She didn’t move, not quite ready for this golden time in California to end.
He swatted her ass lightly. “Stop giving me those big worried eyes. Seriously, you’re killing me with these eyes. You know me, right?”
“Yes.”
“You trust me.”
“Yes.”
“Then we’re good. Now go before I have my way with you again.”
She found herself smiling. He could always make her smile. He grinned, leaned down and nipped her neck, jolting her.
She left on a high note. All thanks to Logan.
~ ~ ~
She returned on a low note. Exhausted and jet-lagged, she parked at her apartment complex late that night. It was dark and cold. Welcome back to Connecticut in January! She got out of her car, opened the trunk to retrieve her suitcase, and screamed.
A reporter was standing next to her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. It was the same guy from the city with the long black ponytail.
Chance of Romance (Happy Endings Book Club, Book 8) Page 16