“And this Mary person did,” Logan interrupted. What a freaking mess. He sighed and kissed her forehead.
“Yes. I never even thought about the picture until that conversation in the restaurant. I don’t want you to lose your job because of something I did.”
“Chloe, if Carter would fire me over something as trivial as this, then I don’t want to work for him.”
“But, Logan, you worked so hard to get where you are, and I—”
Logan put his hand over her mouth again. “Be quiet. I’m not going to let this job be more important than you or our marriage. There are other jobs if it should come down to it. What bothers me is that you didn’t make the same decision when it came to this mess. It should have been a simple choice, Chloe: talk to me or run scared. I can’t believe you chose to run.”
Chloe couldn’t look at him. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way. You’re right. I should have trusted you. I let my fear get the best of me. I’m sorry.”
“Well, all right then. I guess there’s not much more to say about it. But don’t ever let it happen again.” When she nodded in agreement, he continued, “Now, let’s talk about this Mary woman. How do you think she got your cell phone number?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out. I thought maybe from the Internet, but I don’t know how she would have done it. It’s a new cell phone number. You remember I lost my cell in Hawaii.”
“Right,” Logan said thoughtfully. “Is your cell phone number on a list at the station? You know—as a secondary contact?”
“Yes, but I don’t see how—” Chloe cut herself off when she realized where his thoughts were headed. “You’re thinking that maybe someone at the station gave it to her.”
“Exactly. Maybe it was the receptionist just trying to be helpful.”
Chloe was shaking her head. “No, the list is only used internally.”
“So maybe your old friend Mary knows someone who helped her out.”
“Or she could have paid someone,” Chloe said. “But I don’t see what this has to do with anything. Knowing how she got my number is beside the point. It doesn’t help me get her off my back.”
“No. Only you can get her off your back. You have to do that by coming clean with your boss—just as you should have come clean with me,” he told her sternly with a pinch to her thigh.
“I know, and I feel awful about it,” she said. “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” She nuzzled his chin with her head.
“I don’t know. It depends,” Logan said as turned her so she was sitting astride his lap.
“On what?” Her voice was distracted. The relief that everything was going to be okay was almost overwhelming.
“On whether or not you’ll let me love you in your daddy’s house,” he challenged right before he slipped his hand under her skirt to cup her behind.
“Logan!” Chloe protested, but she twined her arms around his neck and opened her thighs wider to rub against his thickening penis.
Logan grinned and got ready to settle in for the night.
Chloe sat in front of her boss’s desk and nervously clasped her hands in her lap. Her boss, Maria Castanza, had been looking at the magazine for at least two minutes. She hadn’t said a word—not after Chloe explained the situation and not since she’d given her the magazine. Chloe tried not to think in the negative. Just because Maria was deathly quiet and had a frown on her face, didn’t mean that she was going to lose her job. She’s just thinking, Chloe told herself consolingly.
Logan had offered to come with her that morning to give moral support, but she’d turned him down, thinking it wouldn’t look professional to have her husband there fighting her battles. He hadn’t looked at it that way. He’d looked at it as having her back. Now she wished that she’d taken him up on his offer.
She’d come in early that morning, hours before her show, so she could talk to Maria without fear of running late for taping. And she’d thought that if Maria wanted to fire her, then she could just leave before the rest of the crew for her show came in. She watched as the other woman slowly closed the magazine and tapped her finger on it.
“Well, that was interesting,” she finally said.
Chloe wanted to roll her eyes. Was that all she had to say?
“It looks like you guys had a good idea that just didn’t pan out.”
“So, uh, does this mean that I’m not fired?”
“Fired? Why would I fire you, Chloe? This picture was taken over a decade ago, long before you started working with us. Now, if it were the Pee-wee Herman scenario,” she began and paused when she saw Chloe frowning. “You don’t remember it?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I mean, I know who he is, but I don’t know what scenario you’re talking about.”
“You remember he had a Saturday morning show, right? Well, it was somehow found out that he had been in a theater watching a porno and masturbating. My God, there was so much hoopla over it. Parents were up in arms saying that they didn’t want their children watching a show that featured him. He eventually got canned, and that, my dear, is what I refer to when I say the Pee-wee Herman scenario.”
“Oh, okay,” Chloe said hesitantly as she thought about it. “I’m remembering it better now that you mention it.”
“So, anyway. Your contract only says you can’t do anything untoward while you work with us. It says nothing about the past. And besides that, you can’t even tell that it’s you. Who is this woman trying to blackmail you again?”
“Uh, her name is Mary Tanner, I mean Mary Pasik. It was Tanner before she got married.”
“Pasik. I thought that name sounded familiar. She’s a friend of Steve’s. Steve Henderson,” she elaborated when Chloe didn’t react.
“My director?” Chloe was stunned. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I’ve met her before.”
“I can’t believe it,” Chloe said. “Steve is working with Mary to blackmail me?”
“Let’s find out for sure, shall we?” Maria said and picked up her phone.
Chloe walked into her house, her mind still reeling from all that she’d found out.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Chloe turned in surprise. Logan stood just a few feet away from her. She accepted his kiss. “Hi! What are you doing home?”
“I wanted to be here, just in case the news was bad. Was it?”
“What?” Chloe said distractedly. She looked at him again. “Oh, no, I didn’t get fired if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Then what’s the matter?” he asked and took her hand and led her into the living room. He sat and pulled her down beside him.
“Steve Henderson.”
“Your director? What about him?”
“He’s the one who gave Mary my cell phone number. It turns out that they’d been dating each other, and when she saw me on television, she realized that he was my director. When I didn’t return her calls that first time, he gave her my cell phone number. They thought it would be more effective. He’s also how she knew that I’d married ‘some big muckety-muck,’ as she described you.”
“Wow,” Logan said. “What a small world. He’s been fired, right?”
“Wait, I haven’t gotten to the best part. When Maria called him into her office, he not only confessed, he told us that Mary didn’t even have a copy of the magazine—that they were hoping that just the threat of telling would be enough to get me to pay up. And yes, you were right; he was fired, effective immediately.”
“Excellent on both counts. Now that you know she doesn’t actually have a copy of the magazine, she can’t hold it over your head as a threat anymore.”
“Yeah, I know,” Chloe said with a tired. “What about you? Did you tell Mr. Carter about the picture?”
“No. It’s none of his business.”
“But, Logan—”
He placed his hand over her mouth. “It’s none of his business what my wife did ten years ago, Chloe. Hell, my wife is none of his business.”
<
br /> His tone brooked no argument and Chloe decided it was best to leave it alone. She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to the palm before rising. “I’m going to go change and try to get some rest before work.”
Logan watched her walk away, frowning at her slow, dejected steps. He rose and followed her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart and I know you’re hurting, but the good news is that you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Chloe stepped onto the first stair and turned to look at him with a sad smile. “Yeah, I know, but I still can’t believe Steve did this to me. I mean, even though we haven’t known each other very long, we worked closely together every day and I thought we were friends.”
Logan bent and kissed her brow. She just looked so miserable. He picked her up and began walking up the stairs. “I’ll beat him up for you. Just tell me where the bastard lives, and I’ll take care of it. He’ll rue the day he ever messed with Chloe Carnegie!” he said in low, dramatic tones.
Chloe’s smile was wan, and she didn’t say anything.
Logan had made it to their bedroom where he placed her on the bed. He started undressing her. When he got to her shoes, he took them off and began to massage one foot; pressing deeply into the center and making her jerk and moan. He looked up at her. She looked back.
“Your husband commands you to forget about Steve,” he stated softly as he treated the other foot to the same massage and then crawled up her body. He lay between her legs. “Let’s get started on making our baby. If you’re good, I might even let you tie me up.”
Chloe studied him some more. He was such a good man. She had a good life, and there was really nothing to complain about. She decided to take his advice and forget about Steve—and everything else about the outside world. For the next couple of hours, it would just be her and Logan.
“Oh, yeah?” she asked in answer to his proposition. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, since you’re being so good to me,” she whispered seductively, her body already clenching in anticipation of what was to come. “I’ll let you spank me.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said softly and bit his chin. “And not once will I say oranges!”
Step right this way into
the SIN CLUB!
On sale in December!
1
“Hi, Shawn. I’m the woman who was wearing the short red dress, standing on the corner—”
Damn.
Cringing at the words she’d just blurted, Sharice jabbed the pound key on the cell phone keypad to delete the voice mail message she’d just recorded. As the digital voice walked her through the instructions to rerecord her message, she stared out the windshield of her Lexus, idly noticing the after-eleven crowd in line in front of Club Maxwell’s. Defying the chilly October air, the women wore their spaghetti-strap tops and tightest skirts, while standing proud in their three-inch strappy sandals.
She tried again.
“Hi, Shawn…. This is Sharice. I met you outside of Maxwell’s last Friday. I was talking to my friend when you shouted your number out the window….”
My God. Are the pickings for a night of sex so slim that I have to resort to this? Just hang up.
“…and…”
Hang up.
“…well…”
Hang the fuck up.
But, damn, that man had been on her mind all week. It was once again Friday evening, and she somehow found herself cruising down the street in front of the club where they’d met. Her favorite song played on the radio—Jamie Foxx, crooning about how she needed a “G” like him to beat it, and Twista rapping about giving it to her in an elevator—and got her all hot and horny.
The same song had been playing softly from the depths of Shawn’s Lex that night, too. Surely, that must be a sign. Just as the fact that his gleaming red car, identical to hers, was a sign. A sign that, unlike her last boyfriend, Darrell and his 1990 Honda Civic, Shawn might actually treat her to dinner, instead of always crying broke. And Shawn’s voice, as he’d practically begged her to call him, had sounded like liquid sex. That had been another sign.
The voice was a definite positive for a night of hot sex. For, if his technique was sad, she could just ask him to talk—and that sweet, slow, sexy tone would make up for any lack of finesse.
Sharice paused, about to delete her message again, when the song faded out on the radio and Tommy “Dr. Love” Jones came on.
“Now, that’s a sinful song, isn’t it?” He laughed. “It’s definitely telling you to go out and sin, though not necessarily the way I’m advocating. I’m urging you, KPSX listeners, to go out and go for what you want, sin. Your happiness is just a sin away…”
Dr. Love was right. It was about time she “sinned.” That is, do something she’d never done before. She turned her attention back to the phone.
“…Give me a holler at 510-555-1201,” she finished.
Sharice clicked her phone off and tossed it onto the passenger seat, surprised to feel herself shaking from surplus adrenaline. How ridiculous that something as simple as calling a guy would spark the fight-or-flight response. However, maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous, since she never called men first, period. She always waited for them to call her. Hell, she was no fool—she lived by the book He’s Just Not That Into You, which was coauthored by Greg Behrendt.
Hence, she was committing a double sin—she was calling a guy first and she was calling a guy she hadn’t even really met. And the only reason she’d broken her rule this time was because, well, it was kind of hard for a guy who didn’t have her name or number to call her back.
So now what?
The line outside the club had grown another twelve feet since she’d arrived. Sharice did not do lines. Craning her neck forward, she looked to see if John was at the door. Yep. There he was, his bald, peanut-shaped head glistening in the soft light. He’d let her slide to the front of the line. There’d be no waiting tonight.
Sharice sighed. So what if she got in the club? Somewhere in between the time that she’d pulled out of her garage and pulled into this parking spot, Maxwell’s had lost its appeal. The effort it would take to make meaningless small talk with a dozen or more men, in hopes of meeting one she wanted to take home for the night seemed like too much effort. Kind of like finding her contact lens in the Pacific Ocean.
She’d been feeling like this a lot lately, which is why she’d been celibate for months. Six months, to be exact.
A group of loud-talking sistahs—whose long hair did a better job of covering their asses than their skirts did—sauntered past the car. Did they really think people thought that horsehair was real?
Stop being so bitchy.
She could just go home. Her attitude was not male-magnet material.
But she didn’t want to go home. Friday night was a prime party night, for crying out loud. And it was time for her to get her game back on track.
Sharice pressed the pad of her finger against the screen, turning up the radio. The deep voice of Dr. Love filled the car.
“…Good luck, man…You’re on, Jessie. What’s your sin?”
Jessie giggled.
Sharice rolled her eyes.
“Well, a couple of months ago, I did a striptease for my boyfriend. It was something I’d always wanted to do, but had never done before…”
Dr. Love made a sound of approval.
Sharice snorted. “That ain’t nothing. I’ve done a hundred stripteases.”
“…only it wasn’t my boyfriend who saw it. It was my neighbor.”
“Damn. I haven’t done that,” said Sharice.
Dr. Love laughed.
Jessie laughed. “…needless to say, the boyfriend’s out and my neighbor is in.”
“He’s ‘in’? Literally or figuratively?” asked Dr. Love.
Jessie and Dr. Love shared a chuckle.
Sharice joined in.
“Let’s just say he’s the new man in my life. Our relationship is wonderful. He—”
Nope. She was through with that. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Well, she was not going to be anyone’s fool anymore. So now she just looked for a brotha for a good time.
But, for some reason, the “good times” were feeling fewer and farther in between. And Sharice’s attitude was getting more and more frustrated. Not to mention her libido. She shrugged, throwing off her depressing thoughts.
Well, she might as well go inside the club. As she reached for her keys, her cell phone rang.
She glanced at the display on the cell phone. It was Shawn. Sharice grinned, no longer nervous now that she was back on familiar ground—being pursued.
She pressed a button to connect the call. “I like a guy who goes after what he wants.”
“Uh…”
Damn, she was good. The throaty voice worked every time.
“You do want something, don’t you, Shawn?”
“Yeah…uh…”
She smiled. He was speechless, though the fact that he was surprised her a bit. From what little she’d been able to see of him in his car, the sly quirk of his lip—which passed for a smile—gave the impression that he was the type to have a snappy comeback.
“Well…?” she prompted, converting the throatiness to a purr.
“Yes. Well. I’m not…”
He cleared his throat.
Sharice’s smile widened.
“I’d like…you. Talk…”
She couldn’t quite make what he was saying, with the reception so bad. She’d only heard a few of the words and it sounded like he was faraway, in a tunnel, with the wind blowing.
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