Meeting His Match

by Tia Souders

  The camera clicked, lights flashing, as Marti snuggled closer to Logan, even placing a hand on his lapel in a possessive gesture. She knew just how to pose so that the media would be abuzz with speculation. Gossip columnists would go stark raving mad for photos of her snuggling up to a man.

  Logan shifted his free hand, the one not wrapped around her waist, up to clasp the one pressed into the lapel on his chest. For the average onlooker, it was an intimate pose. It felt real, natural even.

  It was weird, and she hated it.

  When the camera flash stopped and the man lowered his camera, Marti recognized him immediately—the perks of being dialed in. He was a journalist from the New York Times.

  He extended a hand to Marti, and she took it. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss McBride. How’s the column?”

  “Fabulous, as usual.” Especially after this. “But actually . . .” Marti’s grin faded. She wrinkled her brow, and with a glance behind her, stepped out of Logan’s arms and away from the people watching them like hawks. Frowning, she leaned in closer to Brian and whispered, “If you wouldn’t mind keeping my presence here between us, I’d appreciate it.”

  Brian glanced behind her to Logan, his eyes brightening like a hound dog on a coon’s trail at her request.

  She winced. “It would look bad, you know? For my column. Seeing as how I’m supposed to be . . . well . . . single.”

  Brian’s mouth parted in shock. “Absolutely,” he said, rushing to reassure her, though she knew it was all an act. “Don’t worry. No one will find out.”

  Marti smiled and stepped back toward Logan, then placed a hand on her chest, and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Turning to face Logan, she tipped her head up and stared into his eyes like a woman in love, all while secretly wishing he’d choke on the champagne he managed to acquire during her brief exchange. “Come on, Love, dinner’s starting. Let’s go get a seat, shall we?”

  Logan shot her an amused expression.

  But the joke was on him because Brian didn’t even wait until they left to scurry outside. He was out the door before they were halfway to their table.

  With any luck, the story would be on the front page of the entertainment section by Sunday as well as splashed on every pop news site on the web. Careful what you wish for, Love.

  MARTI BURST THROUGH her apartment door and flicked on the light.

  She kicked off her shoes, stumbling over them in the process when Fuzz made a beeline for her. Unlike most cats, he was surprisingly social. She had saved him from a kill shelter years ago and never looked back. He needed a home, and she needed companionship. He also happened to be the only man in her life with any permanency.

  She plucked him up and looked him in his yellow-green eyes. “It’s you and me, buddy. Against the world.” He mewed like he understood, so she placed him in his bed and padded over to freezer where a new quart of rocky road had her name on it.

  She retrieved the carton of ice cream and yanked the lid off like an animal, then grabbed a spoon from the dishwasher and dug in.

  She couldn’t help the stab to her pride from this evening. She hated that she let Logan get the best of her. Now she was stuck with him. She couldn’t exactly go off and find someone new tomorrow after declaring to the Times that she was actually dating Logan. Only one outing and a few pictures on social media didn’t entirely help her cause. She still needed an actual boyfriend, not just a single article that stirred speculation.

  She curled her lip at the thought, annoyed with herself for opening her big fat mouth because it meant she’d have to find a way to make this thing with Logan a little more regular.

  There was always a chance no one would care. Then Blue could kiss her crazy theory goodbye.

  To test this theory, she headed to the table, ice cream in hand, and opened her laptop. If anyone had the scoop about her and Logan already, it would be Castille. He was among the elite in New York, a huge social media guru, and the gossip king of the Big Apple. Nothing got past him. If Castille didn’t know about it, it wasn’t newsworthy.

  One check of Instagram and Marti was staring at a picture of her and Logan together with the caption, “New York’s new power couple?”

  Welp, so much for buyer’s remorse. She’d spilled the beans, played it up for the cameras, and the media sucked it up just like she thought they would. For better or worse, she was stuck with the cocky doctor.

  Pursing her lips, she debated on writing an article for her column. No doubt, Blue would be thrilled with this latest development and she’d want Marti to exploit it for every drop of entertainment value it was worth. But how could she? She couldn’t very well confirm her relationship status until speaking with Logan again, and there was no way she was going to call him after their evening at the gala. His ego would explode.

  Instead, she needed to let this ruminate, allow Logan to hear and see the news for himself, gauge his reaction, and go from there. More than likely she’d have to tell Logan the truth—that she needed to use him for her column. And he’d bite, she had no doubt about that, because if he thought her mere presence as his date at the event was enough to stir support, imagine what being her boyfriend could do. It’d bring him even more PR for his charity. A trade for a trade.

  A new email notification popped up on her screen just as Marti went to close her computer. It was her father.

  She groaned. Definitely not the person she wanted to hear from tonight.

  She opened the email, tempted to hit delete without even reading it. The night was already a crapshoot. Anything he had to say would just make it worse. Still, she clicked it open despite her better judgment and read.

  Hey Marti,

  Seeing as how you haven’t returned any of my calls, I thought maybe I’d try email. I know you’re at your computer most of the time, so I figured you’d be more inclined to hit reply than you are to pick up your phone.

  Anyway, Chrissy and I are figuring out the seating arrangements and tables for the wedding. I’d love it if you’d give me a call back. She’s stressing over seating charts and wants to know if you’re bringing a date. I told her it didn’t matter, we’d make room whether you brought someone or not, but she wants everything to be perfect . . .

  Marti breathed through the fire burning in her chest, then unclenched the hand strangling her mouse. With a single click, she deleted the email. Problem solved.

  Chrissy wanted everything to be perfect? Yeah, well, so did Marti’s mother. All she wanted was a husband who didn’t cheat on her. She wanted someone honest, someone she could trust, who would stick by her side.

  All I wanted was a father who cared enough to stick around. Instead, I was an inconvenience. I was second fiddle to a woman he betrayed his family for, a relationship that didn’t even stick.

  Marti squeezed her eyes shut as the familiar pain lanced through her. The look on her father’s face the day he’d left sliced a hole in her heart. He was cast in shadows, his kind eyes darkened by the half-light of the open door. Crickets sang in the background and a dog barked in the distance. He promised nothing would change, that he’d still be there. But he wasn’t. Not even close. Not even a little bit until years later.

  She opened her eyes and swallowed the acid in her throat.

  Looks like Chrissy and Dear ‘ol Dad would just have to wait a while longer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LOGAN

  LOGAN SANK DOWN INTO the rattan chair, soaking in the sunshine streaming through the giant picture window of his father’s sunroom. It felt good, the light—revitalizing in a way he needed. He hadn’t gotten much sleep since the gala Friday night.

  He took a sip of his coffee, thinking back over the evening. Marti was a spitfire. And he liked it. A lot. Far more than he should, considering she had zero interest in him. Or maybe it was only committed relationships she had no interest in.

  What was he saying? That he wanted a fling with Marti McBride?

  He shook his head in an effort to
clear his thoughts. Trying to tell himself it was a terrible idea to act on his bone-deep attraction to her. Especially since he planned to convince her she needed to see him again.

  “She’s absolutely stunning.” His sister’s voice yanked him back to the present.

  He glanced up as she set her bagel and coffee down on the small table in front of them. The curly light brown hair she inherited from their mother framed her face like a halo, and a spattering of freckles decorated her nose. It was hard to believe his baby sister was all grown up. Soon, she’d be a college graduate setting out on her own.

  She shook out the entertainment section of the paper, which happened to feature a giant picture of him with Marti. To say the media had exploded with insinuations about their supposed relationship was an understatement, so when his sister called him and insisted he come for breakfast Sunday at his dad’s, he figured there was no avoiding the inevitable. She would want to talk about Marti. No point in fighting it. If it wasn’t in person, it would be over FaceTime because she’d call him relentlessly until he eventually gave in. If there was one thing about his sister that was consistent, it was her persistence in hounding him about topics he preferred to avoid. And she was particularly vigilant when it came to his love life.

  “She’s not bad,” Logan said, casually.

  “Not bad?” Brittney glanced up at him from the paper like he was insane, her hazel eyes wide. While he was their father made over, she was the spitting image of their mother. Sometimes it almost hurt to look at her. It was like rewinding the clock to a time when he was a kid and everything was as it should be. Then again, they didn’t have Brittney back then.

  “She’s a bombshell, and you know it.”

  Logan shrugged.

  Brittney narrowed her eyes. “Okay, spill.” She set the newspaper down and reached for her mug, taking a huge sip.

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  She scoffed and tapped the paper. “Says here you’re an item. That’s news to me.”

  To me too. Though, he supposed if he was going to sell Marti the idea of continuing their relationship, he might as well get their story straight—test it out on his sister so to speak.

  “We met a little over a week ago. At a dive bar in the city.”

  “Classy.”

  A slight smile touched his lips. “We hit it off. It was an instant attraction, love at first sight kind of stuff.” He wondered how Marti would react to his description of their first encounter.

  His sister hummed in response, then pursed her lips.

  “But we left things there,” Logan continued. “I didn’t actually get her number that night because I could tell she didn’t want anything serious. So, I left it at that, but I couldn’t get her off my mind. And, then, boom!” He clapped, and Brittney jumped. “Fate brought us back together again a few days later at my office. It turns out, one of her best friends is my patient, and she had an assignment she needed to interview me for, and Marti went with her.”

  “Okay,” Brittney said, sounding unconvinced. “Then what?”

  “So after the appointment, I found her in the hall.” Cornered her was more like it. “I asked her to the gala. She said yes. We talked throughout the week, and the rest is history.”

  Brittney huffed. “I don’t buy it.”

  Logan blinked. “What?”

  She shook her head, then arched a brow. A smile played on the corner of her lips. “You want me to believe that you convinced the Queen of Single—”

  Logan openly snickered at the nickname, to which Britt flashed him her death stare.

  “—to enter a relationship with you out of sheer attraction. Just like that? Because you asked? Because she thought you looked hot in your white jacket with a stethoscope draped around your neck?”

  “Yes.” Logan nodded. “The stethoscope works wonders. It’s literally a chick magnet.”

  “Nope. Not a chance.” Brittney set her mug down.

  Yeesh. Since when was his sister such a ball-buster? “Are you saying I’m not good enough for her?”

  “No, I didn’t say that, but . . . I don’t buy it. And if I don’t buy it, no one else will. Because I want the story to be true. Because I love you, and I want what’s best for you, which means for you to be happy, which means for you to find someone special and start a family because I know it’s what you want.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Don’t try to deny it. It’s what you’ve wanted for a long time. It’s why you clung to that skank Allison for so long when you should’ve checked that baggage at the door about five years before you did.”

  Ignoring her latter comments, he asked, “So you’re saying you don’t believe me?” He waved toward the paper. “It says so right in that article. The New York Times called us the new power couple of the Big Apple. It even claims Marti, herself, confided to a source that we’re together.” Though they should seriously consider finding a new entertainment reporter because there was no way Marti told anyone they were an item. He was sure she’d rather smother herself with one of her Prada bags.

  “Done yet?” Britt took a dainty bite of her bagel.

  Logan shrugged.

  “Good. Now, tell me the truth, and I’ll give you my advice.”

  Logan stared at her a moment, debating. He had expected to sell her a story and for her to believe it, no questions asked. Apparently, his sister was far more intuitive than he gave her credit. So he filled her in. On everything. Their first encounter, to the chance meeting at his workplace, to his blackmailing her into going to the gala.

  “Let me get this straight. You coerced Marti McBride into going to your charity event as your date in order to create buzz and, hopefully, some publicity for your foundation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dang. That’s savage.”

  Logan rubbed the scruff over his jaw. “It’s not like she cares.”

  “Just because she’s strong and independent doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings.”

  Could have fooled me. “Okay, settle down before that vein in your forehead pops,” he said, eyeing her forehead. “Why are you all bent out of shape about it, anyway?”

  Brittney slinked back into her seat, her expression sheepish. “Nothing. It’s just . . . well, Marti McBride is like the woman to aspire to be in New York. She’s a role model to a lot of us—er—to some people, anyway. You don’t mess with that.”

  “Are you suggesting I back off just because a bunch of feminists love that she is a man-hater?”

  Brittney narrowed her eyes. “Just because she’s happy single, doesn’t make her a man-hater.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She told me all about it. Pretty much seems like she has a chip on her shoulder, but before you have a conniption,” he said, noting the angry set of her mouth, “I’d like to inform you my phone has been ringing off the hook since this article hit the papers. Hidden Heartbeat has doubled its donations since last year. In the span of one weekend, Britt. Think about that for a minute. I’ve already got meetings lined up with two potentially huge endorsements. This means our shot of going national just became a real possibility, rather than a long shot.”

  Brittney’s eyes softened. He knew how she felt about his charity. Whether she’d ever admit to it or not, she felt guilty about the role she played in their mother’s death. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. No one blamed her. Ever. But knowing there was no reason to feel guilty, and accepting grace, were two very different things.

  “Really?” she asked, and he knew he had her.

  Logan nodded. “All I need is to clinch these endorsements, keep the spotlight on us, and I really think it’ll happen.”

  “By that, I assume you mean—”

  “Marti and I need another date.” He set his own mug down and gestured with his hands. “Maybe there’s something I could offer her.”

  Brittney snorted. “Nice try.”

  Logan pressed his lips into a tight line, unamused. “Head out of the gutter, pl
ease.”

  When Brittney crossed her arms, he continued. “If there’s something I could trade, a favor she needs in return, it would be the perfect arrangement. She scratches my back, and I’ll scratch hers. Marti doesn’t want a relationship, and I don’t want one with a woman so jaded. So there is zero chance we’d ever fall for each other. What would she have to lose?”

  “Uh, her job.” Brittney widened her eyes and splayed her hands over the table in front of her like she was speaking to a child. “I hate to point out the obvious, but her entire life, both professional and personal, is built on being single.”

  “She dates guys for her column all the time. We’ll give them a few good stories to get the media hounds howling and their tails wagging, and then we can be done. In the meantime, Hidden Heartbeat gets more attention, and she’ll be out nothing.”

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine what she’d want from you.”

  Logan shot her a glare, and she raised her hands. “No offense.”

  Logan shrugged. “There’s got to be something she wants that I can help with. I refuse to think otherwise. She can spin it to her advantage in the end, for all I care. As long as she doesn’t make me out to be a complete jerk, or cause me to lose endorsements, she can do with it whatever she wants. If you ask me, her column could use a little shaking up.”

  Brittney arched a brow over her coffee cup. “And how exactly do you plan on getting her to agree to this?”

  That part he hadn’t figured out yet. Maybe he could guilt her into it with his sob story about losing his mom?

  Eh, Marti didn’t seem like the guilt-riddled type. Besides, she already heard the story, and it wasn’t like she’d melted into a puddle of sympathy at his feet.

  Although, she did a marvelous job playing the part for the rest of the evening. A notion that still perplexed him, which led him to believe she also had an ulterior motive. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Logan snatched one half of his sister’s bagel and crammed a third of it in his mouth.

  “Hey!” She batted at his hand, but it was half-hearted.