by Tia Souders
The fact she didn’t rip it from his fingers spoke volumes. He could practically see her wheels churning as she tried to come up with an idea.
Brittney chewed on her lip. “You’re right. It might work. You just need the right spin . . .”
“Of course I’m right,” he said in between bites.
“There’s no way she’d ever get attached to you.”
Logan grimaced. “Gee, thanks. You’re full of compliments today.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, but he could tell she wasn’t done yet. “What about you, though?”
Logan ran a hand through his hair with a growl. This was far too much talking for a Sunday morning. “What about me?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“How would I get hurt? I told you, she’s not my type.” Not after Allison. He’d learned his lesson there.
“You’ve seen her.” Brittney eyed the picture of Marti staring up at them.
Logan’s lips twisted. “And I’m Quasimodo?”
“You know what I mean. She’s . . .” She trailed off, then glanced up at him, her expression earnest. “She’s enigmatic. Special. Promise me you won’t fall in love with her.”
“Britt—”
“Promise,” she insisted.
Logan sighed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Fine. I promise.”
“Okay, good.” She nodded. “Then let me help you perfect your story. Because, like most men, your delivery needs a little work . . .”
CHAPTER NINE
MARTI
SHE JUST BARELY STEPPED through the door of POPNEWZ Monday morning when her phone rang. For the millionth time. Since Sunday.
Marti didn’t need to glance at the screen to know who it was. She was well aware her mother, amongst a million other nosy people, had been clamoring to get a hold of her since the story ran over the weekend. Marti had made herself conveniently scarce. The last thing she felt like doing was explaining any of this to her when she had no idea what would come of it.
She knew she’d have to respond to all the inquiries filling her inbox and social media sooner or later, but she wasn’t ready. Not until she got her story straight. And even after a weekend of wracking her brain, she still had no clue how to approach this. Logan wanted publicity for his foundation so they could take it to the national level, and she needed a boyfriend for her column. It was the perfect trade, a fair one. But she had yet to devise a way in which she could propose this without revealing she, too, had an agenda. Groveling was not one of her stronger qualities, and she’d rather eat lead than admit that she needed him in any capacity—even if it was as a fake boyfriend.
Marti let her phone go to voicemail as she traversed the hall toward the office. When it rang again, she grumbled and yanked it from her messenger bag, then snapped, “Yes, Mom, I saw the papers. Clearly, I was there as you saw from the photo. And, yes, I realize this is so unlike me. And, no, I’m not going to fill you in right now. I have an article due—”
“I should have known you wouldn’t answer if you knew it was me.” Her father’s voice filled the phone, and she froze. For a moment, she debated faking a bad connection, then hanging up. So tempting . . .
“Dad,” she acknowledged on a sigh.
“You’re a hard girl to get a hold of.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty busy these days.” She started walking again, picking up the pace. “Um, what do you need? I’m about to go into a staff meeting.” Liar.
“I need to know who you’re bringing to the wedding for the place cards.”
“Do I need to know yet?”
No way was she enduring that particular evening alone. But since she had yet to find a way out of attending that didn’t involve faking her own death, she hadn’t decided on a date yet.
“I saw your picture in the paper, but I didn’t want to assume. If you need more time—”
Marti chuffed and angry snort. How lovely. Keeping tabs on her. Of course he saw the paper. “Yeah. More time would be great.” Like forever.
Marti strolled past the large reception desk, shooting a quick wave to Karen, almost grateful for the phone call so she wasn’t bombarded with a million questions about Logan and the buzz surrounding their date.
“Okay,” her father said. “How about we get together for dinner next week and discuss it?”
“Fine, sure. Look, I gotta go,” she said, only half listening as she rounded the corner toward her cubicle.
“Wait,” her dad said in a rush. “Chrissy and I also wanted to know if you’d given any more thought to being in the wedding?”
“Uh, can’t say that I have. It’s a big time commitment, and with me being so busy and all . . .” She let her voice trail off, hoping he’d get the hint.
Maybe not even considering it was unfair to her father, but she couldn’t do that to her mother. She was probably a crap daughter. But an eye for an eye, right? He hadn’t exactly been the best father. When he ditched his family for another woman, he didn’t have Marti’s feelings in mind.
“It’s doesn’t need to be a big deal,” he added.
She said nothing, letting her silence speak volumes. To her, it was a big deal.
“I spoke with your mother about it this morning.”
What?
Marti slowed for a second, momentarily halted by this new information. A spark of anger ignited in her chest, and she regained her stride. With every stab of her heel on the hardwood floor, she released a bit of tension. Once she got to her cubicle, she threw her messenger bag down and tightened her grip on the phone, suppressing her urge to chuck it across the room.
Her mother might be a grown woman who could hold her own, but Marti hated the thought of her having to speak with him. Ever since he left years ago, Marti did everything in her power to ensure as little interaction with her parents as possible. It wasn’t hard since he avoided them for the first three years. But the second he started calling and coming around again, Marti had become the border wall between them. She could only imagine how painful having to talk to him must be—knowing he’d moved on, knowing he’d cheated, and chose to leave.
“Oh, really?” Marti asked, her voice tight.
“She already assumed you had agreed to be a bridesmaid.”
“You spoke to Mom about me not being a bridesmaid?” That’s rich, him discussing his impending nuptials with his Ex.
“Your mother and I talk.”
Since when? “She doesn’t need to be involved in your wedding,” Marti said between gritted teeth. “And my decision to take part is no one’s business but mine.”
“I know, but I—”
“I’ve gotta go,” she snapped.
“Marti, please, we need to talk—”
“Whatever you have to say, just . . . email it to me.”
Her father laughed, a bitter sound. “So you can ignore it like all the other ones?”
“I have to go, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.” She hit end, then proceeded to slam the phone down on her desk with more force than necessary, muttering under her breath as adrenaline spiked in her veins. The man had nerve; she’d give him that.
She’d had only one brief conversation with her mother upon her father announcing his engagement, in which Marti expressed her horror at the notion they might ask her to participate. Two weeks later, they did. All her mother had said was, “Don’t let today’s anger cause you to regret your actions later. If you refuse to take part, you might one day wish you had.”
Doubtful. More likely, the reverse was true.
With a huff, Marti flicked the switch on her computer and waited for it to boot, then glanced around to find Caroline and Mel already at their desks.
First, she’d grab a coffee, because. . . well, caffeine, then she’d snag the girls in the freebie closet. She needed advice on the Logan situation. If anyone could help her find a way to navigate that minefield, it was them.
She whirled around and—oof!—hit a brick wall.
; Stumbling back, her arms flailed before a strong grip righted her again. Only once she caught her balance, did she discover the brick wall was not a wall at all. It was a man. Logan.
Crap. She couldn’t face him yet. She hadn’t talked to the girls, nor had she drowned herself in her morning quota of caffeine. After her phone call with her father, she was irritable. His timing was the worst.
She contemplated making a run for it. Her gaze darted toward the break room with longing. Her favorite Columbian blend was waiting. But a quick perusal of his muscular frame told her he’d be fast.
Resigned, she tilted her chin up to face him.
“Morning,” Logan rumbled, his deep baritone sending a shimmy up her spine.
She offered him a tight smile even as she assessed him coolly.
He was dressed in a pale blue button-down, rolled at the sleeves, and a pair of charcoal slacks that she had no doubt hugged his rear to perfection.
Logan cleared his throat, and she realized she’d been caught ogling. Flicking her eyes back to his face, she caught the knowing smile on his lips. “In a hurry?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
She recognized the to-go cup from Culture Espresso, and her mouth watered. It was her favorite, the jerk.
“How’d you get back here?” She glanced around her as though she could somehow materialize a security guard with nothing but brain waves.
The tops of two heads popped up above the wall of her neighboring cubicle. Marti rolled her eyes at Caroline and Mel. Could they be any more obvious?
“That nice lady in the front, my good friend Karen, let me in.”
Marti made a mental note to have a little chat with Karen. She was no longer her favorite. Although Marti could be bribed with a special batch of her muffins.
“What do you want, Love?” She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Not a morning person, I take it?”
“Depends on the morning. Or the company,” she snipped.
“Hmm . . . somehow, I doubt that.”
“Is there a point to your little visit, or did you just wake up with the urge to annoy someone?”
“Are you always this grouchy first thing?”
“With egotistical doctors who show up at my workplace without warning before I’ve had my morning coffee? Yes.”
“I’d hate to see your bedside manner.” He grimaced, then took a sip of his coffee.
“You could only be so lucky.”
When she glared at him, he held her stare. Several seconds passed. The muscle in his jaw flexed, and her hands fisted at her side. The green of his eyes bore into her baby blues, but she refused to break.
She moved an inch closer, never wavering, eyes fixed. Their noses almost touched as she stared him down like a Pitt Bull.
Who would be the first to snap?
A second later, he threw his head back and laughed. “You’re such a trip, McBride.”
Marti growled. It was like he had a guidebook on how to irritate her.
He rocked back on his heels. “Okay, the truth is, I do have a reason for being here.”
She waved him on.
“I was hoping I could convince you to go out with me again.”
It was her turn to laugh. And, boy, did she.
She rested her hands on the knees of her fashionably torn black skinny jeans and laughed until she struggled for breath. Once she straightened and smoothed a hand down the mane of her silky locks, trying to compose herself, she noted his serious expression and pursed her lips. “And why would I want to do that?”
She knew precisely why she’d do that. She needed him for her column, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Because I’m the hottest thing to grace your social calendar?”
She snorted. “Try again.”
“Because you’re desperate for affection?”
“Do you value your manhood?”
He stepped forward and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch electric. His gaze flickered to her mouth, causing the air to stall in her lungs. “Because you secretly have a crush on me?”
She swallowed as the scent of his cologne drifted up to her nose. “You wish,” she said, her tone hard. Then she placed her palms firmly on his chest, ignoring the wall of muscle, and shoved.
He barely budged, but it was enough to make him take a step back before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the dark locks. “Okay, the truth is that since the article ran, Hidden Heartbeat has doubled the donations they took in all last year in just this weekend alone.”
Marti raised a brow, and he continued, “We’re in the initial stages of talks with a celebrity endorsement, as well as a potentially huge deal with a major baby brand in the US. This puts us so close to having the funds to go national, I can taste it.”
“And?”
“And, I have no idea how, but some pop news sites picked up information from a source that we’re an item,” he said. “Between that and social media, and the article in the Times, it’s gotten my foundation the attention it needs. If I stop here, it may all disappear, and I can’t risk that.”
Marti smothered her smirk. If he only knew. She was the “anonymous source” that leaked the information. “So you want to . . .?”
“Pretend to be a couple. It’s only been a few days. Imagine the impact after a few weeks or a couple months.”
“Months?” She arched a brow.
“Just a little while.”
“How long?”
“Two months, tops? Just until I can secure these deals.”
“Well, well, well.” Marti clucked her tongue. “You need me to help you. Can we take a second to appreciate this monumental occasion? Logan Love is asking the Queen of Single for help.”
The apples of his cheeks reddened, and Marti nearly died of happiness. Who knew Logan Love was capable of blushing.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked.
He huffed out a laugh. “I won’t beg,” he said darkly. “You have the chance to help with something bigger than you or I. If you don’t want to, then . . .” He shrugged, and Marti could see he was desperately trying to be indifferent and act like it wasn’t a big deal, but he wanted this. She could see it in the tension of his spine, the angry set of his mouth. Coming there, asking her couldn’t have been easy after the hard time he gave her the first day they met.
Oh, it was almost too good to be true. Logan was coming to her with the exact proposal she needed to save her job. In some other life, Marti must have been a martyr because karma was finally repaying her in spades.
She suppressed the bubble of excitement threatening to burst her cool demeanor and forced a placid expression. “What’s in it for me?”
“The knowledge that you helped a foundation off the ground that can help tens of thousands of women and children.”
Marti tapped her lips. “Hmm, as enticing as that is . . . it’s a hard no.”
“Come on.”
“What?” She shrugged. “I do stuff for charities all the time. It’s not like I don’t care, but I can only endorse so much.”
“There must be something you want. Something I can give you.” He skimmed his heavy gaze down her body, the gesture full of meaning, and when his shimmering green eyes returned to hers, she glared at him.
“Again, you wish.”
He chuckled. “Name your price, then.”
Just as he said it, her phone buzzed. She craned her neck to glance down at the screen to see a text from her father.
Dad: I emailed you. We’re not done talking about this.
Ugh. The man was relentless.
She glanced back up at Logan, and an idea sparked. “Fine. Maybe there is something.” Other than the fact her job depended on it. “Go to my father’s wedding with me.”
His eyes widened, clearly taken aback by her simple request.
“I don’t have a date yet.” She sighed, annoyed that she had to share this with him. “It’s
a long story, but I don’t particularly want to go. Seeing as how I have to be there, a distraction that day would be nice. So, go as my date and find an excuse to get me out of there after the father-daughter dance I’m sure he has planned, and we’re even. This way I don’t have to make an already dreadful night worse by taking some guy with high hopes we’ll wind up together.”
He stared at her for a moment, seeming to consider her proposal, before he stuck his hand out. “It’s a deal.”
With a curl of her lip, she accepted his hand and shook on it.
He grinned in return, his grip firm. “Now all we need is a cover story.”
“A cover story?”
“Yeah, you know. How we met. Stuff like that.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with an outstretched palm. “Don’t worry, I already took care of it.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” she muttered.
“I did some digging and discovered you had a cat.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How exactly did you go digging?”
He shrugged. “Okay, so I called Mel.”
Marti gasped, then shot a glare toward her friend’s desk. “Isn’t that against HIPPA or something?”
He waved her off. “It’s fine. So, we met in the bar, then at the doctor’s office, just like real life. But when you took your beloved cat to the vet across from my office, she bolted out into heavy traffic just as I was leaving for lunch, and I saved her from a medallion taxi.”
“You saved my cat?” she asked, brow furrowed.
“Precisely.”
“Um, why on earth are we going with that for our story? It seems really far-fetched.”
He rolled his eyes. “Because people will need some convincing to believe that the Queen of Single is hanging up her hat. And who doesn’t love a hero? How can you not fall in love with the guy who risks his life for your cat?”
He has got to be kidding me.
“Well, first of all, if you go with that story, you need to know my cat is a he, not a she.” Marti reached out and snatched the coffee cup from his grip and took a long drag.
“Hey.” He frowned.
Smacking her lips, she said, “If I’m going to listen to the rest of this, I need caffeine. Besides, what’s yours is mine now. Right, Love?”