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Logan turned the corner. She saw him hesitate for a second and guessed he’d noted her come-and-get-me look. He crossed the kitchen and planted one hand on either side of her head. Holding his body away from hers, he looked down into her eyes before dropping his gaze to her parted lips.
That look—it was part question, part warning. He wanted to kiss her. He planned on kissing her. And right here, right now, she wanted the real thing, no more almost-kisses in bookstores. But he didn’t move.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
Heat flared in his eyes.
“Now,” she added.
He lowered his head until their lips almost touched. And then, damn him, he froze.
Sadie reached out, grabbed his hips and drew him close, craving contact. This man wanted her. She could feel it. But something had a hold on him. And she needed to know what it was.
Running her hands up from his hips, over his oh-so-tempting chest and shoulders, she moved to his biceps, then down his powerful forearms to his hands. Entwining her fingers with his, she forced him to release his hold on the fridge.
“The other day, in the bookstore, you started to say something. You said ‘I’m a’—but never finished the sentence. Now might be a good time to tell me.”
5 (#ulink_1c15a099-dde9-5097-94c1-3f1ce0b2b9e0)
LOGAN CLOSED HIS EYES. One kiss. That was all he wanted. One kiss before he watched pity eclipse her laughing, playful expression. Christ, she wanted it, too. The way she’d said that one word—now—had turned him inside out with need. But he’d hesitated, damn it.
“Logan?”
Opening his eyes, he stepped away, his arms falling to his sides. He didn’t have a choice now. He had to tell her. “I haven’t kissed a woman in a while.”
She nodded, watching him, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s been more than a year.” Longer since he’d claimed a kiss that would lead to more. “I—”
A loud ring echoed in the kitchen.
Sadie’s eyes widened. “The landline.” She raced across the kitchen to the cordless phone on the far wall. “Hold that thought. I need to get this.”
She frantically punched a button on the phone. “Laurel? Are you having the baby?”
Logan blinked. If the woman on the other end said yes, he needed to make himself scarce. Talking about his late wife while her sister was in labor? Not going to happen.
“Dinner?” Sadie closed her eyes. “I’m the worst sister in the world. I got caught up in something and forgot. Laurel, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”
Sadie hung up the phone and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time. I promised my sister I’d be back for dinner.”
“No problem. I’ll head out.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the door. Her sister had bought him some time, but he knew if he wanted to kiss this woman he had to tell her that he’d lost his wife to cancer. If she stuck around long enough, someone in town would volunteer the information.
But after he told her, would she order him to kiss her? Not likely. No matter how that conversation played out in his mind, it didn’t lead to her mouth on his and her body tight against him.
“Logan?”
He paused in the archway between the kitchen and the hall. “Yeah?”
Sadie smiled, her expression still brimming with heat and laughter. That look—it made him want things he might not be ready to handle based on his performance today.
“If Laurel’s still pregnant tomorrow,” she said, “I could help you with the farm chores.”
He raised an eyebrow. After he’d chickened out when she’d demanded a kiss, she was still interested? Part of him wanted to say, Forget the chores, let’s start again here. In front of the fridge.
But this woman was trouble. Her laughter drew him in like a drug. He wanted to take her to bed. He wanted to talk to her and tell her things he hadn’t shared in a long time—only he couldn’t. He wasn’t ready.
“I promise to stay away from Titan,” she added.
The answer was no. He knew that, but— “I was planning to repair the heifers’ birthing pen,” he said. “I could use a hand. Come find me in the barn tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll bring the coffee.”
* * *
SADIE RUSHED INTO her sister’s cramped kitchen, letting the screen door slam behind her. Out of breath from running across the fields adjoining the two properties when the sun was so low behind the clouds she could barely see—this was why people drove cars short distances in the country, no streetlights!—Sadie stared at her sister.
“You didn’t tell me Louise Reed had a ruggedly handsome nephew,” she said.
Seated at the kitchen table beside her husband, Laurel looked up from her half-empty plate. “Are you late for dinner because you were with the supersexy soldier?”
Greg, her twin’s husband, glanced up, a fork full of steak and potatoes suspended inches from his mouth.
“No.” Sadie sank into the empty chair next to Laurel.
Her sister eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure? If you were, I want details. Especially the naked ones.”
Greg set his fork down on his plate and pushed back from the table. “That’s my cue to leave.”
“I was not with him. Not like that.” But she’d thought about it.
“Yet,” Laurel said.
Sadie waited until she heard Greg turn the TV on in the other room before she nodded. “Yet.”
“He’s an army ranger.”
“I know,” Sadie said.
Laurel smacked the wooden table with her open palm. “So you talked to him.”
“I helped him with the farm chores. And afterward, I fed him pie.”
Her twin’s eyes sparkled. Leaning forward as far as her belly would allow, she spoke in a low voice. “I heard a rumor he rode a horse into battle. And Cindy said—”
“I’m not interested in gossip,” Sadie said, shaking her head. “If I want to know something, I’ll ask him.”
“You’re planning to see him again?”
If she had her way, she’d do more than see him. But sharing her interest with Laurel didn’t feel right. She was here to help her twin, not the handsome soldier who might have ridden a horse through a war zone. God, that sounded hot. Part cowboy, part soldier and all muscle—the man was a walking, talking fantasy. With secrets. She couldn’t forget about those.
“I’m living in his aunt’s guesthouse,” Sadie said. “I’ll probably bump into him again.”
“So no plans?” Laurel pressed.
“I might have agreed to help him repair a birthing pen for the heifers,” she admitted. The downside to not spending time with Laurel—she forgot how easily her twin knew when she was fudging the truth. “But only if you don’t need my help.”
Laurel raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to fix a birthing pen? Did you tell him you don’t know a screwdriver from a hammer?”
“He didn’t ask. And I’m not that hopeless. Anymore.”
“When was the last time you used either?”
Sadie picked at the potatoes on her plate. “Not recently.”
“Yeah, you’ll be a great help.” Laurel stood and began clearing the table. “You’re going to end up having wild sex in a barn while I sit here watching my feet swell.”
Guilt came crashing down on her. Sadie abandoned the steak dinner she’d barely touched and brought her dish over to the sink to help her sister. “If you need me, I’m here.”
Laurel waved her away, taking the dirty dish from her hands. “No. You should have sex with the soldier.”
“I’m not looking for a vacation fling,” she said. “You know that is not why I’m here.”
Laurel placed the untouched steak on a cutting board and began slicing. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t seize the opportunity. Your last relationship ended in disaster three months ago. And I’m willing to bet you haven’t had sex since then. Am I right?” Laurel stopped slicing and gave her a pointed look. “I’m right,” her twin said. “Get the loaf of bread from the fridge, please.”
Sadie did as she was told.
“A fling is just what you need,” Laurel continued. “Just do yourself a favor and don’t tell him you write erotica.”
Sadie set the bread down beside the cutting board, her gaze fixed on the dark night outside the window. The memory of her last failed relationship still stung. She was over Kurt, but the way he’d run for the hills the moment he’d learned about her career, claiming it would damage his future political career? That hurt clung to her. So did the fact that he’d assumed his career ambitions trumped hers.
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 (#ulink_6a868fb7-5d9c-52ac-964b-5bd0fa812796)
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.
