“Damn, brother, when did you learn to kiss like that? That is one sexy snog session.” Nettie stroked her chin. “I’m thinking I should have made you lose the shirt.”
Especially not his sister. That’s probably what was making him feel weird. His sister was watching him make out. Logan clicked on the file to close it, hating the rush of heat burning his cheeks. Downside of being a redhead, he tended to blush like an altar boy who’d found a dirty magazine stashed under a pew. He picked up his mug and took another sip of tea, hoping Janet would chalk his flushed face up to the steam. “Did you edit all the takes or only this one?”
Janet stared at him. “What do you think? Why waste my time on the others when we know this is the one?” Her face scrunched up. Logan knew that face—a storm was brewing. “Oh wait, I did waste my time. Because instead of getting Miss Kissy Face to sign the waiver, you were busy dipping your quill.”
“Cassie.”
“What?”
“Her name is Cassie. Not Sugar Lips or Kissy Face or whatever name you’ve got queued up to say next.”
The storm eased for a moment as the frustration in Janet’s face shifted, her eyebrows shooting up with incredulity. “I beg your pardon. Does Miss Hot”—he shot her a warning glare—“Miss Cassie have a last name?”
Logan relaxed. This at least he knew. “Crow.”
“Cassie Crow, huh?” Janet took a fresh release form from the folder and placed it on top of the pile. She tapped the paper with her pen. “Catchy.”
His tea had cooled. Logan chugged the rest of the lukewarm liquid, wishing Janet hadn’t stolen all his biscuits. Still peckish, he rose from the desk to fetch another snack when his phone vibrated. He slipped it out of his pocket and glanced at the number, then sank back onto his chair, appetite gone.
Logan cleared his throat and let the phone ring one more time before answering the call. “Logan Reid.”
At the professional tone of his voice Janet scooted closer, the wheels of her chair rolling silently over the studio’s foam floor. “Who is it?” she mouthed.
He held up a finger to her as the man on the line said, “Logan, hey. It’s Bob from Second Studios.”
“What can I do for you, Bob?” Logan stuck his leg out and blocked his sister from scooting any closer.
“Yeah, hey look, the network is on my case. There’s an issue with one of the shows in our fall lineup. We have an opening and need to get rolling on this earlier than expected. How are your stats looking?”
“I’m expecting there’ll be a strong uptick soon.” Logan thrust out an elbow, scowling at his sister. Nettie was practically breathing down his neck as she listened in on the call.
“Excellent,” Bob said. “I gotta tell ya, my money is on you, but my coproducer thinks otherwise. I need to win him and our sponsors over.”
Tension gathered in a snarl between Logan’s shoulders. “I understand. We’re working on an idea right now.”
“When do you think you’ll have something for me?”
Nettie held up the release form with Cassie’s name on it, waving the paper at him. He ignored her. “Soon. I’ll be in touch.” He wrapped up the call and snatched the waiver from his sister. “Go ahead and finish the edits.”
“On it.” Janet scooted back to the keyboard. “What’s your plan?”
Logan dug in his pocket for the napkin from the Caldy bar. “I’m taking a wee trip.”
“Where?” Janet called after him as he headed for the door.
“London.”
CHAPTER 6
“STILL DRIVING THIS sorry excuse of a car, I see.” Logan tossed his duffel bag into the boot of Theo Wharton’s aging Roadster and hopped into the front seat. With its smooth, sexy lines, the old MGB could have starred in a James Bond film … three or four 007s ago. An unhealthy gurgle of smoke belched from the exhaust pipe as the car lurched out of the Sandy Station parking lot. Logan glanced over at the driver with a twinge of guilt. It had been too long since he’d seen his best mate. “I thought things were grand.”
“Grand might be an overstatement,” Theo said, as he eased onto the A1 and shifted into a higher gear. The car jerked forward, sputtering a moment before picking up speed.
Logan braced himself against the dash, his palms absorbing the shuddering rattle of the engine. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that while I’m pleased to report the Wharton family is no longer in imminent danger of losing its ancestral estate, we still can’t afford to do much more than pay the taxes on the bleeding place.” Theo tugged on the cuff of his tailored shirt. He may not have deep pockets, but they were custom-made, on shirts likely cleaned and pressed each morning by a maid who’d been with the Wharton family as long as the Roadster.
Logan remembered asking about that once. He’d been invited to spend the winter holidays with Theo and had been surprised by the number of servants. Confused too, since Logan knew Theo was working toward a degree in estate finance, hoping to save his family from financial ruin. When he’d asked Theo why the family kept such a large staff if they were having money issues, his friend had shot Logan one of those patently British Good Lord, you’re such an idiot looks and said, “They need us more than we need them.”
Logan had laughed at first and accused his friend of classism. But then Theo pointed toward the other end of the dining room, where an elderly woman was arranging a tea tray. “Ms. Cathy has worked for this family since before I was born.” Theo lowered his voice. “It’s not just about money, Lo. For her, and many others like her—the gardeners, the maids, the laundresses—the Wharton estate is more than just a job; it’s their life. And this home is as much theirs as it is mine.”
Ms. Cathy set the tray in front of them, and Theo smiled up at her in thanks. He waited until the woman had retreated from the room. “And you want me to tell that sweet old lady we don’t need her anymore? Take away her livelihood?” Theo shook his head. “I can’t do that. I won’t.”
It was then Logan had realized how much the Wharton estate was like his da’s business. The people of Lochalsh depended on Reid’s Fishery for their jobs and for the income those jobs provided. Their homes, the welfare of their families, it was all linked. Like Theo said, it was their livelihood. Theo had stepped up and done the hard thing; he’d made personal sacrifices in order to provide for his family and those that depended on him.
Unlike Logan, who had run away from his responsibilities.
Shrugging off the memory, Logan leaned over and pushed the button to retract the car’s hood. Theo winced at the series of whines and hisses emanating overhead as fabric and metal folded in on itself.
“Maybe I should have asked you to meet me at King’s Cross instead. Are you sure this bucket of bolts is going to make it to London?”
“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart.” Theo patted the car’s oversized steering wheel gently, probably afraid anything firmer would knock something loose. “She’ll get us to London,” he assured Logan. “What are we doing there, anyway? Shenanigans prank?”
“Sort of. More like a post-prank follow-up, aye?” Logan leaned back and let the fresh, cool air wash over him. The train ride down from Edinburgh had been hot and stuffy. Since he’d booked his ticket at the last minute, he’d not really had his choice of seats. He stretched his legs, glad Theo had agreed to swing by and pick him up at the station in Bedfordshire. The Wharton family seat was in Sandy, about an hour outside London.
After his conversation with Second Studios, Logan had called his old mate up, still unsure of the game plan. But at the sound of that distinctly British voice, crisp and confident and a shade impatient, Logan felt better. With Theo’s help, Logan knew he could pull this—whatever this ended up being—off.
Logan had met Theo in an economics class when they were both bejants at St. Andrews. While many of the blue-blooded blokes at the elite university were royal pricks born with a silver spoon stuck between their in-bred teeth, Theo was the real deal—noble in spirit as well as name. No
ble yes, but Logan quickly learned Theo had a mischievous streak, coupled with a wicked sense of justice Logan had no qualms exploiting. Theo enjoyed a good prank and liked it even better if the prank involved serving some aristocratic blighter a hearty comeuppance.
Theo had often been Logan’s partner in crime, luring unsuspecting marks into place. Clean-cut, well-mannered, and good-looking, Theo was the proper English gentleman from head to toe. Unlike Logan, who always looked guilty even when he hadn’t done anything wrong, Theo had the kind of face people trusted. Logan intended to use that magic face to his advantage.
Theo glanced over his shoulder before crossing lanes. “I need details. Who does this escapade involve?”
“A gorgeous American and her pack of gorgeous friends.”
“I knew we were mates for a reason.” Theo grinned. “Go on.”
Logan chuckled. “The lass doesn’t know it yet, but she has a hot date with me this evening.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cocktail napkin from the Caldy’s bar. Two nights ago, Cassie’s friend had slipped it into his hand, accompanied by a finger over her lips and a series of odd blinks that Logan realized must have been her version of a conspiratorial wink.
Theo downshifted as they approached the city limits. “I’m not complaining about getting away for a few days, mind you, but what’s my role in all this?”
Logan looked over at Theo and winked (he was much better at it than the redheaded lass had been). “How do you feel about playing wingman?”
* * *
Tracking Cassie and her hive of friends in London had been cake. At the bar, her friend had mentioned one of their traveling companions had a hookup with the Waldorf hotels, and Logan was glad he’d filed that detail away. As Theo maneuvered the antique heap of metal into town, Logan directed his friend to the West End.
“We’re meeting them at the theatre?” Theo asked as he drove past the shops of Covent Garden.
“No.” Logan pointed. “Turn here.” The hotel’s elegant facade came into view moments later. “This is it. Pull over and let the valet park this dustbin—though if they drove it into the Thames, they’d be doing you a favor.” Logan got out of the car and glanced back at his friend, who hadn’t moved. “For Chrissakes, Theo, don’t have kittens. It’s where the girls are staying.”
Logan shouldered his duffel bag and waved over a valet. “Careful with her, lad, she’s an old gal who should have been put out to pasture years ago.” He handed over several quid, hoping the generous tip would ensure a tender hand, or at least guarantee the car would be returned in one piece.
Theo yanked a leather valise out of the boot and joined Logan on the sidewalk. He looked up at the bold, classic lettering announcing the Waldorf Hilton, his mouth a hard line. Logan threw a hand over his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about the price. I’m bankrolling this escapade.”
“I’m not a bloody charity case, Lo.”
“No, you’re not.” Logan steered Theo through the hotel’s entrance. “But you came here as a favor to me, and I expect you to earn your keep.” He nodded toward the front desk, where a pretty brunette stood behind the counter. “Start by chatting up the hotel staff for some intel.”
Theo paused at the top of the small flight of steps leading into the lobby. “I thought you already knew this girl of yours and her friends were staying here?”
“I think they are, but I want to be sure. Besides, I don’t know what room she’s in.”
“Then call. You have her number, right?” Theo smoothed a hand over his hair, though Logan wondered why his friend even bothered, it always looked impeccable. When they were in school, Logan had nicknamed Theo’s meticulously styled head, “Prince Charming Helmet.” And while a bit longer now, Theo’s dark hair still appeared picture-perfect, despite the windy drive.
Logan, on the other hand, knew his own messy mane hadn’t fared the journey quite as well. He hoped he’d have time to clean up a bit before putting his plan into action. “I can’t call yet. I don’t want to scare her off.”
“Fair enough, but if that’s the case, you may need to freshen up.” Theo gave him a once-over, taking in not only Logan’s tousled hair, but his travel-worn jeans and crumpled shirt.
“We can’t all look like bloody Prince Charming,” Logan grumbled and shoved Theo toward the front desk. “Now go work your magic. I want to find out what floor the girls are staying on.”
They approached the counter. Logan may have perfected his own brand of charm, but it didn’t compare to the smooth finesse that came as naturally as breathing to Theo. While Logan gave the clerk his information and began the check-in process, Theo simply leaned against the counter and smiled.
Under Theo’s gentle gaze, a soft blush rose in the girl’s cheeks. She cleared her throat and refocused her attention on Logan. “How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Reid?”
“A few days, I expect.” Logan glanced at Theo. “What do you think?”
“Well, here’s the thing, Miss…” Theo lowered his gaze and read the name tag pinned to her bosom, letting his eyes linger there a moment longer than necessary, “… Swanson.”
“Beth,” the girl breathed, her chest expanding. “Call me Beth.”
“Nice to meet you, Beth.” Theo reached across the counter, letting his hand brush hers. “I’m Theo.” He raised her hand to his lips.
Logan studied the lobby’s ceiling. He often borrowed that move from Theo. You can never go wrong with a classic.
Theo crooked a finger at Beth, and she leaned closer. “I have some friends staying here too. I believe they arrived yesterday, and I was hoping I could get their room number so I could stop by and surprise them.”
Beth pulled back. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
Theo’s face fell, a dejected puppy. “I understand. Maybe you can just let me know if they checked in.” He raised his eyes and stared soulfully at her. “Please?”
“Well…” The girl melted under Theo’s warm gaze. “I suppose there’d be no harm in that. What’s your friend’s name?”
“Cassie.” Theo stole a subtle glance at the napkin Logan had given him. “Cassie Crow.”
The girl stiffened at the mention of a female name, and Logan jumped in before the mission crashed and burned. “She’s the sister of one of our mates, here on holiday with some of her pals. We promised we’d look in on her while we were in town.”
Theo nodded. “Right. He’s a protective sort of bloke. You know how big brothers are.”
Beth relaxed. “I do. I have two of them myself.”
“Sounds like quite a challenge for the lad who’d like to date you,” Theo mused with just the right hint of possibility.
Boom. Logan smothered a laugh. Theo was a master.
With a flirtatious toss of her hair, Beth started typing rapidly. “Our records show a Cassandra Crow checked in late last night. She’s on a shared reservation.” Her eyes widened as she continued reading. “Bonkers. Your friend must be loaded; he booked a block of suites for his sister on the executive floor.” She bit her lip and looked up. “Oops. Pretend you didn’t hear that last part.”
“What last part?” Theo chucked the girl under her chin. Anyone else would have looked like a chauvinistic ass, but Theo pulled off the gesture with charismatic flair. “Thanks, love.”
Logan handed over his charge card. “Two rooms on the executive floor, please.”
Beth seemed to finally recall there were other people standing there. She pulled her eyes away from Prince Charming and processed the reservation. “I hope you gentlemen enjoy your stay with us. If there’s anything I can do to make your visit more pleasant, just ask.” She leaned over the counter and said low in Theo’s ear, “I get off in time for tea.”
Theo winked and blew Beth a kiss before turning to follow Logan.
“Smooth, mate.” Logan handed Theo a key card. “But you need to tell your new girlfriend you’ve got plans tonight.”
“Hey, I earned my keep.�
�� Theo handed back the cocktail napkin with Cassie’s name and number. He narrowed his eyes in challenge. “Until you grow a pair and call this girl, I’m free to do what I want.”
“All right.” Logan pocketed the napkin and shouldered his duffel bag, chuckling. “I’ll call her.”
CHAPTER 7
HE DIDN’T CALL.
All through her first day in London, as she and her friends checked off the must-sees on their list, Cassie alternated between hoping her phone would ring and praying it didn’t. At the Victoria and Albert Museum, Cassie passed through the rooms with subdued interest, barely perking up when they encountered the larger-than-life plaster copy of David.
The girls had already viewed the impressive original in Florence, but Delaney was fascinated with the detachable fig leaf on display here. As the story goes, Queen Victoria was so shocked when she first saw the statue in all its impressive naked glory that the fig leaf was created to cover David’s twig and berries whenever HRH planned a visit. Delaney moved in close and examined the statue, claiming she was trying to find the hooks to see how the leaf was hung.
“Yeah, you’re looking to see how it’s hung, all right,” Ana had quipped.
Cassie smiled at the memory and slid another glance at her phone. Nothing. What did she expect? What did she want? She knew what she didn’t want—she didn’t want a video of her sucking face with a man she didn’t even know plastered all over the internet, that’s for sure. Especially not now.
Her boss had finally responded to Cassie’s email and agreed to discuss her role in the upcoming season of ChiChat. After weeks of waiting to hear back from Therese, suddenly Cassie had a meeting scheduled for next Monday morning, barely eighteen hours after she was supposed to get off the plane at O’Hare. If all went well, Cassie would get a crack at doing real stories, like a real broadcast journalist. She could sign-off on being the show’s pop culture poster girl and finally be taken seriously. If her boss agreed to the change, Cassie would need to have a plan in place and be ready with the story she’d cover first. She had a couple of ideas, but needed to decide which one she should lead with.
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