Sadie’s stomach churned and she feared she was going to be sick. That shot—it would kill him. He’d been clear the night of the festival that he felt like an impostor compared to the father Charlotte had loved and lost.
This wasn’t just a roadblock to a relationship. These pictures were a dead end at the edge of a cliff. There was no way forward and no way back. Not once he saw this.
Sadie gripped her coffee mug, her hands shaking. She’d wanted publicity. But not like this. Not at the expense of an innocent little girl. Not at the expense of the man Sadie was falling for.
Next to her computer, her phone vibrated. Sadie glanced at the screen, afraid of what she’d see. But it was a text from Laurel.
Can u pick up diapers? Hate to ask, but we are almost out. I’ll pay u back. Greg gets paid this week.
She stared at the words for a second before responding with a quick yes. Feeling numb, needing to take action on something, she went online and ordered three cases of diapers—one newborn and two in the next size up. She ordered baby food, bottles and sippy cups, toys and books—anything and everything her little niece might need. She entered her credit card information and hit Submit on the order without looking at the total bill. She could afford it. Her success provided for her family. And that’s what she wanted, right? Even if it cost her a chance with the man she wanted in her life, loving her and accepting her love in return.
The phone buzzed again and this time it wasn’t a text. It was Anne-Marie.
“I thought you were going to keep those pictures out of the media,” Sadie snapped, knowing she deserved her share of the blame.
“I did my best. The photographer was a freelancer and sold everything to the highest bidder. In this case, a tabloid. I have no pull there.
“Look on the bright side, no one reported MJ Lane is Sadie Bannerman,” her publicist continued. “We still have a story. For at least the next twenty-four hours. I’ve booked you on a major national morning show. The prime-time slot, tomorrow morning. Sadie, this is what you wanted. Maybe not those pictures per se—”
“There is a child in one of these shots!” Sadie exclaimed. “A little girl who lost her father to an IED blast.”
“I know, but the story is out there. Do the morning show. This is your chance to explain. Tell them you’re in love with this mystery man. Explain about the little girl’s father and why she is having ice cream with your lover. Have your say.”
Sadie pushed back from the table and started pacing. She felt caged, trapped by the media she’d actively pursued. Her publicist’s words made sense. She had to set the story straight. This was no longer about selling books and elevating the career that supported her family. Logan’s future was at stake. An innocent child had been dragged into the mess. If she did this interview, maybe, just maybe, she could save Logan’s job and keep the press from speculating further about Charlotte.
But first, she had to discuss it with him. She owed him that much.
“I’ll think about it.”
“I need an answer, Sadie. In two hours. I can’t hold them off longer than that. They’ll require time to prepare the segment.”
“If I agree to do this, will the interview be about my secret identity and my books, or about those pictures?”
“One way or another, if you do the show you’re going to have to talk about the man in those pictures. What you say is up to you. But the more you share, the bigger the boost for your career.”
“You’ll have my answer in two hours.”
* * *
LOGAN TOSSED A bale of hay over the fence into Titan’s pen. He picked up the wheelbarrow and steered it toward the heifers’ pasture. Last delivery and then he could return to Sadie. If he was lucky, she’d still be in bed, naked, her long red hair covering the pillows. He was ready and willing to report for duty, hand over the pink ribbon and follow her orders.
He glanced at the sun rising high in the sky. The chances of finding her in bed were slim. If she was awake, they should talk first. They needed to have a conversation about where this thing between them was headed. And it needed to happen when he wasn’t inside her, making love to her—or bound to the bedpost.
He’d been thinking long and hard all morning while feeding the animals. It wasn’t fair for him to unilaterally decide Sadie couldn’t handle the deployments. He owed it to her to explain what was holding him back, what his misgivings were and hear her thoughts. They’d only known each other a matter of days, but she already felt like family, like home. He couldn’t walk away from her without at least giving a long-term relationship a fair shot.
“Logan?” Aunt Lou’s voice broke the quiet. He steered the empty wheelbarrow toward the barn where his aunt stood. As he got closer, he saw worry etched in her expression. Logan double-timed it to the barn. Aunt Lou was tough, her expression cemented in a take-no-prisoners look from sunrise to sunset. Except right now.
“What happened?”
She held out her iPhone. “Cindy sent me the link this morning. It’s a tabloid, but still, those pictures of you and Sadie look real, not some Photoshop creation like the bigfoot sightings.”
Dread hit like the barrel of a gun to the side of his head. A hit he should have anticipated, but hadn’t. Logan set the wheelbarrow aside and took his aunt’s cell. The bookstore. The guesthouse front porch. Charlotte. Jesus Christ. These assholes had exploited a grieving little girl as if anyone who’d come into contact with him or Sadie was fair game. His grip tightened on the phone. He wanted to hunt them down and take them out. He wanted blood.
“Did she do this to you?” Aunt Lou demanded, her voice trembling, but fierce. She’d been his champion since he was in diapers—his mother, his family. But she couldn’t fix this. He was pretty sure no one could.
“Did she use you?” his aunt asked.
“No.”
But doubt clouded his vision as he handed the phone back to Aunt Lou. Sadie had been clear that her career came first. He’d respected her choice, welcoming the barrier to a serious relationship. And he knew her family and her childhood motivated her to succeed. He’d admired that about her. But he’d never considered how far she’d go to accomplish her goals. She’d told him point-blank that she’d tipped off a reporter who’d taken her picture in New York. But this? She wouldn’t push these images out into the world. Would she?
“I need to talk to her,” he said. “I’ll come find you at the house. After.”
Aunt Lou nodded. “I’m sorry, Logan. If I’d known who she was, I never would have rented her the guesthouse.”
“I knew. And I trusted her.” He shook his head, turning to the guesthouse, the bright sun mocking his foul mood. He needed to hear from Sadie that she hadn’t done this.
Ten paces from the door, his cell vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, planning to ignore the call, thinking it was someone, probably a teammate, calling to ask what the hell he’d been thinking.
He glanced at the caller ID. It was someone calling to ask that question—the one person he couldn’t ignore, his commanding officer.
“Colonel.”
“Since when does the definition of ‘lying low’ include getting pictures posted on the internet of some writer servicing you in a goddamn bookstore?” Lieutenant Colonel Walt Johnson barked.
Logan froze. He’d pictured the end of his career. More than he wanted to admit recently. But he’d assumed he’d be discharged for failing to do his job and getting his teammate shot, not for receiving a blow job.
“Did you know who she was when this happened?”
“No, sir.” No lie there.
“This is a PR nightmare. Thank your lucky stars, son, that this online tabloid does not know your name or rank. If you are identified as a ranger, as one of the horse soldiers, you can kiss your career goodbye. Christ, you could face a court-martial
for conduct unbecoming.”
“Yes, sir.” A court-martial, dishonorable discharge, all because a damn photographer had made a consensual, private moment public. And because he’d been too wrapped up in lust to ask the right questions. But, hell, who asked a writer visiting her pregnant sister if she expected photographers to follow her every movement?
“Get your ass back to base by eleven hundred tomorrow. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The line went dead and Logan lowered the phone. He had one shot to keep his job and it all depended on Sadie shutting down this circus.
Logan marched up the front porch steps and knocked on her door. A second later, she answered, wearing her bathrobe. Beneath it, he saw her marines T-shirt peeking out. But her legs were bare and he guessed she wasn’t wearing much else. An hour ago, before he’d seen those damning pictures, he would have scooped her up and carried her back to bed. He would have made love to her. Now, the idea seemed laughable.
“Logan.” She stepped back, holding the door open. “Come in.”
“Put on some pants, Sadie. We need to talk.” Hands shoved in his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her, he walked into the living room.
She closed the door. “I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, she reappeared wearing jeans and a fresh blue T-shirt. She’d drawn her long hair back in a tight bun.
“You’ve seen the pictures.”
He nodded.
“Logan, I’m so sorry. I—”
“Did you know?” he ground out. “Was this all part of your plan to gain more publicity? Further your career?”
“No!”
“That photographer followed you for days, Sadie. And you never noticed?”
“He followed you, too,” she shot back.
She had him there. All of his training and he’d failed to detect one slimy bastard with a camera. He probably deserved to lose his job.
“I would not intentionally ruin your career. I would never do that to you,” she insisted. “You have to believe me.”
He remembered the surprise on her face when she’d run from the house half-dressed and spotted the cameraman. She was driven to succeed. He knew that, but not at the expense of others. Aunt Lou had been wrong about that.
“I do,” he said. “I believe you. Doesn’t change the fact that this was a mistake. This fling.”
“It’s more than a fling,” she said. “Last night—”
“I was wrong,” he snapped.
She took his words like a slap to the face, recoiling, stepping away from him. And, Christ, he hated himself for lashing out. But this mess had exploded, dragging him to new lows.
“No, you weren’t. I was there. We made love last night.”
“Just because you didn’t tie me up doesn’t mean it was love, Sadie.”
“You’re right,” she said quietly. “The sex doesn’t prove anything. I can’t offer you physical proof of how I feel. I like you, Logan.” She shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Logan let out a mirthless laugh. “I’ve been in love before. You don’t ruin someone you love. You don’t destroy them for personal gain.”
He watched as tears welled in her eyes. “You lost your job.”
“Not yet.” But he had a feeling it was only a matter of time before he was told that after years of risking his life for his country and fighting for freedom in places that barely knew the meaning of the word, he was being sent packing with his tail between his legs.
“You know, I thought the worst thing that could happen was losing my wife and then allowing my grief to interfere with a mission and having that story shared with the world. But this is worse. Losing my career over a fucking blow job...” He shook his head.
“I’m going to fix this.” Determination fought her tears and won. “I spoke with my publicist. I have an opportunity to go on national TV tomorrow morning and tell my side of the story.”
“I’m returning to base in the morning. When I get there, I hope to still have a place on my team,” he said. “You know how you can help with that? By doing me a favor and leaving me out of your interview.”
She stepped toward him. “Logan—”
“Goodbye, Sadie.”
He turned and headed for the door. This time, he knew walking away was the right thing to do, even if it felt like he was getting washed out to sea. And this time, he might drown.
21
SADIE SET HER princess wand on her sister’s kitchen table. “I don’t think I’ll be needing this in New York.”
Her bags were packed and loaded into the trunk of her rental car. She’d cleaned Lou’s guesthouse from top to bottom, leaving behind a note and an envelope with cash to cover her father’s stay.
He’d booked a flight right after they’d spoken this morning. She had a feeling he’d been ready for a while, his bags packed, and just needed to find the courage to ask for more money. He was arriving tonight, and she would miss him by hours. Her chance to have her family together, in one place, crushed by her career.
“How long before you have to leave?” Laurel asked, rocking her daughter in her arms. Sadie’s niece had finally learned to sleep like a baby.
“I have an hour before I need to start driving.”
Laurel nodded. “Plenty of time.”
“For what?”
“Apple pie.” Her twin gently set the sleeping baby in her bassinet and opened the fridge. “I sent Greg to The Quilted Quail for this after we saw the pictures.”
“Laurel, you didn’t have to,” Sadie said.
“Yes, I did.” She set the dish on the table with two forks. “Sit. Eat.”
Sadie pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat. “Thank you. You’re right, I do need this.”
“Look on the bright side,” Laurel said. “At least we now have proof your sex life is more exciting than mine.”
Sadie dug into the pie. “If that’s the bright side, I’m screwed.”
“What did Logan say?”
“He asked if I’d set the whole thing up for more publicity.”
Laurel’s fork froze in midair. “No.”
“That hurt. A lot. I’ve never had anyone look at me and think ‘ruthless.’ But that’s not the worst of it.” She took a bite, forcing herself to taste the perfect combination of tart and sweet. “I told him I loved him.”
“Love, like let’s-get-married love?”
“More like I-want-to-see-you-again love. But either way it doesn’t matter. He said I was wrong.”
“What?” Laurel abandoned her fork in the dish, her arms resting on the table as she leaned forward.
“He has a point. He’s been in love before. The kind you hope will last forever and ever. He would have walked away from his career for her. If I truly loved him, wouldn’t I do the same? Say, to hell with the morning show and my career.”
“What would that fix? The pictures are out there. If you do nothing, they’ll keep hounding you.”
Sadie closed her eyes. Her twin was right. They wouldn’t go away quietly. Not now. If they’d discovered her staying in a small town, spending her days with her sister and writing, this never would have happened. Their pictures would have been too boring to make headlines. But oral sex in a closed bookstore with a man who may or may not have a daughter? That was what tabloids lived for.
“Do the show,” Laurel said. “But then, go after him. You always go after what you want. Don’t let this be any different simply because it involves your heart instead of your job.”
“What’s the point? If he doesn’t love me, if he still loves his late wife, why bother?”
“Do you believe that?”
Last night, in her bed, he’d made love to her. What they�
�d shared had nothing to do with kinky fantasies. He’d given her everything he had to give. She just couldn’t say for sure if that included his heart.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. He’s returning to Tennessee. He said goodbye and walked out the door without looking back.” She scanned the rapidly disappearing pie. “What would going after him prove? That I failed at another relationship, only this time it broke my heart? Even if I was able to track him down on the military base, what would I say? If he doesn’t believe me when I tell him I love him, what’s left?”
Laurel reached out and took her hand. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words.”
“That’s my problem. Mine say I love my job. Loud and clear.”
“Not always. You came here, didn’t you? For me?”
“You’re family.”
“He could be, too, one day. If your heart is invested.”
“It is. But I really wish it wasn’t.” Sadie stared at the half-empty dish, shaking her head as she pushed back from the table. “I should go before I eat the rest of this pie and show up for my television appearance five pounds heavier with dark circles under my eyes.”
Laurel gave her a hug. “You’ll be great tomorrow. I know you will.”
Sadie nodded, blew a kiss to her sleeping niece and headed for her car. Tears flowed down her face as she drove past Lou’s farm. Maybe if she cried the entire drive to New York, she’d stay dry-eyed during tomorrow’s interview. This trip, falling for Logan, it had changed her. It had forced her to take a hard look at her priorities. But she still refused to cry in public.
She drove past Main Street Books, fighting back sobs. She’d been a fool to think she could have it all. Maybe some women could balance a thriving career and family, but she wasn’t one of them. She’d tried and she’d failed, nearly costing the man she loved everything that was important to him.
“Another F,” she murmured as she pulled onto the highway, “in the relationship column.”
Command Control Page 17
