Hot Spot

by Debbi Rawlins

  “Was that rhetorical?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He had to smile. She had a fascinatingly expressive face. A moment before she spoke he could tell what she was thinking. She wouldn’t make it a day in his business where everyone maintained a poker face. They had to. Never let them see you sweat. He’d learned the lesson early on.

  For a second he regretted that they couldn’t come to terms. He wouldn’t mind working with her. But this obviously was a bad idea. The whole shoot celebrated an image he was trying to get away from. He shook his head. “This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

  2

  MADISON EYED HIM for a moment, trying to decide her best approach. Getting angry would obviously get her nowhere, no matter how much she wanted to tell him to get off his high horse. The waitress arrived with his drink, which gave Madison another few moments to consider pointing out that his agent and producer had both, on his behalf, agreed to this magazine spread.

  Nah, too antagonistic. She didn’t need him getting defensive. She wanted his complete cooperation. Besides, it was apparent his agent had couched the truth. The spread had nothing to do with Manhattan and everything to do with the sex appeal of the man sitting across from her. And, oh, baby, was she sitting on a gold mine. She was going to kick ass. Make the other photographers seethe with envy.

  But she had to be careful. His agent had confided that Jack Logan valued his privacy. That his initial response had been an unequivocal no. What had changed his mind, she had no idea. All she knew was that she couldn’t have him backing out now.

  She watched him flash that million-dollar smile at the waitress, and had to swallow. He truly was beautiful. With those keen hazel eyes that danced with just enough amusement and the kind of daring that could make a girl leap before she looked.

  Madison considered herself fairly immune to pretty faces, but even she carefully avoided gazing too long for fear of getting off track, forgetting her goal. He was a meal ticket for her. Nothing more. Anyway, guys like him didn’t go for women like her, which made it easier to stay focused. Most of the time.

  He pushed his fingers through his light-brown hair, and for a second she was tempted to ask the burning question. The one that always came up in the gossip columns. The one he always rebuffed. Was there someone special who got to run their fingers through those golden highlights?

  As soon as the waitress left, Madison said, “Okay, let’s discuss Central Park. Midday lighting would be best.” She nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip. Like hell they’d shoot there. Or anywhere outside. She was getting at least two shots with his shirt off, or her name wasn’t Madison Marie Tate. “Of course, a lot of people eat lunch there. Any later and people will be commuting or jogging. That’s okay. We can shoot around them.”

  He paused to stare at her over his glass, and then downed the scotch.

  Damn, she hoped he didn’t order another one too quickly. The drinks were coming out of her pocket, and at fourteen dollars a pop…God, if her credit card was maxed out she’d kick herself.

  “The park’s a big place. Surely we can find some privacy.”

  “Maybe. But we can’t shoot in only one spot, we need a variety of backdrops, and we’re bound to attract some attention.” She smiled. “Of course, you’re used to being in the public eye. That shouldn’t bother you.”

  His face tightened. Damn. Even frowning he looked good. “Where else did you have in mind?”

  “Well, your studio might be interesting. A shot of you in your office, one on the set.”

  He thoughtfully pursed his lips, looking entirely too interested in the idea.

  “There won’t always be staff around, right?” she added quickly. “I will have to pose you at times, and well, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable with an audience.”

  “Pose me?”

  “Of course.”

  He thought for a moment. “No, not the studio.”

  “Okay…” She paused for effect, and shifted her legs. Their knees touched under the table, and the awareness that sparked nearly threw her off track. “Sorry.”

  “My fault.” He winced as he moved his legs to the side.

  “You okay?”

  “What? Yeah, old war wound.”

  “Oh. You were in the service?”

  One side of his mouth lifted. “Close. I was a field reporter back in the day.”

  “Right.” She remembered reading his bio. “The Gulf War. Your first big assignment out of college.” The one that had launched his career, she almost said, but something in his grim expression warned her to drop the subject.

  “You had another idea for a location?” he prompted.

  She smiled sweetly. “How about your apartment?”

  “I have a house.”

  “Better yet. Where?”

  “That’s out.”

  “Why? We’d have privacy. People would love getting a peek into your private domain.”

  He grunted. “Not going to happen.”

  She’d actually started warming to the idea, and threw up her hands. “Then what’s your suggestion?”

  He studied her for a long uncomfortable moment. Made her want to check her teeth. Take a swipe at her cheek in case something god-awful clung to her skin. Finally he said, “You’re manipulating me.”

  She opened her mouth to deny it. “Is it working?”

  He smiled, briefly, and then shook his head. “What about another hotel? The Plaza? The Waldorf Astoria?”

  “They’re stuffy. They don’t suit your image.”

  “And Hush does?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He didn’t look happy.

  “Look.” She leaned forward. “I know you don’t like the sex symbol image. Your agent told me. But that’s part of what’s earning you the big bucks.”

  Frowning, he broke eye contact and stared down at his empty glass.

  “Hey, it’s not like I’m shooting a Playgirl layout,” Madison said, her confidence beginning to slip. If he backed out now, she’d be so screwed. “My name is gonna be attached to this. I’m motivated to keep the photos tasteful.”

  He looked up and studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. “You won’t make a big production out of the hotel.”

  “Nope. You’re the star attraction. Today’s Man is a woman’s magazine, and every female head turned when you walked in.”

  “I didn’t notice,” he muttered.

  “You’re used to it.” She shrugged, amazed that even the sudden scowl didn’t detract from his good looks. “That’s probably part of your appeal.”

  “Are you always this frank?”

  Madison nodded. “It saves a lot of time.”

  His lips curved suddenly, surprising her, and unleashing a mass of butterflies in her stomach. The smile reached his eyes and they actually seemed to change color right before her, going from cool green to warm amber. “Okay, Hush it is.”

  “Yeah?” She smiled back, words deserting her. Unusual for her. But there was something about this man…

  “But…” He held up a finger as if admonishing a naughty child. Even his hands were noteworthy. Tan, with lean fingers and evenly clipped nails. No prissy manicure.

  “I’m listening.” Barely. Her stomach was just beginning to calm down.

  “I still have veto power.”

  “Of course.” Her gaze went again to his hands, to that perfect golden color, so perfect it had to be artificial.

  He squinted with suspicion. “What?”

  “Are you tanned all over?”

  His head reared back slightly.

  “That’s strictly a professional question,” Madison said, and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his appalled expression.

  She didn’t get her answer. The waitress reappeared to see if they wanted another round, and to ask for his autograph on behalf of a woman seated behind Madison. Jack turned down another scotch, smiled graciously and took the pen and napkin from
the waitress.

  Madison studied his bent head as he signed his name. The highlights were natural, she decided, probably from the sun. His hair was already getting darker consistent with the fall weather that restricted outdoor activity. Just like her, in fact. She was always blonder in the summer. Except the sun wasn’t as creative or kind to her.

  He looked up and met her eyes.

  She smiled. “I’d hate this.”

  “What?” He handed the napkin and pen back to the waitress who promptly disappeared.

  “Being recognized, the intrusions…But I guess it comes with the territory.”

  “So they tell me,” he said flatly, and then smiled briefly at someone over Madison’s shoulder. Then, barely moving his lips, he said, “Can we please get out of here?”

  “Sure.” Madison grabbed her blazer and the camera bag she used as a purse. “Just let me get the check.”

  He pulled some bills out of his pocket secured by a brushed-gold money clip. “Did you have more than the one club soda?”

  “No, but I want to—”

  He laid down three twenties. “That should take care of it.”

  “No, this is on me. Besides, that’s way too much.”

  He laughed humorlessly and stood. “The price of celebrity. Let’s go. Now.”

  She realized what he’d meant as soon as she stood. The redhead, wearing a short white spandex dress with more cleavage than good taste, approached the table. Jack smiled at her, tossed his coat over his shoulder and then took Madison by the elbow to hurry her along.

  “Mr. Logan, I wanted to thank you personally for the autograph.” The woman smiled, flashing a set of superwhite teeth. “I truly hated to bother you.”

  “No bother.” He stopped but his grip on Madison’s elbow tightened. “Sorry, but we’re in a hurry.”

  “Of course.” The woman gave Madison an odd look, which took her a full twenty seconds to interpret as envy while Jack rushed her out of the intimate bar.

  By the time they got to the lobby, she’d nearly hemorrhaged from trying not to laugh. Imagine anyone thinking she was with Jack Logan. What a hoot! Wait till she told Karrie and Talia.

  “Are you really in a hurry, or was that a smoke screen?” she asked, turning to face him. He was tall but so was she, and standing so close, his incredible face only inches away, well, it literally took her breath away. She inhaled deeply, hopefully not conspicuously. “I’d like to show you some of the places I think would make great shots.”

  His lips curved slightly and then he glanced at his watch. “My driver is picking me up in half an hour.”

  “Great. We’ll make it a quickie.” To her horror, heat crept into her cheeks. Which was totally insane. She never blushed. “Oh, there’s Kit. She’s in charge of the hotel PR. Let me catch her and get a key.”

  Madison took off in the woman’s direction. This was bad. Really bad. Madison moistened her dry lips. Swallowed hard. No, it was good. If she reacted this way to him, millions of women out there would be drooling over his pictures. Over the cover. And let’s face it, if she couldn’t snag that cover with him as her subject, she might as well hang up her camera.

  Her heart started to race, but this time it wasn’t because of a pair of incredible hazel eyes and a killer grin. She could see her star rising.

  JACK GOT OUT HIS CELL PHONE and called Dutch and told him to give him another hour before he picked him up. The network provided a car and driver. It was in Jack’s contract. One of many great perks that came with the job, he reminded himself. This photo-shoot nonsense was a trade-off. The sooner he got it over with, the better.

  It could be worse. At least Madison Tate was a pleasant surprise. She was attractive enough, but it wasn’t that. As Larry had warned, there was something compelling about her, some quality that made you want to go along for the ride. Maybe it was her refreshing frankness, or that she wasn’t coy or flirtatious. He admired that she had a goal and kept her eyes on the ball. Too bad he was her short-term goal.

  He saw her come from the direction of the front desk, and she smiled and held up a key, earning them a second look from a couple waiting for the elevator. He nearly choked wondering if she even knew what that looked like.

  “I want to show you the rooftop garden for starters,” she said, briskly walking past him, obviously expecting him to follow. “And the pool and spa, and two of the suites that I think would be great possibilities. I’ll need to take quite a few shots, of course, and then narrow them down to five. So I’d like to widen our scope and—”

  She stopped abruptly and looked over at him. “I know you’re in a hurry so I’m trying to make this quick.”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay.” She took the lead again, and he noticed that she had a slight sway to her hips that was totally unexpected. “We’ll start with one of the penthouse suites and the garden, and then work our way down until it’s time for you to go.”

  “Fine.” He wished she’d lose the jacket. Give him a clear view of her behind.

  “I’m kind of leaning toward spots where we can use the city as a backdrop. Obviously the rooftop garden is perfect but so are the suites and spa because they have views of Midtown or the skyline along the river.”

  “Fine.” He had no doubt she had great legs. Long and lean, and her jeans were short enough that he could see her slim ankles. Generally a good sign.

  She stopped again. “Could we have a little more enthusiasm here?”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Attitude is great for photographs but right now we need to get down to business,” she said, and then looked as if she wished she hadn’t. Drawing in her lower lip, she glanced away. “Sorry.”

  Jack’s sparked temper subsided. Not just because of the apology. Or the sexy way she played with her lip. He’d allowed himself to be distracted and lost the thread of the conversation. “I’m sorry,” he said. “My mind wandered.”

  She smiled, shrugged a shoulder. “Just give me a nudge if I’m making you yawn.”

  He smiled back and they said nothing until they’d gotten into the elevator and arrived at the roof. He held the cab door and waited for her to precede him. Before he stepped out, a fusion of fragrances reached him. Apparently, a small thing like winter hadn’t interrupted the Hush garden.

  A retractable glass roof that hadn’t been there during the spring opening now enclosed the area making it a greenhouse. The air was almost too balmy. A plethora of scarlet mums and white carnations gave way to a standing fountain. Near a stone bench grew clusters of lavender orchids.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Madison looked at him, her eyes gleaming, and then she hurried to the edge and peered out over the city lights coming to life. “Wouldn’t this make an awesome shot?”

  “Quite impressive, I have to admit.” Plexiglas domed past the railing giving observers a nearly panoramic view of Midtown and all the way to Central Park.

  “They have a full-time gardener.”

  “I’d imagine they’d have to.” He didn’t know much about flowers, but this assortment in late November? Someone had to work their butt off. Amazing what money could buy.

  “That would be Clarissa, the most interesting woman on the planet. She grows herbs for the restaurant in that corner over there.” Madison turned back to him, squinting a little when the light shone directly into her face. “See? This hotel is about so much more than sex.”

  Her makeup was minimal, her skin, smooth, silky, the kind his coanchor had to slave for and frequently complained about. He’d only listened with half an ear. Skin wasn’t what he normally noticed about a woman. He didn’t know why he did now.

  She looked away, probably because he’d stared too long.

  “It’s still about sex,” he said finally.

  She let out an exasperated sound and looked at him again. “How can you say that? This is about attention to detail. Making the place beautiful. Romantic.”

  “Which is conducive to sex.”

 
“Romance and sex aren’t the same things.”

  He gave her an appalled look. “They aren’t?”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t be such a guy.”

  “I’ll ignore that sexist remark.”

  “Thank you. Want to see the pool?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s this way.” When she turned, the camera bag hanging on her shoulder swung hard enough to smack his arm. She covered her mouth and murmured, “I’m so sorry.”

  His hand reflexively went to the assaulted area. “What do you have in that thing?”

  She gingerly touched his bicep. “I hope I didn’t bruise you.”

  He laughed. “I think I’ll live.”

  “Of course a little makeup would take care of that,” she murmured mostly to herself but her warm breath managed to drift across his cheek.

  The sudden urge to touch her face really confused him, and he stepped back, afraid his body’s reaction might take an embarrassing turn. Only then did her comment sink in. “Makeup? On my arm?”

  She nodded and lowered her hand. “For the photos.”

  He stared at the spot, closer to his shoulder than his elbow, and then met her eyes. “I’m not taking off my shirt.”

  “You have to.”

  “I wouldn’t bet your camera on it.”

  3

  MADISON WASN’T ABOUT to argue. He would take off his shirt when the time was right. So far she’d been able to coax even the most reluctant subject to comply with her requests, be it to smile or show a little skin. Nothing too risqué. Just tantalizing. He’d be no different, as long as she didn’t blow it by shooting off her big mouth. She knew better than to bring up the issue. But for a moment he’d gotten her so damn flustered she couldn’t think straight.

  It wasn’t just her. There was definitely a je ne sais quoi thing happening with him. A mysterious appeal that couldn’t be defined by mortal beings. It was just there.

  “I only meant that if we take a shot with you in the pool or spa—” She shrugged and smiled when his expression darkened. “Forget I said that. Let’s go.”