“Are you serious?”
“So I exaggerated a little.”
She made a face. “That would suck, having someone tell you what you can and can’t eat.”
“You get used to it.”
“If I were making big enough bucks, I might choke down something green and ugh, healthy once in a while.”
He laughed and she snapped a shot. Which annoyed him. The moment had felt private, the camera an intrusion.
“No, don’t get up.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me get a few more shots.”
It was only her palm, innocently pressed to his shoulder. Her skin didn’t even meet his, but he felt her heat, felt the stirring in his groin.
He rested his hand on the bed, and the silk beneath his fingers made everything worse. It was too easy to picture Madison next to him, the camera forgotten. He’d like to put that impudence of hers to a real test, see how together she’d be with her legs on his shoulders….
“Whoa, that’s it,” she said. “Give me more. Just like that.”
He bit back a groan and prayed her camera wouldn’t pick up his humiliation. What was it about this woman that made him so crazy?
7
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER Madison put down her camera. “I think it’s time for lunch.”
At her abrupt about-face, Jack narrowed his beautiful hazel eyes, and she had to turn away for fear of doing something totally, irreversibly stupid like giving him a lip-lock that would land them both in the emergency room of New York General.
“Hungry all of a sudden?”
“Yep.” She busied herself with carefully stowing her camera, mentally kicking herself for disrupting the flow. She’d gotten some terrific shots. She had no business quitting right now.
He was hot. Five-alarm. Totally stunning. Way past sexy and headed straight for death by orgasm. Any woman with half an X chromosome couldn’t look at the pictures Madison had just taken and not ask him to sign her panties.
In the past twenty minutes, something had changed in his attitude and lit his face with a vitality that made flames of desire leap in his eyes, which would burn, no scorch, any unsuspecting woman who gazed too long.
She should forget lunch. Keep shooting until her arms fell off. No, it was better to take a break and lose some momentum than to embarrass herself. Which she was damn close to accomplishing.
“You have something in mind?”
Oh, yeah. She looked up, confirmed it was an innocent question and found she could breathe again. “There’s a pizza place around the—ah, I forgot. No pizza.”
“No pizza,” he repeated with a wry smile. “I’ve eaten at Amuse Bouche a couple of times. Nice place.”
“The restaurant downstairs?”
He nodded.
Oh, God. She hadn’t even been brave enough to glance at the menu. An appetizer alone would probably set her back a week’s worth of grocery money. That was a lot of candy bars.
“You don’t like it there?”
She cleared her throat, while mentally calculating the balance left on her charge card. “Um, no, the food is terrible.”
“Really? I thought it was quite—” His frown turned to a smile. “Have you eaten there?”
“Well, no.”
“Ah, so maybe your friend Madam Zora predicted you wouldn’t like it?”
“Don’t go there. I promise it’ll get ugly.”
Smiling, Jack stood and refastened the top two buttons of his shirt. Such a pity. But it was little details like that that were getting her into trouble. Making her lose her focus. Wasting precious time.
“Come on. Amuse Bouche is close and makes the most sense.”
“It’s popular.” She tried not to sound hopeful. “It may be too crowded.”
“It’s early yet. I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”
Of course they wouldn’t, and it had nothing to do with anything except that he was Jack Logan. She sighed and hoped like hell her credit card could handle lunch.
“MR. LOGAN, NO ONE TOLD ME you’d be joining us.” The blond hostess with dark, exotic eyes and pouty lips seemed genuinely contrite as she greeted them with two menus in her hand.
“No problem. Can you feed us?”
“Of course.” Her smile included Madison. “Will anyone else be joining you?”
“Just the two of us.”
“Would over here be all right?” She gestured toward a table near the center of the room.
Jack frowned briefly and glanced around. Almost every head in the restaurant had turned in their direction. “Do you have anything more private?”
The hostess didn’t even blink, just smiled and led them to a table for two toward the back of the restaurant, weaving them between tables and beautifully painted partitions. Madison loved the gorgeous black urns with the dried flower arrangements, pink, of course.
The hostess gave him a dazzling smile. “Is this satisfactory?”
“Perfect.” Jack pulled out Madison’s chair, which she really hated because it always seemed awkward to have someone hold your chair while you tried to get into a comfortable position.
But she smiled, thanked him and waited until he went to take his own seat before she scooted her chair closer to the table.
The hostess handed them each a menu, and Madison’s gaze locked on the right side. The prices shocked her, which was pretty bad considering she’d lived in New York her whole life.
“I’m sure there’s something on the menu you’ll find bearable,” Jack said, watching her, an amused glint in his eyes.
Yeah, like water. From the tap. It had to be free. The waiter or waitress would look down their nose at her, but she could take it. Better than her pocketbook could take a hefty bill. “I don’t trust a place that doesn’t have malted milk on the menu.”
He smiled. “Their Bananas Foster may cure you of that notion.”
“I doubt it,” she muttered, scanning the menu for the desserts. Which, of course, weren’t there. Places like this had a separate dessert menu. Probably just so they could charge double. “Does your personal trainer know about your penchant for the Bananas Foster?”
“Funny.” His gaze flickered to the left before he abruptly returned his attention to the menu, and she got the feeling he was more interested in escaping the curious glances than in the selections.
She hoped, anyway. Kit, Hush’s PR person had set this up. Madison should have talked to her about running a tab for the day that Madison could take care of later in private. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe they could even bill her. She expected a check from Shelly in three days. She felt stupid for not having anticipated a situation like this. Guys like Jack Logan didn’t grab a slice of pizza at the corner greasy spoon.
“How hungry are you?” he asked absently.
“Why?”
“I thought we’d split an appetizer. How do the crab cakes sound?”
Expensive. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I have a little business to take care of.”
He looked up in surprise. “Now?”
“I’ll only be a minute. I’ll be back by the time you order the crab cakes.”
“Don’t leave me.”
That stopped her and she sank back into her seat. The nosy couple at the next table apparently heard and, grinning, whispered something to each other.
Jack flashed her a sheepish smile. “You leave and it’ll be open season.”
She knew what he meant. The way some women acted around him made Madison ashamed of her gender. They may have been dressed in designer clothes but they were really no better than the guys working along Columbus Circle who irritated her with their loud and obnoxious remarks.
“I’ll only be gone for a couple of minutes. Promise.”
“Don’t make me beg,” he said, his voice lowered, his eyes twinkling with humor.
“I’d like to see that.”
He leaned back. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“I was kidding.” She scoffed, offen
ded that he looked serious, and then the corners of his mouth curved. She got up again, leaned over and whispered. “I’m leaving you to the wolves.”
“Come on.” He touched her arm, persuasively stroking his thumb over her wrist. “I’m sure whatever you have to do can wait.”
“Are you?” she asked archly, impressed that she was able to maintain her cool when she really wanted to melt right there. In the restaurant. In front of everyone. And all he was doing was touching her wrist.
“If that sounded arrogant, it’s only because I’m desperate.” He gave her one of those million-dollar grins.
“Did you know that half the people in the restaurant are staring at us?”
He blinked and released her. “Great.”
“No one’s got a camera, though. So it’ll all be hearsay when it hits the papers.”
“Don’t be so sure. There’s paparazzi under every rock.”
“So tell them I’m your sister, or personal assistant.”
“Yeah, right.” The way he ran his gaze down the front of her shirt made her nipples tighten.
She took a deep steadying breath. “All right then. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
“You won’t, but go ahead.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Sure.”
“That was rhetorical.”
“I’ll bet you lunch.”
“Lunch?” Her heart lifted. She shouldn’t, really.
He nodded. “If you’re back in under two minutes, I buy. If you’re not, you buy.”
This was too easy. The hell with pride. She glanced at her watch. “You’re on.”
He smiled, checked his Rolex, and said, “On your mark…”
She grabbed her camera bag, wove her way through the restaurant and headed straight for the ladies’ room. No need to track down Kit now. Madison had every intention of making it back to the table with lots of time to spare.
She studied her reflection in the mirror and saw that she could use a touch of blush and maybe some gloss. She needed mascara and liner, too, but she didn’t have time for an entire makeover. Too obvious, anyway. She checked her watch before she got busy with a couple of subtle touch-ups to brighten her face. Then she bent at the waist and fluffed out her hair.
Only briefly did she suffer a pang of guilt. It probably was unprofessional to let him pay for lunch. On the other hand, if he hadn’t been so difficult she would’ve gotten all the shots she needed already and lunch wouldn’t be an issue. Okay, so that was weak, but she was sticking to it.
By the time she returned, people had started to line up near the door, hoping for a table. She slipped by them and suffered another pang of guilt when she saw that a blonde had claimed Madison’s seat across from Jack, who, to his credit, maintained a poker face and didn’t look as if he wanted to reach across the table and strangle the woman. Of course, on a scale of one to ten, the blonde was probably a twelve.
Madison got closer and tried not to stare at the woman’s breasts. They couldn’t be real. Not a chance. Anything that huge would be headed for her waist instead of pointing perkily at Jack.
He caught Madison’s eye, and relief boyishly flooded his face, but only for an instant, and then he was Jack Logan again, television’s morning heartthrob. Calm, cool, collected.
The tiny private look into the man made her heart flutter. It was hardly invitational. Yet she’d seen enough to know he allowed very little emotion to escape. Liked to keep the public at a distance. But he’d allowed her that one small peek.
And she’d be a total fool to read anything into it.
“Check your watch,” she said. “I don’t want you welching on our bet.”
The blonde looked up but didn’t make a move to leave.
“Hi, I’m Madison Tate.” She offered her hand, which was received with a surprisingly firm grip.
“Moira Atkins.” She stayed put for several moments, but then when Jack started to get up, she finally got a clue and stood. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” She smiled at Jack. “Call me.”
“I see what you mean,” Madison murmured as she reclaimed her chair and watched Moira’s curvy backside sway across the restaurant. “These women move fast.”
He picked up a business card lying on the table beside a glass of orange juice and slipped it into his breast pocket. “She’s an agent.”
“I thought Larry was your agent.”
“He is.”
“You’re not going to dump him.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Why would you care?”
“I liked him. That’s all.” Shrugging, she picked up the menu. “Did you order anything yet?”
“I’m not dumping Larry. I get solicited by the new up-and-comers all the time.”
“Pretty nervy of them, isn’t it? I mean, I’d think having an agent is sort of like having a partner. You just don’t jump from one—” She stopped herself short. Obviously none of this was any of her business. “Have you ordered anything besides juice?”
“I totally agree. Larry and I look out for each other.”
“Yeah, I know. When I first queried him about the shoot, he had so many questions you’d think I was asking for his permission to marry you.”
Jack smiled. “We’ve been together a long time.”
“Longer than most married couples according to him.”
“I’ve heard that a few times. He’s a good guy and a good friend. I trust him. We’re in it together for the long haul.”
Madison smiled at the affection in his voice. She liked his attitude toward friendship. That said a lot about him.
“Are you ready to order?”
They both looked up at the waitress, Jack appearing as startled as Madison at the woman’s presence.
Her nametag said Tara, and just like the rest of the hotel’s employees she was gorgeous. “I can come back in a few minutes.”
Jack nodded. “Thank you.”
Madison concentrated on the menu. Not that much of it appealed to her. She’d have been happier with an order of fries than a plate of crab-stuffed mushrooms. She didn’t even bother to check out the salads. Yuck. Of course a cup of blue cheese dressing just about made any salad bearable.
“Would you like me to make a couple of suggestions?” he asked, and she looked up to see if he was making fun of her. “You look indecisive.”
“Nope. I know what I want.” She set the menu aside. “And you?”
“Ready.”
“Okay.” She saw that Tara had stopped at another table. “Let’s talk about this afternoon. I’m thinking the spa should be next.”
“Fine.” He leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “Now tell me about Madam Zora.”
Madison groaned. “I thought we’d settled that. I don’t know the woman. I only met her briefly.”
“But she gave you a reading.”
“It was nonsense.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I don’t remember.”
He smiled. “Yes, you do.”
“Excuse me?”
“You might not have liked what she said, but you remember.”
“Says who?”
“I heard you on the phone.”
“Nice.” She tried to recall what she’d said to Karrie. Nothing incriminating. At least not when he was in the room. Where the hell was that waitress?
“Don’t forget that I interview people for a living.” Jack caught her eye and held on to her gaze. He looked pretty serious. “I’m damn good at it, too.”
“Why on earth would it matter what that woman said to me?”
“I want to get a feel for her style. How broad she keeps her predictions, how accurate she is about personal information.” He sighed and glanced around. “To tell you the truth, I don’t want to come off like a total skeptic when I interview her.”
The waitress showed up, and Jack immediately leaned back and fell silent. While she took their orders, Madison tried to decide what to tell him. He seemed earnest enough.
She could tell him about Karrie.
As soon as Tara disappeared, Jack was back on his game. He leaned forward, determination in his eyes. “You said something to your friend about Madam Zora getting lucky. May I assume there was some accuracy to her prediction?”
“Yes, but it could easily have been coincidence.”
“That said…” He gestured impatiently for her to continue.
“Okay, so my friend Karrie is attractive, late twenties, obviously single since she was my date for the party,” she said, and ignored his attempt to hold back a smile. “So how far a stretch was it for Madam Z. to predict she would meet some hunky guy, fall in love and live happily ever after?”
“From what the women in the office say, around here that’s a rarity.”
Madison stifled a laugh. “You’ve got me there. But Karrie didn’t meet Rob here in Manhattan. She knew him from college back in Las Vegas.”
“So didn’t Madam Zora know he would be a man from your friend’s past?” he asked, the question clearly rhetorical, judging by the smug expression on his face.
“Actually, she did.”
His gaze narrowed. He leaned closer. “What exactly did she tell your friend?”
Madison shrugged. “That she’d return to the desert and would hook up with this guy she knew. Turned out he was her former archaeology professor.” Goose bumps rose on Madison’s arms when she remembered another small detail. She laughed nervously. If she told Jack it would sound crazy. He’d probably think she was messing with him. Or worse, that she really believed in this baloney.
“What? You remembered something.”
“You won’t believe me.”
He frowned with impatience. “What is it?”
“She knew Rob’s initials,” she said slowly, and when his frown deepened, she added, “Madam Zora told Karrie the man she’d meet again would have the initials R.P. But of course Karrie didn’t make the connection that night at the party. She hadn’t seen or thought of Rob for over eight years.”
His brows dipped as he digested the information. “So how did they meet up again?”
“Karrie was sent to Las Vegas on business. In fact, her company sent her to specifically meet with Rob concerning a piece of land where he wanted to conduct a dig with his students.”
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