Hot Spot

by Debbi Rawlins

  “How long after Madam Zora’s prediction did that happen?”

  Madison shrugged. “About three months maybe.”

  “Interesting.” He thought for a moment. “Anyway Madam Zora could have known that Karrie’s company would be sending her to—”

  Madison shook her head. “No way. She didn’t know. Her boss didn’t know. Karrie had always sworn she’d never go back west. Everything just sort of happened.”

  “Do you have a pen and piece of paper?”

  “I think so.” She lifted the camera bag strap off the back of her chair and quickly found a pen and an old to-do list. “This is all I have,” she said, handing it to him. “The back of the paper is clean.”

  He started scribbling right away and she leaned forward for a peek. Except it looked like some sort of personal shorthand and she couldn’t make it out.

  “Let’s go over this again,” he said. “Just the highlights.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He looked up, surprised, and then he smiled. “Please.”

  She smiled back. “But I’ve already told you everything.”

  “Humor me.”

  She sighed, staring into his beautiful eyes, knowing she was the envy of every woman in the room, and he wanted to talk about psychics. Okay, so that was pretty much the way her life went. Nothing new.

  “Karrie and I went to this party. She made me go with her to have a reading. Madam Zora told her she would be having this torrid affair with someone from her past.”

  “You didn’t tell me about the torrid affair part.”

  “Is it important?”

  He chuckled. “I guess not.”

  “Do you want me to continue or not?”

  “I won’t interrupt again.” He pressed his lips together, looking so boyishly adorable she wanted to lean across the table and kiss him.

  Of course she wanted to do that, anyway. She sighed, forced her attention back to their conversation. “Okay, let’s see—Oh, yeah, I have to give Madam Z. her props here. She knew that Karrie’s brother was a pilot. No one else at the party would have known that.” She shrugged at the astonishment on his face. “Although, the way she put it was that he was content to soar like a bird, or something like that.”

  “That’s pretty remarkable.”

  “But she didn’t specifically say he was a pilot either.”

  He studied her with far too much interest.

  “You realize you interrupted again,” she said, and he smiled. “Then you know the rest. Karrie was supposed to hook up with someone from her past with the initials R.P., they’d have an affair and yada, yada, yada.”

  “So basically everything Madam Zora predicted would happen did, in fact, happen.”

  “Well, yeah. Sort of.” Why in the hell had she allowed this conversation to continue? She looked around for the waitress. Madison needed dessert. She’d heard the Death by Chocolate was to die for. Why not? He was buying.

  “And you still don’t believe that this woman has some kind of sixth sense?”

  “She got lucky. That’s all.”

  He blinked, confusion flickering in his face. “You don’t want to believe.” He narrowed his gaze and stared at her with fascination. “What did this woman predict for you?”

  Heat crawled up her neck and into her face. She was probably as red as a cherry tomato, which in itself told him more than she wanted him to know, but she’d die a thousand deaths before she admitted what Madam Z. had said.

  “Tell me, Madison,” he whispered. “Did it have anything to do with me?”

  8

  JACK WATCHED THE TIPS of her ears redden. He’d never seen anyone blush so completely like that before. She’d obviously had a whopper of a reading that still resonated. A gentleman would back off. He couldn’t help himself. “What did she tell you?”

  “None of your business.”

  “So you do believe there might be something to her prediction.”

  “No.”

  “Then why not tell me?”

  “Okay, she said I was gonna be president of the United States.”

  He laughed. “Which year?”

  “She wasn’t specific. Told you she’s a fraud.”

  “Madison, you have to tell me.”

  “See? That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t. Where’s Tara? I’m starving.”

  “You’re stalling, trying to come up with a phony story,” he accused, studying her closely. To her credit she stayed with him. Didn’t try to break eye contact. “That, of course, I won’t buy for a second.”

  Her chin lifted a fraction. “She said my career was on an upswing, that I’d be fabulously successful one day and I’d also have a wildly intense affair with a coworker. I freelance. That obviously won’t happen.”

  There was more to it. No matter how blank she schooled her expression, the lingering pink in her cheeks gave her away. “I’m sure you pointed that out to her.”

  “I didn’t waste my time.”

  “If that’s it, why were you so reluctant to tell me?”

  She blinked and looked away. “I don’t know.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m just making a point. As much of a skeptic as you claim to be, she clearly did get to you.”

  She made a face. “Okay, after what happened to Karrie, yeah, I did think twice. But I know better.”

  He smiled. “Okay.”

  “Now can we strategize our afternoon, or did you want to have to spend all night here?”

  The thought appealed more than it should. Even his body reacted to the idea of spending the night with her. Up in the Haiku Suite. Naked. Tangled together in the satin sheets.

  He mentally shook himself. She hadn’t given any signals that she was interested. She’d maintained a professional distance. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew lots of guys who traded on their celebrity and screwed any woman they could. He wasn’t one of them.

  In fact, celebrity tended to put a crimp in his love life. He seldom dated. Too many nasty repercussions if the relationship failed. He’d already had one horrific experience, the details of which had ended up splashed across the tabloids. Half of it was even true, thanks to Alyssa, the woman he’d thought he could trust. The woman with whom he’d once imagined spending the rest of his life.

  Her ultimate greed, manipulation and deceit disabused him of the notion. He’d heard she’d received a hundred grand for the article. His only consolation was that amount wasn’t nearly enough to accommodate her lifestyle. She’d probably gone through the entire sum in a month.

  “Look, the idea doesn’t appeal to me, either, okay? So let’s decide how we want to best use our time.”

  He looked blankly at Madison and realized how deeply he’d sunk into his own thoughts. It took him a moment to get it together. “You mean I start getting a say?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” She scoffed. “Honey, if I were running the show, you would’ve had your shirt off already.”

  The couple at the next table both shot startled glances at them.

  Jack sighed. “I don’t think you said that loudly enough.”

  Madison bit her lower lip. “I have this sudden urge to babble an explanation that I’m a photographer and we’re doing a shoot upstairs.”

  “No.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Let it go.”

  “Right.” She groaned softly. “Sorry.”

  Any other time, hell, with any other woman, he’d have been furious. The tabloid vultures made up enough lies without being fed overheard conversations. But he couldn’t be angry with Madison. Not when she looked so miserable. “Hey, cheer up. There is a Santa Claus.”

  “I know. He was my date last New Year’s Eve.” Her lips started to curve. “I’m not saying another word until we get upstairs.”

  “I feel another bet coming on.”

  “Don’t try and get out of lunch. You’re still buying.”

  Before he could say anything,
their food came, and Madison didn’t hesitate to dig with gusto into her seafood crepes. Extra sauce, extra cheese, extra butter for her rolls, she wanted it all. He was both fascinated and amazed at her lack of inhibition. She wasn’t sloppy or anything. She simply ate like a normal person. Not like so many other women he ate lunch or dinner with, who picked at their food and ate like they didn’t want to mess up their lipstick.

  She’d be like that in bed. Uninhibited. Taking what she wanted. Asking for more. Giving it her all.

  Heat pooled in his gut, shot to his groin.

  He lowered his gaze to concentrate on his Chilean sea bass and tried not to look at her glistening lower lip. Shoved the dangerous thoughts from his mind. He had to keep this professional. Maybe later they could have dinner sometime, go to the theater or take a picnic lunch to Central Park.

  Get naked.

  Christ. This had to stop.

  “IF YOU WANT DESSERT, speak up now because I’m asking for the check.”

  Madison blinked, looking slightly taken aback. And rightfully so. He’d unintentionally come off abrupt.

  “I’m good for now,” she said. “I’ve got a couple of candy bars in my bag.”

  He shook his head and watched her furtively try to sop up the remaining sauce with a piece of her roll. Mission accomplished, she plopped it into her mouth and then touched the pink linen napkin to her lips. She caught him watching and smiled.

  “I’d like to see some of your work sometime,” he said before he knew he was going to say it.

  “My work?”

  “Your portfolio.”

  “Uh, well, I normally shoot by assignment.” She shrugged. “Or sometimes I get lucky and sell an unsolicited photograph.”

  “Which means you probably have a whole collection of great shots.”

  “I wouldn’t call them great. Do you really want to see them?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  He wasn’t sure how to answer. Because he wanted some insight into the woman? Maybe because he wanted a reason to see her again? “I don’t know,” he said truthfully.

  “Oh. Well, okay then. Sure.”

  “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

  “No, I just—no one’s ever asked to see my pictures before.”

  “Probably because you have them plastered all over the walls of your apartment so no one has to.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “No?”

  “A big no.” Her gaze shifted away as if she wanted to drop the subject.

  The check arrived, and after he’d settled up, he obliged Madison by keeping the conversation directed to the shoot as they left the table and headed for the elevators.

  They didn’t get far when a pair of stunning young women intercepted them. Both tall and blond, they looked as if they could be sisters.

  “Mr. Logan,” the slightly shorter one said, “would it be too much trouble to get an autograph from you?”

  He hated this part of the job. He really did. But he smiled and accepted the small sheet of cream-colored linen stationery she handed him. “No problem.”

  “Me, too, if you don’t mind,” the other one said, already having withdrawn a similar piece of stationery only this one a lime green.

  “Okay,” he said, not liking the way they’d seemed to edge Madison out of the picture. She didn’t look offended though, but simply stood to the side watching with undisguised interest.

  “Sorry,” he said pointedly. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “Take your time.”

  The other two turned and looked at her, and she smiled at them and then glanced at her watch. She seemed indifferent to their quick dismissal and dug in her bag producing her cell phone.

  “Christina, that’s my name,” one of the women said. “And could you add—”

  “Sorry, no special requests.” He flashed her a smile to soften the words. “I don’t want to keep the lady waiting.” He scribbled his name for each of them and handed the autographs back to the unpleasantly surprised pair.

  Too bad. Normally he was more accommodating but he didn’t like the way they’d treated Madison, as if she were unimportant. A nobody. It didn’t matter that she didn’t seem to care. He did.

  “You didn’t have to rush,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the other two as he took her elbow and urged her toward the elevators.

  “They got what they wanted.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  He shook his head and tamped down a smile.

  “What do these women do, keep a supply of stationery on them and stalk celebs?”

  He depressed the elevator button. “I noticed that. Usually I get a napkin or the back of a receipt.”

  “Which reminds me, I have a friend named Shelly who’d love an autograph from you.”

  “And you? Don’t you want my autograph?”

  Her lips parted. Nothing came out. And then, “Um, well—”

  He chuckled. “I’m kidding.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs as they stepped into the elevator, and he grunted. She rolled her eyes and punched the button to the fifteenth floor. “That could’ve been a lot harder but I didn’t wanna damage the merchandise.”

  With mock hurt he reared his head back. “Is that all I am to you?”

  “The truth?”

  He frowned. “Maybe not in this case.”

  “Chicken.” She had a great smile. Even when she tried not to and the corners of her mouth quivered slightly, almost grudgingly, as if she wanted everyone to think she was tougher than she was.

  She turned her head, and their noses nearly met. Whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips. Her lashes fluttered and she abruptly looked straight ahead.

  He let the awkward moment pass, disconcerted by his own reaction. If she’d given even the slightest encouragement, he would have kissed her. Which would pretty much screw up the rest of the day. Of course, his growing fascination with her alone was enough to upset the balance.

  What was wrong with him? It wasn’t as if he was the kind of guy who couldn’t have a platonic relationship with a woman. He’d had many over the years. His secretary, to whom he was like an older brother, was a great example.

  Since Lana had started working for him nine months ago, he’d had dinner three or four times with her and her husband and twins. By the second time, the boys had started calling him Uncle Jack.

  The elevator stopped four floors later and he absently started to get off. Madison laid a hand on his arm, but two laughing couples carrying glasses of wine rushed into the cab effectively cutting him off.

  Startled at their presence, the short brunette splashed half her chardonnay across the front of Jack’s shirt. He automatically moved back. Right into Madison. Pinning her against the wall of the cab. Her hands came up and spanned his upper back.

  “I am so sorry.” The twenty-something brunette clasped a hand over her mouth.

  “Come on, Vicki, watch where you’re going.” A short stocky guy wearing a shirt that was too tight shook his head. “Sorry about my wife. I think she’s had one too many.”

  “Oh, and you haven’t.” His wife smacked his arm sending another wave of chardonnay over the rim of her glass.

  Everyone jerked away, including Jack. Behind him he heard Madison moan softly.

  He could barely glance over his shoulder. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything,” she whispered, her warm breath dancing across the skin behind his neck and tickling his ear.

  His groin tightened and he exhaled slowly.

  She’d lowered her hands and he could feel her breasts pressed against his back. Tempted to turn around and feel her softness against his chest, he gritted his teeth and thought about getting out of the elevator and waiting for another one.

  “Vicki, you crazy klutz, you’re making a mess,” the guy said, half laughing, his words slightly slurred. “Looks like I’m gonna have to use th
e whip and handcuffs on you yet.”

  “Stop it.” Vicki laughed and sent Jack and Madison a sheepish look.

  “What? It’s no secret. They have the same things in their room.” He drained his wine.

  Jack cringed. This was exactly the kind of association he didn’t want. Fortunately, it didn’t seem as if they’d recognized him. He looked down, checked his watch and pretended to fiddle with it to avoid eye contact.

  “No, Tom, I think she meant she’d rather you use the feathers instead of the whip,” the woman with black curly hair said just as the elevator stopped on the seventh floor.

  The guy she was with cursed. “Which one of you morons pressed the wrong floor?”

  “Excuse me but there are other people in here.” Vicki smiled at Jack and crowded to the side. “You want out?”

  He was about to take his opportunity to escape when Madison leaned out and said, “We’re going to the fifteenth.”

  “Ah, to the high-rent digs. Must be nice.” The dark-haired woman narrowed her gaze on Jack. “Oh, my God, you’re—” She had the gall to move obnoxiously closer. “I know you. Aren’t you…?”

  Madison squeezed out from behind him. “Yeah, that’s him,” she said, and before he could strangle her, she let out this annoying and unnatural girlish laugh. “Really,” Madison added eagerly.

  Skepticism immediately creased the woman’s face, and Jack realized what Madison was doing.

  Vicki peered closer just as the elevator doors closed and it was too late to escape. “Yeah, you do kind of look like him.”

  “Who?” both guys asked at once.

  Vicki eyed Madison before returning her probing blue gaze to Jack. “You probably get mistaken for him a lot, huh?”

  Jack shrugged, trying to look bored. “Especially here in the city.”

  “Who the hell are you talking about?” the guy she was with demanded, his wine-laden breath foul in the small space.

  “Jack Logan!” Glancing at Jack, Vicki bit her lip but couldn’t keep from smiling.

  The guy frowned while sizing up Jack. “That newsman? Hell, even I could tell that’s not him. Logan’s shorter and heavier.”

  Jack just smiled. This wasn’t all bad. Not with Madison snuggled up against him. He moved to the side so that he could slip an arm around her. Her eyes widened slightly and then she played the game by smiling back. Even flattened her palm across his belly. Mostly due to the lack of room, he knew, but he liked the contact. Liked that they could play the role without consequence.