“If you say so, darling,” Emily replied. Her gaze drifted towards Logan’s as he tried to pull himself together. She tilted her head to one side, her eyes lighting up with a devious, knowing expression. She shook her head and laughed before reaching for Michael’s hand. “We’ll just have to wait and see if your matches are as brilliant as mine.”
“Oh, they’ll be brilliant, all right,” Michael replied confidently, walking her out the door. “Just you wait.”
Logan found himself alone with Rachel, who smiled up at him as if he had saved her from the clutches of death. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to say something pleasant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he stared at her and hoped she couldn’t hear the nervous pounding of his heart.
“We’re going to make a really great team,” she said, stepping toward him. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I won’t be any bother, I promise. I’ll do my work and keep my head down. You’ll hardly know I’m here.”
She waved at him and followed her brother out the door, leaving Logan to exhale slowly. A cloud of doubt descended upon him the moment they climbed into their town car and he had the sudden desire to run after them and rescind the offer.
But that was crazy talk.
It had to be the stress of opening this new place. He had never let his emotions run away on him like this before. Michael was counting on him to keep an eye on Rachel and keep her focused on her work. If he could build his fortune out of nothing, he could certainly handle Rachel Knight.
Chapter Four
Rachel rolled over in bed to glance at the time and then shot out from under her covers, adrenaline coursing through her chest. It was day one of her internship at Madison Park and already, she was late. Her cheap phone must’ve died sometime during the night and failed to sound her alarm that morning.
So much for impressing her new boss.
She scrubbed her face in front of her bathroom’s cracked mirror, threw her hair up into a messy bun, and slipped on the knock-off black Prada skirt and white, lacy blouse she’d painstakingly laid out the night before. Stumbling across the floor of her tiny, studio apartment, she managed to pull on her black patent stilettos and purse before running to meet the bus.
It was forty minutes later when she sprinted into Madison Park, her hair falling out of its bun and face flushed. Logan stood at the front reception, talking to a man dressed in a gray jumpsuit and the word plumber stitched in red on one side. He turned when she came in, his gaze running over her and his jaw slackening.
“I know, I know, I’m a mess,” Rachel gasped between breaths. She clutched a hand to her stomach and bent over to allow the oxygen to reach her brain. “But I promise, this won’t be every day. My alarm didn’t go off.”
Logan swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and slowly buttoned his three-piece navy pinstriped suit. He cleared his throat and gave her a tight nod. “No worries. You’re just in time; we leave in two minutes.”
She ran her fingers over her hair, hoping to smooth the flyaways, and smiled. “Surely, not another case of dinner espionage? I think dining with you is going to get me in trouble, Logan Madison.”
A smile quirked on his sculpted lips and he dismissed the plumber with another nod of his head. Grabbing a tan leather briefcase, he ushered her out the door with his hand and softly chuckled.
“No dinner espionage, unfortunately,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “This is much more important. We’re meeting with Mary Prescott.”
Rachel’s heels dug into the pavement outside the restaurant and she grabbed Logan’s arm with a tight grip. “Are you talking about the Mary Prescott? The southern queen of food with her very own show on the Food Channel. That Mary Prescott?”
He grinned at her. “The very one. We’re taking my jet to meet her in Houston. I hope you don’t mind a little jaunt over the country.”
Of course, Logan would have his own jet. He was insanely wealthy now. And of course he would be taking her last minute to meet a bona fide A-list celebrity. Life sure had changed for him since their childhood. She inhaled deeply and realized she was still holding onto his very buff lower arm. He definitely hadn’t let himself go after retiring from baseball.
With an embarrassed smile, she dropped her hand and tilted her head. “Not at all boss. Lead the way.”
Logan’s sleek black Lincoln town car drove them across San Jose to the airport. His private jet sat on the runway like a beacon of royalty. The shiny white metal panels gleamed in the late morning sunlight and the stairs had already been lowered. A flight attendant greeted them inside, offering them each a drink to start their journey. Rachel chose a plush tan leather seat that looked out the window and Logan sat next to her, immediately pulling a tablet out of his briefcase and getting to work.
Rachel gazed out the window as the engine roared to life, excited for the start of their journey. Already, this was so much better than waitressing. She felt the familiar thrill that she had every time she’d marched down the catwalk: the anticipation of something new and exciting. Interning with Logan was really going to open doors for her, she could just feel it.
“No matter how many times I fly, I never get tired of the excitement of liftoff,” she said, turning to watch Logan lower his head even further over the tablet, his cheeks turning red.
He huffed and wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure I can agree.”
She hit him lightly on the shoulder and grinned. “Don’t tell me Logan Madison is afraid of flying? The boy who would sail down our driveway going a hundred miles an hour on his skateboard?”
He looked up at her and grimaced as the plane began to roll forward on the tarmac. “There’s a big difference between skating safely on the ground and hurling yourself into the air at speeds that mankind wasn’t meant to reach.”
She laughed and gazed out the window, watching the airport fade away. Her father owned his own jet, too, but he never would’ve taken Rachel on it. It was purely for business. According to her father, her head was too stuffed with nonsense to ever succeed in anything. So, he didn’t even bother. Michael had been the protégé.
If it had been a hundred years ago, the only thing Rachel would’ve been good for was being married off to a potential wealthy business partner. She shivered at the thought. Thankfully, she hadn’t been born in those times and she’d been able to break free of the influence of her father’s wealth.
The plane picked up speed along the tarmac. She could feel Logan tense next to her, his hands gripping the tablet so hard, she was sure he was going to shatter it. The nose of the plane began to tilt upwards and Logan abandoned the tablet, grasping the armrest instead. The blood had drained from his face and he stared glassy-eyed at the seat in front of him.
She wasn’t sure why she did it, but before she could stop herself, she placed her hand on top of his. He was shaky and cold, but responded by turning his hand over and curling his fingers tightly around hers. Delicious flames cascaded up her arm from his touch. Rachel had a hard time not shaking herself, but it had nothing to do with the altitude. They stayed like that for several minutes until the plane righted itself in the sky and the flight attendant began to move around the cabin, offering them snacks and refills.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about that,” Logan said in a low voice, loosening his grip on her hand. He turned his intense gaze toward her and smiled weakly. “If any of the boys down at the gym found out I freak out on an airplane, I’d lose all my man points.”
Rachel covered her mouth with her fingers and laughed. He really was the sweet guy she remembered. Still cracking jokes at his own expense.
“No problem. Your secret is safe with me.”
He dropped her hand and she couldn’t help but mourn the loss. But that was crazy. Logan was her brother’s best friend. She’d known him since he wore his hair shaggy and long over his ears, had thick, plastic framed glasses, and sported the same pair of cargo pants every day of the week. This was th
e same Logan.
Not to mention, he was her boss. And having feelings for the boss was a big no-no.
LOGAN TRIED TO KEEP his attention focused on his work for the rest of the five-hour long flight, but it was hard to do with the lovely woman sitting next to him. He enjoyed hearing her musical sighs as she stared out the window and watched the clouds pass by. She was full of childish wonder, but there was no doubt that Rachel Knight was no longer a little girl.
She’d shown up at his restaurant that morning with flushed cheeks, her eyes lit up from the run, and wearing a skirt that showed off her shapely legs. Little strands of hair from her bun had fallen into her eyes and he had wanted nothing more in that moment than to brush them softly off her cheeks and tuck them behind her ears, all the while relishing in the soft curve of her high cheekbones.
Thankfully, the presence of his plumber had snapped him out of it.
It was a dangerous impulse. Rachel Knight was about as far off limits as any girl he’d ever met. If Michael knew these thoughts had occurred to him, even for the briefest moment, he’d probably punch him in the face.
And he would deserve it.
Instead, he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Mary Prescott was someone who could make or break a new restaurant such as his. Somehow, his PR firm had miraculously booked a meeting with her this afternoon. All he had to do was show up, flash a charming smile, and get her to visit San Jose. At least, that’s what the PR manager told him. He wasn’t so sure he was as charming as they made him out to be. That was a lot of pressure on a guy. But he was going to give it his best shot.
The jet landed at the Houston airfield and this time, Logan managed to keep it together. He didn’t want Rachel’s reassuring touch to cause his brain to go haywire again. He needed every brain cell that baseball had left him if he was going to close this deal and charm the socks off of Mary Prescott, the darling of the Food Channel world.
They took a town car deep into Houston, traversing the busy interstates and into downtown. The Prescott home office was located at the very top of a tall, sleek office building with reflective windows on every surface. Logan jumped into the elevator with Rachel by his side, doing his best not to fidget with his tie as they ascended.
“You’re going to do great,” Rachel said, flashing her straight, white teeth in a dazzling smile. She blinked her dark lashes and patted him on the shoulder. “You always were fantastic in high pressure situations. Remember that time the cop pulled my brother over in my dad’s Lamborghini and you talked him out of writing a ticket?”
Logan laughed, feeling the tight bands around his chest loosen from the fond memory. He couldn’t believe she still remembered that. He and Michael had sworn her to secrecy.
“Yeah, if I remember right, Michael was going a little over the speed limit.”
“Um, seventy-five in a thirty,” she answered, raising an eyebrow. “My father would’ve murdered him. I’m pretty sure you saved his life that day.”
He let himself gaze at her face for a long moment, the warm memories making his chest swell. She met his stare, the same warmth reflected in her brown eyes. He realized he’d been wrong to think that Michael was the only friend who hadn’t judged his trailer park background, both then and now. Rachel had never mentioned his lack of money either.
He could only wonder if she judged him now for the luxuries he’d surrounded himself with. A private jet. Expensive suits. Fine dining experiences. According to Michael, Rachel had always detested her father’s wealth and refused to take a single penny of his money once she graduated. Did she think he was a sellout for becoming like them?
The elevator dinged, making him flinch and pulling his attention toward the sliding doors. They stepped out onto a brightly lit floor. White walls, white tile floors, and a large white receptionist desk greeted them. Lime green chairs and a matching oval rug lay to their right. The rail-thin receptionist leaned over her desk, her bright red lips curling into a welcoming smile.
“How may I help y’all?” she asked in a cheery southern accent.
Without warning, the nervousness was back. Logan tugged at his tie and stepped toward her, pressing his lips into a thin line. “We’re here to see Ms. Prescott. My name is Logan Madison.”
“Aw, yes, Mr. Madison.” Her eyes danced with recognition. “She’s been looking forward to meeting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
“No need sugar, I have a sixth sense for when a beautiful man walks into my domain,” a sickly sweet voice called from behind them.
Logan turned to see Mary Prescott herself walking toward him with her arms outstretched. She wore a bright yellow blouse and tailored white trousers on her plump frame with her shoulder-length black hair coiffed into a soft wave. Bubblegum pink lipstick caught his attention as she smacked her lips and slid her cat-eye white-rimmed glasses down her nose to get a good look at him.
“Come to momma, sugar,” she cooed, winking salaciously at him. Her gaze flickered over to Rachel for one moment, who stood staring at her with an open mouth. “Why don’t you leave your pretty girlfriend here and we can talk, just the two of us?”
Chapter Five
Logan felt the tips of his ears grow warm. Mary Prescott was certainly a big personality on screen, but in real life, she was almost too much to handle. He sputtered out an unintelligible answer to her request, muttering something about Rachel not being his girlfriend. It didn’t seem to faze her. The smile that stretched across her face could’ve rivaled that of the Cheshire cat.
Mary ran a hand up his arm and squeezed his bicep with a giggle. “My, my, they’re just as nice as they appear on TV. You must work out. That’s so nice. Too many athletes go soft when they retire from the game.”
“Thank you, Ms. Prescott.” Logan rolled his shoulders in a desperate desire to dispel some of his discomfort.
“Please, call me Mary,” she said with a devious smile, placing her hands on her curvy waist. “I suppose we should get to business. Follow me. Bring your girlfriend, if you must.”
She marched off toward a glass door, swinging her hips. Logan hazarded a glance over at Rachel. She was watching him, her eyes as round as dinner plates. There was a glint of humor in them that told him he was in for it later. Being shamelessly hit on by a sixty-year-old southern woman was too good to pass up.
“Can you believe this?” she mouthed.
He shook his head. They were deep in the trenches now. No way out, but through.
Hustling after Mary Prescott, he and Rachel followed her into a corner office with a stunning view of the busy cityscape. It was just as brightly lit as the lobby, with lime green plush leather chairs and a collection of lime green clocks hanging on the wall. A sleek, white metal desk stood in the middle of the room and Mary rounded it, beckoning for them to take the green chairs.
“My assistant tells me you’re here to woo me, Logan Madison,” she said with a toothy smile, delicately seating herself in a high-backed white leather chair. Her gaze flickered to his hands and then back to his face. “Where are my flowers, Mr. Madison? Any man intent on wooing a lady should bring flowers.”
Logan’s stomach tilted violently. No one at the PR firm had warned him to bring flowers. Already, he was failing. He frowned at her, unsure how to respond.
“Oh, don’t get so nervous, I’m just teasing you,” she said with a wave of her hand and a giggle. She put her hand up to the side of her mouth and leaned toward Rachel, whispering loudly. “Is he always this serious?”
“Not at all,” Rachel answered, her brown eyes narrowing with suppressed laughter. “I think you caught him on an off day. He’s actually quite charming.”
Logan stared at her, feeling his stomach tilt again, but this time in a pleasant way. Despite all his sputtering and nervousness, Rachel thought he was charming. The knowledge cheered him in a strange way, granting him courage to carry on with the meeting, even in the face of the illustrious Mary Prescott.
“Oh, goody.” Mary clapped
her hands. “I adore a charming man. They are so much more pleasant than the usual dull business types I work with. Come, Mr. Logan. Tell me your proposal.”
Logan spent the next sixty minutes telling Mary about Madison Park and the clientele he hoped to attract. Mary peppered the conversation with flirtatious comments, but this time Logan bobbed and weaved with the attack, flipping on his own boyish charm. Every once in a while, he’d glance over at Rachel to see her watching him, a smile flashing in her eyes. She was enjoying this just a little too much.
“Well, Mr. Logan, I think you have me convinced,” Mary said finally, leaning back in her chair. She gave him a devious grin and ran a tongue over the front of her teeth. “I’m going to hold you to that promise to show me around San Jose when I visit your restaurant.”
A thrill of excitement went through him. This was exactly what his restaurant needed. A grand start. Mary would come by in three weeks and feature him on her show next month. Madison Park would be on everyone’s must-visit list when they came to the Silicon Valley. Logan Madison would no longer be just an ex baseball player or the owner of a fast food pizza chain. He would be legitimatized in the eyes of the upper crust of society — the very people he’d attended school with. People like Michael and Rachel Knight.
“Don’t be a stranger now,” Mary said, waving at them as they left her office. She winked at Rachel and blew her a kiss. “Don’t you let go of that man there, you hear me? He’s as gentlemanly as they come. If he wasn’t so sweet on you, I’d snap him up for myself in a heartbeat.”
Logan pretended not to see Rachel’s cheeks burn bright red. He turned away to cover his own embarrassment, as if he hadn’t heard Mary’s parting comment. That woman was seriously unhinged. She had no idea what she was talking about.
Once they made it inside the elevator, he shrugged off his jacket with a relieved sigh and felt the weight fall off his shoulders.
The Billionaire and the Waitress Page 3
