by Karen Booth
“I’m fine. I’d already seen the papers. I knew all about it.” Just like last time. And every other time.
“Will you please get in here so I can offer you a beer and not feel guilty about having one myself at four in the afternoon?”
“I’ll be right there.”
Logan did his duty as Carter’s best man, strolling down the aged sidewalk to the Keyses’ house. The reporters yelled after him—mostly requests to get Julia to come outside, although there was one question about life as an athlete-turned-sports commentator. Logan didn’t reply; he just waved. He wasn’t about to chime in if they asked about Julia and her new boyfriend.
Mrs. Keys opened the door, welcoming him with a smile and a hug. “Logan Brandt. If my eyes don’t deceive me. I hope you and Julia can play nicely today. We have enough drama for a lifetime.”
Logan nodded, stepping inside and keeping an eye peeled for Julia. “Don’t you worry about us.” I’ll do it for you.
Carter waved on his way into the kitchen. “Two beers, coming up.”
Tracy rose from the couch, but grabbed Logan’s arms rather than taking the hug he offered. Her eyes were ringed in pink. “Will you talk to her? You might be the only person she’ll listen to about getting the press to go away.”
“I don’t know that I have any sway with...” Her name was poised on his lips when Julia waltzed in from the kitchen. Midstride, she froze. He couldn’t move, either. Their eyes locked, and he felt as though he was up to his knees in a concrete block of memories, the most recent ones the strongest—watching her sleep in the early morning as his hand followed the contour of her lower back and a smile broke across her face. When Julia was happy, the world was a beautiful place, and she gave in to it, heart and soul.
For an incoherent instant, he wished he could take back the message he’d left for her. The one that ended everything. Her pull on him registered square in the center of his chest—a tightening that said two opposing things: he couldn’t live without her, but he had to stick to his guns or he’d end up romantic roadkill. “Jules.”
“Logan.” Julia didn’t come closer, which was a good thing, albeit disappointing. She crossed her arms, building a fortress around herself. Still, her vanilla scent found his nose and warmed him from head to toe.
“How are you?” he asked. If ever there was a loaded question, that was it. Stress radiated off her, but she was as stunning as ever. Her silky chestnut hair fell about her face in waves, effortlessly sexy. His hands twitched with the memory of what it was like to have his fingers buried in it. Her peachy skin had a summer glow he couldn’t place—she usually avoided the sun. It suited her. Perfectly.
“I’m fine. I’m ready to start talking about the wedding and stop talking about me,” she said.
I bet.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Keys said. “I have a special treat for Carter in the kitchen, and then we’ll get started. Trace, why don’t we go over the schedule and you can fill us all in on the jobs we need to do.”
Tracy pulled out a binder and perched on the middle cushion of the couch. Carter handed Logan a bottle of pale ale and took a seat next to his bride-to-be, putting his arm around her and kissing her temple. Logan had given Carter plenty to envy over the years, but when it came to this, Carter had him beat. Aside from a temporary breakup, Carter and Tracy’s love story was uncomplicated and sweet. Logan would’ve done anything to have that.
Mrs. Keys triumphantly presented a platter of her world-famous deviled eggs to her future son-in-law.
Carter lunged for one the instant they were on the coffee table. “Oh, man. Thank you. I love these things.” He popped it into his mouth and moaned in ecstasy.
Julia made a wretched sound and pursed her lips, turning away.
“You okay?” Logan asked as Mrs. Keys took the remaining spot on the couch, next to Tracy.
Julia clamped her eyes shut and nodded. “Bad experience with deviled eggs on set a few weeks ago. I’m fine.”
“Oh, honey. I didn’t know,” Mrs. Keys said, as her husband grabbed several of the offending eggs. “I can put them away if you like.”
Julia shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I know how much everyone loves them.”
Mr. Keys sat in his chair, leaving the love seat for Julia and Logan. Once again, their gazes connected, and he had to fight to make sense of what his body was saying to him. The problem was, whenever she was in a foul mood, he had a deep longing to kiss her out of it. He was practically wired to do it.
Logan offered her a seat. “Please. Ladies first.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Such a gentleman.”
“I’m just being polite.”
“It’s a little late for polite.”
“No fighting,” Tracy barked. “Julia, I swear to God, you’re going to kill me. I need the maid of honor and best man to get along. The reporters are bad enough. Not that you don’t have the ability to make them go away.”
Julia sat, snugging herself up against the arm of the love seat, preemptively distancing herself from him. “I can only say it so many times. The story is fake. I know you all think I have the world’s worst taste in men, but don’t worry. I did manage to avoid this one. And if we just ignore the press, they’ll leave.”
Relief washed over him, followed by surprise. No romance with Derek? Really? “Julia’s probably right. They’ll get bored if you don’t talk to them.” Feeling considerably more at ease, Logan joined Julia on the love seat. “We’re getting along just fine. No fighting.”
Tracy’s eyes darted back and forth between them. She seemed unconvinced, but returned her focus to her binder. “Give me a minute to figure out what I want everyone to do. Mom, can you look at this?”
Mrs. Keys slid closer to her daughter and the two became immersed in conversation. That left Carter and Mr. Keys to feast on deviled eggs.
Logan was still computing the revelation about Julia’s costar. If the story was fake, had it always been? “So, no love connection with Derek, huh?” he asked under his breath.
“No.”
“Never?”
“No, Logan. Not ever,” she snipped. “After that lovely message you left for me, I’m surprised you care.”
Ouch. “I never want to see you with the wrong guy, Jules.”
“Okay, everybody. Listen up.” Tracy straightened in her seat and started rattling off orders about the florist and picking up wedding bands, the baker and final dress fittings, like a four-star general about to lead them into battle. That left no time for Logan to continue his conversation with Julia, although he wanted to. At least to smooth things over.
Julia was scribbling notes as fast as Tracy could talk. “Got it. I’m on florist and cake duty. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. The only hitch is that I didn’t rent a car.” She cleared her throat. “Logan, maybe you can drive me.”
“You’re at the same hotel. It only makes sense,” Mrs. Keys chimed in.
True. It did make sense, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that Julia had ulterior motives. Something in her voice told him that she did. Whatever her plan, hopefully it didn’t include ripping his head off and sticking it on a stake in the front yard as payback for the post-reunion breakup. “Of course. Whatever Tracy and Carter need us to do to help make this the perfect wedding.”
Two
Julia was sure there was no sound more unhinging than that of reporters politely, but incessantly, rapping on the windows of Logan’s rental car, raising their voices as he tried to pull away.
“These people are ridiculous. Somebody’s going to get hurt.” Logan inched the car out of his parking space. The second he had a clear path, he gunned it.
Julia jerked back in her seat. Her stomach lurched along with it. “Logan. Cool it.” She whipped around to look behind them.
The reporters were climbing into their cars. “They’re following us. Of course.”
Logan watched via the rearview window. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
He took a sharp turn and ducked down a side street. He knew the shortcuts like the back of his hand. They both did. They’d both learned to drive on these streets. The house Logan grew up in was only seven or eight blocks away.
Logan was intensely focused, eyes darting between the mirror and the road. He ran his hand over his close-cut ebony hair. Being so near him, it was hard not to fixate on what his stubble felt like against her cheek when he kissed her. Or the way his warm and manly smell, citrusy and clean, begged her to curl up in his arms. Everything about being around him again made her chest ache. Things were so much simpler three months ago, for that brief forty-eight hours when she could kiss him and lose herself in him without reservation. Before he ended it forever.
His hands gripped the steering wheel. With the sleeves of his deep blue dress shirt rolled to his elbows, she couldn’t have ignored the flex of his solid forearms if she’d wanted to. His arms could make her feel as if she were made of feathers—light as air. Ready to be taken anywhere he wished to have her.
Logan cut over again, navigating the city grid. All while inducing an acute case of nausea.
Julia crossed her arms at her waist. Maybe she’d be too busy barfing to worry about telling Logan about the baby. “Can you take it easy? I’m feeling carsick.”
“First the deviled eggs, now this? You’re the girl who wanted to eat corn dogs and go on every upside-down ride imaginable at the state fair. Twice.”
Logan had thrown down the gauntlet, only he didn’t know it. Logan was a smart guy. She could only keep her secret from him for so long. As soon as she turned down a cocktail this weekend, he’d know something was up. His eyes were trained on the road. Time to put her mother’s theory to the test.
“I need to know if you can keep a secret.” She rummaged through her purse. It was better if they were both busy doing something that precluded a lot of eye contact.
“About what?”
“I can’t tell you or you’ll know the secret.”
He shook his head, taking a left onto the main road to the hotel. “Fine. As long as it doesn’t involve a murder, I can keep a secret.” He stopped at a yellow light. Normally, Logan would’ve gunned it through the intersection, but there was a police car parked at the corner.
Why had her mother never briefed her on the protocol for stoplights? This was not the way this was supposed to go. Her heart raced, but the secret was going to suffocate her if she didn’t tell him. She had to tell him. At least the first part. Then she’d reevaluate. “I’m pregnant.”
The light turned green, but he didn’t go. “You’re what?”
Julia pointed ahead. “It’s green.”
“Oh.” Logan had them again under way. “You’re pregnant?”
“I am.” She choked back her breath, unable to come out with the part that came next. And you might be the father.
“I take it nobody knows? Your family didn’t say a thing about it.”
“Nobody knows. I’ve only known for about three weeks and I didn’t want to overshadow Tracy.”
“You have to tell your family, Jules. They won’t be happy you kept this from them.”
Julia swallowed hard. And how does the maybe-father feel about me keeping the secret? “You saw how Tracy is. She’s a wreck already. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Julia caught sight of the hotel. They’d be there any minute. That was bringing up a whole new set of feelings. If only her mother hadn’t turned her old bedroom into an office. If only there was another good hotel close to home. If only she and Logan hadn’t slept together the last time she was here. Then she wouldn’t be suffering from vivid flashes of hot, bittersweet memories—his welcoming pecan-brown eyes, smoldering, telling her every sexy thing he wanted to do to her, all without a single word leaving his tempting lips. He was a man of action in the bedroom, not big for talk, but when he did speak, it was usually a doozy. You’re so damn sexy, Jules. You make me want to lock the door and throw away the key.
He’d done such a number on her. She’d been stupidly hopeful when she was last here, foolish enough to think that finally she and Logan had gotten their act straight. Then hours after they parted, he left his message. We’ll never work. Let’s just admit it. Once and for all.
And of course, if they hadn’t slept together, there was a very good chance she wouldn’t be in the business of keeping secrets at all. She cupped her belly with her hand. However difficult, she wanted this. She wouldn’t regret her time with Logan, however painfully it had ended, if it had brought her this baby. Her baby wasn’t the problem.
Logan turned into the hotel drive. “I don’t know why I bothered to try to outrun anybody. The bastards are already here.” He pointed to a handful of news vans in the parking lot out front.
“There are only so many hotels between here and Wrightsville Beach. It wasn’t going to take them long to figure out where we were.”
They pulled up to the valet stand, reporters waiting, but no attendant in sight. Logan grabbed her arm. “Hold on one second. Let me come around to your side of the car. I don’t want you out there on your own. You know what these guys are like, and we’re on public property now. It’s not like it was at your parents’ house.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Look, Jules. Just cut a guy some slack and let me have my macho moment, okay?”
She cracked a smile. At least chivalry wasn’t dead.
“I owned up to it, didn’t I?”
“Yes. You did.” She folded her hands in her lap to wait.
Logan climbed out of the car. The reporters shouted his name, swarming him like bees. He was at her door in a flash. “Take two steps back, everybody, and let Ms. Keys out of the car.”
She put on her sunglasses and opened her door. At this point, nearly a dozen people with cameras and microphones had them surrounded. She hated this more than pretty much anything.
Julia, where’s Derek?
Are you having an affair with Mr. Brandt?
The valet pushed his way through the crowd. “Oh. Wow. Mr. Brandt. Ms. Keys. I’m so sorry I wasn’t out here when you pulled up.”
Logan surrendered his keys and a ten. “If you could have our bags brought in, that would be great.”
“You got it, Mr. Brandt. I’m a huge fan. A huge fan.”
Logan smiled wide. He was always gracious with his fans. “I’ll be sure to sign something for you before I check out.” He held back the press with one arm while he put the other around Julia.
This probably wasn’t the right message to send, not with the reporters here, but she liked feeling protected by Logan.
“Are you two a couple?” someone asked. If only they knew the extent to which they were not a couple, even if he could be the father of her unborn child.
Logan picked up their pace as they neared the door. Still, the throng crushed in on them. “Everybody, back off.” His voice boomed above the incessant chatter. He swiped off his sunglasses and straightened, employing all six feet and several more inches of him as intimidation. His audience actually shut up for a moment. Hard to believe. “One step inside and I won’t bother with hotel management. I’ll call the police. Leave her alone and find some other story to chase.” He took her hand, and they escaped through the revolving doors.
“Are you okay?” Logan asked, not letting go of her as they made their way through the lobby.
His touch sent tingles throughout her entire body—unrequited, one-way tingles that served no purpose other than to frustrate her. “Yes. I’m fine.” She stepped up to the front desk. “Checking in. The reservation is under Brady.”
“Marcia?” Logan chuckled.
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“Jan Brady. I’m no Marcia,” she mumbled under her breath.
The front desk clerk, who looked familiar, smiled and winked, seeming to enjoy the idea of being in on the joke of a celebrity using a false name. “But, Mr. Brandt. I see you have a reservation with us as well.” Confusion washed over his face as he glanced back and forth between them.
It was then that Julia recognized the man—he’d been working the front desk when she and Logan had had their tryst. They’d ended up staying in Logan’s room that time. Julia hadn’t bothered to check in before the reunion, and by the time they’d arrived at the hotel, they were about to tear off each other’s clothes in the lobby. Two rooms had seemed laughable.
But not anymore.
* * *
Room keys in hand, Logan and Julia filed into the elevator. An elderly couple had joined them. No one said a thing, and the quiet gave Logan’s mind plenty of space to roam. Too much space. She’s pregnant? And it’s a secret? Who in the hell is the dad? He glanced over at her. No baby bump yet. She’s known for a few weeks. She can’t be very far along. Wait a minute... How far along was she? Could he? No. Not that. But wait. Could he be? The dad?
The elevator came to a stop. Logan held the door to afford the other passengers some time. He caught the uncertainty in Julia’s eyes. There was more weighing on her. He could see it, and he had to know it all, even if it might hurt. They made it to the top floor—as Logan remembered it, the only floor with suites. Judging by their room numbers, they’d be across the hall from each other.
“We should talk some more,” Julia said when they’d arrived at their doors. Her voice was ragged at the edges, an apt reflection of her nerves. Considering the pressure from the reporters, her family and having to keep her secret, she had to be exhausted.
“Yes. We should. I want to hear more about your, um, situation.” He felt idiotic the minute he’d worded it that way, but at least he’d kept his promise to not say anything.
