Debbi Rawlins - Hot Spot

The moment she saw him she stood and smiled. A nice friendly smile. Not the kind he usually got from women.

“You’re early,” she said and offered her hand.

He accepted the firm handshake. “You’re earlier.”

“Bad habit of mine.” She reclaimed her seat, and he took off his overcoat and sat across from her, laying the expensive coat across his lap.

“My mother used to say that being prompt or early shows respect. Being late indicates you think your time is more valuable than the other person’s.” He didn’t have the faintest idea why he’d elaborated like that. But when her mouth stretched into a beautiful smile he was glad he had.

“Your mama sounds like a wise woman.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Oh.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I lost mine, too. Last year. It was really hard. Still is.”

“Yeah. My mom passed away while I was in college. Seems like yesterday.”

An awkward silence settled for a few moments, and then they both spoke at once.

Madison grinned. “Go ahead.”

Two women sitting at a table behind Madison stared blatantly at him. He was used to the intrusion. Came with the territory. But this pair particularly annoyed him, especially the redhead, who gave him one of those silly four-fingered waves. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

A slight frown puckered Madison’s brows. “Here comes the waitress. Know what you want?”

What he wanted and what his personal trainer allowed were two different things. Ah, what the hell. “Scotch,” he told the young woman in the pink vest. “Neat.”

“Right away.” She looked barely twelve, although she obviously had to be over twenty-one. “Would you like another club soda?” she asked Madison.

“I’m good.” She waited until the waitress moved away, and then said, “You gotta admit, this place is amazing.”

Jack glanced at the unique, black-lacquered circular bar, awash in a rosy glow from the pink overhead lights. The bar chairs with the inverted triangular backs were chic and surprisingly comfortable from what he remembered of the grand opening. The entire hotel was a class act. That didn’t mean he wanted to be associated with the place. “No argument there.”

Her eyebrows rose. “But?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll do the photo shoot here.”

He smiled. “Why not Central Park?”

“Because it’s November and you’re likely to freeze you’re a—behind off.”

“It’s not that cold yet.”

“You won’t say that after we’ve been outside for six hours.”

“Six hours?”

“If we’re lucky.”

“Well, let’s make sure we’re real lucky.”

Her expression tightened, and she lifted her drink to her lips.

After a brief silence, he said, “I understand this isn’t just about me. It’s about the city. Isn’t that the first thing people think of when you mention Manhattan?”

She gave him a funny look. “They probably think of the Statue of Liberty.” Then quickly added, “And no, we’re not doing it there.”

“I guess that leaves out two places.”

Annoyance flashed in her light-brown eyes. “I don’t understand why it matters. It’s not like I’m asking you to run naked through Times Square.”

The waitress had reappeared and she’d obviously heard given the way her eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me.” She smiled at Jack. “The ladies at the next table would like to buy you a drink, Mr. Logan.”

He shook his head, his gaze staying on Madison. “Tell them thanks anyway, but it doesn’t look as if I’ll be staying long.”

Meeting his eyes, Madison didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Angry, maybe. Frustrated, definitely.

Unaware of the undercurrent, the waitress said, “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier, Mr. Logan. Between this job and school I don’t have much time to watch the news. Not that kind, anyway.”

He switched his gaze in time to see her oblivious smile before she walked away. Not that kind. Her words stayed behind, taunting him, reminding him of how many people didn’t consider him a serious newsman. To them he was just a pretty face, delivering national news, joking with his coanchor and providing entertainment while the television audience sipped their morning coffee.

“I have an idea,” Madison said, her nervousness betrayed by the way her fingers continuously circled the glass.

“I’m listening.”

“After our drink, why don’t we go for a walk around the hotel and—”

“I’ve already seen it.”

“All of it?”

“At the opening.”

“Ah.” She sighed, sinking back. “Of course.” And then she straightened and leaned toward him with renewed determination on her face. “So? Is the place stunning or what?”

“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.”

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.”