Debbi Rawlins - Hot Spot

He paused to stare at her over his glass, and then downed the scotch.

Damn, she hoped he didn’t order another one too quickly. The drinks were coming out of her pocket, and at fourteen dollars a pop…God, if her credit card was maxed out she’d kick herself.

“The park’s a big place. Surely we can find some privacy.”

“Maybe. But we can’t shoot in only one spot, we need a variety of backdrops, and we’re bound to attract some attention.” She smiled. “Of course, you’re used to being in the public eye. That shouldn’t bother you.”

His face tightened. Damn. Even frowning he looked good. “Where else did you have in mind?”

“Well, your studio might be interesting. A shot of you in your office, one on the set.”

He thoughtfully pursed his lips, looking entirely too interested in the idea.

“There won’t always be staff around, right?” she added quickly. “I will have to pose you at times, and well, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable with an audience.”

“Pose me?”

“Of course.”

He thought for a moment. “No, not the studio.”

“Okay…” She paused for effect, and shifted her legs. Their knees touched under the table, and the awareness that sparked nearly threw her off track. “Sorry.”

“My fault.” He winced as he moved his legs to the side.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah, old war wound.”

“Oh. You were in the service?”

One side of his mouth lifted. “Close. I was a field reporter back in the day.”

“Right.” She remembered reading his bio. “The Gulf War. Your first big assignment out of college.” The one that had launched his career, she almost said, but something in his grim expression warned her to drop the subject.

“You had another idea for a location?” he prompted.

She smiled sweetly. “How about your apartment?”

“I have a house.”

“Better yet. Where?”

“That’s out.”

“Why? We’d have privacy. People would love getting a peek into your private domain.”

He grunted. “Not going to happen.”

She’d actually started warming to the idea, and threw up her hands. “Then what’s your suggestion?”

He studied her for a long uncomfortable moment. Made her want to check her teeth. Take a swipe at her cheek in case something god-awful clung to her skin. Finally he said, “You’re manipulating me.”

She opened her mouth to deny it. “Is it working?”

He smiled, briefly, and then shook his head. “What about another hotel? The Plaza? The Waldorf Astoria?”

“They’re stuffy. They don’t suit your image.”

“And Hush does?”

“Absolutely.”

He didn’t look happy.

“Look.” She leaned forward. “I know you don’t like the sex symbol image. Your agent told me. But that’s part of what’s earning you the big bucks.”

Frowning, he broke eye contact and stared down at his empty glass.

“Hey, it’s not like I’m shooting a Playgirl layout,” Madison said, her confidence beginning to slip. If he backed out now, she’d be so screwed. “My name is gonna be attached to this. I’m motivated to keep the photos tasteful.”

He looked up and studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. “You won’t make a big production out of the hotel.”

“Nope. You’re the star attraction. Today’s Man is a woman’s magazine, and every female head turned when you walked in.”

“I didn’t notice,” he muttered.

“You’re used to it.” She shrugged, amazed that even the sudden scowl didn’t detract from his good looks. “That’s probably part of your appeal.”

“Are you always this frank?”

Madison nodded. “It saves a lot of time.”

His lips curved suddenly, surprising her, and unleashing a mass of butterflies in her stomach. The smile reached his eyes and they actually seemed to change color right before her, going from cool green to warm amber. “Okay, Hush it is.”

“Yeah?” She smiled back, words deserting her. Unusual for her. But there was something about this man…

“But…” He held up a finger as if admonishing a naughty child. Even his hands were noteworthy. Tan, with lean fingers and evenly clipped nails. No prissy manicure.

“I’m listening.” Barely. Her stomach was just beginning to calm down.

“I still have veto power.”

“Of course.” Her gaze went again to his hands, to that perfect golden color, so perfect it had to be artificial.

He squinted with suspicion. “What?”

“Are you tanned all over?”

His head reared back slightly.

“That’s strictly a professional question,” Madison said, and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his appalled expression.

She didn’t get her answer. The waitress reappeared to see if they wanted another round, and to ask for his autograph on behalf of a woman seated behind Madison. Jack turned down another scotch, smiled graciously and took the pen and napkin from the waitress.

Madison studied his bent head as he signed his name. The highlights were natural, she decided, probably from the sun. His hair was already getting darker consistent with the fall weather that restricted outdoor activity. Just like her, in fact. She was always blonder in the summer. Except the sun wasn’t as creative or kind to her.

He looked up and met her eyes.

She smiled. “I’d hate this.”

“What?” He handed the napkin and pen back to the waitress who promptly disappeared.

“Being recognized, the intrusions…But I guess it comes with the territory.”

“So they tell me,” he said flatly, and then smiled briefly at someone over Madison’s shoulder. Then, barely moving his lips, he said, “Can we please get out of here?”

“Sure.” Madison grabbed her blazer and the camera bag she used as a purse. “Just let me get the check.”

He pulled some bills out of his pocket secured by a brushed-gold money clip. “Did you have more than the one club soda?”

“No, but I want to—”

He laid down three twenties. “That should take care of it.”

“No, this is on me. Besides, that’s way too much.”

He laughed humorlessly and stood. “The price of celebrity. Let’s go. Now.”

She realized what he’d meant as soon as she stood. The redhead, wearing a short white spandex dress with more cleavage than good taste, approached the table. Jack smiled at her, tossed his coat over his shoulder and then took Madison by the elbow to hurry her along.

“Mr. Logan, I wanted to thank you personally for the autograph.” The woman smiled, flashing a set of superwhite teeth. “I truly hated to bother you.”

“No bother.” He stopped but his grip on Madison’s elbow tightened. “Sorry, but we’re in a hurry.”

“Of course.” The woman gave Madison an odd look, which took her a full twenty seconds to interpret as envy while Jack rushed her out of the intimate bar.

By the time they got to the lobby, she’d nearly hemorrhaged from trying not to laugh. Imagine anyone thinking she was with Jack Logan. What a hoot! Wait till she told Karrie and Talia.

“Are you really in a hurry, or was that a smoke screen?” she asked, turning to face him. He was tall but so was she, and standing so close, his incredible face only inches away, well, it literally took her breath away. She inhaled deeply, hopefully not conspicuously. “I’d like to show you some of the places I think would make great shots.”

His lips curved slightly and then he glanced at his watch. “My driver is picking me up in half an hour.”

“Great. We’ll make it a quickie.” To her horror, heat crept into her cheeks. Which was totally insane. She never blushed. “Oh, there’s Kit. She’s in charge of the hotel PR. Let me catch her and get a key.”