Hot Spot

“Hush.”

Larry’s eyes gleamed. “Brilliant choice. See? The woman’s got savvy.”

“Yeah, just what my image needs.” Bad enough he was considered the pretty boy of the network, of the morning infotainment show no less, a bona fide heartthrob according to the media. He hated it.

With a hint of a smile on his face, Larry laid the leather folders on Jack’s desk. “Talk to her and let me know what happens.”

“I can tell you right now what’ll happen.”

Larry sighed. “Read the contract later. You don’t need to meet Tate with an attitude.”

Jack watched the older man leave. He walked with a slight stoop Jack hadn’t noticed before. The guy had never mentioned his age but he had to be in his mid-sixties, and he still worked just as hard as he had when he took Jack on as a client fourteen years ago. He clearly loved his job and gave it a hundred and fifty percent.

Jack’s gaze went to the leather folder. Would he be able to say the same in thirty years?

AS SOON AS MADISON HUNG UP the phone, she let out a yowl. She stomped her feet a few times, going in a circle, doing the happy dance and then sank into the swivel chair she’d nearly sent flying across the small office.

Nearby, Talia looked up from the article she’d been editing and peered over her thick, black-rimmed glasses. “You arranged a meet,” she said in her usual monotone voice. “Just a guess.”

Out of breath, Madison nodded. Talia was good people, in spite of her odd sense of humor and even odder taste in clothes, and she did let Madison use her office sometimes, but, man, Madison wished Karrie were here.

Madison missed her like crazy on a normal basis but at a time like this it was really hard to have her best friend living all the way across the country. Not that she wasn’t happy that Karrie had found Rob, but jeez…It had been months since Karrie had moved west to be with her guy.

She glanced at her watch. Two-fifteen, which made it eleven-fifteen Las Vegas time. She wouldn’t call yet. She’d wait until after she met with him. The Jack Logan. She still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the magnitude of snaring someone like the heart-stopping Logan.

Talia snorted. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“What?”

“You acting like a star-struck teenager.”

Madison laughed. “He’s only the sexiest man in the western hemisphere.”

Talia shook her head. “I still don’t believe it.”

“The only thing Jack Logan means to me is the cover of your magazine.” Madison locked her hands behind her head, leaned back and stretched her legs out. Wait until the other photographers found out whom she’d snagged. They’d drool like babies. Cry their eyes out. Or want to scratch hers out. An ugly thought struck her, and she looked at Talia. “Heard anything about who the other men are?”

“Nope. Nothing. Oh, wait, I did hear that Sheila Higgins might have Brad Pitt on the hook.”

Madison shot upright. “No way.”

Talia just shrugged.

“Big deal. He’s been on so many covers. Old news. I’m not worried.”

Talia smiled. “Yeah, I can tell by the way you nearly hit the ceiling. Relax, kid. I was kidding. I haven’t heard a word.”

“Go ahead, make fun.” Madison stood and tucked the loosened white T-shirt into her jeans. “Some day you’ll say ‘I knew her when.’”

Talia put down her pencil and cocked her head to the side. “Say you get the cover. Then what?”

Madison stared in disbelief. “No more begging for assignments, or sitting at the bottom of slush piles. I get to write my own ticket. I mean, getting to shoot the cover is a pretty damn big deal.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely a major career coup.” Talia’s dark eyes bore into hers. “My question is, what does writing your own ticket mean?”

Madison looked blankly at her and then shrugged. “More freedom.”

“To do what?”

“Pay my bills, for one.” Madison snorted. “Get to choose my own assignments. Why?”

“No reason.” Talia gave her a small mysterious smile, her dark red lips barely curving.

“You know something I don’t?”

Talia just shook her head. “Just curious.”

Madison grabbed her navy blue blazer off the back of the chair, a sudden unease quelling her excitement. “I don’t want to take celebrity photos for the rest of my life.”

“You’re very talented, Madison, you certainly don’t have to.” Talia paused, and then added, “If that’s not what you want.”

“For now it works for me. It’s something I know I can do well.” She shrugged into her blazer. “Maybe later I’ll branch out. After I put a few bucks away. Just not yet.”

“No need to get defensive.”

“I’m not.” Madison knew that was a lie. Even her posture had turned defensive. Silly, really. No reason for it. Everything she said was true. She was happy. This was the break she’d been waiting for. “Well, I’d better go get ready. We’re meeting in two hours.”

“Hmm. You have time for a color and blow dry.” Talia frowned at Madison’s short, uneven nails. “No, get a manicure instead.”

“You’re hysterical.” She picked up her portfolio that contained a recent head shot of Logan and a brief bio she’d found on the Internet.

She figured she ought to know a little something about him other than he had a face and body that gave even her elderly grandmother heart palpitations.

“You coming by tomorrow?” Talia took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes.

“Probably, but it kind of depends on tonight.”

Talia grinned. “I’m jealous.”

Yeah, right. As if. Madison sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

“You know what would be a real kick?”

“Do I want to hear this?”

“Remember that psychic you went to?”

“Don’t even go there.” Madison headed for the door. “Anyway, I didn’t go to see her. She was at a party. It was stupid.”

“I’m just saying…” Talia’s eyes widened. “Hey, didn’t your friend Karrie’s prediction come true?”

Madison’s hand froze on the doorknob. She’d been so wrapped up in getting this assignment she’d forgotten. Not that Karrie’s or her prediction meant anything. Coincidence of course.

Even so…

Jack Logan? No way.

JACK ARRIVED AT EROTIQUE ten minutes early, but she was already there. He knew it was Madison Tate sitting at a small table near the black circular bar. Not just because she was the only woman sitting alone. The voice on the phone matched this woman perfectly. The way she was dressed, the way she sat with her back straight and her head held high. No-nonsense.

While the other women in the bar were decked out in the latest fall offerings from Prada or Bebe, she dressed simply in jeans and a white T-shirt, generic, not designer. Her dark-blond hair wasn’t particularly stylish, either. Kind of short and unruly, and before he crossed the room, her long slender fingers pushed the stubborn locks away from her face twice.

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.”

2

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.”

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.”

Madison took off in the woman’s direction. This was bad. Really bad. Madison moistened her dry lips. Swallowed hard. No, it was good. If she reacted this way to him, millions of women out there would be drooling over his pictures. Over the cover. And let’s face it, if she couldn’t snag that cover with him as her subject, she might as well hang up her camera.

Her heart started to race, but this time it wasn’t because of a pair of incredible hazel eyes and a killer grin. She could see her star rising.

JACK GOT OUT HIS CELL PHONE and called Dutch and told him to give him another hour before he picked him up. The network provided a car and driver. It was in Jack’s contract. One of many great perks that came with the job, he reminded himself. This photo-shoot nonsense was a trade-off. The sooner he got it over with, the better.

It could be worse. At least Madison Tate was a pleasant surprise. She was attractive enough, but it wasn’t that. As Larry had warned, there was something compelling about her, some quality that made you want to go along for the ride. Maybe it was her refreshing frankness, or that she wasn’t coy or flirtatious. He admired that she had a goal and kept her eyes on the ball. Too bad he was her short-term goal.

He saw her come from the direction of the front desk, and she smiled and held up a key, earning them a second look from a couple waiting for the elevator. He nearly choked wondering if she even knew what that looked like.

“I want to show you the rooftop garden for starters,” she said, briskly walking past him, obviously expecting him to follow. “And the pool and spa, and two of the suites that I think would be great possibilities. I’ll need to take quite a few shots, of course, and then narrow them down to five. So I’d like to widen our scope and—”

She stopped abruptly and looked over at him. “I know you’re in a hurry so I’m trying to make this quick.”