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What would Logan think if he knew? Would he look at her differently? Probably. She didn’t want to find out. She liked the way he looked at her now, as if part of him wanted to run away, but the other part couldn’t resist her. Not the bestselling erotica writer, but Sadie, the woman who loved apple pie and beer, who was struggling to be a good sister and who failed miserably when it came to farm chores.
But in a few weeks, after the morning show, Sadie Bannerman would be forever tied to her erotica-writing alter ego. She would never walk away from the publicity. But still, the thought was a little daunting. Only a few more weeks of anonymity. Maybe less, if the news leaked before her morning show appearance.
“How many people know that Sadie Bannerman is MJ Lane?”
“Only a handful at Today in America,” her publicist assured her. “And a few at the movie studio.”
“That increases the chance of someone finding out earlier,” Sadie said.
“It does,” Anne-Marie agreed. “But aside from that one photographer who snapped a few shots of you entering your building months ago, the press isn’t actively pursuing the story.”
Not yet, but that had to change if she wanted to lock down that movie deal.
“Anne-Marie, you saw the pictures that photographer took, right?”
“Yes. They were garbage. Mostly shot from behind. When his editor called I told him I could not confirm or deny your identity because I couldn’t see your face. We don’t need to worry about him.”
“But if someone, an unnamed source, confirmed that the woman in the pictures is MJ Lane, the paper would run them?”
“Probably. But they would have a difficult time connecting those pictures to Sadie Bannerman.”
“Still, people would start talking and wondering again.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Release one or two pictures. Keep the mystery alive,” Anne-Marie said. “Should I place the call?”
“No, I’ll do it,” Sadie said. “But not yet. I want to think this through first. I’ll call you with my decision. I’m not sure I’m ready to alert the media just yet.”
She had promised Laur
el a month. She’d said she would be here when her niece arrived. To keep her promise, she had a feeling the media would have to wait. If she released that photograph and someone connected her to MJ Lane, the timetable for her big reveal would fast-forward. She might have to choose between morning show appearances for her career and being here for her sister—
Sadie shook her head. She didn’t want to face that choice.
“I need to run, Anne-Marie. But promise me, no leaks. I want to control this story. I don’t want to cut my time here short or lose that deal.”
For once, she wanted it all—family and career. If she could just find a way to make that happen.
“I’ll do my best,” Anne-Marie said. “But think about making that call. It’s a good idea.”
“I will.”
Sadie hung up and grabbed the bag of steak sandwiches Laurel had prepared the night before, hoping they would excuse her tardiness. Not that Logan needed her help. She probably would have been in the way.
When Sadie reached the barn, she opened the metal gate and searched for Logan. She found what she assumed was a newly constructed birthing pen, but no sign of the man responsible. Guessing he’d moved on to another task, she followed the fence line until she found him by the back pasture unraveling a spool of wire.
“I guess you didn’t need my help after all,” she said. “I stopped by the barn. The pen looks great.”
Logan shrugged. “It would have gone faster with another set of hands, but I made do. I figured you got held up. How is your sister?”
“Still pregnant.”
He set the wire down by the fence post. Reaching in his back pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. It was warm out today and his tanned skin glistened with perspiration. She couldn’t help but notice how his white T-shirt clung to his muscles. Her gaze traveled down his body. Despite the heat, he wore jeans, and—oh my—were those cowboy boots?
Her sister’s words from the night before ran through her mind. I heard a rumor he rode a horse through Afghanistan.
She would ask him about that, and more. Like why a year had passed since a man who looked like a movie star had kissed a woman. Maybe he’d been deployed for so long he hadn’t had an opportunity?
“Want to give me a hand with the fences?” he asked, bringing her back to the present before her imagination ran wild with what-if scenarios.
