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Tears welled in her eyes. Not for herself. Let the world see her giving a man a blow job. She didn’t care. But Logan? This could ruin him. This picture could strip away his career, his future.
Sadie forced herself to look at all of the images. The next one showed Logan at her doorstep in the middle of the night. He looked broken and desperate. In the next frame, he had her pinned up against the door. The final shot before the two-paragraph “story” featured Logan at the ice cream parlor sitting across from a little girl. Charlotte. They’d been careful not to show her face. But the caption? MJ Lane’s Lover a Father?
Sadie’s stomach churned and she feared she was going to be sick. That shot—it would kill him. He’d been clear the night of the festival that he felt like an impostor compared to the father Charlotte had loved and lost.
This wasn’t just a roadblock to a relationship. These pictures were a dead end at the edge of a cliff. There was no way forward and no way back. Not once he saw this.
Sadie gripped her coffee mug, her hands shaking. She’d wanted publicity. But not like this. Not at the expense of an innocent little girl. Not at the expense of the man Sadie was falling for.
Next to her computer, her phone vibrated. Sadie glanced at the screen, afraid of what she’d see. But it was a text from Laurel.
Can u pick up diapers? Hate to ask, but we are almost out. I’ll pay u back. Greg gets paid this week.
She stared at the words for a second before responding with a quick yes. Feeling numb, needing to take action on something, she went online and ordered three cases of diapers—one newborn and two in the next size up. She ordered baby food, bottles and sippy cups, toys and books—anything and everything her little niece might need. She entered her credit card information and hit Submit on the order without looking at the total bill. She could afford it. Her success provided for her family. And that’s what she wanted, right? Even if it cost her a chance with the man she wanted in her life, loving her and accepting her love in return.
The phone buzzed again and this time it wasn’t a text. It was Anne-Marie.
“I thought you were going to keep those pictures out of the media,” Sadie snapped, knowing she deserved her share of the blame.
“I did my best. The photographer was a freelancer and sold everything to the highest bidder. In this case, a tabloid. I have no pull there.
“Look on the bright side, no one reported MJ Lane is Sadie Bannerman,” her publicist continued. “We still have a story. For at least the next twenty-four hours. I’ve booked you on a major national morning show. The prime-time slot, tomorrow morning. Sadie, this is what you wanted. Maybe not those pictures per se—”
“There is a child in one of these shots!” Sadie exclaimed. “A little girl who lost her father to an IED blast.”
“I know, but the story is out there. Do the morning show. This is your chance to explain. Tell them you’re in love with this mystery man. Explain about the little girl’s father and why she is having ice cream with your lover. Have your say.”
Sadie pushed back from the table and started pacing. She felt caged, trapped by the media she’d actively pursued. Her publicist’s words made sense. She had to set the story straight. This was no longer about selling books and elevating the career that supported her family. Logan’s future was at stake. An innocent child had been dragged into the mess. If she did this interview, maybe, just maybe, she could save Logan’s job and keep the press from speculating further about Charlotte.
But first, she had to discuss it with him. She owed him that much.
“I’ll think about it.”
“I need an answer, Sadie. In two hours. I can’t hold them off longer than that. They’ll require time to prepare the segment.”
“If I agree to do this, will the interview be about my secret identity and my books, or about those pictures?”
“One way or another, if you do the show you’re going to have to talk about the man in those pictures. What you say is up to you. But the more you share, the bigger the boost for your career.”
“You’ll have my answer in two hours.”
* * *
LOGAN TOSSED A bale of hay over the fence into Titan’s pen. He picked up the wheelbarrow and steered it toward the heifers’ pasture. Last delivery and then he could return to Sadie. If he was lucky, she’d still be in bed, naked, her long red hair covering the pillows. He was ready and willing to report for duty, hand over the pink ribbon and follow her orders.
He glanced at the sun rising high in the sky. The chances of finding her in bed were slim. If she was awake, they should talk first. They needed to have a conversation about where this thing between them was headed. And it needed to happen when he wasn’t inside her, making love to her—or bound to the bedpost.
He’d been thinking long and hard all morning while feeding the animals. It wasn’t fair for him to unilaterally decide Sadie couldn’t handle the deployments. He owed it to her to explain what was holding him back, what his misgivings were and hear her thoughts. They’d only known each other a matter of days, but she already felt like family, like home. He couldn’t walk away from her without at least giving a long-term relationship a fair shot.
“Logan?” Aunt Lou’s voice broke the quiet. He steered the empty wheelbarrow toward the barn where his aunt stood. As he got closer, he saw worry etched in her expression. Logan double-timed it to the barn. Aunt Lou was tough, her expression cemented in a take-no-prisoners look from sunrise to sunset. Except right now.
“What happened?”
She held out her iPhone. “Cindy sent me the link this morning. It’s a tabloid, but still, those pictures of you and Sadie look real, not some Photoshop creation like the bigfoot sightings.”
Dread hit like the barrel of a gun to the side of his head. A hit he should have anticipated, but hadn’t. Logan set the wheelbarrow aside and took his aunt’s cell. The bookstore. The guesthouse front porch. Charlotte. Jesus Christ. These assholes had exploited a grieving little girl as if anyone who’d come into contact with him or Sadie was fair game. His grip tightened on the phone. He wanted to hunt them down and take them out. He wanted blood.
“Did she do this to you?” Aunt Lou demanded, her voice trembling, but fierce. She’d been his champion since he was in diapers—his mother, his family. But she couldn’t fix this. He was pretty sure no one could.
