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“You are?” Marti swallowed down her shock. “I mean, of course you are.”
He nodded. “I have this thing for the hospital Friday night. It’s standard to bring someone, and I don’t have a date yet.”
“Shocker, seeing as how you’re so charming and all.”
His smile widened. “So, I figured I’d take you.”
“Oh, you figured, did you? Not happening.”
This couldn’t be more perfect. He was asking her on a date. It was exactly what she needed. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. She refused to feed his clearly inflated ego. Just because other women probably groveled in his presence, it didn’t mean she would, which begged the question, if Dr. Love was so perfect and so intent on settling down and getting married, why on earth was he still single? There were definitely some skeletons in his closet. She was sure of it.
“And why not?” he asked.
“I happen to have plans already.”
So what if her plans involved a giant tub of buttered popcorn and binge-watching reruns of Poldark. To each their own. That was the whole point of being single. She could do as she pleased, when she pleased.
“Cancel.”
Marti scoffed. “Why should I?”
His full lips curved into a smirk. “If you don’t accompany me, I’ll go to the New York Times and fill them in on how you exploit men for dates and lie for the sake of a good story.”
“No one would believe you.”
“Wouldn’t they? I’m sure I could go back, re-read some of your articles and find some of these men. Maybe they’d like their second shot at—what was it? Their ten minutes of fame?”
Marti gasped and narrowed her eyes. The audacity of this man was unreal. “You wouldn’t.”
CHAPTER FIVE
LOGAN
“WANT TO TEST THAT THEORY?” he asked.
He should stop now while he was ahead, but Marti was in a position to help him reach his goals. Her column could launch his foundation nationwide. It’s what he had wanted since he started Hidden Heartbeat to help underinsured patients, but shifting a charity, especially one like his, from the state level to national was a huge feat. It required massive funding, notoriety, promotion, and the kind of celebrity he didn’t have.
But as he stepped forward, leaning closer to her—so close, he could smell the floral scent of her perfume—he felt a stirring in his gut. He wondered if maybe there was a part of him, albeit a small part, that wanted more than what Marti could offer his charity. He was drawn to her, despite her cynical view of men, and for reasons he couldn’t explain.
Still, he wasn’t a complete fool. Marti had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want a relationship. So he wasn’t interested in her, not really. This was merely professional—strategic—but teasing her was too much fun to resist.
Marti nailed him with a sharp gaze, her apparent loathing of him so strong, he felt it in his bones.
“Come on.” He tipped his head. “I can’t promise it’ll be that exciting, but I can promise good food, music, and it’s for a good cause. I need a date. Why not go? You can even write about it in your column, put whatever spin you want on it.”
Marti huffed. “And why would I want to do that?”
“You wrote about me once already.”
A blush colored her milky skin crimson. How cute.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I write about my personal life all the time. And you had more entertainment value than Tim, but that’s not saying much, so . . .”
“Sure, whatever you say.”
Her jaw tightened. “Fine.” She stepped forward, poking him in the chest and forcing him back. “But just so you know, I won’t enjoy it. I’m only going because you’re forcing my hand, and anything that happens on the date is fair game to write about. Even if I find out you wear a toupee or have some kind of secret fetish. And after Friday night, I’ll have fulfilled my obligation and owe you nothing. Got it?”
Logan reached out and wrapped a hand around the delicate finger stabbing his ribs. His pulse raced. “Got it.”
