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“Logan,” he said, with an outstretched hand.
“Marti.” She took his hand, noting the solid feel of it. The way his firm grip turned her stomach to knots. Already he was doing better than Tiny Tim.
Although she had always been a poor judge of age, he looked older than her twenty-five years. His thick, dark hair framed chiseled cheekbones and a square jaw with neatly trimmed facial hair, more a thick stubble than beard. He wore a faded blue t-shirt and jeans with a black leather jacket, and when she inhaled, she caught the scent of cedar and spice.
“That was classic,” he said before she could speak. “I mean, I’ve heard of the whole there’s an emergency, so I have to go routine, but never quite so dramatic. Labor pains?” He raised a brow.
“It’s not that outrageous.”
“Wasn’t it a little cowardly to have someone else dump him?”
Marti nearly choked on the rum and Coke. “Cowardly? I’ll have you know I can dump a guy perfectly fine on my own.” She actually had tons of experience with this very thing. Just ask the string of guys she’d dated over the years, all for the sake of a story. “I just . . . prefer to avoid confrontation, that’s all. Besides, dump is a strong word for a man I only spent forty-five minutes with.”
His lips twitched. “Uh-huh, sure.”
“I’ve turned down enough guys to know that had I waited for him to reappear from the bathroom—where he was no doubt obsessively checking his hair, by the way—he would’ve insisted on walking me home, or calling an Uber. There’s no way I would’ve gotten out of here without enduring another ten minutes alone with him, followed by a possible attempt at a kiss. And besides, he knows who I am, so he shouldn’t be surprised.”
He cocked his head. “And who are you, exactly?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know . . .”
If he didn’t recognize her, why should she tell him?
He tssked, spiking her irritation. “I don’t do hard to get.”
“And I don’t do men in bars with smart mouths and quick comebacks. Especially ones who eavesdrop.” She arched a brow while clenching her drink. “And it’s funny, I don’t remember asking you to come over for a chat.”
“No, but you did tell me to take a seat.”
She hated that he had a point.
Sliding a hand through his unruly hair and away from his face, he stared at her like he was trying to figure her out. She wished he’d stop.
“If these guys you’re dating are such losers, maybe you need to choose more wisely. Or why bother in the first place?”
Marti rattled her drink, glancing away from him. “Let’s just say it’s an occupational hazard.”
“Wait . . .” His gaze flickered down her body, then back up again. “Are you an escort?”
“Are you serious?” Marti snorted. She wasn’t sure if she was more insulted that he might think she was anything resembling a prostitute or that he
hadn’t recognized her. It wasn’t like everyone in New York knew who she was. It was a big city, and she didn’t have that instant recognition that actors had. But still . . .
The corners of his mouth quirked. “My bad, but you’re not giving me much to go on here.”
“Listen, finding a date isn’t my problem.” Marti finished her drink, then slid the glass across the bar. Catching Cameron’s eye, she nodded to the empty glass. “Can I get a seltzer and cranberry?”
Cameron winked then returned with her soda and set it in front of her, before flicking his gaze to Logan and back again. “You’re on your own with this one.”
“I got him covered,” she said.
Logan rolled his eyes, which only made her laugh.
“If finding a man isn’t the problem, then what is?”
“For a random stranger at a bar, you’re awfully nosy. Are you in the habit of questioning strange women about their dating habits?”
“I don’t know. Are you strange?”
