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“Ha-ha.” Marti fought her grin but failed. “You know what I mean.”
“Call me curious.”
She trailed her finger across the rim of her glass, examining him, wondering if his hair would feel as thick as it looked running her hands through it. “You know what they say,” she paused and grinned, “curiosity killed the cat.”
CHAPTER TWO
LOGAN
HE LIKED WOMEN THAT could hold a conversation. And the woman in front of him was a spitfire with her auburn hair and bright blue eyes. She was independent, opinionated, and funny. Most of all, she had an energy about her that drew him in, and on a night where he needed to take the edge off, her company was a relief.
He had come to the pub for a quick beer on his way back to his apartment in an effort to shake off an encounter with his Ex, Allison. It was nearing that time of year again, and like clockwork, she was gearing up to ask him for more money. It was the same old routine, one that made him wonder why she bothered at all and didn’t just come right out with it and ask. Regardless, he danced around her like he always did, waiting.
To say he was in a crap mood was an understatement. But he hadn’t bargained for Marti—hadn’t expected to feel such a magnetic pull toward a woman who was clearly unafraid of bailing on her date for seemingly superficial reasons. But besides being beautiful, the charade with her and the bartender made him laugh. And that was saying something.
He stared at her, letting his gaze linger over the auburn waves of her hair, spilling down her back, and her striking blue eyes. She was funny and opinionated and a good distraction. Maybe that was precisely what he needed.
“The truth is, I go on all kinds of dates, some of them wild, some boring, or even crazy, and then I write about them.”
He frowned. “You write about them?”
When she nodded, he hooked a thumb toward the door. “But that guy lasted about five minutes. What could you possibly write?”
She shrugged. “I embellish.”
“You mean, you lie.”
Her mouth dropped open in feigned offense. “I do not lie. I stretch the truth. I make my encounters more interesting or funny or exciting.”
“And where exactly are you writing about these stretched truths? Your diary?”
“No.” She sneered. “It’s a little more glamorous than that.
He picked his beer back up but paused with it halfway to his mouth as something clicked. A glimmer of recognition. A spark led to a flicker of a photo in his head. He knew her face.
Suddenly everything made sense.
He pointed at her, his mouth agape. “I know you. You’re that girl from the chick magazine.”
“PopNewz,” she supplied.
He snapped his fingers. “You write that feminist column. The single one. The city paper features you sometimes. Your last name is McBride, but what’s the column called?”
“Single in the City,” she snapped.
He tipped his head back, roaring with laughter, while she glared at him.
Once he caught his breath, he assessed her with fresh eyes. Everything she’d said thus far hit home. “Whoa, wait.” He whistled and stared at her in wide-eyed shock. “So, you exploit these men?”
Marti rolled her eyes. “Exploit? That’s a strong word when most of these men are more than willing for me to date them, ditch them, and write about it. They’re not dumb. They know it’s over before it’s started.”
“Why would they let you do that?”
A smile snaked across her beautiful face. “Because everybody wants their five minutes of fame.”
“You’re telling me, these men let you sell lies to hordes of gossip-seeking-fans, all for the sake of having their name in a magazine.”
“Not just any magazine.” Marti pointed at him with her glass. “The magazine. The largest, biggest, thriving digital and print magazine in the country, PopNewz.”
