Beg for Me Page 10

  She was forced to tilt her head back to look up into his eyes. “There’s only my mom.” Her father had passed on years ago. The ex-stepfathers didn’t count. Nor did the ex-step-siblings.

  “What will she say if they ask her?”

  “That she’s d-delighted.” Her mother would be beyond delighted. But Min didn’t want to go there. He never needed to know all that history. “What will your mother say? Does she despair of your past or shrug it off with a ‘boys-will-be-boys’ attitude?”

  Logan didn’t move, kept that brilliant blue gaze steadfast, right on her. “She’ll only be concerned that this doesn’t become a public mess. She will be all dignity in the presence of media. From the outside, that’s all we have to achieve as well. Only until something else comes along to interest them.”

  He’d turned ice-man. Fair enough. Min nodded. “So what did you want me to type?”

  “How the hell should I know?” He leaned closer. “Isn’t that your job?”

  She had no clue, she’d not had to deal with a social media situation like this before. Up ‘til now it had all been super-happy-positive spin and drool worthy photos. She inhaled deeply. Maybe she should just keep with that game plan?

  “Why don’t we go with something totally off-topic?” she said. “Something to keep people guessing, but keep them happy.”

  “Such as?”

  She looked at the dramatic desert pictures hung either side of the giant TV screen. “Did you take those?”

  He turned to see what she meant and then nodded.

  “Do have some with you in them? In the same locations I mean?”

  He frowned. “A couple.”

  “We could go through your photo album, put up some of the best p-p-pictures on your account. One at a time, just to let people have a glimpse. Join in the ‘Throwback Thursday’ hashtag a day early or something—”

  “Do I have to be in the pictures?” His frown deepened.

  “It proves you were there.” She glanced at him sternly. “People like looking at you. That’s the appeal.”

  His nostrils thinned.

  “Yeah it m-must be awful to be so good-looking,” she grumbled.

  “It’s very superficial.”

  “And your lifestyle isn’t?” She rolled her eyes.

  “And still you judge something you don’t know everything about,” he said, his shark smile flashing.

  “Oh that reminds me.” She picked up her exercise book and waved it at him. “Let’s do this.”

  “Do what?” he asked in his suggestive way.

  She rolled her eyes. Again. But it was a cover-up, his fake-flirting made her want to smile.

  He chuckled. “You need to eat, your blood sugar is low.” He glanced at her smoothie. It had separated into unappetizing layers, all differing shades of green. “How about some of that caramel cashew ice-cream? I got some in.”

  “You’re kidding.” All thoughts of her information-gathering quest vanished. Her mouth watered.

  He leaned forward, all but batting his eyelashes at her and tempting her with a wicked whisper. “Want me to go get it?”

  She couldn’t answer. And for once it wasn’t a block in her tightened up throat. It was the intense wave of heat radiating out from her core.

  Oh yeah she wanted him to go get it. And what she’d then do with that ice-cream?

  “I’m taking that as a yes?” He reached out, brushed the pad of his thumb over her lip, his voice all shameless tease. “Min looking like she’s about to come, means yes?”

  Her jaw dropped.

  He leaned closer, bringing his face to hers. His mouth almost brushed her cheek. “You know I only want to make you happy, babe,” he whispered. And then walked.

  Chapter Eight

  #SugarRush

  Make her happy? More like he was just trying to make her crazy. And he was succeeding. And he knew it.

  Min took the momentary respite to fight the desire uncoiling inside. The flash of pure want when he’d gotten that close?

  Insane.

  Two minutes later he wandered back with a carton of ice-cream, a spoon and a grin so boyish she wondered if she’d dreamed that wickedly teasing whisper of his.

  “Tastes better from the pack, right?” He winked.

  She didn’t think his usual girlfriends would have a whole carton of ice-cream for brunch, even if it was a single serve gourmet variety. But that was good. She wasn’t anything like his usual girlfriends. She was a fake fiancée. This was all fake. For him this tease was mere fun, he toyed with women—any and all. So she really needed to get a grip.

  But if she was going to starve one appetite she might as well sate another. She took the ice-cream and avoided his eyes by opening up her book, flipping to the back where she’d made some notes.

  “Are you serious? You have a questionnaire?” Aghast, he stared at her neat lines of questions with the spaces left underneath for her to write answers.

  “You were right last night.” Min scooped up a spoonful of ice-cream. At least this would cool her down from the inside out. “P-p-people are going to ask how we met. We need a better story. I need to know about you.”

  “Oh my God. You sat up half the night writing this?” He bent closer and ran his finger down the list of questions, his eyebrows lifting higher the further down the list he got. “What do you think this is, Greencard?”

  “Seriously. We n-need to be able to answer.” Like she ever did small talk in large social situations?

  But Min didn’t admit that. Instead she held his gaze and slowly sucked the ice-cream off the spoon. Maybe this might annoy Logan enough to make him give this mad idea up?

  Full of challenge, his gaze remained locked with hers. “You already know everything you need to about me,” he said. “And I have an entire personnel file on you.”

  Min quickly swallowed the sweet frozen lump. Did he know about Bryce? About her mom and all her marriages? How humiliating. “H-h-hand it over, I’ll h-highlight the important bits and put a line through the fiction.” She sat up straighter. “And give me your personnel file while you’re at it.”

  He shook his head. “You have my CV, you tweet for me, update my pages. You know more about my daily schedule than I do.” His eyes narrowed.

  “But I don’t know about you.” Not him personally.

  “You don’t know enough?” He leaned back, resting on the desk again. The suggestion of tease curled his lips and she itched to swipe it away with her fingers. “One night with me and you’ll know all there is...” he promised, all playboy.

  “Only one night to know everything?” she tried to sound disappointed. “There was me thinking you were some kind of m-m-master...”

  His eyes glinted and he cocked his head. “You’d want more?”

  It was just way too hot in here. “Look, I only know the highlights.” Irritated, she changed tack. “You’re Logan Hughes—former ski champ, active-wear CEO and black sheep of the Hughes empire. That’s all that matters?”

  “Well what else is there to know?” He shrugged.

  “You tell m-me.” She lifted her chin.

  He paused, that wicked look gleamed stronger than ever. “How intimate do you think we need to get?”

  “Not that intimate.”

  “No?”

  “You really can’t help yourself, c-can you?” She steadfastly kept her focus on his blue eyes, refusing to push her chair back from the desk, despite the way he seemed to be moving closer. Slowly but inexorably closer.

  “You said I was the black sheep,” he said. “Stands to reason that I’m going to indulge in some black sheep behavior.” He reached out, catching the arms of her chair just as she was about to wheel a fraction further away.

  Instead he pulled, rolling her chair closer towards him. And she was imprisoned in it. She clutched the carton and the spoon like they were some kind of life saving aids. “Y-y-you f-f-flirt with anyone?”

  “Female, adult, human. Sure, why not?” He laug
hed.

  Anger flashed. Because for him this was just a tease. He didn’t mean it. And somehow that made her madder than she ought to be.

  “You’re bored,” she snapped at him. “You’re bored and spoilt and this is some stupid entertainment for you. Newsflash Logan, this is my life you’re m-m-messing with.”

  “Blondie, you don’t have a life.” He was still laughing, his beautiful face right in hers. “You hide away in your tiny apartment spending all your hours online, wearing old clothes and ugly slippers and not engaging with anyone in the real world.”

  “And you say I judge you?” she glared at him, so tempted to tip the ice-cream on his head. Or on his chest. Or his—

  “And this isn’t all for me,” he ignored her. “I’m not telling anyone this whole mess was your mistake, remember? I’m saving your ass.”

  Her ass didn’t want saving this second. Her ass wanted—

  “Okay fine. Whatever,” she pulled back. “You’re saving my life.” She swapped her spoon for a pen and slapped her hand on the book. “J-just answer me something.”

  With a roguish smile he glanced again at the questions. “Favorite color? Really?”

  “Really,” she grumped.

  “Green, Min green.”

  “Mint green?” She started to scrawl in the answer, horribly aware he was still too close, still caging her in this stupid chair and so near she could smell the soapy scent still lingering on his skin.

  “No.”

  His hand covered hers and she was forced to look up at him again.

  “Min green,” he explained quietly, amusement lighting his face in that horrifyingly attractive way. “The green of your eyes.”

  “Smooth.” She shook her head, clenching her fist. Wishing he’d let her go. “You’re right. We’ll do this later. We have six m-m-months, right?”

  How could one little touch be too intimate?

  “No we should work on this now.” His smile grew wicked. “And you need to add something to the Twitter thing too, right? I can’t be bothered with the picture idea. What words instead?”

  She paused. Like she was supposed to be able to think of something witty now? “Thanks for the congrats? I think we should ignore the haters.”

  His expression hardened ever so slightly and he released her hand. “Ah yes, the haters.”

  “There are thousands.” She ditched the pen and picked up the spoon again. She needed the sugar. “Predicting the failure of our relationship already.”

  “Don’t you love being a foregone conclusion?” His eyes narrowed, undermining the glibness of that comment.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him, trying to determine what that vestige of tension meant. Did he want to prove them wrong?

  She couldn’t believe he’d care. He always seemed to joke. But underneath? She glanced at his body. Underneath the loose tee, the low slung jeans? Muscle, strength. Masculine beauty.

  Bad idea to look. Really bad.

  She shifted her gaze to the left of him, stared at the expanse of glass desk. So hot in here. And it was too late. Her mind went crazy. She imagined him on his knees beneath the glass, big and strong and hell-bent on pleasuring her... touching her, kissing her, while she sat there in his chair with her legs spread, supposedly Skyping some client while trying not to squirm...

  OMG, what was with the exhibitionist fantasy? That was so not her. But it took all her self-control not to shift on her seat. To rock.

  “Min?”

  Startled she came back to the present—to find him still right in front of her, his leg pressing hard against her knee. His expression knowing, as if he’d picked up her outrageous thoughts.

  Telepathy wasn’t one of her talents, so maybe her lust had just been written all over her face. She felt that now familiar heat beat its way into her cheeks. Blood pulsed in her lips.

  He stared back at her. Faint color scorched his cheekbones. A muscle in his jaw became more pronounced. The ice blue in his eyes was ferociously swallowed by dark pupils.

  “We need to get out of this apartment,” he suddenly spoke, his voice edged. “You need to get out of the apartment. You’ve been locked inside for hours. You need some fresh air.”

  “No I d-d-don’t.” She reached to the side of him and grabbed the ice-cream. “I’m fine. I get allergies from fresh air.”

  “You’ll get RSI from typing and go blind from staring at the screen all day. You really should do some exercise.”

  “I prefer to exercise in private.”

  He sent her an amused, ironic look. But for once refrained from the obvious innuendo.

  Oh hell, she hadn’t meant that.

  “Come on.” He straightened. “Put a jacket on, it’s cold out.”

  “What about the c-c-crazies…” she trailed off. For all her desire to get out of this mad situation, those photographers scared her.

  “I have a plan,” he said calmly. “Give me a minute.”

  She watched as he left the room, her mind regressing to only basic instinct functionality. She wanted to see through that tee of his to the hard-built muscles beneath. And the way his shoulders tapered so beautifully to those narrow hips? The butt that was begging to be clutched and pulled close? The so-at-ease-in-his-own-skin way he walked, all barefoot and beautiful and like he knew just how to work his own body to its very best?

  Slowly she stood, abandoning the ice-cream. She did need fresh air, it might clear the dizzying sensual fog in her head. She went to her room and slipped her boots on, her coat. When she got back out to the hallway he was waiting.

  “Baseball cap, check.” He tossed her a navy cap. “Got sunglasses?”

  She nodded, waving with the hand that held them. “Isn’t this disguise all the m-more obvious?”

  “They can’t capture your expression if your eyes are covered,” he said. “Keep the cap tugged low and turn the collar of your coat up.”

  She did as he suggested. “This is r-r-ridiculous.”

  “It’ll work. Come on.”

  She frowned at him—still wearing only the tee and no shoes? “Aren’t you coming?”

  His smile burst forth. “No sweetheart, I’m not coming.”

  Disappointment hit. She stiffened—but he’d seen it in her eyes already. She knew it.

  “That is,” he elaborated with a wink. “Not yet.”

  She nearly growled. The innuendo was just too much. The guy seriously needed taking down. Hard. How he could manage to irritate her so much—and yet make her want him to the point of cray-cray?

  “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “Ed will take good care of you.”

  “You’re sending me out for a walk with your m-m-minder like I’m your pet dog?”

  “Babe,” he mock crooned. “You’re not a dog.”

  She glared at him, half inclined to stalk back to her bedroom and bolt the door. But that would be petty and childish and just because she was feeling that urge, didn’t mean she was going to act on it.

  Same went for the insane lust urges too.

  She turned towards the door and heard him mumble something beneath his breath. She stopped and swivelled back to face him, eyebrows raised. “Mmm?”

  “Hang on a minute.” He walked towards her.

  She stood, crazily immobile as he moved within her personal space. She couldn’t speak.

  “Turn around.” His words were soft, but the light in his eyes was hot and hard.

  Swallowing, she simply did as he asked.

  She felt his fingers lightly brush the back of her neck and fought to suppress her shiver. He lifted her braid and gave it a light shake. “This is a dead giveaway,” he murmured. “It’s so thick.”

  She felt him tug on her hair slightly, then he pulled her coat so he could feed the braid down it, hiding it.

  “You’ve always kept it long?” he asked, an edge of roughness in the softly asked question.

  She nodded and pivoted a fraction to see him.

  “You ever wear it out?” he a
sked.

  Their eyes met.

  Slowly she shook her head, not trusting her voice.

  “You should.” He turned away. “Come on, let’s make your escape.”

  Surely the photographers would be gone. This was Manhattan, there were way more famous people to stalk, right?

  Ed was waiting downstairs looking all business. He quickly ushered them into the office behind the security desk. “Decoy is ready to go,” he said in a low voice to Logan.

  Decoy? Min stared past the tall, broad-shouldered man back out to the lobby.

  There was another woman out there. Similar in height to Min, she wore a giant cover-all jacket, massive sunglasses that covered half her face… and was that a long braid hanging down from under the cap she was wearing?

  Min turned to Logan. “You’re k-kidding.”

  He merely smiled. It was that cynical-edged curl. “She’ll take the heat off. You’ll go out a few minutes after her, Ed will be a couple of paces behind. Go to the park.”

  She didn’t want to be sent to the park like she was some underage charge who needed her daily hit of fresh air to stay healthy.

  But her pointed glare was wasted, Logan wasn’t even looking at her to feel the effect. He was watching one of the security screens—it showed some other big, strong, obviously security guy exiting the building with the decoy in tow. Fascinated, Min stepped closer to the screen to watch. As soon as they hit the sidewalk the paparazzi appeared. Two of them, called out, following the woman who was immediately swept under the protective arm-span of the ridiculously muscled man.

  They were that insistent?

  “Ms Jones?”

  Startled, she turned. It was Ed.

  Min looked past him, but Logan had vanished.

  “You’re good to go,” Ed said impassively. “I’ll ensure you’re not bothered.”

  Too late. She was totally bothered.

  “You need to go now.”

  She sure did. She ducked out of the building, heading in the opposite direction to the decoy. She walked quickly, aware Ed was keeping pace a few feet behind her.

  Crazy.

  But as she walked, the hot mess of thoughts in her head cooled and settled. She was in Manhattan, staying in the most amazing apartment she’d ever walked into, why wasn’t she just relaxing and enjoying the ride? He’d be bored with the idea in another day or so and she’d be free. Her business would be safe. There was no need to take this that seriously. Soon she’d be able to laugh the whole thing off.