Chapter Fourteen
Logan marveled over Sabrina. Now that she was being real with him, she was passionate with a snarky sense of humor. She didn’t hesitate to push back at him, asserting what she wanted, so he didn’t have to worry about steamrolling her. They had a real give-and-take, even better than their friendship, because now that she wasn’t acting the cool reserved professional, being more herself, they were on equal footing. Actually, she had the upper hand, though she didn’t know it, because he was way into her. The sex was amazing, she cooked like a gourmet, and the more he got to know her, the more he liked her. It scared him a little how much he felt so fast. He tried to rationalize it—maybe she was his rebound, maybe it was the fake marriage that promised a commitment that wasn’t actually there. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t deny he felt something…deep.
They’d had a blast sightseeing. He’d played tour guide, and when he’d realized how much she was enjoying herself, he dropped his two-hour decree and spent the whole day out with her. They’d moved freely through the city, no one bothering them, in their own happy bubble.
When they got back to Claire’s house, Sabrina cooked him a fantastic dinner with no recipe. Thinly sliced beef with basil, angel hair pasta, and salad. He even ate the salad because she put all these tasty things in it, toasted almond slivers and pear slices with a homemade dressing.
Now he leaned back from the table, full and satisfied. “I still can’t believe you made all this without a recipe. You should’ve been a chef.”
She smiled. “I enjoy cooking. After you do it enough, you get a feel for what goes together and how long to cook stuff.”
“I can barely cook a frozen pizza.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you can do more than that.”
“So you eat like this all the time? Gourmet cooking?”
“It’s not gourmet. I save that for special occasions. Those meals take more time, as they should. Good things come to those who wait.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. Her lips parted, her gaze on her hand. “Is that your subtle way of saying I need to wait before I seduce you again?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I meant the meal.” She glanced back toward the kitchen. “Though we should probably scrub the pots and pans before everything sticks, and when I say we, I mean you.”
He laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. “Okay, I can take a hint.”
“If I had more ingredients, I would’ve baked you a nice dessert.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “You bake too?”
She tossed her hair and batted her lashes. “My friends call me a domestic goddess.”
“You totally are.”
“I just find it relaxing. It’s stuff I didn’t have growing up. You know, meals from scratch, a cozy home, so I learned how to make that happen.”
“I grew up in a cozy house, but we never ate this good. Now I’ve got a big house that’s mostly empty.”
“Maybe for you coming from a house crowded with people, you like having all that space.”
He grinned. “I just thought it was because I was too lazy to pick out furniture.”
She laughed. “That too.”
He stood and gathered their dishes, heading to the kitchen. He set them in the sink and ran the water.
Sabrina followed him in. “Do you know how to wash dishes?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Please. You think I’m a heathen?”
“Okay, okay. It’s just that before you put everything in the dishwasher.”
He started loading it. “Yes, but I said I’d scrub the pots and pans, and I will.” He finished loading everything possible into the dishwasher while Sabrina watched. “I got it. You don’t have to supervise me.”
“Watching you do domestic chores gets me hot.”
He barked out a laugh. “I get the feeling you’re using reverse psychology on me, counselor.”
“It really does,” she insisted. “Do the pots and pans.”
He shook his head, not entirely convinced, but on the off chance it got her hot, he was totally going to seduce her as soon as this chore was done. He grabbed a paper towel and squirted some dish soap on it.
“Hold on.” She dug around under the sink and pulled out a clean scrub sponge. “Here, try this.”
He got to work. “So what kind of dessert can you make?”
She leaned against the counter next to him. “Let’s see, I guess it depends what you’re in the mood for. Cookies, brownies, flourless chocolate cake, chocolate mousse, fruit pie—”
“Whoa. Let’s start with the pie. What kind of pie?”
“Whatever kind you like. Apple would probably be easiest to find this time of year.”
“Yes, please. What else can you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“How far do your domestic goddess skills go?”
She shrugged. “Guess that’s a matter of opinion. My friends like coming to my apartment. They say it always smells like cinnamon and vanilla, and the furniture is so cushy. I made the accent pillows and knitted the throw blanket.”
His eyes widened. “I need to see your place.”
“So after this…we’re going to keep seeing each other?”
He stiffened, surprised she’d thought it was just for the weekend. Well, he had said they were having a weekend honeymoon, but he’d assumed they were both into it enough to keep it going. Fuck. He set the pot down and turned to her. “I think we should.”
“Why exactly?” she asked softly.
He scrambled to think of something good without showing his hand. He didn’t want her to know how hooked he was because if this was all just fake to restore her rep, he was in trouble. “Mutual pleasure.”
She pressed her lips together. “Until…”
“I don’t know. Let’s play it by ear.”
She nodded once, turned, and started banging around in cabinets. He got the feeling she was pissed.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just looking for a dish towel.” Slam. “Not there.” Slam. “Got to have them somewhere, right?”
He turned off the water, dried his hands on a paper towel, and caught up with her right after she slammed cabinet number five. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, sliding his hand under her hair and cupping the back of her neck. “Sabrina.”
“What?” she snapped, definitely pissed, but she was staring at his mouth, her breath coming faster. She wasn’t touching him back, though, her hands at her sides.
“I know we’re doing the fake-marriage thing, but I told you this part was real.” He brushed his lips over hers, coaxing. “Don’t be mad.” Another brush of the lips. “Just enjoy.”
She sighed. “I leave tomorrow morning, and I just need to know where I stand. So once we’re both back home, fake honeymoon over, then we’ll still see each other because of mutual pleasure, as in fucking?”
He got hard, hearing her sweet mouth say fucking, but her brown eyes were searching his, so he gave her the truth. “As in more than fucking.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. The beast was back. He didn’t want to hug her, he wanted to bend her over the counter and bury himself deep inside. He cared about her, but the intense need when she was pressed against him made it impossible to hold back. He wrapped her hair around his fist and tugged, tilting her face up to look at him.
She flushed pink, the pulse in her throat beating rapidly. He stroked his fingers down her throat, loving how she responded to him. He was about to lean down and run his tongue over that pulse when she spoke.
“The cabinet slamming was passive-aggressive of me. I apologize. From here on out, I’ll be a better communicator.”
He shook his head. “You’re too damn sweet. Don’t apologize for being mad.”
She met his eyes. “I was mad because it sounded like it was just fucking, but, for me, it’s definitely more. I should’ve said that right up front. I’m still kind of new at the relationship thing, but I really want to be good at it. In theory, I’m an expert, for other people, anyway, but for me not so much.”
“So self-aware,” he teased. “If this is you throwing a fit because you don’t know where you stand, I’ll take it. I don’t need you to be an expert at this.” He spoke against her lips. “I just need you to be with me.” He kissed her, letting her know how much he wanted her, a demanding kiss that ignited between them. Her tongue tangled with his, her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close, her pelvis pressing insistently into his.
The dishes could wait. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. It should’ve scared him, but he was too far gone. He went for it.
~ ~ ~
One pretend day of married bliss was all she got before she had to fly home. Logan would be staying on until Wednesday for more time at his big investor’s office. She told herself this wasn’t goodbye. He’d fly home, and they’d continue in some new phase of their relationship. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that was. She liked him way too much, and if she was honest with herself, she’d been slowly falling for him for months now. Some part of her wanted a do-over with him, where she got to him before he was involved with Olivia again, before any of this whole mess with her in the spotlight. There were just too many added stressors on a brand-new relationship.
It was Sunday morning, and she was all packed. There was nothing left to do but say goodbye to Logan and drive her rental Jeep to the airport.
She stopped in front of him by the front door, tried to smile and failed miserably. “Welp, goodbye. I guess I’ll see you back home.”
One corner of his mouth curled up. “Don’t sound so sad. I’ll be home in three days. You can survive that long without me in your bed.”
So, okay, yes, the sex was phenomenal, but she was a little concerned that it eclipsed everything else. Not that she didn’t enjoy it. He was a demanding but generous lover, and it worked for her. Big time. But all this emotion was building up inside her, and she was positive he was not at the same place. She just needed a tiny hint that she wasn’t alone in these deep waters. “You think we should keep pretending we’re married back home?”
“Sure, no big deal.”
“Maybe we should tell our friends the truth.”
“Let it ride. We’ll tell them once the dust settles and your rep is golden again.”
Another thought occurred to her. “What if there’s reporters snooping around? Won’t it look odd that we don’t live together?”
He laughed and gave her hair a tug. “You worry too much. I’m sure all the attention on us will die down. You don’t have any more TV interviews scheduled. You’ll go back to work, I’ll go back to work, and we’ll catch up for lunch or whatever.” He winked.
“Whatever as in sex.”
He held up his palms. “Whatever is what you make of it.”
She let out a breath of exasperation.
He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a quick kiss. He dropped his hand. “Have a safe trip. I’ll see you soon.”
She didn’t move, not quite ready for this golden time in California to end.
He swatted her ass lightly. “Stop giving me those big worried eyes. Seriously, you’re killing me with these eyes. You know me, right?”
“Yes.”
“You trust me.”
“Yes.”
“Then we’re good. Now go before I have my way with you again.”
She found herself smiling. He could always make her smile. He grinned, leaned down and nipped her neck, jolting her.
She left on a high note. All thanks to Logan.
~ ~ ~
She returned on a low note. Exhausted and jet-lagged, she parked at her apartment complex late that night. It was dark and cold. Welcome back to Connecticut in January! She got out of her car, opened the trunk to retrieve her suitcase, and screamed.
A reporter was standing next to her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. It was the same guy from the city with the long black ponytail.
She glared at him and yanked her suitcase out, in no mood for this shit. “Look, I just got home from a long day of travelling, and I just want to go back to my apartment in peace.” She slammed the trunk and locked her car.
The man stared at her. “So you still live here in your apartment after your marriage to Logan Campbell?”
She clenched her teeth. She’d suspected this would be a problem, but Logan had acted like it was no big deal. “I haven’t had a chance to move into his place, but we couldn’t be happier.”
“Pretty quick marriage.”
She ignored him and headed toward the sidewalk, pulling her wheeled suitcase. He kept stride with her. “Any comment on Willow Clarke’s artwork?”
She froze. That was her mother.
He went on. “She gave me an interview at her loft studio. She had interesting things to say about you.”
Bile rose in her throat. She just bet she did. She’d probably lined up a whole slew of interviews talking about Sabrina as a child, all the while making sure her paintings were in plain view of the camera. “No comment.”
“She said you were a dreamy child always making up elaborate alternate realities.” No kidding. What else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t even have friends over. Her friends’ parents wouldn’t allow their kids near “all that smut,” and even if they had, she would’ve died of mortification.
Sabrina kept walking. Her dad had sold her out. Her mom had sold her out. Next maybe her half brother would pose in his nude sci-fi body paint, talking about how odd he always thought she was. Irony.
The man’s voice gentled, speaking in a conspiratorial tone. “Hey, I get it. My family’s not picture-perfect either. Maybe that’s why you became a relationship counselor. Willow said your family doesn’t do commitment and it was a big surprise when you chose that career.”
Her gut did a slow roll, but she managed to keep walking, keeping her gaze straight ahead and heading upstairs.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and called up to her. “Seems a bit fraudulent to bill yourself as a relationship expert, considering where you came from and the fact that you and Logan don’t even live together. Was the marriage fake too?”
She raced the rest of the way and let herself into her apartment with trembling hands. She got inside, locked the door, and sank against it, hyperventilating for a few moments while she desperately tried to take a deep breath. Finally she broke down in big gulping sobs—all of the events of the past week catching up to her.
After a good cry, she sat on the sofa and tried to think through her options. She had Logan on her side, she had Claire, she had a lawyer, though the lawyer had done very little. And then it hit her—she didn’t need any of them. What she needed was to confront that psycho relationship counselor face-to-face and end this thing. It had to be her behind this. She couldn’t imagine why this particular reporter was stalking her like this, digging into her past so much. He was probably paid to do that.
She’d ask Lexi for help; she lived right down the hall. Lexi could make an appointment with the psycho, and then Sabrina could show up in her place. She couldn’t imagine Tara would let her in the door otherwise. She pulled her phone from her purse to text Lexi, hoping she was still up. There was a text from Logan. Get in okay?
She texted back rapidly. A reporter was at my apartment. Now he knows we don’t live together. And my mom is giving interviews about me.
Her phone rang. Logan. She answered, and he immediately started ordering her around. “Get my house key from Ben and go ahead and move in. Stay with me until this blows over.”
“I will not.” It was too much too fast to be living together. Their relationship would implode from all the pressure.
“Just to get the heat off you.”
“I can’t just move in,” she said stubbornly. “We’ve only had one date. There’s an order to things.”
“Just for a visit. No big. I’ll be home Wednesday night, and we’ll come up with a game plan. We’re a team now. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself.”
Her breath caught. She really liked that he thought of them as a team. She always thought the best relationships were true partnerships.
He exhaled loudly. “Is your silence one of those passive-aggressive deals?”
She pursed her lips. Look at him, throwing around her psychological terms. “No, I was just thinking.”
“Nothing to think about.”
“How long would I live with you?”
“I don’t know. Until your mom stops blabbing about you in the news, and your dad stops selling pictures of you? Until everyone has lost interest in us as a news item?” He lowered his voice. “I read the interview your mom gave. Damn, Sabrina, it was bad. She got real personal about you.”
She rubbed her temple. She didn’t even want to know what her mom had said. Logan was on her side, and she’d be foolish to turn away what he offered. Looking like a happily married woman instead of a fraud with a troubled childhood sounded really appealing right now. “Okay, I’ll move in.”
“Awesome. Does that include cooking?”
She pushed down the pang of anxiety that he wanted her in his bed and in his kitchen in that order. “Yes, I’ll cook. I cook every night.”
“Damn, this just keeps getting better and better.”
“I need to go. Thanks, Logan.”
“No problem. Bye.”
She hung up. It was after ten. She texted Lexi, who texted back right away. Come on over.
Sabrina cautiously opened her apartment door, peeked around to make sure the reporter was gone, and headed down to the end of the hall where Lexi lived.
She rang the bell, and the door sprang open to a smiling Lexi, arms wide open. Her brown hair was up in a ponytail, and she wore a long tank top with yoga pants like she’d just been doing her yoga routine. “Congratulations!” She pulled Sabrina in and hugged her.
Sabrina gave her a squeeze. “Thanks, but that wedding announcement was just for the press. Between you and me, we’re not really married.”
Lexi frowned. “Oh, sorry.” She brightened. “Actually, I’m kinda glad because I was bummed I missed the wedding.” She gestured to her dark green sofa. “Take a load off. Want some wine?”
“No, thanks. I just wanted to ask you a favor before I go to bed.”
“Anything.”
Her eyes stung. She had really good friends. They were her family that she chose. “Thank you for that.” She waited for Lexi to join her on the sofa before filling her in on all the damage Sabrina thought Tara was behind.
“That bitch!” Lexi exclaimed.
“My feeling exactly. I want to talk to her face-to-face and put an end to this.”
“But what if it gets ugly? She might use what you say against you. You said she threatened you with her lawyer.”
“My lawyer isn’t putting an end to it. I have to be the one.”
Lexi leaned in eagerly, her brown eyes gleaming. “So what’s the plan? You’re just going to show up at her office?”
“That’s where you come in. I’d like you to make an appointment in her Fieldridge office, whatever time works for you. She does some individual counseling. Then I’ll show up in your place. She’ll have booked the hour. That’ll give me enough time to get in there and have my say.”
Lexi’s brows drew together in concern. “Maybe I should go in with you. Like a witness.”
“No, thanks, I prefer one-on-one.”
“At least set the recorder on your phone. For your own protection. Maybe she’ll admit everything she’s done and throw it in your face.”
“Okay, good idea.”
Lexi rubbed her hands together. “We’ll bring her down. All that bad juju she put out in the world’s going to bite her in the ass.”
She smiled. Lexi didn’t hesitate to play hardball. “I’m glad you’re on my side, tiger.”
Lexi clawed the air with one hand. “Rwowr.”
“Let me know as soon as you can get an appointment.”
“I will.”
She stood. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Lexi squinted up at her. “What’s going on with Logan? We were all so happy for you. It just seemed natural that one day your friendship would become something more.”
She flopped down in her seat again. “I don’t know. It’s been so crazy.” She filled her in on the whole Olivia situation right down to her and Logan getting it on that very night.
Lexi elbowed her. “Get it, girl.”
She sighed. “And the whole fake-marriage thing was to help restore my reputation, but now I so regret it because it’s made all these complications for what’s just the early tentative stage of our relationship.”
Lexi grabbed her phone from the coffee table and scrolled over to Sabrina’s embarrassing text in all capital letters. YOU GUYS! LOGAN AND I GOT MARRIED!
“You sounded so happy,” Lexi said. “I think it’s fun. Besides, you’ve been getting to know each other for more than six months now. I’d say you’re past the early stage.”
“Tomorrow I’m moving into his house,” she blurted.
Lexi smacked Sabrina’s arm. “What!”
“Ow!” Sabrina scowled, rubbing her arm.
“I thought you said it was fake.”
She filled her in on the reporter and her embarrassing mother. “He’s just being nice, helping me out.” She leaned in, finally voicing her real concern. “Lex, I’m a little worried. I think I’m in love with him.”
Lexi gave her a sympathetic look. “Oh, sweetie, I know you are. You’ve been in love with him practically since you met. He’s a good guy. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“There is!” All of her worries came out in a rush. “I’m new at relationships, he just broke up with a woman he was about to move cross-country to be with, there’s a ton of pressure on us from the media attention, not to mention the pressure of suddenly living together after just one weekend of hot sex. He says not to worry, you say not to worry, but I worry, Lex! I know from my work how hard it is for couples to commit and stay committed.” She rubbed her temple, the beginnings of a headache throbbing there. “I think I did this all the wrong way, and there’s no way to go back and do it right.”
Lexi patted Sabrina’s arm. “Okay, I hear ya loud and clear.”
“What do you mean?”
“I totally get being insecure about a relationship. Story of my life. That’s why I’m done with them.”
“I’m not insecure.” Was she? She knew how much she felt for Logan, she was sure of that. And, yes, he was a good guy, but that didn’t mean he felt as strongly for her as she felt for him. Oh, shit. Lexi was right. Everything else—all those other worries—were secondary. She was scared and feeling insecure because she was in deep.
She loved him.
Her heart pounded hard at the realization. Damn, Lexi would’ve made a good counselor too. “Maybe you’re right,” she said.
Lexi elbowed her. “Course I am. You’ll settle down when you’re more sure of him. And let me just point out, most guys wouldn’t let a woman move in with them so easily. It says big-time relationship commitment.”
She waved that away. “It’s just until the whole mess blows over.”
“If you say so.”
“I think he just wants me for my cooking and my body,” she said lightly, half-joking, half-worried. “He’s like orgasmic every time I cook him a meal.”
Lexi cracked up. “And for your body too!”
“Seriously, it’s like I can’t even talk to him without his hands on me, and it’s an embarrassingly short time later before we’re screwing again.”
Lexi shook her head. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you, Miss Relationship Expert, but this is not a problem. Go nuts! Be happy!”
Sabrina sighed. “I am happy. I’m just…well, we’ll see, I guess.”
“How’s the sex?” Lexi asked.
“Uh…” She hesitated to share the intimate details. It felt private what went on between her and Logan.
“Okay, okay, scale of one to ten,” Lexi said. “One being ho-hum, ten being Fierce trilogy hot.” That was the erotic romance series they all loved from book club.
“Gazillion times better than the Fierce trilogy,” she admitted, heat creeping up her cheeks.
Lexi high-fived her. “Go, Logan.”
“How do you know it’s him? Maybe I’m the one making it great.”
“Sure, okay.” She smirked. “It’s probably both of you.”
It was mostly Logan taking charge in the bedroom, but still. Did her friends see her as an untouchable porcelain doll too? She should explain why she’d needed a quiet stable life, but she just wasn’t up to it right now. The tumultuous weekend and travelling were catching up to her. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to bed.” She stood and headed for the door.
“Last night as a single woman.”
She stopped to look over her shoulder at Lexi. Her friend winked.
Sabrina shook her head, smiling, and headed out the door, hoping some of Lexi’s confidence in Sabrina’s new relationship would turn out to be right.