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MARTI
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MARTI BALANCED HER weight on the stool. Stretching forward, she draped the multi-colored lights across the top of the large blue spruce. Already adorned in ornaments, she struggled to get the forgotten lights on after the fact.
She cursed as the tangled mass caught underneath an ornament and she leaned in farther, trying to loosen the strands’ hold on the ornament, resenting her mother with every twinge of her back. She hadn’t wanted the giant tree, but her mother insisted she get one to the point of dragging her out of her warm bed on Black Friday into the city for some holiday shopping and a stop at a tree farm that was almost an hour drive out of the city.
What kind of person buys a real tree on Black Friday, anyway? They’re supposed to rush stores for massive televisions or gaming systems or sales on linens.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the tree sat in its stand, albeit a little crookedly, in the corner of her apartment, without any decorations since she arrived home on Saturday. It was dropping needles like a dog shedding its winter coat. At one point, Marti thought she had a new green throw rug. But alas, it was merely the result of not watering it. Who knew?
Marti’s hair hung in her eyes, and she paused to yank it up into a haphazard ponytail before continuing to wrap the prickly branches. Stepping down from the stool, she tossed the ball of lights behind the tree, then fished them out of the pine and draped them across the lower branches, paying little attention to how they looked, simply wanting to finish. When she pulled the last few feet around to the front, she tucked them in the back, then plugged them into the nearby outlet. The tree lit up in all its multi-colored glory.
Stepping back to examine her handiwork, Marti smiled. She had to admit. It looked pretty good in her dimly lit apartment.
Not bad McBride. Not bad.
With a smug grin, she dusted off her pants and turned toward the kitchen, beaming with pride.
A foreign sound creaked behind her. With a frown, she turned in time to see the tree thrust forward several inches. “What the . . .”
Grumbling, she headed back into the living room, but before she even reached the blasted tree—BOOM! It fell to the ground.
She jumped back, gaping. The dang thing nearly killed her—missed her by inches.
Sighing, she reached toward it, preparing herself to wrench it upright again, when—POP! The lights nearly blinded her in a giant flash before they went completely dark.
Great. She dropped her arms and stared at the damage. Bits and pieces of broken ornaments lay strewn everywhere like a holiday massacre. She didn’t even want to know what kind of damage lay beneath it.
“See! This is exactly why I didn’t want a Christmas tree,” she grumbled. They were far too much work, and with the whole Logan thing, she already had enough to deal with.
Turned out, the four days away hadn’t been enough to clear her head.
She felt something soft caress her leg and glanced down to see Fuzz, purring as he rubbed his side against her leggings. “Hey buddy.”
She reached down and scratched his head, then watched as he hopped off and pawed at a rogue ornament, dancing as he played a solo game of foosball across the floor. “See. You’re the only man I need in my life.”
With a sigh, Marti unplugged the tree lights in case Fuzz got any ideas. Kicking a chubby Santa out of the way, she watched is round little body spin around, then decided she’d had enough holiday cheer for one night.
Her back ached and the pounding in her head rivaled the beat of Jingle Bells. She shuffled to the kitchen in search of her abandoned cup of cocoa and the cookies her mother sent home with her.
Who needs a tree when you have sugar?
She grabbed her half-empty mug off the counter and a plate of cookies, then padded across the hardwood floor into the living room. Settling into the couch, she glanced over at the fallen tree on her left when Fuzz sat down in front of it and mewed.
“Don’t even look at me like that. I tried,” Marti told him.
Talking to her cat? Wow, she had reached a whole new level of desperate.
She took a sip of her cocoa and settled into the plush cushions as Fuzz moved onto a shiny silver bulb. The quiet of her apartment normally soothed her nerves, but as she sat there, trying to decompress from the tree debacle and the five messages she had from her father, waiting in her inbox, she found it grating. Even taking a hot bath or starting a new series on Netflix sounded unappealing.
She briefly wondered what her friends were up to. Mel would be busy with her kids, but as long as Caroline wasn’t on a date, she’d be up for a drink. Still, a nightclub wasn’t what Marti had in mind either, and Caroline was always gravitating toward a new man.
Marti wanted a night in. She could use one, really, with everything that had gone on recently, but she was so . . .
Ugh! She was bored.
She jiggled her leg, even while she told herself to relax. Her thoughts shifted to Logan. She idly wondered what he was doing and had half a mind to call him.
But this was all a ruse. It would be weird to call him up and invite him over out of the blue. That was what real couples did. So what if his touch sent tiny flames dancing along her skin? Who cared that the brilliant green of his eyes rivaled the Northern Lights? He was a means to an end. A story for her, and she was his mouthpiece. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Right?
Her insides ached like they had all weekend. As if those cheesy holiday movies couldn’t get any worse, she thought of him the entire time.
The truth hit her—bright and blinding.
She missed him.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she missed him. In the short time they’d spent together, she’d grown used to having someone to talk to. Their little spats and banter had become a source of entertainment.
Her gaze moved over her apartment, needing to get her mind off of him. She hesitated on the large umbrella plant in the corner. “Aha!” she yelled and jumped up.
She crossed the room, grabbing the plant, then plopped it on the squat table next to her plate of cookies. With a smile, she grabbed a fallen bulb that lay at her feet, then hung it on one of the upper branches. The delicate green drooped with the weight. “Perfect,” she declared.
With a flourish, she turned to Fuzz and grabbed him, showing him her handiwork, but all he did was blink at the plant, unimpressed. When she set him back down, he hid under a branch of the Christmas tree. Be that way.
Plunking herself back down onto the couch, she bent forward and picked up the notebook she habitually kept on the coffee table for brainstorming sessions. She opened it to the nearest page and stared morosely at the blank pages.
A knock on the door broke the silence, and she nearly jumped in her seat.
If it was Mrs. Ramirez again, nagging her about her weak Wi-Fi connection, she was going to blow. Get your own flipping internet!
“Who’s there?” she hollered from the couch.
“The man of your dreams.” Logan’s dry tone brought an instant smile, which she smothered just as fast.
Maybe he wasn’t upset with her, after all.
“I didn’t know tubs of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food could talk. Weird.” Despite her snark, Marti found herself headed for the door.
She unlocked it and opened it a crack, poking her head out.
“There are so many things wrong with what you just said,” he pointed out.
“Like?” she challenged.
“Where to begin?” He gestured with his hand. “First, the fact that you even consider ice cream as an acceptable substitute for a man just proves you’ve been dating all the wrong men. Second, chocolate ice cream with marshmallow and caramel swirls? It’s so basic.”
Marti gasped theatrically. “Take that back. It has fudge shaped fish in it.”
“Chocolate fish, huh? That’s what gets you going?” Logan pursed his lips as his green eyes danced. “Maybe you’d like me better if I had gills.”
“I think I like you plenty enough.” She swallowed. Her heart might pound out of her chest.
Who was she? Where was the Queen of Single?
“Is that so?” Logan stepped forward and lowered his gaze to hers.
“Maybe.”
“Flirting with me McBride?”
“You wish.” She tried to laugh but it died on her lips.
He grinned down at her and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey,” she said, barely recognizing the sound of her breathy voice.
He dipped his head down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, while she leaned into him, resting her palm on the hard plains of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.
Something stirred inside her chest, and she thought, he finally did it. He made me crack—I’ve gone nuts.
“Are you here because four days away was too much?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
“You know, I thought it would be like a vacation, but as it turns out, four days away was entirely too much. Ninety-six hours too much, to be exact.”
Marti pressed her face into his shirt and grinned, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of the cotton. “Come on.” She yanked on his arm, dragging him into her apartment.
Logan stopped abruptly on their way to the couch. “What happened here?”
Marti turned. He stood, arms outstretched, staring at the wrecked Christmas tree with wide eyes.
She grunted, waving it away. “It’s nothing.”
Logan laughed. “Step aside, McBride, and let the man fix it.”
“You did not just say that.”
His answering grin said it all. “You know, you’re supposed to water these things.” He lifted a branch and half the needles fell to the ground.
“Ya don’t say.” Marti flashed him a sour expression as she moved to the coffee table and retrieved her hot chocolate.
“How long has it been this way?” he asked.
“Dead or on the ground?”
He shot her a disgusted look. “You’re hopeless.”
“It’s heavy, so unless you have some sort of magical powers, it’s staying right there on the ground.”
He bent down and began to lift the tree when Fuzz leapt out from under it, and Logan screamed.
Laughter exploded from her chest. She bent over at the waist, trying to contain her mirth. “That’s Fuzz. Remember? The cat you supposedly saved from oncoming traffic. He isn’t keen on visitors.”
Logan grumbled something under his breath, then bent over to get a better look at him. “He’s pretty cute, even if his name is lame.”
“His name is awesome.”
Logan gave Fuzz one final pat, then hoisted the tree up like it weighed nothing. “Fuzz? You couldn’t get more creative than Fuzz? And you named your childhood goldfish Goldie. I see an uncreative pattern here we should be concerned about.” He shook his head, then moved around the tree to assess the back. “At least you didn’t name him Fluffy, I guess.”
“My childhood cat was Fluffy,” she muttered under her breath.
“What?” he asked behind a wall of branches.
“Nothing.”
Logan bent down by the base of the tree and started messing with the screws in the plastic base, while Marti watched. The muscles in his arms flexed with the movement. She could make out the outline of his toned back, which led to a tapered waist, and she had to wipe a little drool from the corner of her mouth when he stood back up and placed both hands on his hips. “Done.”
“What?” She retrieved her mind from the gutter and focused. “No way. It took me hours to get that thing up.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “What can I say? I’m good with my hands.” He smirked.
An instant blush heated her cheeks. She busied herself, toying with her mug, hoping he didn’t notice. “Hot chocolate?” She raised her mug.
“Sure.” He took it and lifted it to his lips.
Marti’s eyes honed in on his mouth, transfixed as he swallowed.
He cleared his throat, snapping her out of her daze. Before she could act any more insane, she hurried to the couch and flung herself into the cushions.
Logan sat down beside her and stretched an arm behind her back, but not before he snatched a cookie from her plate and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.
Marti laughed. “Hot. I always wanted a man that could cram entire cookies into his mouth.”
“So, you admit, you’ve always wanted a man,” he said, his mouth full.
Marti snorted. “You wish.”
“Maybe.” He winked, and her mouth went dry.
They stared at each other for a long beat. Something shifted in the room, tightening around her chest like rubber bands. This was the most awkward exchange they’d had yet.
What was he doing here? And why was she so glad he came?
She wondered what type of women he typically dated and her mind flashed to Allison—his Ex. Tall and blond with eyes like honey. And though that relationship ended badly, Marti was sure emotionally unavailable women weren’t his go-to. In fact, he had told her as much the first time they met. She wondered what had changed, because she certainly hadn’t.
“What’s up?” he asked, trailing his finger against her collarbone.
“Nothing.” She shrugged, feeling the lie in every ounce of her being.
“You’ve got a lot of thoughts churning. I can see it.”
“A writer’s mind never sleeps.” She tried for a smile, but it fell flat.
“Spill it, McBride.”
“It’s just . . . “ How did Marti say it without giving too much away?
Now that feelings were involved, maybe they should call it quits?
She was already feeling attached. How much more would it hurt weeks from now when this ended?
Oh, and by the way, she agreed to this in the first place because her boss gave her an ultimatum. It was all a ruse for her, too.
But now her feelings were real. At least, she thought they were. She wasn’t even sure because she’d never felt like this.
“So, this wedding and my charity . . . I’ve been thinking . . .” Logan started, and she took this opening for what it was, a gift.
Man, she was a coward.
“I was thinking maybe we could postpone our breakup,” he said, sliding his arm off her shoulder and enveloping her hand in his. “Just let things run their course for a while, you know. I hate to disappoint all those avid fans of yours.”
His eyes locked on hers, and she knew what he was really asking for—not just an extension, but a real shot at this, them.
“I don’t know,” she answered because it was so much easier to play dumb than to choose from the side of her brain that screamed at her, none of this is real, while the other half rejoiced.
Slowly, he threaded his fingers through hers and shifted their joined hands to rest on his stomach. The back of her hand burned the cotton of his shirt. “Are you glad I came?”
“I was going crazy with boredom, and I missed you,” Marti said, mustering her courage. “Purely from a professional standpoint, of course,” she added because, baby steps.
“Of course.” He grinned and his eyes crinkled.
She shifted closer, closing the gap between them, practically sitting on his lap until she could smell the musky scent of his cologne combined with the laundry detergent he used.
She reached out with her free hand and ran a finger over the scruff of his jaw. “Do you ever shave completely?”
“Rarely. My five o’clock shadow is pretty heavy, so it just seems easier to keep it.”
She murmured her approval, taking in the exact shade of green of his eyes, and she realized she had been wrong. They weren’t green like emeralds because they faded to blue—a brilliant shade of turquoise—right in the middle. She wondered how she’d never noticed before.
“So did you have any more run-ins with Allison?” she asked, grimacing as she did. Apparently, jealousy wasn’t beneath her.
“No.” His thumb stroked lazy circles over the back of her hand. “What about you? Any guys try to pick you up while I was away?”
“Fat chance of that.” She laughed and thought of what Blue said, about not screwing things up.
“There’s this new restaurant opening up tomorrow night. The one on 51st? They’re placing some major ads with the digital site, and my boss wants me to check it out so I can name drop in my column. You game?”
“Absolutely.”
She repressed her smile, staring down at their clasped hands.
“What made you get into writing?” he asked, surprising her with the shift in conversation.
Her eyes locked with his, and she straightened. Weirdly enough, no one had ever asked her that question. It seemed like something a lot of people would want to know about her. The fact he cared, made her want to tell him.
“After my dad left, I started writing. In my journal mostly.” She turned her eyes to the throw blanket on the couch and slid it over her legs, needing something to do with her hands. “Then my senior year, I entered a couple of my poems in this competition, and I won first place. It was, I don’t know . . .” She searched for the words. “Kind of this proud moment for me. Like maybe I was better at something than most, which sounds terrible when I say it out loud.”
He squeezed her hand. “It doesn’t sound terrible.”
“And then I went on to college and joined the student paper. We kind of became this nerdy little team. But I loved it. That feeling you get when people read your words and listen to what you have to say, it’s addicting. I majored in journalism and creative writing and never looked back.”
“And you still love it?”
She nodded, picking at a piece of lint, wondering why talking about herself made her feel all squirmy inside. “Yeah, I do. Do you still love being a doctor?”
“After what happened with Allison, I almost quit.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My sister.” Logan smiled. “She reminded me of our mom and why I started in the first place. She reminded me that even if I could save one life that might not otherwise have been saved, then it was all worth it.
“She loves you, by the way,” he added.
“Clearly she has excellent taste.” Marti pulled her hand from his, then grabbed her cup of hot chocolate. Deciding she didn’t want it, she set it back down again and picked up the remote.
“Why are you fidgeting?”
“I am not.”
“You are. You haven’t stopped since we sat down.”
She grunted and crossed her arms over her chest, then realized she just did it again. Couldn’t she just be still?
Logan laughed. “Am I making you nervous, McBride?”
“Hardly.” She scoffed.
“Hmmm,” he murmured, studying her, then without warning, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over her jaw. “Let’s see . . .” he said, leaning back, examining her. “Dilated pupils.”
He pressed the tiniest of kisses below her mouth. “Shallow breathing.”
What was he doing?
Trailing his finger over the smooth skin of her neck, he expertly placed it over the tender spot below her jaw and held it there, glancing for several seconds with a look of total concentration that had Marti biting her lip. At this rate, her heart would fly from her chest. “Rapid pulse.”
He met her eye as he slid his fingers from her neck, down to her shoulder. His other hand joined in, smoothly moving to the coiled knot at the top of her back. “Tense.”
“What’s the diagnosis?”
“Definitely nerves.” He spoke so close to her mouth, she could taste the chocolate on his breath.
“Is it fatal?” It felt fatal. Any second her heart would burst from her chest.
One corner of his mouth quirked. “I think you’ll live.”
“Any particular remedies?”
“Just one,” he whispered, and then he pressed his mouth to hers.
#
EVERYTHING FADED AWAY. The air around them turned to dust. Her limbs were no longer hers. Her breath no longer her own.
Logan parted her lips with his, kissing her gently until she surrendered. Fisting his shirt in her hand, she pulled him closer.
He tasted of cocoa and mint—a peppermint patty—and the combination was as lethal as it was intoxicating.
Logan slid his hand under her thighs, shifting her until she was halfway on his lap before he pressed her back into the soft cushion of the sofa with dizzying momentum.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice screamed this was a mistake, letting him in. Feeling.
But her body had a mind of its own as his lips melted with hers. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the faint sound of the Rocky theme song Eye of the Tiger, and she thought, odd, but okay. She could roll with that.
And then Logan sat up, pulling his lips from hers.
She took in a shuddering breath as she tried to orient herself, to maintain some semblance of control in a situation where she had clearly just lost all of it.
He pulled out his phone and checked the screen, and she realized in her post-kiss haze it had been the source of the sound.
“Crap.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m on call. A patient’s in labor.”
He tucked the phone back in his pocket and met her gaze. “You have to go,” she said for him.
He nodded, if not regretfully, then reached out and helped her to a seated position, much to her mortification.
He stood and headed for the door as she followed him like a lost puppy.
“I have a meeting with Baby Co. tomorrow. We’re supposed to sign some paperwork on our deal, but then I’ll call you, set up a time to pick you up.”
“Right. Sure,” she said. The big endorsement for his foundation. The entire reason he was there in the first place—doing this, dating her.
She saw him out, closing the door behind him with a hollow thud to match the one in her chest.
Turning, she put her back to the door, reminding herself where her priorities lay. “This is just a game, McBride.”