Tracy pulled out a binder and perched on the middle cushion of the couch. Carter handed Logan a bottle of pale ale and took a seat next to his bride-to-be, putting his arm around her and kissing her temple. Logan had given Carter plenty to envy over the years, but when it came to this, Carter had him beat. Aside from a temporary breakup, Carter and Tracy’s love story was uncomplicated and sweet. Logan would’ve done anything to have that.
Mrs. Keys triumphantly presented a platter of her world-famous deviled eggs to her future son-in-law.
Carter lunged for one the instant they were on the coffee table. “Oh, man. Thank you. I love these things.” He popped it into his mouth and moaned in ecstasy.
Julia made a wretched sound and pursed her lips, turning away.
“You okay?” Logan asked as Mrs. Keys took the remaining spot on the couch, next to Tracy.
Julia clamped her eyes shut and nodded. “Bad experience with deviled eggs on set a few weeks ago. I’m fine.”
“Oh, honey. I didn’t know,” Mrs. Keys said, as her husband grabbed several of the offending eggs. “I can put them away if you like.”
Julia shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I know how much everyone loves them.”
Mr. Keys sat in his chair, leaving the love seat for Julia and Logan. Once again, their gazes connected, and he had to fight to make sense of what his body was saying to him. The problem was, whenever she was in a foul mood, he had a deep longing to kiss her out of it. He was practically wired to do it.
Logan offered her a seat. “Please. Ladies first.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Such a gentleman.”
“I’m just being polite.”
“It’s a little late for polite.”
“No fighting,” Tracy barked. “Julia, I swear to God, you’re going to kill me. I need the maid of honor and best man to get along. The reporters are bad enough. Not that you don’t have the ability to make them go away.”
Julia sat, snugging herself up against the arm of the love seat, preemptively distancing herself from him. “I can only say it so many times. The story is fake. I know you all think I have the world’s worst taste in men, but don’t worry. I did manage to avoid this one. And if we just ignore the press, they’ll leave.”
Relief washed over him, followed by surprise. No romance with Derek? Really? “Julia’s probably right. They’ll get bored if you don’t talk to them.” Feeling considerably more at ease, Logan joined Julia on the love seat. “We’re getting along just fine. No fighting.”
Tracy’s eyes darted back and forth between them. She seemed unconvinced, but returned her focus to her binder. “Give me a minute to figure out what I want everyone to do. Mom, can you look at this?”
Mrs. Keys slid closer to her daughter and the two became immersed in conversation. That left Carter and Mr. Keys to feast on deviled eggs.
Logan was still computing the revelation about Julia’s costar. If the story was fake, had it always been? “So, no love connection with Derek, huh?” he asked under his breath.
“No.”
“Never?”
“No, Logan. Not ever,” she snipped. “After that lovely message you left for me, I’m surprised you care.”
Ouch. “I never want to see you with the wrong guy, Jules.”
“Okay, everybody. Listen up.” Tracy straightened in her seat and started rattling off orders about the florist and picking up wedding bands, the baker and final dress fittings, like a four-star general about to lead them into battle. That left no time for Logan to continue his conversation with Julia, although he wanted to. At least to smooth things over.
Julia was scribbling notes as fast as Tracy could talk. “Got it. I’m on florist and cake duty. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. The only hitch is that I didn’t rent a car.” She cleared her throat. “Logan, maybe you can drive me.”
“You’re at the same hotel. It only makes sense,” Mrs. Keys chimed in.
True. It did make sense, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that Julia had ulterior motives. Something in her voice told him that she did. Whatever her plan, hopefully it didn’t include ripping his head off and sticking it on a stake in the front yard as payback for the post-reunion breakup. “Of course. Whatever Tracy and Carter need us to do to help make this the perfect wedding.”
Julia was sure there was no sound more unhinging than that of reporters politely, but incessantly, rapping on the windows of Logan’s rental car, raising their voices as he tried to pull away.
“These people are ridiculous. Somebody’s going to get hurt.” Logan inched the car out of his parking space. The second he had a clear path, he gunned it.
Julia jerked back in her seat. Her stomach lurched along with it. “Logan. Cool it.” She whipped around to look behind them. The reporters were climbing into their cars. “They’re following us. Of course.”
Logan watched via the rearview window. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
He took a sharp turn and ducked down a side street. He knew the shortcuts like the back of his hand. They both did. They’d both learned to drive on these streets. The house Logan grew up in was only seven or eight blocks away.
Logan was intensely focused, eyes darting between the mirror and the road. He ran his hand over his close-cut ebony hair. Being so near him, it was hard not to fixate on what his stubble felt like against her cheek when he kissed her. Or the way his warm and manly smell, citrusy and clean, begged her to curl up in his arms. Everything about being around him again made her chest ache. Things were so much simpler three months ago, for that brief forty-eight hours when she could kiss him and lose herself in him without reservation. Before he ended it forever.
His hands gripped the steering wheel. With the sleeves of his deep blue dress shirt rolled to his elbows, she couldn’t have ignored the flex of his solid forearms if she’d wanted to. His arms could make her feel as if she were made of feathers—light as air. Ready to be taken anywhere he wished to have her.
Logan cut over again, navigating the city grid. All while inducing an acute case of nausea.
Julia crossed her arms at her waist. Maybe she’d be too busy barfing to worry about telling Logan about the baby. “Can you take it easy? I’m feeling carsick.”
“First the deviled eggs, now this? You’re the girl who wanted to eat corn dogs and go on every upside-down ride imaginable at the state fair. Twice.”
Logan had thrown down the gauntlet, only he didn’t know it. Logan was a smart guy. She could only keep her secret from him for so long. As soon as she turned down a cocktail this weekend, he’d know something was up. His eyes were trained on the road. Time to put her mother’s theory to the test.
“I need to know if you can keep a secret.” She rummaged through her purse. It was better if they were both busy doing something that precluded a lot of eye contact.
“About what?”
“I can’t tell you or you’ll know the secret.”
He shook his head, taking a left onto the main road to the hotel. “Fine. As long as it doesn’t involve a murder, I can keep a secret.” He stopped at a yellow light. Normally, Logan would’ve gunned it through the intersection, but there was a police car parked at the corner.
Why