Hot Spot (5 page)

Saturday was going to be hell. Why had he ever agreed to this absurdity? How could people regard him
as a serious newsman with his face spread across the pages of a magazine? He understood why so many celebrities had to accept that kind of exposure. They had to promote their new movies and themselves. He’d interviewed enough of them himself. Most of them didn’t like to do it, but they understood that the hype was part of the business.

He didn’t fall into that category. He just investigated and reported the news. Not that he did half the amount of investigation he’d like. His main job was to look good in front of the camera each morning, banter with his cohost and, yeah, subtly flirt with his female audience. He knew all that, and he’d played the game. But it was getting old. Fast.

Sighing, he brought his head up and pinched the bridge of his nose. His temples were starting to throb. Probably from the scotch. He didn’t drink often and generally not on an empty stomach. He should’ve offered to buy Madison dinner. Better than going back to his apartment and eating alone. Just like he did most nights. Something he normally preferred.

Not tonight, though.

He looked out the heavily tinted window and watched two young women chatting as they walked, one of them tugging at the leash of a black Great Dane, who seemed hell-bent on stopping at every trash receptacle and tree. Other pedestrians gave them a wide berth, dodging out of the way when the dog started sniffing too intimately.

Jack smiled. He didn’t see many big dogs in the city. People mostly kept smaller dogs, which made sense because of the size of the average apartment. Small. Re
ally small. He’d had one of those once. In the beginning, before he’d taken over the morning show. The bedroom and living room practically shared the same space, yet had escaped the label of studio apartment. But at least it hadn’t been a walk-up, and a doorman always monitored the building’s entrance.

Now, everything was different. He had a large, well-appointed three-story brownstone, a housekeeper who spoiled him and a house in Connecticut on the water. He even had Dutch to drive him wherever he wanted to go. So why wasn’t he happy? Hell, he knew why: he missed being out in the field. But was he really ready to give all this up?

“S
ORRY
I’
M LATE
.”
Madison flew through the doors of Shelly’s Family Portraits and dropped her bag behind the counter next to Shelly, who stared at the new computer she’d bought last week. “I’ll be set up before the Dennisons get here.”

“Don’t rush. They’re gonna be late,” Shelly said without looking away from the computer screen. “Mrs. Dennison called ten minutes ago. Oh, and she changed her mind about the blue-sky backdrop.”

“Oh, God, what does she want now?”

“The garden scene. The one with the butterflies.” Shelly pressed a button and then muttered a mild curse. “Hey, do you know anything about these damn contraptions?”

“A little but let me get set up first.” Madison barely got the words out through clenched teeth as she headed into the cramped back room.

The butterfly scene. How she hated that one. In fact, she hated every one of the cheesy backdrops. She’d begged Shelly to let her take the clients to Central Park. She’d be able to get some dynamite shots there. But Shelly was old school. Claimed no one wanted to be dragged outdoors when there were perfectly good fake backgrounds right in the studio.

At least Shelly was an easygoing boss. She required little of Madison, letting her work sporadically when she needed money, unless Shelly got slammed with appointments, which didn’t happen often. Madison just had to remember this was only part-time and temporary. Some easy money to help make ends meet. And then let it go. She’d absolutely die if she thought she had to take family portraits for the rest of her life.

But not after she made the cover of
Today’s Man.
If she hadn’t been confident before she’d met Jack Logan in the flesh, she would be now. He was the perfect subject. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather photograph more than him. The strong line of his jaw alone was enough to make a woman weep. And those hazel eyes, caught by the right light, seemed to glitter with deviltry, daring and tempting and mocking every feminine resolve.

Good thing she was immune. Not counting the dream she’d had two nights ago where she practically tore off his clothes. The brief memory brought a flash of heat, and she accidentally kicked the tripod. She caught it before it went over but not without causing a racket.

“You okay back there?” Shelly had lost most of her southern drawl except when it suited her purpose, but her trademark blond “big” hair hadn’t changed since she’d moved to New York fifteen years ago, a former Texas beauty queen, with more hope than promise.

“Fine. I’m almost done.” Madison smoothed the horrid butterfly backdrop and tacked the right corner. “Which one of the darling little Dennisons am I shooting today?”

“Oops. Should’ve warned you. It’s the twins.”

Madison groaned and pulled out another chair. Of the four kids, the twins were the ones who made her most insane. At only three years old the boys were already tyrants, but their mother considered them simply adorable. Bad combination.

“I know they irritate you,” Shelly said, lowering her voice as she ducked into the back, “but frankly, if Eileen Dennison weren’t so neurotic about capturing every little pout and smile, I’m not sure I would’ve made the rent last month.”

Madison got it. It was Shelly’s subtle way of telling her to make nice with Eileen Dennison, who, Madison had to admit, was great for business. Paid cash, too.

“Don’t worry,” Madison said as she bent down to peer through the lens at the backdrop. “I’ll treat the little monsters like royalty.”

Shelly chuckled. “You’re especially good with the little ones. Mothers ask for you a lot.”

“Yeah, well not without a great deal of effort.” She straightened, satisfied with the angle of the camera.

“I was thinking that maybe when I get better at that computer I can make some flyers. Pay some kid to hand them out at the corner.” Shelly pulled a tube of lipstick out of her pants pocket and used the mirror on the far wall to apply bright red to her lips. “Might be able to drum us up some more business. What do you think?”

Madison hesitated. She wouldn’t be here much longer. Shelly knew that. Madison had been up-front from the beginning. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, I know. You won’t be doing this much longer.” Shelly turned to her and shrugged. “I figure when the time comes that you kick me to the curb I’ll
find some fresh graduate from NYU with gobs of student loans to repay and in desperate need of money.”

“Excuse me? Kick you to the curb?”

Shelly laughed. “I’m just so jealous I could spit. Tell me about him.”

“Jack Logan?”

“Who else do you think I mean?” Shelly planted her hands on her curvy hips. “I’ve been dying to hear about your meeting for two days. When’s the shoot? Tell me everything.”

Madison grinned. “He’s gorgeous. Breathtaking. What more can I say?”

“Girl, I can turn on the TV and see that for myself. I want to hear the juicy stuff.”

“We had a business meeting, for goodness sakes.”

“So? I heard he’s quite the flirt.”

Madison shook her head and made another adjustment to the tripod. “First, the only place you could have ‘heard’ anything is from one of those ridiculous tabloids you read. Second, I’m hardly in Jack Logan’s league.”

“Well, Miss Know-It-All, there’s a whole lot more truth in those magazines than you think. They can’t just pull those things out of thin air.”

“Of course not.”

Shelly chuckled. “You’re no fun.”

“You haven’t seen me after two margaritas.” Madison checked her watch. “What time are they supposed to get here?”

“Any minute.” Shelly poked her head out front, even though a warning buzzer went off every time someone came through the door, and then she looked back at
Madison. “Evidently, he isn’t very tall, and he has to wear elevated shoes.”

“I’m five-eight and he has a good five inches on me. Strike one for evidently.”

Shelly snorted. “Is it true he’s dating Charlize Theron?”

“I wouldn’t have the faintest idea.”

“Last year he dumped that soap actress without warning. You shoulda seen the picture of her bawling her poor red eyes out.”

“You of all people, Shelly Mayfield.”

“What?”

“Like you don’t know how pictures can be altered.”

Shelly shrugged. “That doesn’t mean the sad thing wasn’t mooning after him.”

“I give up.” Shaking her head, Madison brushed past Shelly and headed to the front of the studio. The place was tiny and she’d be stuck in back with the Dennison twins and their doting mother long enough.

Shelly followed, continuing to babble, the list of women Jack had been seeing growing longer. Madison tried to shut her out. She didn’t care about Jack’s exploits. In fact, she didn’t want to think about them at all. Likely none of it was true, and she worked better when she liked her subject.

The door buzzer sounded and in came the Dennisons.

“I don’t wanna take my picture. I wanna go to the park.”

Mrs. Dennison had the red-faced boy by the collar. The other towheaded twin meekly held her hand. “Toby, we’ll go to the park when we’re through. And we’ll have hot dogs and ice cream, okay?”

“No, I wanna go now.” He started crying, wailing really. Loud enough for everyone in Queens to hear him.

Mrs. Dennison smiled brightly at Madison. “We’re here.”

Madison’s head started to ache. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Oh, yeah. And if she didn’t get that man to take his shirt off, she’d take the Dennison twins to a whole day at the park.

J
ACK FOUND A KEY CARD
waiting for him at the front desk, just as Madison’s message had indicated. He used it to take the elevator to the rooftop garden where she said they should meet. Listening to the voice mail last night had brought some relief. He’d dreaded today since the moment he met her. Nothing personal. It was the whole sexiest-man nonsense. But the garden was at least a public spot and as good a start as any in the hotel.

Still, he wasn’t fooling himself. Eventually, she’d try to cajole him into taking off his shirt, getting into the pool, or lounging on one of the beds in the suite. Photographers were all alike. The more tantalizing or incriminating the shot, the better they liked it.

He didn’t begrudge her making a living. In fact, he was in awe of some photographers, the way they could evoke the deepest emotion with a single shot, one that could galvanize an entire city to action. Without a doubt great things had been accomplished through photography. None of which involved celebrity photos.

The elevator doors opened and the scent of gardenias greeted him before he got out. Still early, not quite seven, the garden appeared deserted. And then he saw her. By the gazebo, a half-eaten doughnut in one hand, while she used her other hand to fiddle with the camera mounted on a tripod.

Glad she hadn’t seen him yet, his gaze went to the red sweater she wore, the sleeves pushed up and the fabric molding nice high breasts. Not too large. Perfect for her slim build.

She took a hearty bite of the doughnut, and then enthusiastically licked her lips. He smiled but then pulled a straight face before noisily clearing his throat.

She turned to him with a look of surprise, still chewing, and then glanced at her watch. “Wow! It’s almost seven.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About an hour.” She gestured to a small silver thermos. “Want some coffee?”

“Later maybe.”

Her gaze went to his leather garment bag. “Are those the shirts?”

“Yes, ma’am, one white, one black, both long-sleeved, just as you ordered.”

“I requested.”

“I stand corrected.”

Her lips curved. “Want a doughnut before we get started? I’ve got glazed and buttermilk.”

“I’ll pass.”

She took another bite, this one smaller than her last one, her gaze going to an alcove where a white stone bench had been nestled between two hibiscus bushes boasting large orange blossoms. “In about fifteen minutes the lighting will be perfect in that corner. What do you think of taking a few shots there?”

“I don’t know.” He had nothing against flowers, but the setting was…“Doesn’t it look a little feminine?”

She thoughtfully pursed her lips for a second. “I
know quite a few gay guys who subscribe to
Today’s Man.
We should really appeal to all readers.”

He stared at her, unable to tell if she were serious. “The gays I know aren’t feminine.”

“I was only joking.” She cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment, something that looked like approval gleamed in her eyes. “But that was an excellent answer.”

“Happy I passed the test. Now I can get some sleep tonight.”

She laughed, took the last bite of her doughnut and then wiped her hands with a paper napkin. A speck of glaze clung to her lower lip, and he waited for her to wipe her mouth. But she wadded up the napkin and stuffed it into a white paper sack.

“Okay, I’m going to start taking some candid shots to get us both loosened up.” She picked up a camera and met his eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he said, his gaze automatically going back to her mouth before he caught himself and walked away. “Any particular place you want me?”

“Nope.”

He turned around and a flash went off. Startled, he blinked and stepped back.

“Perfect,” she said, and snapped another photo. “Just walk around, look at the flowers, whatever.”

Another flash. And then another.

He pushed a hand through his hair, tried to relax. Tried not to dwell on the fact he’d rather be just about anywhere else on the planet but here.

She lowered the camera and stared glumly at him. “Can you at least try not to look as if you’re at a funeral?”

“I wasn’t prepared for you to start shooting.”

“This is just an exercise. None of it counts. Pretend I’m not even here.”

“Right.” The glaze stubbornly clung to her lower lip. He ought to tell her. If nothing else, just so he could quit obsessing. Quit fixating on her mouth. She’d get the wrong idea. Though she did have nice lips. Perfectly shaped. Naturally full without a collagen overdose.

“Terrific.” Another flash. “That’s the look I want.”

He dragged his gaze away from her mouth and turned his head.

“Hey, come on, you were doing great.” She frowned at him over the camera. “What’s wrong?”

“I wasn’t prepared.”

“That was the point. You know…candid.” She smiled and then peered through the lens again. “You’d rather prepare? Then whatever it was you were thinking, do it again.”

Jack took a deep breath. This woman was going to make him nuts. “I think I need some of that coffee now.”

“Sure. Help yourself.”

She kept snapping away as he walked to the thermos. The top that served as a cup was there, empty, but obviously having been used. He looked around but didn’t see any others.

“Oh, damn.” She lowered the camera. “I forgot to bring an extra cup. I’ll run downstairs and borrow one from the restaurant.”

“No need.” He didn’t actually care about coffee. It had been more to distract himself from her mouth. “Later.”

“Really.” She laid down the camera. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“Madison?” He touched her arm, his fingertips grazing the skin that was bared below the sleeve. “Forget the coffee.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and he stared at the minuscule fleck of white that shouldn’t have mattered.

“Okay,” she said slowly, her arm tensing beneath his touch. “We’ll go ahead and get started.”

“Good idea.” He lowered his hand, but the awkwardness clung heavily to the air between them.

She hesitated, looking uncertain, adding to his regret. And then she suddenly stepped back, raised the camera and clicked. “Perfect.”

He blinked and jerked back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” She turned to the white bench and stared at it for a moment. “You know what…forget the bench. How about standing over there?”

She moved briskly to a small clearing that created access to the point where the wall met the glass dome. Beyond was a partial city view painted a golden orange from the rising sun.

“Right here is great.” She gestured excitedly. “But we’ll have to move fast.”