Confidential: Expecting! (6 page)

“Would you mind sitting at a table near the back of the ballroom?” she asked.

His brows notched up at the suggestion. “So we can leave early without causing much of a disturbance?”

“Exactly.”

When he smiled, it caused another sort of disturbance, especially when he asked Mallory, “Am I to assume you have something in mind for us later?”

“Maybe,” she allowed.

What was she getting herself into? She didn’t know. She didn’t care, which was totally unlike her.

She was off her game completely, she realized a moment later when she failed to notice Sandra Hutchens until it was too late to avoid her.

“Hello, Mallory. I wondered who was here for the
Herald.”

The other woman’s gloating snarl turned to bewilderment, however, the moment she recognized Mallory’s escort.

“You’re…aren’t you…?”

“Yes.” Logan took the hand Sandra was pointing in his direction and shook it politely. “I’m Logan Bartholomew. And you are?”

“A pain in my butt,” Mallory muttered at the same time Sandra gave her name.

“Mallory and I work together.”

“Are you here covering the benefit?” Logan asked, unaware—or was he?—of how insulting the senior reporter found the question.

“No. I have a beat that allows me to write actual news stories.” Sandra sniffed. Her gaze shifted to Mallory then, and the malicious triumph in her expression was impossible to miss. “I’m here tonight as the guest of Larry Byram. You remember him, don’t you Mallory.”

Oh, she remembered Larry, all right. Her teeth clenched. Larry was one of the mayor’s top aides and the weasel who’d fed Mallory the bogus story and quotes that ultimately had led to her demise.

“How is Larry?” she asked sweetly.

“He’s good. And enjoying a promotion.”

No doubt he was also enjoying Mallory’s demotion. “How nice for him,” she managed.

“I’ll tell him you said hello,” Sandra offered with ill-concealed delight.

“Yes, please do.”

“Would you excuse us for just a moment?” Sandra said to Logan. She grabbed Mallory’s arm and dragged her a couple of feet away without waiting for his reply. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Stevens,” she hissed the moment they were out of earshot.

“Up to?”

“Don’t play games with me. You’re with Logan Bartholomew.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I should think that’s obvious.”

“Not in your case,” Sandra snapped. “You don’t have a real social life, so I know whatever is going on between you two has got to be work related.”

She wanted to deny it and was a little troubled that she couldn’t, not completely. “Your point?”

“Unless it’s something an intern could write in her sleep,
you
shouldn’t be working on it.”

“What? Are you my editor now?” Mallory asked. “If so, I missed the memo.”

“Leave the real stories to those who can do them without costing the newspaper a bundle.”

Sandra’s remark posted a direct hit. Mallory felt her
face heat, partly from irritation but mostly from embarrassment. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew she’d been set up. Still, it was her own fault. Even if she was able to return to her beat eventually, would she ever be able to live down her costly mistake?

“I’ve got to go.”

When she attempted to walk past Sandra, the other woman blocked her path and pointed a finger in her face. “Just so you know, I’m watching you. One more screw-up and you’ll be gone.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I live for the day.”

Mallory managed to sound bored when she said, “Then you need to get a life, Sandra.”

“Charming woman,” Logan remarked when Mallory rejoined him.

“Yes, we’re the best of friends.”

“As tight as Brutus and Caesar, I’d say.”

“Exactly, which is why I watch my back whenever she’s around.”

“How about if I keep an eye on your back…and other things…tonight?”

His brows lifted and so did the pall the encounter with Sandra had cast over Mallory’s mood.

“I see a table over there.” She pointed to one that was adjacent to a side entrance.

“Good choice,” he replied, nodding toward the doors.

“I thought so.”

She changed her mind a moment later. Two other couples already were seated there sipping cocktails and
sharing a plate of appetizers. Introductions were made, although both of the women knew Logan—or, rather, knew who he was—even before he gave his name.

So much for Mallory’s hope that the two of them could just chat between themselves until the opportunity to leave arrived.

“Oh, my God! You’re Logan Bartholomew!
The
Logan Bartholomew!” the bustier of the two brunettes shouted. “I just love your show. I listen to it every morning while I’m getting ready for work.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Anita, by the way. And this is my husband, Victor.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Anita.” Logan turned to shake Victor’s hand. “And you, too.”

“The same,” Victor replied, although he didn’t appear to be nearly as starstruck as his wife.

“I feel like I already know you.” When Anita winked flirtatiously, Mallory gritted her teeth, feeling oddly possessive.

The other brunette piped up then. “I’m your biggest fan, Dr. Bartholomew. I never miss your show.”

“Please, it’s just Logan.”

“Logan.” She actually giggled. “I’m Julia Richmond.” Motioning to the irritated-looking man sitting beside her, she added, “Thanks to you, Darin and I have been able to work out some of our differences and keep our relationship moving forward. We’re getting married in the fall.”

She extended her left hand, showing off a diamond
engagement ring big enough that it should have required an escort of armed guards.

“Wow,” Mallory said. “That’s some rock.”

“Tell me about it,” Darin muttered.

Logan cleared his throat and offered a diplomatic “Congratulations to you both.”

“Thanks. We owe it all to you, don’t we, honey?” Julia wrapped an arm around Darin, who said nothing. Instead, he hoisted his drink in a mock toast and took a liberal swig. Mallory gave their marriage a year, tops, assuming they even made it to the nuptials, which at this point looked dicey.

Julia was saying, “The advice you give on your show, especially to couples who are having problems, is right on the money. It’s like you wrote the book on relationships or something.”

“Yes. You’re very insightful, especially when it comes to understanding women and what we need from the men in our lives,” Anita chimed in.

Darin wasn’t the only one who looked irritated now. A muscle had begun to twitch in Victor’s jaw. It was clear neither man appreciated the attention Logan was receiving. Mallory wasn’t thrilled with it, either.

“I’m glad you found something I’ve said to be of help,” he replied modestly.

Far from basking in the women’s profuse praise, Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. And no wonder, given his personal history, Mallory thought. If he’d written the manual on relationships, as Anita
claimed, he wouldn’t have been blind-sided by his fiancée’s infidelity and virtually left at the altar.

Mallory decided it was time to steer the conversation to a neutral topic.

“So, how ’bout those White Sox last night?” she said, earning black looks from the women and a sneer from Darin, who was obviously a Cubs fan.

Logan, however, latched on to the new subject. “Did you see that play at third base in the bottom of the seventh inning?”

Because she could tell that all of his enthusiasm wasn’t manufactured, Mallory grinned. A Sox man. Who knew? Another reason to like him.

“See it? I screamed so loud I woke up half my building. Detroit thought they had the game sewed up till that play, then our boys rallied,” she said with the kind of pride only other diehard fans could understand.

Victor apparently was one of them. Either that or he was just eager to talk about something other than relationships. He began rattling off the standings for the teams in the American League Central. Darin entered the discussion a moment later and for the next several minutes a spirited debate on the designated-hitter rule ensued. Anita and Julia didn’t look all that pleased that sports were now dominating the conversation, but they began to chat between themselves about Julia’s upcoming wedding, so all was well. Beneath the table, Mallory felt Logan’s hand brush her knee. When she glanced over, he mouthed the word “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she mouthed back.

Several minutes later, Buck Warren, the head of the charity, took to the podium to welcome everyone and thank them for coming. He also made a not-so-subtle request for donations with the reminder that such gifts were tax deductible. Afterward, dinner was served. No rubber chicken, thank goodness, but Mallory couldn’t help thinking the pork tenderloin was on the dry side and the steamed green beans were undercooked.

“They should hire you,” she informed Logan after washing down a bite of the tenderloin with some wine.

He shrugged off the compliment. “It’s easier to cook dinner for two than it is for two hundred.”

“True. I wonder what the dessert will be. I hope it’s chocolate.”

He leaned over and whispered, “In the mood for a little decadence tonight?”

“As a matter of fact…” Heat shimmied up her spine as she returned his smile.

Dessert turned out to be apple pie with a side of vanilla ice cream that came largely melted.

“How disappointed are you?” Logan asked.

“Very.” But something occurred to her then. “You know, this might be a good time to claim my rain check.”

“You want me to make you dessert?”

She nodded. “Something with a sinful amount of chocolate in it. What do you say?”

“And leave before the dancing even starts?” He looked comically appalled.

Chocolate was momentarily forgotten. “You dance?”

“Slow only. I made a point of learning how in junior high school when I figured out it was a good excuse to put my arms around a girl without getting smacked for my trouble.”

“Very calculating.” But she laughed. “Well, we have to stay now.”

“Eager to be in my arms?”

Though she was, she said, “I’m more eager to find out how good you are.” When his brows rose, Mallory added dryly, “At dancing.”

A local band had been hired for the event. Its female singer was dressed in a vintage floor-length gown, her hairstyle reminiscent of something from the 1940s. Mallory almost expected to hear “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” when the band started its first tune, but the song turned out to be a modern ballad. The small dance floor filled up quickly. Even so, Logan rose from his seat and held out one hand.

His lips were twitching, but his eyes glittered with a dare when he asked, “Shall we?”

“Oh, by all means.”

Their hands remained clasped as they weaved their way through the tables to the dance floor. Even that minor bit of physical contact had Mallory’s hormones starting to hop and hum. When they reached their destination and he pulled her into his arms, it was all she could do not to moan. Their bodies bumped, separated and brushed, but only occasionally as they swayed and circled to the music. Mallory forgot about moaning. Now she wanted to scream with need. The eagerness
Logan had spoken of earlier mocked her now. She was pretty sure he knew it, too.

He dipped his head lower. “Mmm. You smell good.” The words vibrated against her ear.

“So do you.” Though, of her five senses, touch was the one she was focusing on now. She turned her head slightly and their cheeks collided.

“Mmm,” he said again.

“The song is almost over.” And with it this sweet torture would end.

“I know. But there’s still dessert.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. Her mouth was watering, though the hunger she hoped to satisfy had nothing to do with food.

“Do you have something in particular in mind?” he asked.

“You’re open to requests?”

“Always and especially from you.”

She smiled. “I’ll have to think about it. Maybe you can tell me what your specialties are.”

“Sure. I’ll list them after we leave. But I’m open to trying new things, too.”

“In the kitchen,” she clarified.

“Right. In the kitchen.” He nibbled her neck. “That’s where I do my best cooking.”

“Yeah?”

His hand stroked her lower back, causing her to tremble. “I’ll show you.”

“Mmm. Looking forward to it,” she said.

The music stopped. The floor began to clear.

“Want to stay out here for another dance?” Logan asked.

“I’d rather go.”

“Okay.” His hand found the small of her back as they started for their seats.

“Home,” Mallory added.

He stopped walking, turned toward her. His slow, conspiratorial smile further stirred her agitated hormones.

L
OGAN
drove the speed limit and took a detour after leaving the party, trying to give both of them time to come to their senses. They couldn’t do this.

Well, they could, obviously, and he figured with mutually satisfying results. But they shouldn’t.

His body demanded a reason why not. Unfortunately, he was damned if he could come up with one. Still, he was sure one existed. Probably several, for that matter. His agent could tell him, but he wasn’t interested in calling Nina Lowman right now.

That’s when he realized it. He didn’t want reasons. He didn’t want to come to his senses. He wanted this night with this woman. If there were consequences to be paid afterward, he’d pay them. With interest if need be. But tonight, even if just for tonight, she would be his.

He depressed the accelerator and the car shot forward. Mallory glanced sideways at him. God help him, he thought he saw her smile.

He’d planned to take her to his penthouse. He had
a spacious bedroom, including a king-size bed. Given the way he felt, extra room seemed a good idea. But as he moved through traffic, accelerating through yellow lights, he decided against it. Her place made more sense.

First of all, taking her to the condo seemed too presumptuous, even though the signals she’d given off all evening pretty well confirmed they were on the same wavelength. Secondly, it wouldn’t allow either one of them a graceful out if they changed their mind. A doubtful scenario, that. But still. And third, it would save him from having to run her home in the wee hours of the morning.

Yeah, the conclusion that their lovemaking would last for hours was presumptuous, too, but surely one primal encounter wouldn’t be enough.

He pulled to a stop outside her building, lucky enough to find a parking space, although at this point he would have left his car in the fire lane if necessary.

“Well, here we are.” It was all he could do to keep from thumping his head on the steering wheel after making that hackneyed observation. Worse than sounding eager, he sounded nervous. And he was. He was hardly an inexperienced teenager, but his hormones didn’t seem to know that. He felt eager and nervous and, hell, just plain desperate. God help him, his palms were even damp.

In the dim light of the car’s interior, he thought he saw Mallory’s lips twitch.

“Yep. Here we are.” He heard the latch on her seat
belt unhitch. “You’re coming up, right? I have that wine. It seems a shame to drink a glass alone.”

“Well, in that case…”

Mallory was apprehensive, though need trumped her nerves. It was obvious Logan felt the same. Gone was his sexy swagger and confident radio voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rub his palm on the leg of his trousers before taking her hand. Even so, it felt hot to the touch and telltale moist. She found his sudden lack of polish endearing and every bit of a turn-on as the way he’d held her in his arms when they’d danced earlier.

At her apartment door, she handed him the key, which she’d thought to have out in advance. Since he seemed to like doing these small courteous things, she would let him. Truth was, she liked his manners.

The apartment was dark and quiet, though she thought she could hear her heart beating. She hadn’t left a light on. She walked to the lamp on the table next to the couch and switched it on.

“So, some wine?” she inquired.

He was still standing just inside the door. “If you’re having some.”

“You’re not worried about driving, are you?” She raised one eyebrow in subtle challenge.

“Should I be?” The corner of his mouth lifted.

“No.” But then Mallory shrugged. “Although I have heard that even small amounts can impair one’s ability to drive…among other things.”

Logan crossed to where she stood. “Then I shouldn’t chance it. I want to be fully…able.”

His hands found her hips and he pulled her into closer proximity. As his head dipped low, she whispered, “I’d prefer that as well.”

He bypassed her mouth and started with her neck. The first nibble sent a series of shocks through her system.

Zip, zap, zing.

She enjoyed every one of them, no longer trying to determine why she felt the way she did. Some things defied explanation.

“Mmm.” The sound vibrated out on a moan.

“You like that?”

Logan’s voice had taken on a cocky air. Apparently he’d found his footing again. She didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed. Glad, she decided when his mouth began to explore the other side of her neck.

“You have to ask?”

“Not really.”

Cocky, definitely. It was time to level the playing field. She backed up a step, creating just enough distance between their bodies that he was forced to stop exploring her collarbone. He looked at her in question.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but whenever we’re together, I get this…this sensation.”

“Sensation?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded solemnly.

“Really? Where?”

“I don’t know if I should say.”

“You can tell me,” he coaxed.

“That’s right. You’re a doctor.” Mallory’s smile was bold. He returned it in kind.

“Exactly,” Logan told her.

“It starts about here.” She laid her right hand on her chest.

“Here?” His fingertips skimmed her exposed collarbone in a sensual caress.

“A little lower, actually,” she managed in a voice that verged on studious.

“Lower?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” His gaze turned from considering to smoldering as his hand slowly meandered south, where it kneaded the upper curve of her breast through the satiny fabric of the cocktail dress.

“Here?” he asked.

“Still lower,” she managed. This time her voice was a breathy whisper. She decided to show him rather than use words. Placing her hand over his, she guided it down until the fullest part of her breast filled his palm. “Right here.”

His head dipped down and he whispered her name against her cheek as his hand’s gentle movement had her knees threatening to buckle. But she wasn’t through.

“That’s where it starts, Doctor. But that’s only where it starts.”

Mallory thought she heard Logan swallow, though it was hard to tell over the loud thudding of her heart. As
for her, she had nothing to swallow. Her mouth had gone dry. So much for leveling the playing field.

“Where does it end?” he asked.

She should have been nervous. She had been. Now, she was anything but. She felt powerful, empowered. For the first time in her life, she knew exactly what she wanted and it had nothing to do with news beats or stories or journalism awards.

“Let me show you.” She took his hand and turned, pulling him in the direction she wanted to take him. The direction she wanted to go, despite the lines that would be crossed on the way to her final destination.

Logan glanced past her to the hallway that led to her bedroom. He didn’t move and she was forced to stop, as well. “Are you sure, Mallory?” His hand squeezed hers. “I want you to be sure.”

Mallory swallowed. Something inside of her warmed. Logan was ever the gentleman, even at a time like this. He really was a special, special man.

I’m positive, she thought, but what she told him was, “If you want to find out exactly how sure I am, you’ll have to come with me.”

Logan stayed the night. The
entire
night. Leaving just after dawn the next morning with his suit coat slung over one arm, his tie peeking out of his trouser pocket, stubble shading his jaw and a smile of satisfaction lifting the corners of his mouth.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Me, too,” Mallory said. She couldn’t afford to be
late to work for the second time in two days, not with Ruth watching the clock and Sandra gunning for her back.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Even so, they lingered in the doorway of her apartment for another fifteen minutes kissing farewell.

“I’ll call you later today,” Logan said when they finally broke apart.

He did, though it was much, much later.

Mallory scrubbed off her makeup and brushed her teeth, going about her nighttime routine as if nothing had happened when in fact nothing was the same. Her well-ordered world had rocked on its axis.

She had been able to think of nothing else all day except for Logan…and last night.

What a night it had been. It wasn’t only what had transpired in her bedroom that had her mind straying from work all day. She couldn’t stop recalling the hours that had led up to it.

She kept trying to pinpoint the moment everything had changed. It was the look, she decided. The look on Logan’s face when he’d turned around in her tiny kitchen to find her dressed and ready for their evening out. His reaction had made her knees weak.

Mallory still couldn’t believe that he thought she was gorgeous. Pretty? Oh, sure. She’d been called that on occasion. More often than not, though, with her oversize eyes and blunt chin, she’d been labeled cute. Add in her personality, especially while on assignment, and
ruthless
was the adjective that most often had been hurled. She’d taken it as a compliment, though obviously the sources who’d issued it hadn’t intended it that way.

But
gorgeous?

She stared at her reflection now, both amazed and intrigued that Logan could see her that way. She’d barely managed to wrap her mind around the compliment when he’d all but seduced her while they’d circled the crowded dance floor. To be fair—and Mallory was a firm believer in fairness—she’d been only too happy to return the favor. And later she had.

She dabbed moisturizer on her face and, rubbing it in, sighed. He’d said he would call today, but he hadn’t. Not while she’d been at work, not on her cell phone and not since she’d been home. It was now past eleven o’clock, the last hour of the day ticking away. She tried to remain optimistic, which was something in itself. Even two years into her relationship with her last boyfriend, Mallory had taken every vow Vince made with a grain of salt:

“The next time my boss invites everyone out to dinner, I’ll invite you along.” “When my parents come to town next time, I’ll introduce you.” “I’ve got a buddy who says he’ll get us some prime Sox seats for the next game.”

Yeah, right. Whatever. Mallory hadn’t pinned her hopes on any of her ex’s promises. She’d known he would break them. Just as when she was a kid she’d known her father would fail to honor his word the few
times he’d actually made plans to visit with her after the divorce.

For reasons she couldn’t quite comprehend, she wanted to believe Logan. She didn’t want him to disappoint her.

She moved to her bedroom, where she slipped into a tank top and boxer shorts. Pulling back the comforter on the antique four-poster she’d purchased at an estate sale in Lake Forest, she knew there would be no need for down tonight. Even the cotton sheet would be overkill. The air-conditioning unit had been fixed, but even with it blasting on high her skin felt heated.

She was fanning herself and considering a cold shower when the telephone rang. Even before she glimpsed the Caller ID readout she knew who it was. Her heart did a crazy thump and she was glad no one was around to see her foolish smile.

“I was just thinking about you,” she said in lieu of the standard greeting.

“I guess that means I didn’t wake you. Are you in bed?” His voice was low and all the sexier for it as he asked the question.

“As a matter of fact, I just climbed under the covers.” Mallory lowered herself onto the mattress as she made the claim.

“Imagine that. So am I.”

Her already elevated body temperature shot to the combustible range as she pictured Logan stretched out on his mattress wearing what he’d had on late last night…nothing. “Mmm.”

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She smiled at the memory. “Nothing at all.”

“I’m sorry to call you so late. It was a crazy day. After my show I spent a few hours taping promotional spots to run during other programs and then…it doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say it was a really long and tedious day.”

“Sorry. We can talk tomorrow if you’d like. For that matter, you needn’t have called at all.” Though she was so glad he had.

“I told you I’d call. I’m a man of my word.”

Logan said it simply, stating it as fact. Her heart did that funny thump thing again. She wasn’t sure which she found more disconcerting, the flash of fire he could provoke with a look or this new physical reaction.

“I like knowing that you try to keep your promises,” she admitted.

“Everyone should.”

“But everyone doesn’t.”

“You’ve been hurt,” he said.

“Haven’t we all?” Mallory waited a beat, wondering if he might mention his own breakup, and not just because she wanted a story and still smelled one here. But because she wanted to know more about Logan for herself.

He made a sound of agreement, but didn’t expound on it. Instead he said, “It’s pretty much a given that by the time you get to our age someone will have broken your heart or breached your trust. It’s the human condition. Of course, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“No.”

She heard him sigh. “It’s late. I should let you go.”

“Is that a polite way of telling me I need my beauty sleep?” Mallory asked lightly.

“No. You’re already gorgeous. Remember?”

Thump!

“So you say.” She wrapped her free arm around her middle, hugging herself in an attempt to keep the pleasure his words generated from escaping.

“Still don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question. “I guess I’ll just have to keep telling you until you become a believer.”

Because she could think of nothing to say to that, she changed the subject. “What time do you need to be at the radio station?”

“I usually try to get there about an hour before I go on the air.” Which meant he would be getting up in about five hours, given his commute. “What about you? What time do you have to be at the
Herald?
”

There had been a time in the not-so-distant past when Mallory had beaten in the copy editors, who were traditionally among the first to arrive in the newsroom. She’d stayed late in the day, too. A fifteen-hour shift wasn’t an anomaly, even when she’d had nothing more pressing to do than scroll the national news wires and read the stories. She’d considered it a badge of honor then, a display of her dedication. It seemed a little pathetic now.