LOGAN WAITED AS THE phone rang, staring into his cavernous closet, willing his sister to pick up. He had no idea why he was so nervous, but somewhere between Marti’s short, clipped email asking him to attend this art show with him and now, he realized he might be in a tad over his head. Sure, he was a confident man. He had gone through medical school and started his own practice before thirty. Fast forward two years, and there he was. Yet he had no idea how to date a woman with so much clout. Real or not, the thought unnerved him far more than he wanted to admit.
This was his chance to prove himself, to right the wrongs of his past, to make amends. If he could help women and save lives with Hidden Heartbeat, maybe he could finally forgive himself for the things he’d done wrong in his own life.
Having Marti on his arm was a bonus.
He thumbed through a couple of dress shirts as he dialed his sister again and waited. The moment she answered, he didn’t waste any time. He felt like a complete tool enough as it was. “Quick. What do you wear to an art show?”
“Is that where you’re taking her? Talk about boring.”
Logan rolled his eyes into the phone, glad she couldn’t see him. “It’s not my first choice, trust me. But when you date one of New York’s resident celebrities, apparently you need to go where you’re expected, and it’s a PopNewz thing. She got the invite and needs to make an appearance, which means—”
“You’re expected to be there together if you’re really an item.”
“Right.”
“Oh,” she cooed, and he could practically see her maniacally twiddling her fingers over the line. “Your first event since the gala. How exciting. And it’s only been four days. Smart. Don’t want people to forget or too much time to pass without solidifying your relationship status.”
“That’s the plan,” Logan muttered.
“Why do you sound all death’s doorstep?”
“Because my first serious relationship since Allison is faking it with a woman who’d rather shove bamboo shoots up her nails than have a boyfriend.”
“My kind of woman.”
&nbs
p; “Oh, please.” Logan ran a hand down his face. “Not again.” Ever since his sister’s boyfriend cheated on her last year, she’d been obsessed with Marti and her Single in the City column.
“I’m just razzing you. If anyone deserves someone amazing, it’s you.”
“Thanks,” Logan said, shifting on his feet in front of his closet. He hated when she hounded him about dating again.
“Speaking of her, when do I get to meet her?” Britt asked.
“Never.”
“What? You’re in a serious relationship, so that definitely means she needs to meet your family.”
“Fake relationship.”
“Mhm. For now . . .”
“Britt,” Logan said in warning.
“What? Any girl who can’t see how awesome you are is clearly blind. Anyway, are you going to try to plug your story this weekend? You should make it your goal to seek out at least two people and mention how you got together, get the gossip chain started.”
“Sure,” Logan said. Yanking a chocolate brown suit from his closet, he frowned. “Now can we get back to what I’m supposed to wear tonight?”
“I think it’s cute you’re asking me.”
“Well, you are a fashion major.”
“Still. Okay . . .” she trailed off, and he imagined her eyes lighting up over the line. Giving quality fashion advice was like her magnum opus in life.
“It’s an art show, so you need to be trendy but sophisticated. But most importantly, you need to look hot,” Brittney said.
“It would be inappropriate to go naked.”