Command Control

“You’re planning to see him again?”

If she had her way, she’d do more than see him. But sharing her interest with Laurel didn’t feel right. She was here to help her twin, not the handsome soldier who might have ridden a horse through a war zone. God, that sounded hot. Part cowboy, part soldier and all muscle—the man was a walking, talking fantasy. With secrets. She couldn’t forget about those.

“I’m living in his aunt’s guesthouse,” Sadie said. “I’ll probably bump into him again.”

“So no plans?” Laurel pressed.

“I might have agreed to help him repair a birthing pen for the heifers,” she admitted. The downside to not spending time with Laurel—she forgot how easily her twin knew when she was fudging the truth. “But only if you don’t need my help.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to fix a birthing pen? Did you tell him you don’t know a screwdriver from a hammer?”

“He didn’t ask. And I’m not that hopeless. Anymore.”

“When was the last time you used either?”

Sadie picked at the potatoes on her plate. “Not recently.”

“Yeah, you’ll be a great help.” Laurel stood and began clearing the table. “You’re going to end up having wild sex in a barn while I sit here watching my feet swell.”

Guilt came crashing down on her. Sadie abandoned the steak dinner she’d barely touched and brought her dish over to the sink to help her sister. “If you need me, I’m here.”

Laurel waved her away, taking the dirty dish from her hands. “No. You should have sex with the soldier.”

“I’m not looking for a vacation fling,” she said. “You know that is not why I’m here.”

Laurel placed the untouched steak on a cutting board and began slicing. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t seize the opportunity. Your last relationship ended in disaster three months ago. And I’m willing to bet you haven’t had sex since then. Am I right?” Laurel stopped slicing and gave her a pointed look. “I’m right,” her twin said. “Get the loaf of bread from the fridge, please.”

Sadie did as she was told.

“A fling is just what you need,” Laurel continued. “Just do yourself a favor and don’t tell him you write erotica.”

Sadie set the bread down beside the cutting board, her gaze fixed on the dark night outside the window. The memory of her last failed relationship still stung. She was over Kurt, but the way he’d run for the hills the moment he’d learned about her career, claiming it would damage his future political career? That hurt clung to her. So did the fact that he’d assumed his career ambitions trumped hers.

But deep down she’d always known her work would be a deal breaker. When she’d revealed her pen name, Kurt had focused on the graphic, sexual elements in her book. She’d explained that her writing was about a young woman learning to ask for what she wants in a relationship. But still he’d asked her to walk away from the publicity and all the opportunities that went with it.

And she’d said no.

Success was important to her. She did not want her children to grow up wearing shoes that were a size too small because she couldn’t afford new ones. She would not let Laurel’s baby grow up wanting.

But Kurt hadn’t understood her drive. To him, revealing her identity equaled trouble, not book sales and a flush bank account that would provide for her family.

“He asked me if I was a reporter,” Sadie said.

“Logan?”

She nodded.

“Then you have many, many more guesses before he reaches erotica writer.” Laurel laid six slices of bread on the counter. She paused and looked right at Sadie. “This is your chance to have a fling with a man before you broadcast your secret identity to the world. Think about it. This time next month every man you meet will see you as the woman who wrote a bestselling erotica series.”

Do you honestly want to walk down the street and have everyone look at you and think “that’s the woman who writes about threesomes”?

Kurt’s words ran through her mind like a highlight reel from her breakup. She knew others would make the same assumptions. And as much as she liked sex, she was a “one man, one woman” kind of girl.

“You’re right. I’m not looking forward to starting every first date with the guy wondering if I’m into the same things as my characters,” Sadie said, while Laurel turned her attention back to the sandwiches. “Okay, I might do it. If he’s interested.” And he was. She’d felt the proof when pressed up against him.

6 (#ulink_6a868fb7-5d9c-52ac-964b-5bd0fa812796)

MIDDAY LIGHT POURED in the bedroom window as Sadie searched for her sneakers. They were her only pair of shoes suitable for farm chores. She finally found them buried at the bottom of her suitcase. While she was lacing them up, her cell vibrated on the floor beside her.

“Anne-Marie,” Sadie greeted her publicist. “I hope you have good news.”

“Good and not so good. Are you sitting down?” Anne-Marie demanded in her raspy smoker’s voice that made her sound like an evil woman hunting Dalmatian puppies to make a coat.

Sadie glanced at the bedside clock. Eleven in the morning. She’d lost track of time when she’d sat down at her computer early that morning to write a few pages. She was already late, and pretty soon Logan would start wondering if she’d flaked on him.

“I’m sitting, but I don’t have much time.”

“Make time,” Anne-Marie said. “My good news—it is huge.”

A thrill ran through her. “Huge as in a movie deal?”

“Close. I just spoke with the producers over at Today in America. They want to reveal the woman behind MJ Lane on live TV during the prime-time slot the day your next book releases. In addition to the interview, they will do a piece on how you moved to New York City from Maryland to seek your fortune. How you struggled, working as a secretary by day and a waitress at night in order to support your father, who served our great nation. And how you used your precious spare time to write your first book.” Anne-Marie paused. “Your father is a veteran, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” And he was going to hate this story. The entire world knowing he relied on his daughter to make ends meet? He might not speak to her for months. There was even a chance he’d refuse to cash her monthly check. “He served.”

“Wonderful,” Anne-Marie said. “After they talk about your backstory, they will bring you out for an interview. If we play our cards right, we’ll announce a major motion picture deal for Isabelle’s Command.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Sadie cried.

“Before you get too excited, you should know that it is a pretty big if at the moment,” Anne-Marie said. “The studio is backing away from the deal. They’re nervous about turning another erotica book into a major motion picture. The casting for that other erotica film hasn’t been easy.”

“I don’t want to lose this, Anne-Marie.” Sadie wanted to see her work made into a movie. And she wanted to add the hundred-or-so thousand dollars from that deal to her growing safety net. “What if we can find a way to keep the press interested and talking about MJ Lane until the show airs?”

“Perhaps. If the studio feels that you’re a big enough name to warrant the risk, it might work. How do you plan to do that without revealing your identity?”

“I’ll think of something,” Sadie promised.

“Think fast,” Anne-Marie said. “We don’t have much time. Now, for this interview you need to look like MJ Lane from head to toe. Something hot and sexy.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll start shopping online tonight.”

“It needs to be perfect,” her publicist insisted. “This is the big break we’ve been waiting for. We’re sharing the morning show plans with all of the bookstore accounts and they’re begging for more copies on day one.”

The morning show, the movie deal—this would change everything. She’d made more money than she’d ever dreamed of from the first book’s sales. But taking her career to the next level would solidify her savings. It wouldn’t just start her niece’s college savings account, it would fill it with some left over for graduate school.

The success, the financial stability—it was everything she’d wanted from her professional life. But while her publicist rambled on and on about the perfect outfit and if they should hire someone to do her makeup, Sadie’s mind drifted.

What would Logan think if he knew? Would he look at her differently? Probably. She didn’t want to find out. She liked the way he looked at her now, as if part of him wanted to run away, but the other part couldn’t resist her. Not the bestselling erotica writer, but Sadie, the woman who loved apple pie and beer, who was struggling to be a good sister and who failed miserably when it came to farm chores.