“Why do we have to say anything?” She waved off all of his concern with that one airy statement. “No one is asking for an interview. Let it ride. See how your numbers are Monday morning and then let’s strategize some more.”
Easy for her to say. If the Mustangs won today, he’d most definitely be in front of a dozen sportscasters, and he’d bet good money they’d ask him about his love life.
They didn’t win.
But by noon on Monday, he had evidence in his hand that people were buying tickets regardless, in record numbers. Logan McLaughlin had become the poster boy for the Dallas Mustangs ball club, and Myra had very specific ideas for how to capitalize on it.
Logan bit his tongue and picked up the phone to call Trinity.
Five
There was literally nothing about baseball that had matched Trinity’s expectations. Case in point: when Logan had called her to ask if she’d go on a road trip with him, she’d actually thought he meant a road trip. Like the kind every single person on the planet except Logan would interpret as two people in a car driving somewhere.
Not what he’d meant.
Fortunately, jetting off to San Francisco for a few days to watch the Mustangs take on Oakland fit her need to not be at work on Monday. She might even call herself pathetically grateful to have a valid excuse for why she couldn’t be at Fyra giving the nonexistent Formula-47 presentation.
Also, Logan had failed to mention that the Mustangs had a private plane for away games, which made the trip even more fun. The entire fuselage had been fitted with first-class-size seats, which made her feel even tinier in a cabin full of large men, but she reveled in the luxury.
Shortly after takeoff, the flight crew began circulating with drinks and food. Logan casually took Trinity’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Strictly for show. She knew that. But it put a little tingle in her stomach that she secretly didn’t hate.
She was looking forward to a lot more tingle in her future. After all, this trip was the perfect opportunity to take their relationship to the next level, both on camera and off.
“Tell me again,” she murmured with a nod at the middle-aged man Logan had introduced her to earlier as the Mustangs’ manager. “You’re the general manager and that guy is the manager with no other title in front of it?”
“Right. It’s a weird baseball thing. I never think twice about it.” Logan’s thumb brushed over her knuckle as he spoke and she wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “Gordon is the coach and I’m the CEO.”
Prior to today, Logan had been almost deliberately affectionate, as if he was only paying attention to her because their on-camera relationship required it. She was trying not to ascribe any meaning to his seemingly subconscious touch other than the obvious—he was technically at work and probably focused on that.
Besides, they weren’t a real couple. There didn’t have to be meaning to anything he did. In public, everything was fake. She didn’t have to dissect his moods or worry if he was thinking about ditching her. None of that mattered, which was what made it great.
“CEO, huh? So everyone reports to you and you could fire them all?”
He nodded with a shrug.
That was a job she was glad Cass had signed up for at Fyra. Trinity would hate having so many people looking to her for answers.
She scooched down in her seat. Wasn’t that still the case with the marketing campaign for Formula-47? Skipping town on the wave of positive publicity didn’t absolve the fact that a lot of people depended on her to hit a home run on this one.
And Logan had apparently invaded her consciousness to the point where she was making baseball analogies.
She’d noticed that around Logan, her muse was inspired. She’d gotten a double dose of inspiration from that scorching-hot round of kissing Saturday night, but the dozens of half-finished sketches hadn’t moved her much closer to her goal. Something much more...encompassing than mere kissing might be the ticket, and she had a four-day trip ahead of her to prove her theory.
The next time she got naked with Logan, there would be a whole lot more happening than a conversation, and no one would be putting on clothes for quite a while. But she didn’t want to clue him in that she had a stake in taking this very public flirtation behind closed doors.
When they got to the hotel, a slew of photographers waited outside the sliding glass doors. The limo Logan had chartered slid to a stop near the valet stand, but he didn’t get out right away.
“By the way, I tipped off the local press that we were coming to this series. Together,” he said. “As a couple. I hope that was okay.”
“Brilliant.” She’d wondered if this was the typical welcome a baseball team received in a host city. But it was the general manager and his girlfriend-slash-fiancée that they’d come to see. Nice. “Maybe we should think about hiring someone to follow us around with a camera. I like the organic reach of having unbiased third parties pick up the story, but it couldn’t hurt to goose things a little.”