Winning is nonnegotiable...and so is parenthood!
Marketing exec Trinity Forrester needs PR buzz. By-the-books baseball tycoon Logan McLaughlin needs ticket sales. Their plan is simple: embark on a pretend romance to boost publicity. But soon their reality-show kisses lead to explosive off-camera lovemaking...
Trinity knows her fling with her frustratingly handsome costar ends when the cameras stop rollingânot with a diamond ring and proposal. But when their fake romance yields a very real pregnancy, will the emotionally guarded duo choose winning...or wedding?
Logan McLaughlin was perfection under her hands.
Trinity wanted more. And took it.
Tilting her head, she deepened the kiss and he countered instantly, swirling his tongue forward to find hers, heightening the roar of hunger pounding through her veins. His mouth. God, the things it was doing to her. The things it could do.
And then all at once, his lips disappeared and she swayed forward, desperate to get them back on hers. Instead, he leaned in and nuzzled her ear.
âHowâd I do?â he murmured. âClose enough to what you were going for?â
Trinity laughed, because what else could she do? âYeah. That was perfect.â
Heâd been on to her scheme the entire time. Of course. What had she thought, that a man with commitment and white picket fences written all over him might actually go for a woman like her, whoâd turned her independence into a shield? That heâd been as into the kiss as she had, almost forgetting it wasnât real?
Never in a million years would they make sense togetherâunless it was fake.
This was a great place for goodbye. But for some reason, Trinity was having a very difficult time taking her hands off her partner.
* * *
From Enemies to Expecting
is part of the Love and Lipstick seriesâFor four female executives, mixing business with pleasure leads to love!
One
Logan McLaughlin hated losing. So of course the fates had gifted him with the worst team in the history of major league baseball. Losing had become an art form, one the Dallas Mustangs seemed determined to master. Short of cleaning house and starting over with a new roster, Logan had run out of ideas to help his ball club out of their slump.
Being the teamâs owner and general manager should be right up his alley. Loganâs dad had run a billion-dollar company with ease and finesse for thirty years. Surely Logan had inherited a little of Duncan McLaughlinâs business prowess along with a love of baseball and his dadâs dot-com fortune?
Ticket sales for the Mustangsâ home games said otherwise. A losing streak a mile long was the only reason Logan had agreed to the ridiculous idea his publicist had put forth, otherwise, heâd never have darkened the door of a reality game show. As last-ditch efforts went, this one took the cake.
But, as his publicist informed him, Logan had run out of charity golf tournaments, and they hadnât helped drive ticket sales anyway. Short of winning gamesâwhich he was working on, via some intricate and slow trade agreementsâhe needed to get public support for his team another way. Now.
Exec-utionâs set teemed with people. Logan stood in the corner nursing a cup of very bad coffee because it was that or rip off someoneâs head due to caffeine withdrawal. He should have stopped at Starbucks on the way to the studio, but who would have thought that an outfit that asked its contestants to be on the set at 5:00 a.m. wouldnât have decent coffee? He was stuck in hell with crap in a cup.
âLogan McLaughlin.â A pretty staffer with an iPad in the crook of her elbow let her gaze flit over the other contestants until she zeroed in on him standing well out of the fray. âCare to take a seat? Weâre about to begin filming.â
âNo, thanks. Iâll stand,â he declined smoothly with a ready smile to counter his refusal.
Chairs were for small people; at six-four, 220, Logan hadnât fit in most chairs since eleventh grade. Plus, he liked being able to see the big picture at a glance.
A soft-looking middle-aged man in a suit nodded at Logan. âThought I recognized you. Iâm a Yankees fan from way back. Used to watch you pitch, what, ten years ago?â
âSomething like that,â Logan agreed easily.
The Yankees had let him go eight years ago, but who was counting when the career heâd poured his heart and soul into ended in a failed Tommy John surgery? His elbow still ached occasionally, just in case he didnât have enough reminders that his days on the mound were over.