"EXCUSE ME, JACK, but there's a Madison Tate on line two for you." Lana stood expectantly at his office door, pushing the mass of shiny black hair away from her face. "She says you're expecting her call."

Jack Logan hesitated. He should talk to her and get it over with. The sooner he got the eager Ms. Tate off his back the better. "Take a message, will you, Lana?"

"Sure." She smiled, first at him and then at Larry before turning to leave, her short skirt showing off a pair of dynamite legs.

Shaking his graying head, Larry exhaled sharply as he tapped the edge of Jack's desk. "I don't think my heart could take having a secretary who looked like that."

Jack smiled at his longtime agent. "She has a husband and twin toddlers she adores."

"With those eyes and that smile she should be working in front of the camera. Maybe I ought to try and sign her up — "

"She's not interested. She's just a nice kid from Nebraska who can't wait to get home to her kids every day." Jack loosened his tie and motioned with his chin to the briefcase on Larry's lap. "You have papers for me to review?"

Larry stared back, his weathered face creasing into a frown. Years of golf without sun protection had added ten years to him. He suddenly looked grim. "You're not going to like the new contract."

"That's a given. Let me see it."

"Not to say it's not a good deal. It's entirely favorable to you. Any other morning-show host would give his right arm for the concessions they're willing to make. I heard that Matt Lauer couldn't even —"

"Larry, just give me the contract."

The older man sighed and took the leather folder out of his briefcase. "Don't be rash. Think about how much you have to lose."

"Jack?"

They both looked toward Lana standing in the doorway. She made an apologetic face.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you again," she said with a helpless wave of her hand, "but this Madison Tate says she's already left two messages and that it's important."

Jack sighed. Right. An important beefcake magazine spread. Talk about an oxymoron. Pictures of insurgents' victims in the Middle East, earthquake victims in India — now, that defined the word important.

"You haven't returned her calls?" Larry gave him a stern look. "If you want to leave room for negotiation, don't piss off the network."

Jack's jaw clenched. Of course he knew Larry was right. Didn't mean he had to like the idea. "I'll take it, Lana. Thanks."

She glanced at Larry, nodded and then left. "Consider this a trade-off," Larry said, as Jack reached for the phone. "The network wants this exposure."

"I don't need the sales pitch. I already agreed." Jack started to use his speakerphone and quickly changed his mind. He wanted some illusion of control over this ridiculous publicity stunt his producer and Larry had arranged. He brought the receiver to his ear and depressed the blinking red button. "Jack Logan."

At his brusque tone, Larry shook his head in disgust. "Madison Tate here," the woman responded equally businesslike. "We haven't talked before, Mr. Logan, so I'll take this opportunity to thank you for agreeing to this photo shoot. Now, let's talk about a time and place."

Jack half smiled. She knew how to get to the point. "I assume you already have a place in mind."

"At Hush. It's that hot new boutique hotel located in midtown owned by Piper Devon. I'm sure you've heard of it."

His smile faded. "Yes, I have."

"You sound annoyed."

"Why there?"

"It's not only the hippest place in Manhattan right now, but the decor is gorgeous."

He briefly closed his eyes. Yeah, he knew the place. He knew Piper, too. Nice lady. But from the day it opened, the hotel had attracted its share of scandal, a field day for the press, who'd labeled it the sex hotel.

"Mr. Logan?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He glanced at Larry, who listened with far too much interest. "Let's talk about that further. Maybe we could meet for a drink."

"Okay," she said slowly, "but we'll have to start shooting soon. I'm sure you can appreciate that I have a deadline."

"Of course." He opened the jar of jellybeans he kept on his desk. "I'll check my schedule and —"

"How about this evening?"

He paused, his hand halfway into the jar. For a moment he thought about blowing her off. Telling her he'd call back tomorrow, but his grudging appreciation of her no-nonsense approach stopped him. "What time?"

"Your call."

"Six."

"Perfect."

"Where?"

"Hush. At the bar. I look forward to it, Mr. Logan." She hung up before he could say a word.

He shook his head as he replaced the phone. "What?" Larry leaned forward, his brows drawn together. Made Jack wonder if the man was born with a frown. Even when the guy smiled he still looked as if he were troubled about something.

He was a good agent, though, and always frank. Didn't mouth what Jack wanted to hear. Just told it like it was. No behind-the-back deals. No back stabbing. He'd been with Jack from the beginning and was loyal to a fault.

Many of Jack's peers had advised him to change agents. Claimed Larry was a dinosaur. Even a couple of Jack's producers thought he should have a new hip young agent. But he had little use for the brash, flashy upstarts who thought schmoozing was more important than good reporting. Besides, loyalty went both ways.

"You've met her, right? After you and Ernie were approached by Today's Man?"

"Madison Tate's not with Today's Man. She's a free-lancer. And yeah, I met her."

"A freelancer? You've got to be kidding." He stared at Larry, wanting to seriously strangle the guy. The major magazine had astronomical circulation numbers that couldn't be ignored. He could see why the network had twisted his arm to do the layout, but... "You sold me out to a damn freelancer?"

"Number one, I did not sell you out. This is a good career move. Number two, the agreement is for Today's Man"s sexiest man article only." Larry shrugged. "Besides, hard to say no to a woman like that."

Jack leaned back, testing the limit of his leather chair, and scrubbed at his jaw. Sighing, he came back to face Larry, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd see the day a pretty face could influence your business decisions."

Larry scoffed. "You never will. This Tate is all right in the looks department, tall, thin, short dirty-blond hair, nothing special, but she's got grit, one of those real go- getters, doesn't understand the word no. But she doesn't cross the line, either. Reminds me of you when you were younger."

When he was younger... Jack stiffened. Larry had struck a raw nerve. Nothing to do with age. Jack was only thirty- six. But his recent complacency was starting to bother him. He'd let celebrity and money take center stage. He'd been ambitious once, single-mind-edly chasing after the story of the century. Nothing could have stopped him in those days. Not even a multi-million-dollar contract.

"So where does she want the shoot to take place?" Larry got to his feet and predictably pinched the crease down the front of his slacks. "She hadn't chosen a location when Ernie and I spoke to her. We left it open but that you'd have final say."

"Hush."

Larry's eyes gleamed. "Brilliant choice. See? The woman's got savvy."

"Yeah, just what my image needs." Bad enough he was considered the pretty boy of the network, of the morning infotainment show no less, a bona fide heart-throb according to the media. He hated it.

With a hint of a smile on his face, Larry laid the leather folders on Jack's desk. "Talk to her and let me know what happens."

"I can tell you right now what'll happen."

Larry sighed. "Read the contract later. You don't need to meet Tate with an attitude."

Jack watched the older man leave. He walked with a slight stoop Jack hadn't noticed before. The guy had never mentioned his age but he had to be in his mid-sixties, and he still worked just as hard as he had when he took Jack on as a client fourteen years ago. He clearly loved his job and gave it a hundred and fifty percent.

Jack's gaze went to the leather folder. Would he be able to say the same in thirty years?

AS SOON AS MADISON HUNG UP the phone, she let out a yowl. She stomped her feet a few times, going in a circle, doing the happy dance and then sank into the swivel chair she'd nearly sent flying across the small office.

Nearby, Talia looked up from the article she'd been editing and peered over her thick, black-rimmed glasses. "You arranged a meet," she said in her usual monotone voice. "Just a guess."

Out of breath, Madison nodded. Talia was good people, in spite of her odd sense of humor and even odder taste in clothes, and she did let Madison use her office sometimes, but, man, Madison wished Karrie were here.

Madison missed her like crazy on a normal basis but at a time like this it was really hard to have her best friend living all the way across the country. Not that she wasn't happy that Karrie had found Rob, but jeez... It had been months since Karrie had moved west to be with her guy.

She glanced at her watch. Two-fifteen, which made it eleven-fifteen Las Vegas time. She wouldn't call yet. She'd wait until after she met with him. The Jack Logan. She still couldn't quite wrap her brain around the magnitude of snaring someone like the heart-stopping Logan.

Talia snorted. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."

"What?"

"You acting like a star-struck teenager."

Madison laughed. "He's only the sexiest man in the western hemisphere."

Talia shook her head. "I still don't believe it."

"The only thing Jack Logan means to me is the cover of your magazine." Madison locked her hands behind her head, leaned back and stretched her legs out. Wait until the other photographers found out whom she'd snagged. They'd drool like babies. Cry their eyes out. Or want to scratch hers out. An ugly thought struck her, and she looked at Talia. "Heard anything about who the other men are?"

"Nope. Nothing. Oh, wait, I did hear that Sheila Higgins might have Brad Pitt on the hook."

Madison shot upright. "No way."

Talia just shrugged. "Big deal. He's been on so many covers. Old news. I'm not worried."

Talia smiled. "Yeah, I can tell by the way you nearly hit the ceiling. Relax, kid. I was kidding. I haven't heard a word."

"Go ahead, make fun." Madison stood and tucked the loosened white T-shirt into her jeans. "Some day you'll say 'I knew her when."

Talia put down her pencil and cocked her head to the side. "Say you get the cover. Then what?"

Madison stared in disbelief. "No more begging for assignments, or sitting at the bottom of slush piles. I get to write my own ticket. I mean, getting to shoot the cover is a pretty damn big deal."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely a major career coup." Talia's dark eyes bore into hers. "My question is, what does writing your own ticket mean?"

Madison looked blankly at her and then shrugged. "More freedom."

"To do what?"

"Pay my bills, for one." Madison snorted. "Get to choose my own assignments. Why?"

"No reason." Talia gave her a small mysterious smile, her dark red lips barely curving.