BAD Beginnings by Shelley Wall Page B

knew where he was.
    She held out a hand and snapped fingers. “Let me see what I can do.”
    Baden handed over the device and she excused herself. “Give me a minute to call it in from my phone. I’ll be right back.” He wasn’t sure why she wanted privacy for that and wasn’t about to let her take it. Who knew what was on that phone. For all he knew there were pictures that just might include him.
    “Call from here.”
    “Fine.” Gemma shrugged and dialed.
    He waited and listened. When the conversation seemed to recommend restarting and perusing the phones commands, he snatched it away. “I’ll do it. Just give instructions.” Fifteen long and painful minutes later, he had access to the phone.
    “Thanks.”
    “Can I go home now?” Annoyance tinged her words.
    What made him think she’d listen to his story and believe it? Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the group that included her sister depart. Gemma waved and smiled. “Sure, how did you get here?”
    “I drove. What do you think?” Her tone was short.
    “Can I get a ride? I took a cab.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “You have a slew of cars in your garage and a driver at your whim…and you took a taxi?”
    “It was late. I didn’t want to bother him. Besides, how else was I supposed to…” Spend time with you. He shook that thought out of head noting how desperate it seemed.
    “Hide?”

C hapter Eleven
    R egardless of the newfound trust, Gemma was frustrated with Logan’s remaining suspicions. Hadn’t the past two years proven he could count on her? That she was worthy of trust?
    Okay, who cared that it was all a lie and she had pretended to be someone else all along. He hadn’t figured that out and was finally allowing her the responsibility she needed to delve further. She wanted that phone. Needed it, in fact. A few seconds alone with the device and she’d be able to plant the tap and trace his conversations. Not to mention she craved a peek at his contact list.
    He doused that plan immediately by not allowing her some electronic alone-time, which further confirmed he was hiding more than just a few errant calls. Now he had the nerve to appear shocked at her words. She squinted as they made their way toward her car. Or was that simply nervousness?
    “What would I want to hide from?”
    “I don’t know…maybe your ever-adoring fans and publicity?”
    He seemed to consider the statement. “I have fans?”
    “You’re rich. You drive a different car every day. Correction, you get driven in a different car every day. Do you even know how to drive? Your name is plastered on businesses, statues, and various big dollar contracts all over this town. With that kind of money, you have fans.”
    He ran a hand over the back of his neck before opening the passenger door of her Ford and sliding onto her worn, non-leather seats. He sighed. “And you think they’d be hanging out at the Cracker Barrel on the off-chance they might get an opportunity for a picture or autograph? Do the paparazzi do that?”
    He had a point. Still she darted a glance around the parking lot. Nope. It was quiet and seemed safe. Logan dropped an arm across the console between them and adjusted the air. Gemma clenched her jaw. Messing with the controls in a person’s car was one of her pet peeves. She’d allow the air because that was a comfort thing, but if he touched her radio she was going to…
    “You do. You’re dead.”
    His hand stopped within inches of the button. “What? I was only going to turn it up. I like this song.” She noted the tune from Matchbox Twenty and shrugged.
    “I thought you planned to change it. Touching a person’s tunes is a major faux pas you know. Girls hate it when guys do that.”
    “Really? Why?”
    “It’s a control thing. Or maybe just bad etiquette. Rude. If you’re a guest in someone’s house or car, you are obliged to listen to their music. No complaints. Besides you might learn to like their taste and will certainly