Typecast by Kim Carmichael

flashed with a response from Logan, and her heart jumped.
    “Ivy, I’ve told you many times how I feel about you.” Matt’s gaze traveled down to her phone.
    She turned the phone over, forcing her focus on the man in front of her. “Matt.” How many times did she have to tell him it wouldn’t work? While his friendship meant everything to her, she couldn’t conjure magic feelings for him.
    He reclaimed her hand. “I wish you would stop letting fear get in your way.”
    She gave Matt the requisite nod anyone received whenever they gave her advice about her life. All she wanted was her hand and to know Logan’s reply. She gave in to one need and flipped the phone over.
    You can be the boss . . . tonight. I’m on my way.
    A quick calculation in her head told her it would take Logan no more than twenty-five minutes to arrive. Nothing on Matt’s spreadsheets could be accomplished instantly, and she couldn’t have their paths cross. “I’m doing better.”
    Matt moved his chair closer. “I know it was a blow to have that man disappear. You know more about the movie than anyone. Bring something new to the story and don’t be scared.”
    “I’m not scared.” Her gaze fell back on the screen with the spreadsheet of every one of Logan’s sins. She jumped out of the chair and shut the laptop. In the process, her phone fell and skidded across the floor. “This story is meant for me to tell, but right now I have to tend to something.”
    Before she could get to her to her phone, Matt retrieved it. He peeked at the screen and placed the phone in her palm. “Now I understand. Be careful, Ivy.”
    “I’m not in any danger.” She peeked to make sure Logan hadn’t texted again.
    “Everything about him is manufactured, remember that.” He packed up his equipment. “He’s designed to make you see stars in your eyes, and when this is over, don’t expect to see him again.”
    Deep down she knew Matt spoke the truth. “I do want to work on the story with you. What you created is exactly what I need.”
    “When you need it, then it will be here.” He walked toward the door.
    She scurried after him, passing Giselle in the living room and opening the door to find Logan standing there. “Oh my God!” Her heart seized, and she pressed her hand to her chest to keep the poor organ in place. He never ceased to surprise her or sneak up on her, and the air sizzled with his mere presence. “What did you do, fly here?”
    “I texted you while I was getting gas. I thought you might want to take a ride.” His signature unlit cigarette dangled from his lips, and he stepped away from the door.
    At the sight of the car— the car —she shook her head. “Logan.”
    “There’s no way I can compete with that.” Matt gave her a kiss on the cheek and, without a word to Logan, left.
    “Matt!” she called after him.
    Her friend simply waved.
    As if under a spell, she looked up to Logan and her knees weakened. Only yesterday she had kissed him. She had kissed Logan Alexander.
    “I would kiss you hello, but we are still marinating.” He bent down as if telling her a secret. “See how I took what could potentially be an uncomfortable situation and turned it around?”
    At his comment, her only choices were to laugh or kiss him. She hated herself for choosing to laugh. “I need to ask you something.”
    He nodded.
    “Do you have any advice for my stage fright?” Why did she ask him? He had known her for three minutes, and he was the personification of confident. “Why haven’t you mentioned it?”
    “You know you have it. No need to mention it. When you need me, I’ll be there, and FYI, I don’t give advice. I’ll tell you what to do.”
    A pure Logan Alexander answer. A pure answer. She couldn’t stop her smile or the way her eyes darted toward the magnificent car once more.
    He motioned toward the vehicle. “Go ahead. You know you want to.”
    With his permission, she rushed toward the jade-green 1984 BMW coupe,