Private Confessions. Lori Borrill

glanced at the date on his Rolex. “What’s tomorrow, Thursday?”

      “All day,” Bill said, plopping down on one of the maple chairs that faced Logan’s desk.

      Without thinking, Logan muttered, “I’ve got a date.”

      Bill’s eyes brightened. “Ha! I knew you couldn’t swear off women forever.” The stocky blonde tossed the bag of nuts on Logan’s desk in a gesture of offering. “What’s her name? Anyone I know?”

      Logan wished he could answer that question. He had no idea who he’d been meeting twice a week in his dimly lit den. All he knew was that the more he chatted online with Scorpio63, the more intent he was to keep their dates.

      He frowned at his own stupidity for making the absent comment. “It’s not that kind of date.”

      Logan had no intention of sharing his cybertrysts with Bill, no matter how close a friend Bill was. After Logan’s post-divorce escapades left him with a playboy reputation he’d never live down, the last thing he needed was the embarrassment of admitting that he was now having an Internet love affair with a woman he didn’t know.

      How a man in his position had been reduced to cybersex, he’d never know. It had started as a joke, a belated birthday present from his brother, Dane. Shattered by his divorce and frustrated with his new love life, Logan had thrown in the towel on dating altogether. He’d ultimately confessed his state to Dane, who in turn, signed him up with LoveSigns.com. Logan had been handed a password and a date with what he thought would be a virtual prostitute, one of those talk-dirty ladies that advertised on late-night television.

      He hadn’t intended to keep the date, but after four gin and tonics and nothing else to do, he’d decided, what the hell? He hadn’t expected to log on and find a tender, intelligent woman, just as apprehensive as he’d been. Their first chat had been close to laughable, as bungling and awkward as real sex among strangers who weren’t accustomed to such things. If he hadn’t been sauced, he would have never made it through the hour. But something about the sexy, sensitive woman on the other end had him coming back and before he knew it, he was under her spell.

      Sure, he told himself she was most likely some frustrated housewife. But for some reason, he simply didn’t care. Scorpio63 had become the image of everything he wanted in a woman, and as pathetic as it seemed, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

      “What is it, a business meeting?” Bill asked.

      “Something like that.” He grabbed the bag of nuts and casually tossed one in his mouth. “So how’s Megan doing with the Puffy Cream Doughnut ads?” he asked, hoping to quickly change the subject before Bill pressed him for details.

      Bill didn’t bite. “You’re really done with women?”

      Logan’s beer nut turned to paste as the moisture left his mouth. He didn’t want to talk about his love life. “Puffy Cream, Bill. How’s it going?”

      Bill snatched the bag from Logan, tipped a few nuts into his hand and tossed it back onto the desk. “Why don’t you ask Trisha out? She’s perfect for you.”

      Logan nearly choked. Trisha Bain was the last woman he cared to get involved with. And the fact that his body had other ideas made her all that more dangerous.

      “She’s a carbon copy of my ex,” he explained.

      Bill gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, come on. Trisha’s nothing like Virginia.”

      No, Virginia Matthews, formerly Virginia Moore, was one of a kind, but she and Trisha both shared that spark to succeed at any cost, which made Trisha Bain a woman he’d need to keep far from his heart.

      “She wants to do well, not take over your business,” Bill added.

      Logan didn’t intend to give her the opportunity. He’d been a stupid young executive when he’d married his ex-wife, stupid enough to let his smaller head make the decisions and hand over control of half his business. Business she’d taken with her when she’d walked out the door. It had taken the Moore Agency three years to recover its position as one of the top ad agencies in San Francisco, but it would take longer than that for him to recover his trust in women, especially women with the looks and brains of Trisha Bain.

      “She is doing well,” Logan said. “I’ve seen the briefs of her ads for Tyndale Resorts. She’s nailed him. Landing Tyndale will be the feather in our cap that puts us back on top.” And sticks it in the craw of the lovely Virginia Matthews. Oh, what he’d give to be there when Tyndale pulled the rug out from under his ex. He’d pay money to see the look on that surgically enhanced face when they told her she’d lost her account to the man she screwed over three years ago.

      “You two make a great team.”

      He shot a glance at Bill. “In business, and that’s where it ends. I’ve been there, remember? We both almost lost our jobs thanks to my brilliant choice in women.”

      And the fact that Trisha kept haunting his thoughts was proof he hadn’t learned a thing.

      After Virginia, he’d sworn off dating women in advertising, especially women at his firm. It was the only way to be sure he’d never threaten his company again. But after two years working with Trisha, he’d nearly broken the rule, the brain in his pants apparently having a shorter memory than the one between his ears. Trisha was everything that had attracted him to Virginia—a bundle of smarts, a clever wit, a killer smile, all rolled up in one tantalizing body.

      It all came together as one bright neon “No” and no matter now much he tried to see their differences, the similarities between Trisha and Virginia were too obvious to ignore.

      “You’re forgetting one thing,” Bill said. “I know Trisha. She’s Adie’s best friend. She’s not another Virginia. And if you recall, I was the one who told you to watch out for Virginia in the first place, but you didn’t listen.”

      No, he hadn’t, Logan thought. He’d been too smitten by Virginia and too stupid to care. She’d wrapped him in such a fog, he’d believed every word she’d uttered between the sheets, her lies about wanting a family, how much she’d loved him, all the dreams about their future. And in the end it had all been a ploy to gain stake in his budding agency.

      Virginia hadn’t wanted a family or a husband. She’d only wanted her own agency and figured marrying a man who had one was easier than building one of her own.

      The two were going to form a partnership, in business and in life. But the moment they’d made their mark, she’d dropped the bomb. Children weren’t her future, marriage wasn’t her bag and the only thing she wanted from him was a divorce and half his business.

      He’d had to sink into debt to buy her out, giving her the money and status she needed to start a business of her own and then slowly snatch his accounts, one by one. He’d managed to restore his business, but the damage she’d done to his faith in his instinct was irreparable. How he’d been so colossally blind was a question for the ages, but he’d bought it all at a hefty price tag.

      And it was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat.

      “I’m not interested,” he said.

      “Suit yourself, man. But one of these days, you should start listening to your old buddy here. I know what’s good for you.”

      “So why are you asking me about tomorrow night?” Logan asked, trying once again to change the subject.

      “Adie and I are going to a club to listen to some band she discovered. We were trying to get a few people to go along with us.”

      Logan raised an eyebrow. “What few people?”

      “Nobody, just a couple friends, that’s all.”

      The caged look on Bill’s face told him those couple of friends included Trisha Bain.

      “Stop trying to fix me up with Trisha,” Logan insisted.

      “I’m