Smart, Sexy and Secretive (35 page)

“
I’m not worried, Dad,” I
protest. Well, I kind of am. Logan isn’t used to these kinds of
parties. There are a lot of people here who make a lot of
money.

“
Mmm hmm,” he hums. He spins
me around in a circle, and surprisingly, it makes me laugh. My dad
looks happy.... Something is up. I can feel it.

He skirts around the edges of the dance
floor until I lose sight of Logan completely. “You can do better,
Em,” he says. “A lot better.”

I grit my teeth together. “Define
better, Dad,” I toss back. “I highly doubt that I can do better
than a man who loves me like crazy, who will care for me and be
there for me for the rest of my life.”

“
He’s not our kind, Em,” my
dad says.

“
He’s not your kind, Dad,” I
breathe out on a heavy sigh. “He’s most definitely my
kind.”

“
You can do better.” He
pinches his lips together in a straight line. “Trip is afraid that
you think you can’t do better than Logan because of your
dyslexia.”

I stop and step back. “What?” He may as
well have kneed me in the gut. Trip said as much to me, but I never
expected my dad to even entertain the idea. “I just want what’s
best for you.”

“
Then let me be,” I say. I
step back, and I walk around the edge of the dance floor looking
for Logan. I am seething. The crowd parts to get out of my way.
Except for Trip. Trip steps up beside me and holds out his arms for
a dance.

“
No, thank you,” I grit
out.

“
What’s wrong?” he asks, as
though he’s all concerned.

“
Nothing.” I don’t want to
talk to Trip.

“
You’re angry because Logan
went outside with that girl?”

My eyes immediately meet his, and then
his gaze skitters away. “What girl?” I ask. The girl he was dancing
with? “Why would he do that?”

“
I don’t know, but they were
looking pretty chummy.” He shrugs and points toward the
terrace.

Logan is coming in the door at the same
time I’m going out it. He’s tucking his shirt into his pants. My
heart stops. He brushes the curls from his forehead and blows out a
frustrated breath.

“
Where have you been?” I
ask.

“
With Trip’s decoy, I’d
suspect.” He takes my elbow and pulls me toward the terrace, and I
can now see that it’s empty. She must have gone in the adjoining
door. “I can’t believe he did that to me.” He looks off into space
and rocks his head back and forth. “Well, actually, I can. He’s
Trip, after all.”

“
Did what?” I’m so
confused.

“
She said she was feeling
sick and needed some air. And that she was so lightheaded she
couldn’t walk by herself. So I brought her out here. Then her
illness turned into octopus hands.” He gropes at me frantically,
imitating her movements. His eyes narrow at me. “Did Trip send you
out here?”

He did actually. “What difference does
that make?”

“
That sorry fucker tried to
set me up,” he growls. He smacks his hand against the wall. “I’m
going to kill that little dicksmack.”

I lay a hand on his chest, and he
closes his eyes. “She put the moves on you?” I ask.

“
If you call those moves,”
he says. He covers my hand with his, and I can feel the steady beat
of his heart. “It was more like she wanted to drop and suck my
dick. It was all I could do to get away from her.”

I cover my mouth. It’s not funny. It’s
really not. But a laugh bubbles through. He looks so discouraged.
He balls his hands into a fist. “I’m sorry,” I say, when his eyes
narrow at me.

“
You think this is funny,”
he says, and he steps toward me, forcing me to take a step back. My
back touches the wall, and his hands land on each side of my head,
boxing me in. “You find it amusing, do you?” But his voice has
gentled, and he nuzzles his lips against my neck.

“
Well, the look on your face
was pretty priceless,” I say. He finally grins.

“
The look that said I needed
to get the fuck out of there?” He kisses me softly and tenderly,
and I realize he has a smudge of lipstick on his cheek. I wipe it
away with my thumb.

“
Did she kiss you?” I
ask.

“
It was more like I had to
play ‘Dodge the Kisses,’” he says. “She was determined to get
lipstick on me.”

I wipe at a smudge that’s on his neck.
This should make me angry. They’d hoped to make me angry at Logan.
But I’m really just sad. It hurts me that they would try such a
thing on such a good man. “I’m sorry,” I say as I place my head on
his chest again. He takes a deep breath, and I can feel the tension
drain from him.

My mom pokes her head out onto the
terrace, her gaze worried. “There you are,” she says. “It’s time
for dinner.”

“
Do you want to go home?” I
ask Logan. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

He arches an incredulous eyebrow. “And
let them win? Fuck no. Have you lost your mind?”

He takes my hand and pulls me toward
the family table. Both Dad and Trip look sheepish, and Mom looks
lost.

“
Nice try,” I say beneath my
breath.

“
Em,” Trip says.

“
We’ll discuss it another
time,” I say to cut him off.

Trip nods. I’m afraid I’ve just given
him hope where there is none—and never will be any.

Logan

I can’t believe they fucking did that.
Of all the lowdown, dirty, underhanded tricks to play… I pull out a
chair for Emily so she can sit down and scooch her closer to the
table. I sit down beside her. The waiter brings us a modified menu
and leaves them in front of us. The dinner has limited
choices.

Trip opens his mouth and starts to read
the menu out loud.

“
Stop it,” Emily
snaps.

Trip looks up, his mouth still open,
paused on a word. “I was just trying to help. I know how much you
hate menus.”

I want to punch him in the fucking
face.

“
I’ll be fine,” Emily says.
She leans over my shoulder and looks down at my menu. “What are you
having?” she asks, smiling at me. I know she’s not reading the
menu. She never does. She wouldn’t, particularly with all these
people watching. She keeps her dyslexia a closely guarded secret.
And she will refuse to show weakness, even at a table full of
people who already know.

“
I’m trying to decide
between the chicken, beef, and fish,” I say, giving her an
out.

“
Which one of the chicken
dishes appeals to you?” she asks.

She wants chicken. Okay. Let’s go for
clue number two. “Chicken parmesan.”

Her face lights up. “Ooh, I’ll have
that, too,” she coos.

“
I think I’m going to have
the filet,” I say to the waiter. “Medium.”

“
I thought you wanted
chicken,” she says.

I shake my head. I just wanted to be
sure she had her choice of chicken. She understands immediately,
and my heart warms at the genuine happiness on her face. It’s so
fucking easy to make this woman happy. So easy. Anyone with a heart
and half a brain could do it. But I’m lucky because she picked
me.

Trip snarls at us from the other side
of the table. He looks pretty unhappy. “Who was the blonde, Logan?”
he asks. “You two looked pretty good together.”

I take a sip of my water. “You tell me,
Trip,” I say.

“
How should I know?” he
asks. “I think she’s one of the models. Definitely not someone I’d
hang out with.”

“
Why not?” Emily asks, her
smile sweet. “She doesn’t make enough money?”

I bite back a laugh. Dinner arrives,
and it’s really difficult to read lips when people are eating, so I
miss parts of the conversation. Dessert comes next, and I can catch
more as the forks and the cups slow down.

“
Emily,” her dad says. “The
congressman and his son are here. I’d like for you to go and meet
them.” He stands up and holds out his hand.

She takes it, looking over
her shoulder. I sign the word
fine
at her really quickly and nod. She can go; I’ll be
all right.

Mrs. Madison is talking to a woman on
her right, and Trip is glaring at me. So, I take out the notepad
that’s always in my pocket, pull the nub of a pencil from the
spirals at the top, and start to sketch. Mr. Madison has a tricky
problem within his ad campaign, and I can solve it, so I want to
get it down on paper. He may never use it, but if he does, it may
score me some points with him. I doubt it. But maybe.

I put my ideas on paper, sketching
words and scenes that might be a commercial or print advertising.
I’m totally engrossed in my ideas when Emily returns. She sits down
beside me and says, “I’m back.”

“
My world is now complete,”
I respond.

She rolls her eyes and leans over to
kiss me quickly. “That was cheesy,” she says.

I shrug. I don’t care. It’s
true.

“
What are you doing?” she
asks, looking down at my sketch.

“
Doodling,” I say, grinning
at her. She snags the notepad and flips through the
pages.

“
These are really good,” she
says. She looks up at me, her brown eyes wide. “I mean, really,
really good.” She passes my pad back to me, and I shake my
head.

“
Probably not worth the
effort,” I say.

She heaves a sigh. “Probably
not.”

I lay my pad on the table and stand up.
“Come and dance with me,” I say. I pull her into my arms and spin
her around the dance floor. She’s breathless when we come
back.

I look around for my sketch pad. “Hmm,”
I say. “It’s gone.”

“
What’s gone?” she asks, her
cheeks rosy and her breaths quickened.

“
My notepad.”

She worries her lower lip. “Maybe one
of the servers picked it up by accident?” she suggests. “Do you
want me to ask?”

I shake my head. “It was just a
notepad.” I have a lot of them, and they end up scattered all over
the house. But as a deaf man, you never know when you might need
one.

She looks at me shyly and says, “Can we
go and dance some more?”

I’d do just about anything for her. So,
we go and dance the rest of the night away.

Emily

It’s more than a little awkward when
my dad’s limo pulls up in front of Logan’s apartment building to
drop him off. He looks at me like he wants to take me with him, and
I want to go. But my dad is in the car, and I know he won’t like
it. I nudge Logan’s leg, and he reaches over, offering his had to
my dad.

“
Thank you for the wonderful
evening, Mr. Madison,” he says. He smiles at my mom. “And Mrs.
Madison.”

Begrudgingly, my dad takes his hand.
Logan looks down at me one more time, kisses my forehead, and then
the driver opens the door. He gets out of the car and I follow
behind him.

“
You’re staying?” he asks,
his face lighting with hope.

I shake my head and nod toward the car.
“No. He’s going to take me to my apartment.”

His face clouds and he looks up at the
stars, breathing in a long breath. I don’t want to leave him. I
want to stay here. This is home. Not my apartment and certainly not
with Trip Fields.

My stomach twists with the knowledge
that I won’t get to sleep in his arms tonight. He won’t throw one
leg over my naked bottom and hold me close to him.

“
I have a class at nine
tomorrow and another at noon.” I say. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow
night?”

He shakes his head. “My classes don’t
start until three on Mondays, and then I have a lab at six
thirty.”

“
Oh.”

The window of the limo lowers, and my
dad barks at me.

“
I know!” I shout. “I’m
coming!”

Logan brackets my face with his hands
and says, “I want to kiss you.”

My dad starts to whistle, the window
still down. I’m glad Logan can’t hear it because it’s annoying the
crap out of me. “I want to be kissed,” I say.

He groans and presses his lips to my
forehead, holding them as he breathes in and out, in and
out.

In a perfect world, I could go home and
we could talk late into the night on the phone. But that can’t
happen with us. Logan can use a TTY, but it wouldn’t be the
same.

“
Emily,” my dad
warns.

“
I have to go,” I say, and I
kiss him quickly on the lips. The driver holds the door open for
me, and I slide into the car. I feel like he’s shutting the door to
happiness when I have to leave Logan. I sigh heavily and lean back
against the backrest. This sucks.

Logan

I run up the stairs as quickly as I
can. Paul is standing in the kitchen and spins to face me when I
run in and slam the door.