She Read Free Page B

perfectly presented man has been arrested seven times? I have a sudden, overwhelming desire to see him in orange.
    “My dad’s best friend was the police commissioner in Charleston, where we lived. My father was in the Senate, representing the state. My parents were older when they had me, and so dealt with me pretty calmly. Until arrest number seven came along, and my dad’s best friend told him that my criminal ways had to end, or the next time I got arrested he wouldn’t be able to bail me out again, even with his connections. I’d go to jail, for sure, for a minimum of five years.”
    Inappropriate as ever, I say, “The inmates would have had a field day with the likes of you.” Then a sudden fear grips me. “Oh, god, please tell me they didn’t…”
    “They didn’t,” he assures me quickly with a smile. Proudly he announces, “I never went back to jail. I’ve never been arrested again.”
    “What changed?” We keep talking and eating.
    “Well, finally having had enough of me, and no doubt scared for my future, my parents sat me down — actually they tied me down...”
    My mind races with that comment! Logan tied down! Restrained and at my mercy…oui, s'il vous plaît! Come back to reality, Gemima!
    “…it was the only way to keep me still long enough to hear what they had to say,” he continues, mercifully unaware of my internal monologue. “And then my dad gave my a cheque for five hundred thousand dollars…”
    I splutter into my wine glass, which Logan finds amusing. Then my mouth drops wide again as I stare at him.
    “Oh, they’re quite rich,” he adds as an afterthought.
    “They’d have to be!” I stammer.
    “They said that this was the last time they wanted to see me in this state; that I should take the money and turn myself around. They kicked me out, but drilled into me that I was being given an opportunity to start anew. I took the money and ran. Of course I felt like I’d been abandoned all over again, despite that gross cheque in my pocket. I wallowed for a while, for about a year, actually, and then, I changed. I flew here, and I did what my parents told me: I started again.”
    “Wow,” I breathe. “You as a bad boy, that must’ve been…” Hot , I think.
    “Troublesome,” he corrects my thoughts, and I grin at him.
    “How did you make such a drastic change?” I ask, incredulous. From a bad boy to an eminent businessman must have been quite a journey!
    “Day by day, I suppose,” he tells me. Then he shrugs and adds, “It was a long transition. A story for another time, perhaps.” He seems suddenly shy. Adorable, Logan! He cocks his head to one side, and studies me. I feel myself flush. “I don’t think anyone in this city knows that story…how did you get it out of me?”
    “Um…I asked?” I say, shrugging, too.
    He laughs. “Yes, that’ll do it.”
    “Why here, why Paris?” I ask.
    He looks considerately at me for a moment, before saying, “I guess Paris…gives me hope.”
    I smile, liking his answer; one which resonates with me also. “So, you speak to your parents now?”
    “Yes, frequently,” he tells me. “They’ll be visiting in a few weeks.”
    “How did you patch things up?”
    “Well, after three years of living here, working very hard and applying myself to the best of my ability, I was beginning to make a name for myself and make some money. I wired them back their generous donation. About an hour later they called. We hadn’t spoken for four years.”
    Our eyes lock onto one another’s once more, and we’re back in our intense bubble. It’s hotter in the bubble this time, something’s building between us. I want to cross my legs even tighter, but it’s not doing any good. The chemistry keeps building regardless…and I’m glad it does. Jeez! This is so new to me. New, but welcome. New, and arousing in ways that my mind and body doesn’t understand, but just wants more of. Overwhelmed by the intensity I open my mouth slightly