“I have high standards and expect everyone else to stick to them. Nothing I wouldn’t do myself.”
“And is your dislike for lies a part of your high standards?” she asked slowly.
“Doesn’t everyone dislike being lied to?” he countered.
She nodded, and let her gaze drift over the pool. How would she feel if she found that he’d been lying to her? That he wasn’t who she thought he was, that it had been a game?
Would she understand, or be incredibly hurt when she discovered the truth?
Chapter Seventeen
Suddenly the masquerade lost its appeal. Where she’d been enjoying herself, now she felt a fraud. Glancing around at the laughing groups, talking and sharing an evening together, she felt guilty that she’d come in false pretenses. Turning slightly, she angled her chair away from Logan.
How could she have let the impersonation continue for so long? It was one thing for him to mistake her at breakfast that first morning, and a lark to see if she could come across as her sister. But she should have cleared things up instantly.
Or at their next meeting.
How could she make things right?
It was obvious she had to tell him. Confess her foolishness and pray he’d understand.
But what if he didn’t? Fear clamped down on her. If he didn’t, he’d walk away and never look back. And she wasn’t sure she could take that right now, not moments after realizing she was falling in love.
She had no clue to his feelings. Granted he spent time with her. They seemed to click on all levels. He’d kissed her, and she suspected would have pursued the encounter a lot further if she’d been more receptive.
How would she find a way to tell him so he’d understand? She hadn’t meant to go so far with the charade. She’d only wanted to find a bit of the magic she always associated with her sister.
Before she could think more about the awkward situation she’d put herself into, before she could devise a way to extricate herself, another couple joined them at the table. From that point until it was time to leave, Emma didn’t have a moment to herself.
She laughed at the jokes, and murmured soft replies when asked direct questions. Trying to place names with faces, she studied each person she met.
Throughout the evening. Logan never strayed more than a step away. He rested his hand on her shoulder, or pulled her close a time or two in a brief hug. Once he’d linked his fingers with hers, swinging their hands between them casually as he listened to one of the men give a detailed description of some golf tournament he’d won.
As the evening progressed, she grew more and more attuned to Logan. Her body felt as if it walked a tightrope strung far above the ground. One misstep and she’d crash. Awareness shimmered through her. Every touch he made notched up the level. She wished the others would fade away and leave Logan alone with her beneath the dark night sky.
“Ready to go home?” he asked after checking his watch.
“So soon?” Phil protested. “It’s hardly midnight.”
“It’s after one and we have a long drive,” Logan said, linking his fingers with Emma’s again.
“I didn’t realize it was so late, I am tired,” she said.
Truth to tell, she couldn’t wait to be alone with Logan. The party had been wonderful, fulfilling every dream she’d had of the exciting glamorous life she imagined Lily took for granted.
But the more the evening wore on, the more she wished to be alone with Logan. Maybe he’d kiss her again, hold her. Or they could talk as they drove home. Somehow she had to find a way to tell him who she was, and make him understand why she’d played such a foolish trick.
The Mercedes was a cozy cocoon as Logan drove swiftly, competently, through the dark streets leading to the freeway.
“I enjoyed meeting so many of your friends,” she said when the lights of the houses had been left behind.
“They’re all good people.”
“And funny, especially Jim and Phil.”
“Jim’s our resident clown. No matter how tense a situation can get, he comes up with some joke that eases the mood.”
“His wife is very pretty.”
