Only Trick (11 page)

“I’m sorry, sir, you’re not on the list.” The gentleman with the iPad gives Trick a disapproving look without actually checking the list.

Trick squeezes my hand and pulls me in front of him, my back against his chest.
Then he takes a shotgun and blows my mind.
Sliding his arms under mine and resting his hands on my belly, he pulls me closer and
kisses
my neck! There’s no longer a distinguishable difference between my red shirt and my skin.

Mr. iPad nearly chokes on his own tongue with a who-the-hell-is-this-tattooed-guy-kissing-the-senator’s-daughter look. He clears his throat—of his tongue. “Ms. Carmichael, I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” A nervous smile pulls at his lips. “Please …” He gestures for us to go inside.

I slip past security with ease, but they hold Trick back.

“No need. He’s with me.”

Trick frowns at the security guards; the security guards frown at me, but let him through. My heart jackhammers in my chest and my neck still feels the heat of his lips.
Why did he do that?
Now I know what those lips feel like. I know the way his thick stubble elicits a prickling chill of goose bumps along my skin. And now I can feel his lips
everywhere
and it wrecks me.

“Darby Lucille!” I turn just as Trick grabs my hand again, reminding my nipples that they are out to stay for the evening.

“Nana! What are you doing here?” Trick releases my hand, and I hug Nana dressed to the nines in a
green
lace embroidered dress—a Rachael Hart original.

“I decided to come for moral support. But it looks like you brought your own.” She raises her brow at Trick. “You must be the infamous Trick.” She holds out her hand, but not for a handshake.

To my surprise, Trick doesn’t hesitate. He takes her hand and presses
those lips
to the back of it.
Lucky hand.
“Trick this is my nana, Grace McDermot.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Nana blushes and winks at me.
God!
Could she be any more obvious?

Trick’s ego has to be ready to burst: guys love him, girls love him, even elderly ladies go weak in their artificial knees in his presence.

“Where’s Daddy Dearest?”

Nana’s still batting her eyelashes at Trick.
So that’s where I get it.

“Nana!”

She frowns and looks at me like I’m a four-year-old rudely interrupting the adults. Her gaze falls past my shoulder to the grand split staircase. I turn. My father walks down one side and some ‘bimbo’ walks down the other side.
Yeah, like that isn’t obvious!

“My lovely daughter looks like she’s dressed for a concert in the park. Why is this?” He grits between clenched teeth and a fake smile before kissing me on the cheek.

“I didn’t want one of your rich donors to mistake me for one of the expensive call girls you’ve invited to the brothel.” I grit back.

He grabs my wrist and squeezes it so tight tears sting my eyes. “Enough!” He grinds close to my ear. “What has gotten into you?”

I feel Trick’s hand take mine, forcing my father to release me.

“Trick, this is my father, Calvin Carmichael.”

Trick forces an amicable nod, but my father just gives him a quick glare with a disgusted head shake before turning a cold shoulder to go greet his more important guests.

“Well, shall we?” Nana grins, obviously amused by the power struggle that’s ensued this evening.

We follow her out back to the large white tent sparkling with elegant illuminating chandeliers, round tables adorned with candles and fancy stemware, and an orchestra playing in the far corner. The socialites mingle in their cliquish groups. It’s my prom all over again.

“Oh, there’s Cynthia Kane. I’ll catch up to you two later.” Nana grabs a flute of champagne from a server and sashays away.

Trick grabs two flutes off the tray and hands me one. I eye his.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He’s not even staring at me, so how does he know what look I’m giving him? “It’s for you when you’re finished with that one. Something tells me you’re going to need it.” Trick continues to survey the crowd and the rest of our surroundings.

I drink on a rare occasion because I’m usually on call. He’s right. I might need it tonight. “I’m driving.”

“Not anymore, so drink up.” He smirks at me while I tip the glass letting the bubbly effervescence tickle my tongue.

We mingle with a handful of people that aren’t embarrassed to be seen with the lowly dressed misfits, mainly Nana and a few of the staff members. A cringe-worthy screech silences the room as my father takes the microphone and thanks everyone for coming, then invites them to be seated for dinner. My seating card is always next to my father’s, but not tonight. Eventually I find mine and Steven’s, which now belongs to Trick, at the very back table—the
escort
table. I’m certain this was a last minute switch since our arrival, but I don’t react to my father’s shunning.

“Your nana didn’t get demoted to the back,” Trick whispers in my ear as he seats me in my chair.

“That would never happen. As long as she’s alive, she’ll always have the best seat in the house.”

Trick places his cloth napkin in his lap. “Why is that?”

I take a sip from my—
fourth?—
glass of champagne. Must be why I’m a little loose-lipped right now. “My father thinks Nana controls the purse strings.”

Trick gives a polite nod to the bimbo that takes a seat next to him. Then he puts his arm around the back of my chair and leans in closer until his sexy cologne makes my already dizzy head spin on its side. “Purse strings?”

I giggle. “Yes, purse strings. Charles McDermot, my grandfather who died when my mom was sixteen, was quite wealthy. My mom was an only child and was going to inherit a fortune one day. Daddy Dearest was an attorney rotating through the same three cheap suits when he met my mom. My father doesn’t need the money as long as he has Rachel, but I think we all know that won’t last forever, so he assumes when Nana dies I will inherit the McDermot fortune and of course feel obligated to share it with him.” I take another sip of champagne. “So as long as he thinks that, Nana gets rock star treatment. He knows she’s my weak spot and I care more about how he treats her than how he treats me.”

“
Thinks
? I take it you don’t plan on sharing it with him?”

“No, that’s not it. After I graduated from college I told Nana I didn’t want the money so she donated most of it to various charities. Nana has some money, but she’s no longer sitting on the fortune my father thinks she is.”

I hiccup in a very unladylike fashion, eliciting snooty looks from the golden pussies seated around us. I can’t help the giggle that escapes, so I bury my face into the crook of Trick’s neck. “They’re ashamed to sit with me too,” I say in a voice that’s a little louder than a whisper. I inhale his scent. “God, you smell good.”

“I think you’ve had your limit.” He grabs my ponytail and gives it a gentle tug.

Whoa! Why did that feel so … hot?

I sit up and squirm in my seat. Visions of him yanking on my ponytail in a more intimate setting drive my train of thought. Our dinner plates are placed in front of us, and I waste no time digging into the artistic concoction that one of the bimbos across the table is taking a picture of with her phone.
Real classy.

I think they eat three of the julienned carrots, combined, then scowl at me in disgust as I finish my entire meal. “Stop staring. Your now bony asses are going to look like Mac trucks someday when your anorexic deprivation turns into a binge fest. So I hope you have a plan B beyond five-hundred-dollar-an-hour blow jobs.”

Trick coughs, maybe masking his laugh, as I’m met with wide eyes and Botox-lipped
O
’s. “Let’s go.” He wipes his mouth and scoots back in his chair, then helps me out of mine.

“But dessert hasn’t been served yet,” I whine.

“We’ll stop for ice cream on the way home.”

“Really?” I perk up.

He doesn’t answer as we make a hurried exit. I stumble over my own heavy feet as he pulls me out the door.

“Ms. Carmichael’s car, please,” he says to the attendant.

I collapse into his chest, feeling a sudden wave of tiredness wash over my numb body. “You got me drunk, Mr. Roth.” I giggle. “Now what are you going to do with me?” I nuzzle my nose into his neck again.

“Take you home.”

“Boring,” I mumble against his skin as my hands slide down his back. I slip them into his back pockets, and he doesn’t stop me. “You’re my very … best … friend … ever.” I sigh, closing my eyes and smiling with warm contentment.

His hands go from static at his sides to resting one on my lower back and the other cupping the back of my head. I’m not certain, but as my car’s pulled up I think I feel his lips press to the top of my head.

*

I surrender to
my heavy eyes within seconds of leaving my father’s. Every bump, twist, and turn on our way back to Lincoln Park goes unnoticed by my warm, numb body.

“We’re here,” a soothing voice whispers in my ear.

“Mmm …” I smile, peeling my leaden eyelids open. “Say that again.”

Trick unfastens my seat belt. “Why?”

“Because I like the sound of your voice.” I giggle. “Is that weird?”

“Yes.” Trick scoops me up and carries me inside. I yelp as he plops me on my bed. “You’re right … You are
not
a gentleman.”

“Can you manage on your own now?” He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at me.

Sighing a sleepy yawn, I let my eyes close again. “You could take off my boots.”

He unzips them then pulls them off, peeling my socks off too. “Good?”

“My jeans too.” I rub my eyes.

After a few moments, I fight to open my eyes again. An intense stare, that’s all I get. I fumble with my button and zipper. “What’s your deal? You don’t have to like my body, but you also don’t have to be frightened or disgusted by it.”

He wets his lips, eyes moving down my body. “I’m not disgusted by your body.” He shoos my hands away and takes off my pants. “Now are you good?”

“Will you stay?”

“What?”

I roll toward him, grabbing his hand. “Just stay and hold me. Please.”

He looks at the ceiling, shaking his head. “You’re needy.”

I giggle, tugging on his hand. “Only when I drink, and you’re the one who got me drunk so you owe me.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, removing his shirt and pants then slipping under the sheets.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he wads up my throw blanket and wedges it between us from our waists down.

“Protecting myself.”

“From what? Me?” I chuckle. “You think I’m going to molest you during the night?”

Lying on his back, he rests his arms at his sides like a cadaver. “You might.”

I lift his arm and hug his chest with my nose nuzzled into his neck. His body goes rigid for a moment then melts back into a semi-relaxed state. I sigh against his neck. “Night, BFF.”

S
he’s breaking me
down. I need to stay strong. She doesn’t know me, I don’t know me. Grady will take care of me. I can’t complicate things, and she’s the ultimate complication.