Devoted to Drew

by Loree Lough

“How ’bout you wash your hands?” she said, taking the phone. “With any luck, by the time you’re finished, your sandwich will be ready.”

  Nodding, he walked toward the powder room, chanting, “Warm water, soap, rub-rub-rub, sing the birthday song, rinse-rinse-rinse.”

  When he was out of earshot, she said, “Hi, Logan. How are you?”

  “Better, now.”

  “Did you call to talk to Drew?”

  “No. You.”

  Bianca put Drew’s sandwich on a plate, then put the plate on the table.

  “Oh?”

  “This is gonna sound corny, but you know what? I don’t care.”

  She plucked a napkin from the basket, and it fluttered to the floor when he said, “What are you doing for the rest of your life?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “THE HOUSE looks really nice,” Logan said. “Did you do it all by yourself?”

  “Actually,” she said, “this year, Drew and Mom helped a lot.”

  “That’s a relief. I can just picture you teetering on a ladder, all by yourself, stringing lights on the gutters.” He pretended to shiver.

  He glanced around the family room. “Looks great in here, too. You know, I’ve never put up a tree.”

  “You’ve lived on your own for, what, fifteen years and never had a Christmas tree?”

  “Didn’t seem to be much point. Who’d see it?”

  “Well, you would….”

  “Nah. Mostly the house was a place to sleep and store stuff. Bet I can count on one hand the number of times I used the stove. Or the dishwasher.”

  “Takeout and paper plates, eh?”

  “Yeah. Mostly.”

  “But the newspapers and magazines made it sound like you had a woman for every night of the week.”

  “Doesn’t mean I brought them home.”

  She hadn’t expected him to say that, and it must have shown on her face.

  “I’m kidding.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Don’t you know me better than that by now?”

  Bianca shrugged. She would have bet her life that Jason would be a terrific father, and she’d been wrong. Would have bet a man like Logan wouldn’t give her more than a passing glance, and she’d been wrong about that, too. He’d popped the question, twice, and both times, she’d avoided a straight answer. Tonight, after the school’s grand opening, she’d try to explain how she hoped he’d pass the test of time.

  But just as nothing in life was as perfect as it seemed, things were never as bleak, either. It was time to step out in faith…

  …and pray she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.

  *

  LOGAN HAD POPPED the question twice, and both times, she’d avoided an answer. Tonight, he was hoping for a little three’s-the-charm luck.

  “You look so handsome,” Maddy said. “I’ve seen guys in tuxes before, but, Logan Murray, you look like a male cover model!”

  “Stop. You’ll make me blush. And that wouldn’t be good for my image.”

  He was dying to tell Bianca how amazing she looked. But doing that would spoil his plan, and he didn’t want to do that.

  “You ready?”

  “Just need to grab my coat and purse. Oh, great. I left my cell phone in my room!”

  She ran upstairs, and once she’d rounded the corner, he leaned in close to Maddy. “Does she suspect anything?”

  “If she does, she hasn’t said a word to me.” She squeezed his hands. “I’m so excited, I could pop! I wish I could be there to see it.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll see it. The whole thing is being videotaped. From half a dozen camera angles.”

  “Oh, good heavens. How thrilling. But I’d better go into the kitchen. I’m afraid she’ll take one look at me and know something’s up.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see if the video guy can email you a sneak preview. If he can, I’ll text you.”

  She hurried from the room as Bianca came down the stairs. “Drew, honey, where are you? Logan and I are leaving now.”

  He thundered down the steps. “Weren’t you just upstairs?”

  “Yes. To get my cell phone.”

  “Why didn’t you say goodbye while you were up there?”

  Bianca laughed. “I guess I didn’t think of it.” She hugged him. “Besides, don’t you want to say hello to Logan?”

  Drew met his eyes and, smirking, said, “Hi, Logan. Bye, Logan.” And with that, he raced back up to his room.

  “Mom…we’re leaving….”

  Maddy’s voice floated to them from the kitchen. “Have fun! I’ll probably be asleep when you get home, so goodnight while I’m at it!”

  Frowning, Bianca said, “They’re plotting something. I don’t know what, but they’ve been acting strangely all day.”

  “I promised not to tell, but I happen to know they’re about to start a party of their own. A sundae party.”

  Bianca rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. They’ll both be bouncing off the walls when we get back.”

  He shrugged. “Maddy can handle it.”

  And she smiled. “Yes. You’re right. She can, can’t she?”

  Bianca handed him her coat, and he slipped it over her shoulders. It was killing him not to tell her how fantastic she looked. And smelled. He resisted the urge to bury his face in her shining curls. Instead, he patted her shoulders, then turned her around and opened the door.

  “Your carriage awaits, m’lady.”

  “Logan, a limousine? Oh, my goodness!”

  “It’s a very special night. So nothing but the best for my lady.”

  During the drive between her house and the Percy Moore Academy, he told her that their $500-a-plate event at the school had sold out. Every invited politician, athlete and actor had either sent a contribution, or planned to deliver one in person.

  He’d shelled out fifty grand to have the place decked out for the holidays. And as they approached the drive, Bianca sighed.

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful!”

  Not anywhere near as beautiful as you.

  “I hope someone is taking pictures.”

  “Don’t worry. I hired a photographer and a videographer. Like I said—this is a special night.”

  “I can’t wait to see Deidre’s plaque. She’s going to be thrilled and so surprised. I hope you don’t make her cry when you make the presentation. You’ll never hear the end of it if you make her ruin her mascara.”

  He shook his head. “Women.”

  Inside, in the room that would soon be the gymnasium, Logan’s decorators had gone all-out.

  On the stage, a black podium stood between long, blue-draped tables, and above each, huge temporary chandeliers glittered with bright white lights. The walls were covered with twinkle lights, too, and they’d been shrouded in gauzy white toile. Tiny Christmas trees, each adorned with colored lights and ornaments, served as centerpieces on each round white-clothed table.

  “It’s breathtaking,” she said, turning in a slow circle.

  No. You are breathtaking.

  “I love how they played up the autism awareness colors. Is the whole place decked out this way?”

  “Every. Single. Room.”

  When she looked up at him, Logan didn’t know which glittered more brightly…ten thousand twinkle lights or her blue eyes. He grasped her waist and brought her to him. “Better find your seat,” he whispered into her ear, “before I mess up your lipstick.”

  She blinked, then smiled and stepped out of his arms. “Are there name tags on the head table?”

  “Of course.”

  He watched her walk away, then lift the full, blue-velvet skirt of her gown to climb the stairs. When Bianca slipped off the matching cloak, she wriggled her shoulders. The soundman must have already done his test because he heard her tell the woman seated beside her, “It’s chilly in here!”

  “Don’t worry,” the lady said. “It’ll warm up once everyone gets here. Body heat, you know!”

  The women laugh
ed as Logan wondered how Bianca would react when it dawned on her that the woman was the governor’s wife. The women shook hands, then Bianca said something that made her tablemates laugh. Smiling, Logan shook his head.

  “That’s some woman you’ve got there.”

  Logan turned and greeted Griff with a hearty handshake.

  “This is Callie Fredericks,” said his friend. “Callie, meet Logan Murray.”

  She was nothing like the women Griff usually dated, and first chance he got, he’d congratulate his old pal, because instead of a vapid young thing with too much makeup and not enough dress, Callie exuded elegance…and appeared to be in her early-to mid-thirties…. Griff’s age.

  “It’s a pleasure,” Logan said, bowing slightly.

  The tables were filling up fast, and as the din of conversation and laughter floated around the room, Logan signaled the string quartet. While they played a Beethoven sonata, a slide show featuring before and after pictures of the school flashed on two big screens that hung in the corners. He tapped the microphone until the guests quieted, then said, “Thanks for joining us, ladies and gentlemen. Our waitstaff is ready to serve your meals, so if you’ll take your seats…”

  When he sat beside her, Bianca leaned in close. “You look so dapper and dignified that I’m tempted to mess up my lipstick.”

  “I dare you,” he growled.

  For a minute there, it looked like she might just do it. Unfortunately, he’d never find out because a white-gloved waiter slid a steaming plate in front of her. All through the meal, Logan did his best to pay equal attention to others seated near him. He had a feeling the night was going to drag like a boring math lecture.

  He was wrong. All too soon, dessert was being served. It was time.

  He tilted left and whispered into Bianca’s ear, “Give me a kiss for good luck?”

  At best, he expected a quick peck on the cheek. Instead, she took his face in her hands and said, “I’m so proud of you.” Then she gave him a gentle shove. “Now, break a leg.”

  Grinning, Logan ran a finger under his collar and stepped up to the podium. He adjusted the mic, then tapped the black-sponged bulb. “So. How were the burgers and fries?”

  Laughter and applause mingled as the music stopped and the huge video screens went dark.

  “The man I’m about to introduce,” he began, “has baseball in his blood. Born into a family that loved the game, he played in high school and college and then for the very first U.S. Olympic baseball team. He did a stint for the Brewers before he got his baseball cap on straight and signed with the Os. And there he stayed for the rest of his career, earning the Most Valuable Player title, playing in the Home Run Derby and securing a spot in the Orioles Hall of Fame, just to name a few accolades. These days, though, he’s the president of Pathfinders for Autism, founded to support families with kids with autism. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the man who made The 40 Greatest Orioles of All Time list, number thirty-four, B. J. Surhoff.”

  People stood to applaud as the tall, slender gentleman took Logan’s place at the lectern.

  “Welcome,” Surhoff said, “to the has-been sports ball.”

  More laughter and applause as he and Logan shook hands.

  “Thanks,” Surhoff said, holding up one hand. “Thanks very much.” And when all was quiet, he began to speak. “When a bunch of us got together back in 2000, our mission was simple—improve the lives of kids with autism and the people who care for them…and do it for free. Pathfinders helps families—nearly one thousand of them every year—navigate the confusing array of services, treatments and programs.

  “We hook people up with the professionals they need, who then work directly with them.

  “We’re all about training and education, awareness and outreach, and partnering with organizations like the Percy Moore Academy, which will ensure kids receive a complete tuition-free education.”

  He reached into the podium and pulled out a foot-tall polished chunk of crystal carved into the shape of a puzzle piece.

  “Piece by piece, thanks to people like you, we’re finding answers to the puzzle that is autism. Piece by piece, we’re helping educate children who were once forgotten. Piece by piece, we’re providing assistance to the people who love them.”

  He held the crystal higher. “Tonight, we’re here to honor the woman who saw a missing puzzle piece and made up her mind to find it. Whose generosity made this beautiful old building and surrounding grounds available so that Logan Murray, here, could turn his dream into a reality.

  “That woman, ladies and gentlemen, is Deidre O’Toole.”

  People got to their feet again as Deidre rose slowly from her seat on the dais. A bright spotlight followed her. With her every step, light reflected from thousands of sequins covering her floor-length pale blue gown. She took her time crossing the stage, alternately bowing and waving and blowing kisses, and when at last she reached the podium, Deidre grabbed the thin black gooseneck and lowered it until the microphone was even with her lips. She looked right. Left. Straight ahead. There wasn’t a sound in the room, save the quiet footsteps of waiters and waitresses, moving among the tables, delivering dessert.

  Surhoff repeated, “Ladies and gentlemen, Deidre O’Toole,” and amid the standing ovation, he handed her the award and returned to his seat.

  Arms high, Deidre commanded silence, and when she achieved it, she scanned the crowd. “Where’s the kid with the prompt book? Cue cards? Something?”

  When the laughter faded, she hugged the award to her chest. Tears sparkled in her eyes when she said, “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

  She returned to her seat and began to cry softly.

  Her tablemates offered tissues, gentle pats on the back and quiet words of encouragement as Logan returned to the microphone.

  “I think we’re all in agreement when we say, thank you, Deidre.”

  Following a second standing ovation, Logan said, “In just a moment, our team will take anyone who’s interested on a tour of the school. I’m told it’s sleeting outside, so for safety’s sake, we’ve canceled the hayride tours of the grounds. But before I let you go, I have one more thing to say.”

  Logan put his back to Bianca and took a small velvet pouch out of his jacket pocket. When he shook it, a sparkling diamond ring dropped into his hand. The women seated front and center immediately recognized it for what it was, and their oohs and ahhs filtered around the room. He palmed the ring and faced front again.

  “Some of you remember me as number seven, the Baltimore Knights quarterback. And some of you know me as the voice of Hikler’s Pickles. I played second fiddle to a couple of Hollywood heartthrobs and made a few commercials for America’s favorite roadster. What no one knows is that, a few months ago, I was offered the role of a lifetime, playing the lead in a sitcom. Big house, big bucks, big car…the whole nine yards.”

  He heard the quiet whispers and knew what people were thinking: “What’s he blathering about up there?” He heard Bianca’s quiet gasp, too, and could see from the corner of his eye that she’d covered her mouth with her fingertips…her go-to move when she was uncomfortable. Or afraid. Or worried. Knowing he was the source of her concern touched him. Deeply. And so he continued.

  “Saying yes to the TV deal means moving to Hollywood. Saying no means…”

  He held out his empty hand and summoned Bianca. It seemed to take an eternity for her to stand beside him.

  “Saying no,” he continued, “means never leaving this amazing woman, the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  His hands were shaking as he held the ring between thumb and forefinger. Facing her, he said, “It’s up to you, beautiful. Am I staying or am I going?”

  Bianca’s eyes filled with tears. Lower lip and voice trembling, she said, “Go….”

  Several women in the audience said, “Oh, no!” And a man in the back hollered, “Aw, c’mon, girl. Say yes!”

  For a moment, it seemed that ti
me really could stand still as she looked into his eyes and smiled. She blinked, and one gleaming tear slid down her cheek, and she covered the microphone with one hand. “So much I want to say,” she whispered. “So many questions I need to ask.”

  Logan’s heart pounded. He thought he’d prepared himself for a possible rejection. Now that the moment was here and he had to grapple with the actuality, he wished he’d prepared a joke, a speech, something that would allow him to save face until he could walk off this stage, out of the facility, and hide himself away.

  Bianca let go of the microphone, took a step closer and curled the fingers of her right hand into a fist.

  “Go,” she repeated, shaking the fist, “and you’ll suffer your fourth grade C concussion.” Extending her left hand, she waited, and as he slid the ring onto her finger, he couldn’t look at her. With the ring in place, there was nothing to do but wait for the cheers and applause to fade away, so they could smile and thank the donors for their support and their congratulations.

  Now he looked at her, and when he did, Bianca stepped closer still, and he could see the love shining in her eyes. “I can’t wait to tell Drew,” she said, “that he finally has a dad.”

  Then she stood on tiptoe to receive his kiss.

  *

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Heartwarming title.

  You’ve got to have heart…. Harlequin Heartwarming celebrates wholesome, heartfelt relationships imbued with the traditional values so important to you: home, family, community and love.

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  ISBN-13: 9781460323519

  DEVOTED TO DREW

  Copyright © 2013 by Loree Lough

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.