I look down at my broken leg. "Losing Emily would be punishment enough," I say. I need to tell him something. I take a deep breath. "I feel like I need to come clean on something."

His arches his eyebrows and sits forward. "Please do."

"I didn't try to push you out of the way that night. Emily was coming up behind you, and I wanted to get to her. So, I shoved you, hoping you would fall into her like dominoes." I shrug. "It worked."

He laughs, his chest filling with chuckles. "I know."

"You did?" How the hell did he know that?

"Yes, I saw the look on your face. No one is that scared over a man who has treated him like a piece of shit." He sits back and regards me, his eyes narrowing. "When you saw that car coming, you had this look that told me that you were completely in love with my daughter and that you would sacrifice yourself for her." He nods toward the ring. "That's why I gave you my blessing. Not because you saved my life."

"Oh." I probably sound like an idiot, but I don't know what to say.

"Two more things before Emily gets back." He looks anxiously toward the door. "One-when you're ready, there's an internship waiting for you at Madison Avenue in the advertising department. You're a talented artist, Logan, and I could use someone like you." He holds up a hand to stay me when my mouth falls open. "Trip admitted to me that you designed that advertising campaign. And you're very talented." He smiles, and it actually reaches his eyes. Maybe I've had too many pain meds. "You won't start at the top just because you're marrying my daughter."

I peer at him, wondering who this man is who is sitting here giving me praise. "I wouldn't expect any special treatment." Or accept any for that matter.

He looks toward the door again. "The second thing," he says. He licks his lips and then his eyes meet mine. "Do you think you could design a tattoo for me? I want something that represents my life. A tattoo that means something to me."

He wants a tat? "Did you have something in mind?" I ask.

He shakes his head and claps me on my good knee. "I know you'll come up with something perfect."

The door opens, and Emily walks into the room. I stuff the ring box down in the couch cushions.

"Give it some thought, and let me know when you're ready to do it," he says. He holds a finger in front of his mouth like he's imparting a secret.

I nod.

He kisses Emily on the cheek and walks out the door. She rushes over to my side. "What did he say to you?"

I still can't believe it. "He told me he loves me." I grin at her.

She rolls her eyes and slaps my shoulder. "Be serious."

"I am," I complain. "I'm injured. Don't beat on me." I catch her hands and pull her toward me.

She sits down next to me. "What did he say, really?" she asks.

"He said I can ask you to marry me," I say to her, pressing my forehead to hers. I kiss her quickly.

She lays a hand on her chest and inhales and exhales heavily. "What?"

I shrug. "I asked him before the accident if I could have his permission to ask you to marry me. He refused." I look toward the door he just went through. "He changed his mind." I reach into the couch cushions and pull out the box. I was going to wait for a special occasion, but I don't want to wait. I want to put a ring on her as soon as possible. I want her to be mine. All mine.

Her eyes go wide when I show her the box.

"I can't quite go down onto one knee," I say in apology.

Her eyes fill with tears, and I stuff the box back down in the cushions.

"We can do this another time," I say.

"Are you kidding?" she asks. She takes my shirt in her fists and jerks me toward her. "Ask me. Ask me. Please ask me." She's in my face, and I've never been more in love with her than I am right now. But she sits back, looks at me sheepishly, and says, "If you want to ask me, that is. You don't have to ask me if you don't want to."

I wrap my arm around her head and give her a noogie. "I don't just want to. I have to."

She looks up at me, her thoughts in as much turmoil as her hair.

"I can't live without you, dummy," I try to explain.

She grins at the term of endearment. There was a time that a word like that would have shredded her; now it's just a word. A funny one, too, because she's the opposite of dumb.

"I love you," she says. She kisses me, her tongue sweeping into my mouth, the gentle touch of it against mine making me go rock hard immediately.

"Get the box back out," she says. I can feel her grin against my lips when she goes back to kissing me.

"What box?" I ask.

"The ring. Ask me. I promise I'll say yes."

"You're so easy," I tease.

She wasn't always easy. It was damn hard loving her in the beginning, but I couldn't avoid it. She's like a piece of me that was missing all my life. I can't imagine a day without her. I reach into the cushions and pick up the box. My heart is thumping in my chest like a roofer's hammer, even though she just told me she was going to accept. I open the box, and it creaks on its hinges.

"Will you marry me?" I ask.

She takes the box and sits back, an open-mouth grin on her face. It's a mixture of awe and happiness. "I used to look at this when I was little. My dad said my rich husband would get me a big, fat rock and we'd live happily ever after. But all I ever wanted was this ring and a husband who loved me."

I tip her face up to mine with a crooked finger under her chin. "I love you." I scrunch my eyebrows together. "Did you forget to say yes?"

"I didn't forget," she tosses back at me. She sets the box on the table and gets up. "I just haven't said yes, yet." She points toward the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink? I'm thirsty." She gets up like she's going to walk away, but I grab her shirt in my fist and pull her back down. I pick up the box, take the ring out of it, and hold it up.

"Marry me, Em," I plead. "If you say yes, we can have lots of crazy sex and live happily ever after." I want to laugh, but I can't. It's not really funny. "Marry me, Em," I repeat. "Please."

She smacks me on the forehead with palm of her hand, and I'm momentarily stunned. "Of course I'll marry you," she says. She lets me slide the ring onto her finger. "I couldn't make it easy for you, dummy," she says. She settles into my side and nuzzles into that spot that's all hers. There are no secrets between us. Not anymore. And it feels so fucking good.

I kiss her. "Can we go to bed now?" I ask. It's been weeks since I've been inside her, and granted, I was unconscious for part of it, but I'm not now. And I need her more than I need air.

She knocks on the hard cast that goes all the way up to my thigh. "I have a feeling this is going to be a little unwieldy."

I shake my head. "You'll just have to get on top." I draw her across my lap and lift her shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her belly with my fingertips. She reaches to pull her shirt over her head and looks toward the door. "What?" I ask, my breath ragged.

"Someone is at the door," she says. She slumps against me and breathes hard for a moment. I pick up a pillow and jam it into my lap, cursing to myself.

When she opens the door, her parents fall into the room, followed by all my brothers.

"Welcome home!" my brothers shout.

Emily's mother picks up Emily's ringer finger and holds it up. "Did you say yes?" she asks.

"Of course I did," Emily says. My brothers come over to congratulate me, and her dad is even glowing. What's up with that?

Matt comes in with pizzas, and he sweeps Emily into a hug. He dips his face into her hair, and I imagine he's sniffing her. "You smell good," he says. She smacks him, and he laughs.

"She said yes, huh?" Paul asks as he sits down beside me. He eyes the pillow in my lap and chuckles.

You guys have terrible timing, I sign.

He tries to look innocent. It's never a terrible time for a you-just-got-engaged party. He points to the pillow and raises an eyebrow. You got the rest of your life to get laid, he signs. He heaves a sigh. I can see his chest fill with air. I'll run them all out in a little while.

Promise?

He laughs. I promise. He smiles at me though. You got the rest of your life to make love to that woman.

I look at her, and she smiles at me as she pushes her hair behind her ear. I know. And I plan to.

Sam made cupcakes, Paul signs. You want one? He pushes to his feet.

I'll eat just about anything Sam makes. Bring me two.

You going to get fat and lazy now that you're getting married?

What's your excuse? I ask. He punches my shoulder. I wince because I'm still sore. Paul looks into my eyes. You did good picking that one, he signs, nodding toward Emily.

Well, if you ever meet a girl who punches you in the fucking nose when you meet her, marry her, I tell him. He laughs and goes to get a cupcake. I rub the bridge of my nose and think back. I reach for the napkin on the table and start to doodle the tattoo I'll put on her dad.

I'm thinking he needs a street sign where Madison Avenue and Family converge. Family will be at the top and much more prominent. Madison Avenue will be all glitzed up with lights and baubles while Family will look comfortable and pleasant. Maybe with some filigree and antique markings. Madison Avenue, despite all its wealth, will look poor in comparison. I don't know how I'll do it yet, but I'll figure it out. At the bottom, I'll write the words he said to me when he asked for the tattoo: My family means the world to me. Without them, I am nothing.

I might have those words put across my ribs because they fit me, too.

Emily I close the door behind the family. Logan looks tired. It hasn't been long since his accident, and he's still recovering. I actually let them stay way too long.

"You need some pain meds?" I ask.

He shakes his head and motions me forward. "Not yet," he says as he pulls me down to sit on his good knee. He has the other propped on the coffee table. He winces as he moves, though. He's hurting. I can tell. He lifts the edge of my shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to lie against my skin. His head falls back on the edge of the couch, and he looks at me through half-closed blue eyes that simmer.

Goodness, he's handsome. And he's all mine.

His hand tracks up under my shirt until he hefts the weight of my breast in his hand. His thumb swipes across my nipple, and it shoots straight to the center of me.

"Logan," I protest mildly. "You're not well enough for fooling around." I cover his hand with mine and press down. But the heat of his hand seeps through my shirt. I arch my back pressing closer to him. I can't help it. He's Logan.

He leans me back so that I'm snuggled in the crook of his arm, lying across his lap. He tugs my shirt up above my breasts and looks down at me, licking his lips. He flicks the front opening of my bra and bends his head to take my nipple into his mouth.

I am swaddled in him as his tongue has its wicked way with me. My breath catches, and I can't keep from squirming in his lap. He chuckles, and it's a breathy sound. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you," he says.

With a flip of his wrist, he unbuttons my jeans and lowers the zipper. He looks into my eyes as he slides his hand in the front of my panties. He glides across my heat and goes straight for my clit. His hand is hampered by the tightness of my jeans, and he moves in small, tight circles. I need more than that. "Let's go to bed," I say.

"Thought you'd never ask," he says with a laugh. I help him to his feet and put his crutches under him, and he hobbles slowly toward the bedroom.

"Are you sure you don't need pain medication?" I ask. He looks tired around his eyes.

He shakes his head, leans his crutches against the bed, and shoves his gym shorts and his boxers down to his knees. I walk over and pull off his shoe, then roll his sock down. It takes a minute to get his shorts over his cast, but I do it. He's rock hard, and his manhood bobs in my face.

"You know, when you woke up, you were pretty drugged up, and you mentioned to Sam that I don't spend enough time down here." I take him in my hand and look up at him.

"I did?" he chokes out. He pushes into my grip. "I didn't mean to. I never talk about stuff that personal with them." He tips my chin up. "You believe me, don't you?"

I nod. My body is ready for him. It has been too long since he's been inside me, and I need him. This time is not like the other times we've been together. It's soft and slow and oh-so-sweet. But we find completion in one another, and we do it quickly.

He pulls out of me slowly, shivering as he does so. "I'm afraid you're a mess," he tells me. He reaches for his crutches to pull himself up. "Let me get you a towel."

I jump up and scramble across the bed, snatching his crutches from his hand. He growls and reaches for them. I put them across the room so he can't get up. "Stay right there," I say, pointing my finger at him.

He laughs and pulls his shirt over his head. He never got fully undressed. "Can we take a nap?" he asks.

I go to the bathroom and clean myself up and then pad back into the room with a cloth wet with warm water. I pass it to him, and he cleans himself off and lies back on the bed, one arm behind his head so he can look at me. I'm bare-ass naked, and I don't care.

"I was going crazy waiting for them to leave," he admits. He scrubs his hands into his eyes. He looks like he's ready to drop.

"I was, too." I go get him a pain pill and some water, and I watch while he takes it. "Do you want something to eat?" I ask.

He shakes his head, yawning. "Want to take a nap with me?" He looks at me, and his love for me shines back in my face. I never thought I would ever feel this happy.

I climb into the bed and roll into his chest, into that space that's made just for me. We both have a ton of schoolwork to catch up on, but our instructors were accommodating when I told them what happened, particularly in Logan's situation. I've been taping my lectures, which I would do anyway, and I have been listening to them as I have time. He's much further behind than I am. "You have homework to do when you wake up," I warn. I snuggle into him.

"I plan to do a lot of things when I wake up," he says, yawning again. He chuckles.

"Such as?" I ask.

"You." He laughs and squeezes me tightly.

He lifts my arm and kisses the tattoo on my inner wrist. I look down at the tat that started it all. He set me free when he unlocked my world. He's the peace in my soul. He's the one who opened my shackles, and I'll love him forever.

"Promises, promises," I mutter. I close my eyes and fall asleep to the beat of his heart.

Smart, Sexy and Secretive By Tammy Falkner Sexy version Emily My dad doesn't want me to go back to New York. He's wholeheartedly opposed to it. But New York is where my heart is. It's where Logan is. And we're in a plane on our way there right now.

I met Logan in the fall. He took care of me when I needed a place to stay, and I took care of him when his brother got sick with cancer. Matt needed an expensive medical treatment, and the only way to get the money was for me to suck it up and take one for the team. So, I did. I went back to California, leaving the only man I've ever loved in New York, and returned to my estranged family-the one I'd run away from. Matt went into treatment, paid for by my father, and Logan went on with his life.

I have wanted to contact him so many times. But talking is difficult between us. Logan is deaf, and he communicates by writing. I have dyslexia, and reading is hard for me. So letters and phone calls are not possible for us. The Reed family is poor, and they don't even have a computer. I considered buying them one and shipping it to them, so Logan and I could talk using sign language on Skype, but they are both poor and proud, which is a killer combination.

It's been almost three months since I last saw Logan. It has been just as long since I've talked to him. I want to look into his eyes. I need to see him. Soon.

The pilot announces that we'll be arriving in New York in twenty minutes over the intercom. Mom and Dad look over at me. Mom is smiling; Dad is not. Dad's bodyguard sets his newspaper to the side and buckles his seat belt. My dad has money. Lots and lots of money. My mom spends money. Lots and lots of money. I am so glad my mom married my dad because no other man on the face of the earth could ever afford her.

Dad owns Madison Avenue. Not the street-the upscale clothing and accessory line. It's a popular line of really expensive items that started in California and has now spread nationwide. My parents have more money than God.