Page 19 of Smoke Screen
Phin in tow, she made her way to her office and gestured to one of the guest chairs. “Have a seat.”
After cornering her desk, she sat in her chair, opened her desk drawer, shoved her keys aside, and grabbed her dad’s portfolio. “I’d like to make a list of what you need from me and then I’ll pull it all together.”
“Ah,” he said, “a list-maker.”
“And proud of it. Lists keep me organized.”
He hit her with the Charlie Charm smile. Oh, that smile. All wicked and cool and enough to make her want to explore the edges of his mouth. Maybe drag her fingertips over his skin, drop kisses there while her body did that tingly thing she’d experienced at Kayla’s.
Alrighty then.
Clearly, she was in need of male attention, but this was business. And nothing messed up a woman’s career like mixing in pleasure with the wrong guy.
And yet, despite all that heat, the Charlie Charm smile still struck her as somehow … hmmm. Fabricated? Practiced?
“Okay, CC.” She laughed and held up her pen. “What do you need from me?”
“CC? Should I be insulted?”
“No. That smile is a gift I wish I had.”
“Why?”
Maddy cocked her head. “Who wouldn’t want it? It’s a fabulous melding of destabilizing and endearing. And please don’t take this the wrong way. You’re smart enough to have mastered how to use it.”
Phin’s gaze locked on the wall behind Maddy, where her MFA and bachelor’s degrees hung amongst various photos. Maddy at events with President Thompson—some with the First Lady— the ribbon-cutting on the Thompson Presidential Center, Maddy standing in the replica of the Oval Office. Beside that, she and President and Mrs. Thompson in the actual Oval Office, a completely surreal experience offered by her grateful bosses as a reward for her hard work.
Phin pointed to the wall. “What would the smile do for you that your brain wouldn’t?”
She supposed he had a point. Her mother always said that brains went further than good looks. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way. You’re right.”
“Sure, I’m right. You should be proud.”
At that, she let out a snort. He couldn’t have been more off base on that one.
“What? If you’re not proud, why do you have the wall of Maddy?”
Holy cow, the man could be blunt. Her own damned fault for leading the conversation from professional to personal.
Not good, Maddy. Not good.
She dropped her pen and sat back. “The second I step into my office, I see the photos and the degrees and it reminds me how hard I’ve worked and need tokeepworking. In the next few years, I’m going to add a PhD to this wall. I need a good two years to complete my studies and haven’t been able to start yet. Too busy here and I didn’t want to get distracted. President Thompson knew from the beginning what he wanted. He gave me a shot to help him build it. The least I can do is work hard.”
“From what I saw today, you’re an exceptional visual storyteller. The Middle East crisis exhibit? All those photos of the men lost? The kids rescued? That was something. Touring that exhibit was like a movie unfolding. I don’t think many people have that talent. Talk about a gift.”
“That was a difficult exhibit to put together. President Thompson didn’t want to sugarcoat it. People died, and he wanted to honor the victims. We owed it to their families, and I wanted them—the families and the Thompsons—satisfied.”
He studied her with narrowed eyes for a few long seconds, so she playfully mirrored the look. “Phin, are you trying to analyze me?”
He laughed. “I guess I am. Are you a middle child?”
Oh, he was dangerous. Way too attentive. And probably why he was good at his job.
“I am. Classic middle. I have two older siblings—we call them the elders—and two younger. The littles. I was the mediator.”
“Coming from a family with five kids, I bet your parents appreciated that.”
“My mom did. My dad died when I was twelve.”
