Everyone laughed. Chandler glanced at him and caught his wink. She felt guilty at her previous thought to injure him.
"Well, you have to be a miracle worker if you get our 'man of steel' to relax," Tommy said, ignoring Logan's groan at the nickname dubbed him.
"Yes," Laura chimed in. "I've been telling him for years all he needed was a good woman. Now maybe he'll stop trying to invite himself for dinner every Thursday night."
Chandler arched one brow. "Let me guess. Meatloaf?"
Laura shook her head. "Pork chops. And I have to warn you, I've already found three other women he finagles dinner from on a weekly basis. I think it's all in his master plan."
Logan threw up his hands in defeat. "I admit I'm a lousy cook. I complement you, Laura. No one makes food like you do."
Laura leaned in. "I bet he says that to all the girls."
Chandler stopped smiling when she caught the sensual gleam in his gray eyes. His voice dropped. "Once I find the right one I'd never stray. It's a contract for life."
She clumsily reached for her wine and tried to hold back a blush at the pointed smiles directed at her. Logan made it evident he was interested in more than business, and his clients seemed delighted at the thought.
Tommy pushed back his chair and stood up. "If you'll excuse us, I'm going to take my wife for a spin on the dance floor."
Chandler watched them, hands entwined, as they walked away.
"Are you still angry?"
She looked up. She studied his face, captivated by the slope of his jaw, smoky eyes, black brows. His mouth could have been sculpted by an artist. His lips were finely outlined with just a hint of softness evident in the lower one. The khaki sports jacket he wore hugged the broad line of his shoulders and emphasized the breadth of his torso. She struggled to keep her voice cool. "Of course I'm still angry. Since I've met you I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller."
Logan chuckled. "Funny, I've felt the same way since you walked into my office."
She snorted in disbelief. "I haven't acted like a bully and ordered you to cancel dinner dates."
"I don't know how else to make you listen. You don't believe me about Thorne, and now you think Weston is harmless. He wants more than friendship."
Chandler let out her breath in disgust. "Harry is harmless. I only tried to make you believe something else was going on because I wanted to teach you a lesson. I'm sorry."
He studied her for a moment, then relaxed. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Did you like making me jealous?"
"No!" she denied hotly. "Of course not, I just wanted to--"
"I think you wanted to see how far you could push me." His fingers slowly stroked the delicate flesh of her wrist and glided up her bare arm. She tried to contain her racing pulse. "Maybe you wanted me to lose my temper, so I'd be forced to show you how good we are together. Hurl you over my shoulder and carry you into the bedroom. Thrust my tongue inside of you over and over--"
"Logan!"
His hand dropped from her arm to her thigh. She fought for breath. "We'll spend hours locked in the bedroom because I have a long list of wants. To feel you melt beneath my fingers. Hear my name on your lips when you beg me to take you, opening yourself to me so--"
"Please!" She placed her fingers over his lips. "You win. I get the picture. You don't--you don't have to go on."
His eyes lit with mischief. "Are you sure? I was just getting to the part when you wrap your legs around my hips and--"
"Logan!"
He chuckled and brought his hand up to touch her cheek, which was now a fiery red. "I can't help it, you blush beautifully."
"You're impossible."
"And you're lovely." A sudden smile touched her lips at his admiration. Her blush clashed with her pale rose dress skimming over her body in the most delightful ways. He wondered if she'd worn her hair down just to tease him. It was clipped away from her face but tumbled down her back. When the candlelight touched her she shimmered, an ethereal figure of grace and beauty. He was almost afraid to touch her in case she dissolved in a ray of light.
"Thank you." Chandler cleared her throat. The imprint of his hand still burned. "I like Tommy and Laura. Have you known them long?"
He took a swallow of brandy. "We worked together in the same firm for a number of years before I decided to start out on my own. Tommy's been good to me. More like a friend than a business associate. When my mother died years ago he helped me through a rough time."
She reached over and covered his hand with her own. "Logan, I'm sorry, that must have been difficult. Were you close?"
"Yes, she was all I had left." A shutter dropped over his face. "When my mother became pregnant my father was forced to marry her. He hated us both for that. You see, he had great ambitions and living in a shack with a wife and kid wasn't in the picture. So, one day he left to pursue his dream of fame and fortune."
His fingers gripped the snifter. "She fell apart after that. She had to work so hard to try and take care of me, and she tired easily. I never realized she was dying. She kept that from me for a long time. By the time I had built a successful career it was too late. She was already gone."
Her fingers squeezed his. "That must have been so much responsibility for a young boy to take on," she said softly. "Your mother must have been proud of your ambitions."
He didn't speak for a while, as he contemplated the amber liquid in his glass. "It was too late. I became successful too late to save her."
Her heart broke into a million pieces. His matter of fact tone told her he still carried the pain of his mother's death. Even with his achievements, he couldn't erase the guilt, and she felt tears sting her eyes when she thought of the little boy who'd taken the weight of the world on his shoulders. She laid a hand on his hard cheek, and turned his face toward her.
His face steeled for pity, but she gazed at him with only deep understanding. "You gave her the greatest gift a son could. You became everything she always wished you to be."
Something passed between them, a current of emotions so strong she sucked in her breath at the sheer intensity. His hand gripped hers in reaction and Chandler knew she had learned something intimate about this man no other woman had been given. She was honored by the gift, fearful of the connection forged, and dizzy with the sensations passing through her body. He opened his mouth to speak but Laura interrupted them.
"Logan, take this lovely lady onto the dance floor and show her what you can do. We've already requested Frank Sinatra."
He gave her a questioning look. "Ms. Santell?"
"I'd be honored, Mr. Grant. Tommy must have known that besides chocolate, Frank Sinatra is my other addiction."
He led her through the elegant dining room and paused along the way to greet a few business associates. The restaurant was small and intimate, with carefully placed tables sprinkled throughout the room, tastefully set with fine linen and sparkling china. Waiters dressed in crisp white uniforms glided past their patrons with subtle grace, anticipated every need, then faded appropriately into the background. Chandler's heels clicked as they stepped onto the highly polished dance floor. The wood gleamed from the play of light cast from a crystal chandelier.
The lead singer signaled to the band and stepped forward. His low, husky voice poured into the microphone and Logan pulled her gently into his embrace. His arms encircled her waist, and his hand pressed into the small of her back to draw her close. Her breasts teased the hard muscles of his chest. As their bodies swayed, her nipples dragged across his front. She gripped his shoulders in response to the caress and stumbled. He eased her closer.
The lilting strains of the slow, moody ballad drifted in the air. The floaty material of her silk dress brushed against his thighs as they moved. Logan muttered something under his breath.
"What?"
"I said Laura must want to torture me. I should be arrested for the lecherous thoughts I'm having in a public place."
Chandler hid a smile. "She'd
be shocked at your lecherous words, too."
"I think it turned you on."
She gasped. "You're incorrigible."
"So you've said." His gaze dropped to her mouth. "Laura likes you. She thinks you'll be good for me."
"I think she's tired of making pork chops every Thursday."
Logan chuckled. "Smart mouth. From the sweetest of smiles comes the sharpest of barbs."
"Who said that?"
"I did."
"Oh. I thought you were quoting someone."
"I was quoting myself. Why do you look so nervous?"
"You're staring at my mouth like you're starving and I'm your next meal."
He gave a wolfish grin.
"I'm still trying to convince myself I'm not your prey."
"When you look at me like that I think I'd chase you to the ends of the earth."
"See, you are a poet. And to think I'd given up on dry, logical businessmen. Maybe there's hope for your lot."
"Dry, logical businessmen can turn into butterflies if they find the right women."
Their eyes locked. This time he caught her before she stumbled. His fingers threaded through her hair hanging down her back. He clung to the silky strands. The faint scent of vanilla drifted up to him. He groaned.
Her face reflected confusion. She blurted out her next words without obvious thought. "Why do you chase me so hard?"
"Why do you run so fast?"
Her lower lip trembled. "Because I'm afraid."
The stark admission hung in the air between them. He felt the wall between them start to crumble. Instead of experiencing triumph, he was overcome with the need to protect her, to sooth the wild fear beneath the rubble. "You never have to be afraid of me," he said. "One day I'll prove it."
She relaxed in his arms and allowed her body to mold against his. His hands moved up and down her spine as if asking her to trust him. She shivered.
Smoke filled the room around them, glasses tinkled, laughter rung out. They were all distant sounds and images secondary to her rapid pulse and the fire in her belly. When the music stopped he set her gently away from him. His gaze raked over her face, as if reading her thoughts. Then he led her back to the table.
His friends beamed. Logan felt like a teenager who found his first girlfriend. They ignored his fierce scowl, their smiles widening, as they fell into easy conversation over a succulent dinner of seafood. Lobster dripping with butter, grilled shrimp in scampi sauce, juicy crab legs that snapped crisp between their fingers. The Pinot Grigio was cold and fruity, the bread warm and lightly seasoned with garlic. Chandler dug in with gusto, eliciting some teasing comments, and the evening passed with banter and good humor. While the men settled the check, she turned to Laura with genuine warmth.
"I've had a wonderful time. I'm glad we met."
Laura smiled back. "I feel the same way. You and Logan must come to dinner one night at the house."
Chandler bit her lip, uneasy at what the older woman thought. "I don't want you to get the wrong impression. We're just business partners, even though Logan isn't hiding his desire for more. I'm not sure yet. About him. About anything."
Laura studied her a moment. Her eyes danced. "Do you mind if I speak frankly?" She shook her head. "Logan reminds me of Tommy when I first met him. When we started getting involved I was scared to death. Everyone told me he was a workaholic, and he'd ignore me and the children once we got married. Maybe they could've been right." She paused. "But they weren't. Tommy changed. Oh, sure, he'll always love his work and his company. It's a part of who he is. But I know I came first, and he never let me think otherwise. I believe when the right woman comes along anything is possible."
She patted her hand. "You're probably just as scared as I was. Logan can be a terribly intimidating man. He holds a lot of himself back; but he's more open with you than I've ever seen before. Sometimes a man needs someone who's willing to take a chance on him."
Chandler forced the words out. "I need a man who wants the same things as I do. Who believes in the same things."
The older woman looked thoughtful. "I understand. I felt the same way you did, once. Then Tommy let me see the inner person, and everything changed." She hesitated. "If you're ever ready to get a glimpse of who Logan really is, give me a call. I'll tell you where to find him on Sundays."
Before Chandler questioned her strange words, the men came back. They exchanged good-byes and she waited at the table while Logan got her coat. When he returned, he smiled. "They enjoyed meeting you."
"I had a good time. Tommy asked to see me in his office to discuss the program." She fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. "Thank you again for recommending my workshop."
"You're welcome. Thanks for being my date tonight."
"You're welcome."
"We must be the two most polite people on earth."
Chandler laughed. They stared at each other for a few moments. "Well, I guess we should call it a night."
"Yes, I guess we should." He escorted her towards the door, stopping to complement the maitre d' on the service, then guided her into the silver Jaguar. Chandler leaned back into the seat as Logan weaved his way through the city traffic with the ease of an expert. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, deciding not to question him when he jumped on the Henry Hudson Parkway and shot off into the night. It was a while before he reached the outskirts of the city and pulled into a dead end road.
"This isn't my apartment."
"No," Logan agreed. "It's not." She turned to look at him when he cut the engine. "I'd like to show you something."
She gave an unladylike snort. "I think I've heard that line before."
Logan chuckled. "I'm sure you have. Please be assured if I had a different intention my approach would be flawless."
Her lips twitched. "The male ego is incredible."
"I can offer you a killer cognac or a hot cappuccino."
"Sold."
The street was quiet as they walked up the pathway. Chandler squinted in the darkness, but only caught an impression of a stark simplicity to the features of the house. The three story, modern structure seemed to thrust toward the sky, its roof hooking low over the front, sandwiched between two large picture windows. As Logan led her through the heavily carved door, the raw power and elegance that permeated the room struck her.
The color scheme was a relaxing blend of cream and sand tones, set off by soft leather and warm teak. A variety of cactus plants were carefully scattered about. Chandler walked past the large modern marble fireplace and peered up the wide spiral staircase leading to the upstairs.
"Your home is lovely, Logan." Her gaze took in the high ceilings and a massive wall of carved glass. She pictured how the room would look bathed in the light of the morning sun.
"Thank you." He watched in amusement as she studied the pile of books by his desk, neatly alphabetized by author. "I could have bought one of those fancy condos, but somehow the moment I found this place I knew it was home." He handed her a heavily cut glass. "Here, start with a little of this, then I'll put on espresso. It's a Godiva cordial."
"Hmmm, chocolate." She sipped in pleasure. "Do you mind the commute to Manhattan?"
"Not really. I have an apartment close to the office if I need to stay overnight. The quiet and privacy is worth the drive in."
"I know what you mean. I grew up in the city and always dreamed of moving upstate. Most of my childhood was spent in my father's office. As luxurious as it was, somehow I think a cottage in the mountains is what I would like my children to remember."
"Not million dollar business deals."
She nodded. "I'm sure you'd disagree."
"Don't you think I want my children to have it better than I did? They'll have a choice whether or not to enter the corporate world. Besides, I always wanted to try horseback riding."
A giggle escaped her lips. "Somehow the image doesn't fit."
"Why not?" he demanded.
"Because, you'd have a hell
of a time accepting the horse as boss--you wouldn't be in control."
His voice dropped to a low growl. "I don't have a problem relinquishing control if the reward is worth it."
Sexual tension lit up the room. She gulped her chocolate cordial and gasped as the liquid slid hotly down her throat. She searched wildly for something neutral to say to break the silence. "Didn't you want to show me something?"
Logan smiled lazily. "Are you ready to see it?"
Chandler wondered if the alcohol made her hear things differently. There seemed to be a sexual undertone to everything he said. Maybe she shouldn't have had that last glass of wine at dinner. "Yes, I'm ready."
Logan loosened his tie, moving with slow, deliberate motions. The silky material slid through his fingers and gleamed against his tanned hands. The lump in her throat grew. He pulled the tie off and threw it over the back of the chair, never taking his eyes from her face. Easing out of his sports jacket, he tossed it over the chair to join the tie.
Heart of Steel Page 9