by Susan Craig
He took a step closer and glared down at her. “You can’t move in on me unless the company’s in financial trouble.” Who did she think she was?
“As it will be when production drops, which is going to happen sooner rather than later if you don’t stay on top of things.”
Men got out of his way when he glowered, but it hadn’t even slowed her down.
She crossed her arms, boosting that distracting cleavage, and glared right back. “You can’t be a one-track-mind engineer if you’re going to run a company.”
He watched her lips form the words. How could such a snippety mouth be so compelling? The full, lightly glossed lips were moving again.
“You’re putting this show on with my money, and I don’t intend to sit by and let you lose it. So shape up.” With fire in her eyes she pointed a finger at his face. “When I come in next week, you’ll have a complete and detailed report for me.”
If she dared to touch him with that finger…
She turned away. “If you can’t manage that, we’ll be ordering another desk for this office.”
Her hand was wrapping around the doorknob when he reached out and spun her back. He pulled her close as his mouth slammed down on hers.
She didn’t jump. She didn’t melt. But she did bring the heel of her shoe down hard on his foot.
“Damn!” With a gasp, he let go and she stepped away, glaring.
“You keep your hands off me, Carmichael.” She opened the door.
“Who the hell are you, woman?”
She turned back and shot him a look and a grim smile. “I don’t really know yet, but I’m beginning to find out.”
He stood there, torn between the need to control the lust boiling through his veins and the desire to give in to the temper that had him swearing as he watched her march out of the office. As the door shut firmly behind her, he went to the window, pulling aside the drapes to watch. She was moving quickly. Anger, not fear. Though she damn well ought to be afraid. He wanted to overpower her, to haul her up against him and kiss that angry mouth until it surrendered to his own—until she surrendered to him. Damn it, Logan, get a grip. You’re thinking like a caveman. What the hell was the woman doing to him?
You knew she was trouble from the beginning. This is no time to be playing with fire.
Right. That was right. From now on, I’m keeping my distance.
Diana slid into her Lexus and closed the door harder than necessary. That arrogant oaf. How dare he try to fob her off with that pathetic excuse for a business report? Either he hadn’t a clue what he was doing or he was treating her supervision like a joke. No, wait. It was both. She remembered his comment at the Yorktowne—‘How hard can it be?’ She shook her head and glanced up at the office window. He was standing there, looking at her car. Well, she wouldn’t sit here and stew with him watching. Starting the car, she exited the lot, making sure to drive smoothly so her agitation wouldn’t show. He must not see how out of control she felt. She needed to think this through.
Where to go? Going home felt like running away. The shelter? No. Not in these clothes. Driving for a while would give her time to think. She steered the car onto I-83 and headed north towards Harrisburg.
Usually driving relaxed Diana, but today it wasn’t working. After she caught the speedometer well over the speed limit for the second time in five minutes, she set the cruise control and took her foot off the gas pedal. Anger was one thing, stupidity another. But, man alive, she was angry. Furious, in fact. She passed a mini-van from Ohio. Tourists.
The more she thought about how asinine it had been to give her such an insultingly inadequate report, the angrier she got. So he thinks he knows what he’s doing, does he? He thinks running Lennox was easy, does he? He knew nothing about it—that much was clear. She tapped the brakes to turn off Cruise and waited for a chance to escape from behind a truck towing an empty horse trailer.
Once the truck was in her rear view mirror, she hit Resume. He’s ignorant, arrogant, uninformed, stubborn, condescending, recalcitrant, boorish, inflexible, patronizing, pompous, ugly… well, not ugly. She slowed down as she passed a crew working on the roadway.
No, not ugly at all. She pictured his eyes, the breadth of his shoulders, his strong, square-tipped fingers. Blast it all, anyway. The next report had better be done right. She turned off the cruise control.
The memory of the way he had spun her around and kissed her played in her mind. Too bad she’d had to smash his foot to make her point. What would have happened had she stayed in his arms? Heat rose in her face. She knew perfectly well what she would have wanted to happen. And it could have—there was a lock on the office door. What am I thinking? He’s not my type. Not even close.
She considered for a moment, then shrugged and smiled in resignation. I guess lust is blind. Taking the next exit, she looped back toward home. Was she anything to him? Oh, yes, she was something to him, she was sure of that. Whether it was good or bad remained to be seen.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Logan trimmed the final plank on his freshly constructed deck, then looked with satisfaction at the finished product. Spud, coming back from his afternoon prowl, ambled up the steps, turned around twice, and settled down to sleep in the last warm rays of the setting sun. The old front porch had been in such poor repair it hadn’t been worth saving. Besides, replacing it with a deck had been a good way to fill the hot summer evenings.
His long legs took him to the door in three strides. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and flopped down on the planks next to the dog. Taking a good swig, he savored the cold, bitter taste and crisp scent of the brew.
“Well, Spud, what do you think? Not bad, huh? Next week we’ll put up the railings, then seal it and we’re done.”
Spud’s heavy tail thumped the wood in response to his master’s voice.
Yes, things were going well. The contract for the primary chemicals used in rod manufacture had expired and he had found a new supplier, resulting in a full three percent decrease in materials expenditures. Logan smiled proudly. He was getting the hang of running the company, and it felt good. If only he could get a grip on his fascination with the former CEO.
The ring of his cell phone interrupted Logan’s musings. “Carmichael here.”
“Logan, this is Diana Lennox.”
What was she calling him for?
“Sorry to bother you after hours, but I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to meet with you tomorrow. A problem’s come up at the shelter and I need to deal with it.” She paused, but he made no response.
“We can meet next Friday as planned unless there’s anything you want to run by me earlier.”
“Next Friday will be fine. I’ll see you then.” He punched End and set the phone down, feeling disgruntled. That’s all he needed, Diana crowding into his private space. He was having a hard enough time keeping her out of his mind without a phone call to remind him. It was the damnedest thing, the way he kept seeing those brown eyes when he closed his own and how the heat of the sun on his skin reminded him of the wave of heat he felt every time she walked into his office.
He didn’t like the thought of not seeing her tomorrow.
Can’t have it both ways, old son.
At least the meetings were going more smoothly. He had decided to give her the data she requested and keep any problems to himself. The less she messed with his company, the better. But being alone with her every Friday was wearing him down, making him tense. It was exhausting, having to put up with her cool politeness every week. She was as annoying as hell. She was cold and unfeeling, and smelled like countryside, and looked like heaven, and had lips that…
Who am I trying to kid? I want her. No matter how hands-off-proper she was toward him, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Having her in his arms, soft, sweet-smelling and yielding, had become his favorite fantasy.
Not a fantasy he intended to indulge. She was poison—but fascinating because of the way she kept changing. Every week
she seemed more confident and self-assured—but in a different way than when she’d been CEO. She was a changed woman—more free, less controlled—and a hell of a lot more dangerous to his peace of mind. He understood now why she’d worn those CEO suits. If she hadn’t, all the men in the company would have been constantly distracted by her body. In the clothes she wore now, it was impossible to be in the same room with her and not be fighting a hard-on. Not even her ice princess demeanor was enough to turn it off.
That was the one thing that stayed the same week to week—her polite coolness never varied. The skittish, uncertain woman he’d seen only once or twice seemed to have disappeared.
Hell, he wished he could just take her to bed and get it out of his system. But that wouldn’t be smart. Besides…he kept remembering the tears in her eyes after he’d kissed her.
I need to get out. That’ll help. Tomorrow night he’d go to a club, find some nice undemanding female and, who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky.
The next evening, as planned, Logan was on the town. Live music pounded its beat into his brain, emphasizing needs and loosening inhibitions. The dance floor at Suede was jammed, filling the room with the scents of mixed perfumes and the musk of fresh sweat. Logan leaned back with his elbows on the bar and considered his choices.
He was dressed in black, and feeling predatory. He kept his posture relaxed, almost lazy, but all of his senses were alert. Looking for trouble? Not so much. Looking for prey. More than one woman let her eyes linger on the broad shoulders and muscled arms revealed by the loose lines of his silk shirt.
He saw them looking at him, recognized lust in their eyes, and enjoyed knowing his body put it there. With supreme confidence, he took his time looking over the crowd. He was in no hurry. It was always more enjoyable to watch a woman dance and let his libido rise before moving in for the kill.
Eventually, his attention fixed on a tall, blisteringly hot blonde whose moves on the floor made a man want that body beneath his own. After enjoying her show for a while, he moved in—dismissing her partner with one intimidating glare from his Army Ranger eyes.
The corners of his mouth rose. Thank you, Uncle Sam. Then he turned, his face once again implacable as stone, and focused demanding eyes on the blonde’s.
Game on.
“That was a great movie.” Sally grabbed a tissue from the box next to her and blew her nose. She was slouched on Diana’s sleek sofa with her feet on the coffee table amid a litter of empty Chinese take-out containers.
“I can’t believe you hadn’t seen it before. Nobody’s ever come close to Bogart, in my book. So, you really like the place?” Smiling, Diana wiped the last vestiges of tears from her face.
“I love it.” Sally nodded in approval at the condo’s new decor. “For the first time, I feel at home here—as you can tell,” she added, gesturing toward her propped-up feet.
Diana grinned in response. “I like it too—more every day. Pull the DVD out while I clear these up.” She gathered empty cartons and disposable chopsticks, then moved into the kitchen, still talking. “You know, it would have just felt wrong to be so relaxed in here before. So... are we still on for Bethlehem next weekend?”
“The Celtic Classic? Yeah, definitely. Tyler will love it.”
“I hope so. What do you think he’s doing now?”
“Right now? My guess would be that they’ve finally got the tents up and a fire going, and he’s sitting around a campfire happily burning hot dogs with the rest of the troop. Then in another 20 minutes, they’ll switch to happily burning marshmallows—Jim Donovan, too.” She chuckled. “He’s as much a kid as the rest of them.”
Diana laughed, thinking of the shelter’s veterinarian herding a dozen nine-year-old boys. “Too true.” She moved the philodendron back onto the center of the coffee table, sat down on the couch and settled her own feet next to the plant.
“If Jim is really lucky, they’ll bed down in an hour or two—I’m sure it’s already later than any of them get to stay up normally.”
Diana doubted that—Sally was more of a stickler for proper bedtimes than most parents—but said nothing. Instead she stretched and yawned. “I was so ready for this tonight. It’s been a busy week.”
Sally smiled. “Well, I think you’ve accomplished a lot these last few weeks—including getting Barnes over to fix the pump on the well today. You look happier, too.”
“I am happier. I feel stronger just being me than I ever did as CEO of Lennox. And I’m really excited about trying my hand at consulting. It’s my dream job, if I can make it happen.”
“You’ll make it work. And you should feel stronger with all the energy you’re saving by not being stressed out all the time.” Sally paused. “You’ve always been strong, Diana. If you hadn’t been, your dad’s expectations would have been too much to deal with. But I’m glad you’re not stuck in the office at Lennox any more.” She stretched, then curled up with her feet on the couch. “Speaking of which, how’s Logan doing?”
Diana flushed. “I don’t know, Sally. The company’s doing fine…”
“But?”
“Every time I see him, I get more attracted to him—so much so it scared me at first—but I’m not sure it’s mutual.”
Sally frowned. “How could it not be mutual? He must be nuts... What scared you?”
“The strength of it. Sometimes he makes my insides just curl up and melt, and he isn’t even trying. The first time he kissed me he was just being sweet, and the second time he was angry, but either way, I just keep reliving how it felt.”
“Angry?”
“We had a run-in at the office during our first weekly meeting—I told him to shape up or I’d take over again—and he got mad. Then he grabbed me and kissed me hard, because he was angry, and I stomped his foot and left.” Heat rose to her face as she remembered how close she’d come to just staying in his arms.
“I used to goad Trent into kissing me like that. Anger and sex can be really hot. But only with someone you can trust. Can you trust Logan?”
“Yes. I trust Logan.” Diana was a little surprised to hear herself say it, but it was true—somehow she knew she could trust him. She shifted her gaze to the sprawling plant beside her feet. “I think about him all the time. I want him more each time I see him. It’s making me crazy.” She looked Sally in the eye. “I think I’m more than half in love with him, Sally, and I don’t know what to do about it. He’s not at all my type, but…” Diana shrugged. “He makes me feel so much! It was scary, at first.”
“And now?” prompted Sally.
Diana paused a long moment before answering. She looked down at her hands, and her cheeks felt warm. “Now, I just want to feel that way again.”
It was pushing three in the morning. Logan unlocked the front door and stepped into his living room. Anyone seeing him would think it had been a big night. He ran his fingers through his thick hair—the blonde had made a mess of it—and looked at his black silk shirt, unbuttoned more than halfway down his chest. Spud slept, undisturbed, on the worn leather couch.
Logan flopped down beside the dog. “Hell of a watch dog you are. We make a great pair, Spud. You’re asleep and I’m brain dead.”
Spud lifted his head, and wagged his tail encouragingly.
“Damn the woman!” Logan sighed in resignation. “I had the hottest blonde you’ve ever seen, sitting in the palm of my hand, and still Ms. Diana Damn Lennox kept waltzing through my brain.” Logan shook his head and reached over to scratch the dog behind the ears.”
“I threw the blonde back—do you believe that, Spud? I threw her back. I must be insane.”
Spud arched his neck, angling his head to insure that Logan’s fingers found just the right spot.
“You’re a wise old dog, Spud. What’s a man to do? I can’t get her out of my head, I can’t get her out of my company, I can’t get her out of my…” Logan took a deep breath. “Aw, hell. I need a shower. I smell like stale cigarettes. You hold the fort down, Spud.”
Logan turned at the bathroom door to look back at the dog and chuckled. Spud was already asleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Tyler read from a colorful brochure as he bounced along in the back seat of Sally’s van, carefully sounding out some of the bigger words. “The Celtic Classic is an annual festival celebrating the cultural traditions of Celtic people. It is held in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania on the last weekend of September. Popular competitive events include tossing the caber, a haggis eating contest—Mom, what’s haggis?”
“Haggis is… Well, they make it by butchering a sheep and taking the stomach out. Then they chop up the heart, liver and lungs, mix them with some other things like seasonings, then stuff it all into the stomach and boil it.”
“Yech! That would make me barf!” Tyler looked delighted. “I want to see the haggis eating contest.”
Watching over her shoulder from the passenger seat, Diana laughed. “We’ll make sure to put it on the agenda.”
They were driving together to the festival. Diana had talked Jim Donovan into agreeing to hang around the shelter to supervise the volunteers. She, Sally and Tyler had the whole day to enjoy the festivities. She inhaled deeply. The breeze coming through the open windows was warm with the smell of autumn and harvest-time. When the seasons changed, Diana always felt renewed, like nature was moving on and so could she. A perfect time of year, and a perfect day, complete with puffy white clouds scattered on blue sky.
“Mom, how much longer till we get there?
“Half an hour. Just relax, Tyler. If you don’t settle down you’ll be worn out before we arrive. Take a nap or something.” Sally turned to Diana. “This was a great idea. It’s been ages since I had a full day away from the shelter.”
“That’s what Jim said when I asked him to fill in for you. I didn’t even have to twist his arm. I’m looking forward to it too. I enjoy the music the most, I think—but today we’ll hit as many games as we can, so Tyler can watch the men compete.”