by Andre, Bella
Harry looked doubtful. “Okay. If you’re sure you know what you’re doing, then I won’t rain on your parade.” They ate for a few moments in silence. “You’re really in love with him?”
“I could be making the biggest mistake of my life, but yes, I think I’m in love with him.” She gave a humorless laugh. “My father would be in his glory if he knew.”
“You still haven’t spoken to him?”
“No. He calls on a regular basis and leaves voice mails. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to patch up our relationship after what happened with Michael.”
“Are you going to tell Logan about your past?”
She dipped her bread in the sauce and bit into the hard crust. “He knows a little, but I’m not ready to reveal it all yet. Besides, I don’t know what will happen between us. I’m going to grab today and not worry so much about the future.” She pointed her fork at him. “You should do the same and ask Rachael out.”
Harry groaned. “I’ve been practicing my speech for months, but every time I get close my mind goes blank.”
“Slip her a note with your phone number on it.”
“I’ll have an anxiety attack.”
“Harry, she’s going to say yes. I bet she has the hots for you and just wants you to make the first move.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
She smiled at his glum tone. “Come on, buddy. Dessert is on me. How about the chocolate mousse?”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her tiny waist. “How can you lecture on nutrition and still keep a straight face?”
“I will ignore that remark and chalk it up to negative feelings regarding your inability to take a chance on life.”
Harry snorted.
After a rich, creamy dessert and ten vows to starve herself for the next few days, they paid the bill and walked out of the restaurant. It was a cool, summer evening that brought hints of the fall to come. The breeze lifted her hair and caressed her skin. The night sounds swarmed around them as they made their way to their cars, the click of her high heels echoing in the air.
Chandler thrived on the nighttime activity in Manhattan, enjoying the atmosphere without getting drawn into the tension and stress of everyday life. Taxis hurtled down the streets; brakes screeched when traffic lights had the nerve to turn red. Swarms of people walked in unison and ignored DON’T WALK signs, jumping around buses and screaming drivers without a glance back. Vendors urged pedestrians to stop and buy their wares, from Coach purses to 14 karat gold necklaces, all at fifty percent off and so hot the merchandise burned your fingers immediately. Vagrants begged to wash the windshields on passing motorists’ vehicles, and called out for spare change. Chandler threw quarters and dollar bills into the cups of the people who held signs like I AM BLIND or HOMELESS, and never wondered about the truth of the statements.
She knew Harry shook his head at her gullibility. Native New Yorkers were supposed to be hardened to people who lived on the streets, but she slept better at night believing the money helped. Every winter she bought a number of coats and gave them out to the homeless. She volunteered for soup kitchen duties around the holidays, especially since her rift with her father. Her community may be filled with a variety of con artists, but it was her home, and she needed to give back something to one of the most diverse melting pots in the US.
Harry stopped beside her ancient red Chevy and waited for her to unlock the door. “Well, I wish you luck. You are now exactly one hour late for Grant’s call.”
Chandler glowered at him as she fished around in her purse for her car keys. “Thanks for the support. Tonight was a real blast.”
He laughed. “I hope it was worth it. What’s the matter?”
She dug frantically through the leather compartments. “Damn it, I can’t find my keys.”
“Did you leave them in the restaurant?”
“No, I clearly remember getting out of the car, reaching for my purse, and—uh, oh.” He followed her pointed stare. The car keys dangled neatly from the ignition. The car was locked up, safe and sound.
“You have an extra key, don’t you?”
She closed her eyes in despair. “You know, I always told myself I should get an extra key made. I never seemed to get around to it.”
"This car is older than dirt. The new ones make it impossible to lock your keys inside."
"I don't have money for a new car, Harry."
"Why'd you buy American? You can't lock yourself out of the imported cars."
Chandler glowered. They stood together and looked through the closed window. “Well, we have a couple of options," Harry said.
“Do tell.”
“We can call the police and wait for the next couple of hours, and hope they come amidst the calls for robbery, rape and murder.”
“Next option.”
“We can break your window to get to the keys.”
“Keep going.”
“Are you a member of any auto club?” he asked hopefully. Chandler shook her head. “Then I’ll take you home, and we’ll call a locksmith in the morning.”
“I won’t be able to get into my apartment.”
“Wait, let me guess. You never did get around to making an extra set of keys for your apartment either.”
“Give the man a gold star.”
“Then you’ll have to come home with me and crash at my place.”
Chandler bit her lip. “Sounds like a logical solution. Can I borrow your phone? I’ll call Logan and explain. Maybe he can come meet me.”
Harry snorted and pulled it from pocket. “Here. You really screwed yourself. He’s gonna be pissed.”
She glared, hit the button, and got nothing. “What’s wrong with it?”
He peered at the blank screen and grimaced. ““Hmm, mine's dead. We're quite a pair. Savvy New Yorkers with no cells. Just call him from my place and explain the situation. If he freaks out, he can pick you up at my apartment."
She nodded. “Perfect. Though there’s no reason for him to be upset. It’s ridiculous for him to even think I’d revolve my social calendar around his crazy demands.”
He snorted again. “Right now it’s our only choice.” He tugged at her hand and led her over to his car.
It was a half hour ride to his place. Harry lived in one of the fancy condo duplexes Logan passed on, complete with health club, cafe, swimming pool, and other amenities. Harry made a pot of coffee while she rang Logan's home phone. This time she’d apologize to him. Four rings. Five rings. Six. Seven. Eight.
Where was he?
She heard the click of the answering machine. Logan’s deep voice instructing the person to leave a message at the beep. She stared at the phone in her hand as if it held all the answers. Then she replaced the receiver.
“What’s the matter?”
“He’s not home.” She stared at him in amazement. “Logan isn’t even home.”
“Maybe he’s in the shower. Call him on his cell, he’s attached to it twenty-four seven.”
“But he specifically wanted me home for his call. I assume he's not working a deal this late." She frowned. “You don’t think he purposefully left the house because he knew I’d be home waiting for his call?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Are you two playing these games with each other for a reason?”
She didn’t answer. She kicked off her shoes and relaxed on the sofa for the next ten minutes, then picked up the phone again. This time she dialed his other number. Immediately, his deep voice rumbled over the line. “Where are you?”
Her defenses shot up. She refused to get involved with an overbearing, domineering, alpha who expected her to obey him. Trust was key in a relationship. Chandler took a deep breath and remained calm. “I’m at Harry’s house. I locked my keys in the car and couldn’t get home. I tried calling you at home—where are you?”
A low curse. “Give me the address.”
She bristled. “Where are you?” she asked again.
“The parking lot. At your
apartment. Now, give me the address.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Tell me you’re joking.”
His tone lowered to a growl. “I wouldn’t joke right now, Chandler. I asked you to be home, and you deliberately disobeyed me, didn’t you?”
A thrill sparked through her. She remembered the way he stroked her to climax and shuddered. Oh, boy, she was messed up. But of course, she only played such games because his demands were ridiculous. This wasn’t her fault.
“Coffee’s ready,” Harry called out.
“Be right there.”
“Is that Westin?” Logan demanded. “I swear to God, if I don’t have his address in the next thirty seconds, you won’t like the consequences.”
Anger burst through her. Usually she breathed through stressful situations, imagined her calm place, and regained her composure. This time, she lost it. “How dare you talk to me like that? I’m not one of your female groupies. I think we need some time to decipher our emotions, and work through a solution. I wanted to build some trust before we take the next step, but if you’re going to stalk me in parking lots because I’m late, maybe we need some time to think about this.”
His frustration practically beat at her from over the phone. A shiver raced down her spine. Funny, the anger drove up the sexual energy to a boiling point. No wonder couples loved to fight and make up. It was a heady combination.
“You want to push me to test my limits, don’t you? All you had to do was send me a text. Was I not worth any consideration?”
She tamped down on the guilt and seized back the higher ground. “Harry’s phone was dead.”
“You didn’t bring your cell, did you, Chandler?”
“You’re missing the whole point. A relationship is about compromise, give and take, not demands. I can’t be with a man like that. I’m sorry, I just—can’t.”
Silence.
Maybe this was it. A deep regret pierced through her. If he wasn’t willing to try, she couldn’t go forward. Already the idea of being involved with another demanding workaholic scared the hell out of her. She ignored her aching heart and waited for his answer.
“They screwed you up, baby. Twisted you into so many knots you don’t know what you want. Or need. But I do. Now, give me the address.”
Her chest squeezed for air. Her hands shook around the receiver. Suddenly, he seemed too close, and she needed distance. Needed to...think.
“I’m sorry, Logan. I can’t. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She pressed the button. And knew in that moment she was a coward.
He was going to strangle her.
Logan sat in his car and gripped the steering wheel as he fought to control the rage coursing through his body. He took a deep breath and tried to think the situation over. He’d been nice enough to allow her to go to dinner with a man who may be trying to coax her into bed at this very moment. He tried to give her the benefit of the doubt when she asked for his trust, knowing how important that was to her in a relationship. He decided to try to be the man she wanted him to be: patient and understanding, kind and generous, trusting and open-minded. A man like Richard Thorne pretended to be. He played by her rules, thinking with enough time she’d come to him on her own. Admit she loved him. Then he could finally drag her into his bed where she belonged.
Now she could be doing that with another man she insisted was only a friend.
His stomach coiled at the thought. He stared out the windshield at the deserted parking lot and listened to the eerie silence. His fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel as he went over his options.
She’d hung up on him. Was she scared of her developing feelings? Was she attracted to Westin? Did she enjoy playing games for kicks, and he’d been stupid enough to believe she was genuine?
Logan let himself calm down and went over their past encounters. No, her body didn’t lie. Neither did her eyes. Even her voice on the phone sounded desperate to run, yet longing to tell him the address. Yet, she still insisted on refusing to text him.
He’d made a mistake. He allowed his feelings to get in the way, and now she was taking advantage of the situation. He almost laughed out loud when he suddenly realized the sad picture he made. The mighty “man of steel” was really a poor chump sitting in the parking lot of a woman’s apartment building, waiting for her to show up from a date with another man.
Shards of ice ripped at his heart as he reined in his emotions and took control. This was the last time his lady would make a fool out of him. He’d been going easy on her. Allowed her to play the game by a different set of rules so she felt safe.
Now they'd play by his rules.
He pushed the uneasy thought out of his mind that she was really in cahoots with her father. Could she be using him? Could she be so clever that even he had been fooled? As he gunned the engine and pulled out of the lot in a roar of screeching tires, he realized how much he wanted to believe in her innocence.
His first action was to find out where Harrison Edward Weston III lived.
Chapter 10
Chandler’s eyes flew open when she heard the pounding on the door.
She groaned and buried her head deeper into the cushions on the sofa. The tired springs creaked under her shifting weight and warned her that accommodating strangers for the night was something it was usually not required to do. She’d already fallen off the couch twice, finally discovering a comfortable position around dawn, and felt like she’d only grabbed fifteen minutes of precious sleep before the pounding had begun. Or maybe it was her head.
For a moment there was silence. She breathed a sigh of relief and tried to drift back, but the door suddenly vibrated under the insistent pounding of a fist. She struggled to open her eyes and glanced at the clock on the mantle. 6:00 AM. Saturday morning.
Someone was insane.
She muttered under her breath about Harry’s rude friends and fell off the couch for a third time. Tugging down the hem of the Giants T-shirt she’d borrowed, she padded barefoot to the door. The banging grew more intense, and she saw the wildly shaking door trying to withstand the power of the person behind it. She unlocked the chain and threw the door open, glaring behind tousled waves of hair.
And collided with a pair of icy gray eyes.
His gaze roamed over her figure, taking in her shirt and bare feet, her sleep rumpled hair and the surprise on her face. He stepped inside and shut the door gently behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence. Fighting the urge to run like hell and not look back, she blurted out, “How did you find me?”
She hadn’t thought it was possible, but he managed to look even more terrifying after her question. His voice was soft when he spoke, contradicting the hardness in his eyes. “I called in a few favors. I’m sure you thought you were safe since his number is unlisted. Then again, you don’t know me as well as you thought, do you, Chandler?”
Her response was never heard. At that moment a door banged open and Harry stepped in the hallway dressed in a pair of boxer shorts. One hand rubbed his head as he stared at them through sleepy eyes. He looked from Logan’s tightly coiled figure to Chandler’s defensively crossed arms, then made his way toward the kitchen. “Oh, good, you’re finally here.” He reached for the coffee pot. “I see you found me earlier than I expected. Now maybe I can get some sleep.”
Chandler nervously glanced at her tower of testosterone and winced. He was going to attack Harry, and it was all her fault for playing games. “Logan.” She laid her hand on his arm. His muscles jumped beneath her touch. “Please listen to me. Nothing happened here last night.”
She heard the splash of water as Harry filled the coffee pot. His cheerful voice echoed through the hallway. “I love Chandler to death, but I have to admit she can be a handful at times. She was so upset last night, we didn’t get to bed until after one.”
Logan took a step toward him. Chandler threw herself in front of his towering figure in order to save the life of her friend. Harry’s cheerful words co
ntinued drifting in the air amidst the sound of bubbling coffee. “She’s never spent hours analyzing another man’s actions before. She left her cell phone at home so she wouldn’t be tempted to text you.”
Harry ignored Chandler’s strangled words of protest at discussing her private feelings in front of the cause of her distress. “Now, my guess is you showed up at her apartment to wait for her so you could finally resolve some loose ends. I surmise she tried to con you by saying we were having an affair. I assure you, this is not true. She gives me enough trouble as a friend, let alone a lover.”
Chandler opened her mouth to yell, then promptly closed it at Logan’s threatening stare.
“She spent the night on the sofa, and I slept in the bedroom. She locked her keys in the car at the restaurant last night, so she bunked here. When she called and found you weren’t home, she assumed you were trying to teach her a lesson by making her wait for a call that would never come. Of course, she wouldn’t have made it home by nine thirty anyway. She pushed our reservation back by an hour.”
Chandler closed her eyes in defeat. Her best friend had sold her out. She was going to kill him.
The cabinet door banged. Mugs clunked on the table. “You’re welcome to join me for a cup of coffee before I get myself together, but I’d probably advise you to go somewhere and talk. I’m sure both of you learned your lesson about challenging each other, and I really hope I never have to find myself in this situation again; awaiting the arrival of a man whose only ambition is to tear me limb from limb.”
Harry stepped from the kitchen so he was in full view. The two men studied each other for a while. Harry waited. Logan assessed. Chandler held her breath and berated herself for getting involved in such a primitive male encounter. She felt like prey between two predators.
“I can firmly assure you, Weston, that you’ll never be put in this kind of position again.”