by Carly Carson
"Of course." She stepped back from him. "Could we sit down for a minute? I need to catch my breath."
"Certainly." He followed her over to the table where June sat alone now, talking on her phone. But before they could sit down, a sexy brunette swished up to Logan and flung her arms around him.
"Dance with me," she invited, her tone sure, her eyes laughing. Her Christmas-red silk sheath identified her as one of the bridesmaids, a sophisticated, glamorous attendant, not the kind who had to dress in pale ruffles so as not to outshine the bride.
"Excuse me for just a moment." Logan held out a chair for Amanda. After pushing it in, he leaned over, his warm male scent washing over her. "I'll be back shortly," he said.
June clicked off her phone. "Babysitter," she said with a small grimace.
"Problems?"
"Nothing serious. My twins thought it would be fun to go sledding in the dark. They almost had the sitter convinced we do that all the time." Her dry tone was belied by her smile.
"How old are they?"
"Eight going on four." She laughed. "They're cute, but not half as much fun to watch as a grown man."
She nodded at Logan. "Look at those hips. Making me hot, and he's my husband's best friend."
"He's got some moves." Amanda tried to laugh, but it was painful to watch Logan and the brunette move together in perfect synchronicity.
"Lucky you." June gave an exaggerated look around. "You don't see my husband anywhere, do you? He must be hiding. Terrified he might have to dance again."
Yeah, Amanda thought, but he loves you. He makes babies with you. He plans to spend the rest of his life with you. Dance moves don't hold a candle to all that.
But of course, she couldn't say any of that. She cast about for a different topic and landed on the one thing she didn't want to say.
"Who's that woman he's dancing with?" As much as the sight of them together tortured her, Amanda didn't seem able to stop watching, nor to leave the words unsaid.
"You don't know?" June tore her eyes away from the dance floor to glance at her.
Amanda shook her head. "I barely know Logan."
"Uh…" June fiddled with her phone, refusing to meet Amanda's eyes. "That's the woman he learned to dance with. Stacy Johnson."
Bingo. She should have known. They moved together like water flowing down steps. Each body part fluidly followed the other.
Amanda knew she had to speak. Her silence made too big a deal out of the fact.
But she couldn't think of a thing to say. She didn't belong here, was not part of this world, and could never compete with a woman like that. Not that she wanted to compete, she reminded herself sadly. She was Logan's employee, nothing more.
June patted her hand. "Don't worry about her. They were a couple back when we were all in college together, and Logan never abandons anyone."
"Logan?" Amanda's brows shot up. "Are you talking about Logan Winter? A man who hires women for companionship so he doesn't have to form a relationship?"
She snapped her mouth shut, horrified that she'd let that out. She shouldn't be divulging such information about anyone, let alone the person who was her boss.
"No." June shook her head emphatically. "That's his…his armor. Not his natural character."
"His armor? Why does a man like him need armor? Has the world been so terrible to him?"
June bit her lip, as if afraid of the words that might emerge. "Everyone has problems, Amanda. Even Logan."
Yeah. Problems dealing with people.
Amanda watched as they swung by, the woman as sexy as Logan.
"Look at him." June gestured toward the couple. "So controlled. He's dancing beautifully with Stacy but he looks at her like she's a robot."
Amanda shrugged. She'd already made too big a deal out of the whole thing.
"That's not the way he was looking at you," June said into the silence.
Amanda's heart skipped a beat, but she knew the subject had to be changed.
"Tell me about the bride and groom," she said brightly.
June immediately launched into a funny tale, and when Logan and Stacy returned, Amanda was able to look up coolly.
"Come on." Logan held out a hand. "We haven't had a chance to waltz."
Amanda hesitated a moment too long. She knew better than to waltz with him, but she couldn't embarrass him in front of his friends.
"Lovely," she said, a shade too heartily.
She moved into his arms, feeling his strength as he gently pulled her into the embrace of the dance. His warm hand wrapped securely around hers. They began moving, perfectly attuned, though she had to hold her head up stiffly to avoid resting it on his chest.
The music curled around them, lifting them, moving them over the floor in time to its sensuous beat. She found herself drawn ever more closely into his arms.
Until they were pressed together from knees to shoulders, and she became aware of something even harder than his arm pressing into her.
She tried to pull away subtly. He loosened his arms a fraction.
"It was inevitable," he murmured. "Good thing it's dark in here."
She refused to look at him. Dark as it was, he'd see how much this was affecting her. Every time he brushed against her, she melted a little bit more. Soon she'd be a puddle on the floor.
"I don't think this is decent," she muttered, glancing around. "We should sit down."
"You don't think I'm the first man in the world who's had an erection on the dance floor, do you?"
Mute, she shook her head.
"It wasn't my intention to embarrass you," he said, his voice low and dark in her ear. "But you feel good in my arms, and that means the problem is not going to go away."
"Should I step on your toe?"
He chuckled. "I think I'm destined to suffer until I get you home tonight."
A thrill of fear zapped her. What did that mean? Surely he wouldn't make a move on her. She'd been adamant that she wouldn't have sex with him, and he was not a stupid man.
Their two nights in Philadelphia sprang into her mind. He hadn't done more than give her a chaste kiss. Despite the fact they were staying in the same hotel suite. But if she had been a little disappointed, she wasn't going to admit it to anyone, least of all herself. The fact remained that, although he'd been warm and attentive at the symphony, he had not tried to make a pass at her any time during the trip.
So she shouldn't read too much into his actions tonight. They were at a wedding. It was only natural that they'd dance. If she refused any more slow dances, that would solve her problem. Also, she had to stop drinking. Though she'd only had a couple glasses of champagne, she didn't have a head for liquor.
Logan Winter was entirely too attractive. There was no telling what foolish thing she might do if she got drunk.
Chapter 11
Logan was surprised to see Amanda stumble a bit on the way out of the wedding party. He had a firm grasp of her elbow, and she quickly recovered.
Her giggle surprised him, even as it delighted him.
"Whoops!" she said, glancing up at him. "I think it was the champagne. It always makes me tipsy."
"Tipsy?" He laughed. "You scarcely had any."
But in the back of the limo, when he put his arm around her, she snuggled right up against him, her soft curves inflaming him, her sweet cinnamon and sugar scent enticing him. It reminded him of his childhood, the wonderful smells of his mother's kitchen.
Of course, he felt anything but childish when he was with her. More like a randy teenage boy.
He stretched his legs, trying to find a bit of comfort. His thigh pressed against hers.
"You take up a lot of room." She giggled again.
"I like it that way."
"Me, too." She rested her head on his chest. "You're so hard. I like that."
His whole body jerked. Did she know what she was saying? With the signals she was giving him, he wondered if his courtship would be shorter than he had anticipated.
He moved his arm to expose a little more of her breast. The sight of even an extra bit of naked flesh inflamed him. He tried to laugh at himself, practically panting like a sixteen year old on his first date.
But a part of him was disturbed at the intensity of his desire. He could not afford to lose control of the situation. He had no intention of getting emotional if, indeed, that unfamiliar feeling nudging at the edges of his consciousness was emotion.
However, he wanted to be sure they were inside her apartment before he started the seduction. The walk from the limo to her place might break up his momentum if he started now.
Again, he wanted to laugh at himself. All this agonizing. He wasn't used to planning sex with a woman who might say no.
Though he normally liked knowing he could have sex on demand from a woman he was "escorting", he had to admit the hint of uncertainty in this case was stimulating. He couldn't remember when he'd been so aroused.
She took in a deep breath. Was she sniffing him?
"You smell good," she said, her tone drowsy. "Yum." She inhaled another deep breath.
His body clenched with desire. The way things were going, he wouldn't have to seduce her. She might beat him to it.
He could hardly wait.
"Mandy." He tilted up her chin. "I like this new side of you."
Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. Was that alarm in their golden depths? "Why'd you call me Mandy again?"
"I don't know." Did they have to talk about names right now? "It suits you."
She clutched a fistful of her skirt. "I should be wearing a suit. Scare you off."
He laughed. "Is that the reason for the ugly clothing?" He stroked the silk on her thigh. "This dress is so much sexier."
She sucked in an audible breath. "Something—something—"
He frowned. "Did you have anything to drink before I picked you up tonight?"
"You think I'm drunk?" Giggling, she wormed her index finger between two buttons of his shirt. "I always wondered if you had hair on your chest."
"Jesus," he muttered. She was entirely too close to his belly button right now, and all he could think about was how he could get her finger to wander further down. His brain was fogged with lust. Especially when he heard that she'd been wondering about his body.
"That's my stomach," he managed to say. "Not my chest." He had to make a concerted effort to control his breathing. Too much intensity might scare her off.
"Wow." She stroked some more. "It's as hard as I thought your chest would be."
There was no answer to that. Especially not when her finger was slowly exploring. He sucked in a tortured breath. If she was drunk he had to end this now, before it got out of hand. Her light touch on his belly was as arousing as another woman's hand on his naked cock.
"Wine," he muttered. "Did you have a glass or two of wine while getting ready?" Or even three. The change in her behavior was remarkable.
"Stop talking. I can't con—con—cen—trate."
The limo braked to a smooth halt.
"You're home," he said, equal parts of relief and disappointment roiling within him. "I think it's bedtime for my little reindeer."
"B—bedtime?" She peered at him owlishly as he swung his legs out of the car and stood up. "I can't sleep with you."
"I know that." At least not when she was drunk. He leaned over and reached one arm around her shoulders to help her out of the limo.
She clung to him as they approached the door of her apartment building.
"What are you doing?" She looked up as he stood beside her, waiting for her to open the locked outer door. He certainly wouldn't leave her standing on the sidewalk in her condition.
"Do you have a key?" he asked.
"Mmph." She fished around in her purse and eventually produced a key ring. She held it up triumphantly.
Logan waited for a moment and then eased it from her fingers so he could open the door. "I'll walk you up."
"You keep trying to get into my apartment."
"Don't worry. I won't molest you." If she made a move, he might take her up on it. But he wouldn't initiate anything when he couldn't be sure of her sobriety.
She fell silent abruptly as they entered the building and got into the elevator. After knocking and getting no answer, he opened her front door. Her roommate didn't appear, and Logan knew he was in for a rough time. He'd have to get Amanda into bed.
She stepped out of her heels as soon as he closed the door.
"First thing I always do." She giggled. "Those things look good, but they don't feel good."
He had to agree with her assessment about the shoes looking good. But her legs still stretched long and shapely, even when she stood there in bare feet.
He swallowed another bout of lust.
"Which way is your bedroom?" Terrible words to say when he knew he wouldn't be trying to seduce her tonight.
She frowned adorably. "I don't think you're allowed in there."
"I just want to be sure you're lying down when I leave."
"Okay." She walked through a small living room and down a short hallway. "Ta da!" She waved an open hand toward a bedroom on her right. "The inner san—san—"
"Sanctum," he muttered. "Where you'll be safe."
He stalked over to the bed and pulled down the cream-colored comforter. The sooner he got this done, the better. He straightened up to find her standing right beside him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"You need to go to bed." He cleared his throat. This was definitely not the way he'd fantasized about this particular situation. "Do you need help getting undressed?"
"Yup." She plopped down on the bed in a modified spread-eagle position. Another giggle escaped. "My head is spinning."
He eyed her, wondering what he could loosen. Sure as hell, he wasn't going to strip her. His noble intentions wouldn't survive that.
Carefully, he turned her on her side and eased down the zipper of her dress. She'd closed her eyes, and made no objection. Next he lifted her shoulders and unhooked her strapless bra. He was sure she'd be more comfortable without it, but there was no way he was going to take it off.
He stepped back before his hands could linger. She might be uncomfortable sleeping in that clinging dress, but he knew he couldn't be responsible for his behavior if he slid that dress down those slender hips, and over those long legs.
She'd only be wearing panties, and he had an overwhelming desire to see exactly what kind she had on. A thong? Silk bikinis?
The possibilities were endless, and each of them made his blood pound. She looked girlish, lying there with her clothes and hair mussed. And also as erotic as anything he'd ever seen. No mistress with exquisitely practiced moves had ever looked as sexy.
Shit, he was getting into serious trouble here.
He forced his gaze away from the danger zone.
Walking swiftly, he moved through the apartment, barely looking around, not wanting to invade her privacy. He noticed a normal amount of clutter, the haphazard décor of occupants without extensive funding, and the overall cleanliness.
He dropped her keys on the table in the small foyer.
The door closed quietly behind him, and he checked the lock.
Good. He was locked out.
Safe. For the moment.
***
The next morning, Logan was not surprised when Amanda stormed through his office door.
"What happened last night?" she demanded.
He looked up from his computer. "You don't remember?"
She glared at him. "Did you touch my breasts?"
"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I didn't."
"My dress was open and my bra unhooked when I woke up this morning."
"I did that," he said, "so you'd be comfortable."
"You had no right to touch me." Her low voice trembled slightly.
"Don't be such a prude. I didn't take advantage of you."
"Did you get me drunk?"
"Absolutely not," he snapped. "I take offense at that question. I don't need to get a woman drunk to seduce her, nor do I enjoy spending time with drunks. "
She passed a hand over her forehead. "I have a bad headache."
"Had you been drinking before I picked you up?"
Her gaze flickered away from him suddenly. "Not much."
Mentally, he shrugged. She must have had too much if she couldn't even remember. "I suggest," he said, "that we agree that you don't have a head for liquor, and we carry on with our day. I have plenty of work to do."
The reminder worked as he intended. She straightened her shoulders, and turned to go. But not without a final word.
"The date that wasn't a date was not a good idea." She swept out the door.
Chapter 12
Amanda spent a week traveling on business. A long, lonely week filled with anonymous hotel rooms and long security lines. She worked hard and was pleased with what she accomplished. Her only potential problem was the Daily Eats deal. The due diligence work there was falling behind schedule. She'd have to look into the delay when she got back to the office.
When she checked her email on the Monday of her return, the first thing she saw was a message from Logan. The lick of pleasure at seeing his name annoyed her. She did not enjoy feeling like a sophomore with a crush on the football captain.
His message commanded her presence in his office as early as possible on Monday morning, which she knew meant before the 9 a.m. staff meeting. She made sure her notes were all in order, and knocked on his door at 8. The sound of his deep voice calling to enter made her shiver.
He was on the phone when she opened the door, but he waved her in. He looked incredibly fresh this morning in a white button-down shirt, red silk tie and his usual precision-cut hairstyle. Even the cold tone of voice he was using on the phone didn't detract from his appeal.
Amanda repressed a sigh. It really was a shame to have to pass up the chance to get down and dirty with a guy like him. As much as she tried not to think about it, she couldn't help wondering what he would be like in bed. Would he focus all that intensity on her pleasure? Or was he more a git 'er done and move on to the next task kind of guy?