by Carly Carson
"I don't have any trouble believing you don't do relationships, Logan." She gestured to the room full of people. "Clearly, you've convinced the world of that, as well."
That couldn't be helped. He was unable to feel emotions. He refused to feel emotions. Therefore, it was only fair of him to make sure that women in his company understood that.
He had also learned that women would pursue him for his financial success, regardless of whether he could feel anything for them. Or whether they, in fact, had any feelings for him.
So he was doubly cautious. It was better all around if he treated sex like any other commodity. An arms-length transaction, where each party knew exactly what he or she was getting. Or not getting.
He caught the eye of a waiter who promptly approached them with a tray of sushi. Right behind him was another distraction. Logan was grateful for the reprieve.
"Hey, there's someone I want you to meet." He waved over a petite blonde dressed in a fire-engine red suit. She click-clacked toward them in a pair of tall heels that barely brought her to average height.
"Amanda," he said, "I'd like you to meet Patrice Collins. Patrice, this is Amanda Thompson. She has the job you used to have."
At his side, Amanda made a funny noise, like a smothered gasp, and Logan knew instantly that Amanda thought Patrice was someone who'd shared his bed.
"Director of Entrepreneurial Ventures," he injected smoothly. "Patrice, Amanda is taking to the job as well as you did."
Patrice looked at Amanda, her blue eyes hostile. She did not extend her hand. "Lovely." The single word dropped into the conversational pool and sank like a stone. She turned her gaze to Logan.
"Will you be attending the Cabot's Christmas Ball next weekend?"
Logan nodded, but refused to be drawn into a topic that was designed to exclude Amanda.
"We've been looking at a company you investigated a few years back," he said. "Daily Eats."
Patrice sniffed. "You must have forgotten that I told you it was a dog of a company. Surely no one would recommend buying them?" She glanced at Amanda with barely tinged contempt.
"They have an excellent cash flow, a strong strategic direction, and good management," Amanda said coolly. "Perhaps the situation has changed since you looked at them."
Amanda raised her chin, and the coolness in her tone suggested that Patrice had failed to adequately assess the company.
Logan had to press his lips together to hide a smile.
"Patrice," he said, "I'm sure you recall they weren't interested in selling a few years ago. Now they are. Different circumstances make them more appealing today."
Patrice's nostrils pinched with displeasure. "I see my husband over there." She emphasized the word 'husband', as if she wanted to point out the difference between her and Amanda.
Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should have remembered that Patrice had once made a pass at him. Apparently, he hadn't steered her away as diplomatically as he'd thought.
"I need to discuss something with him." Patrice tottered off.
"Ick." Amanda shook her head. "I don't think I'd like being a paid companion."
"Patrice never was, as far as I know."
"Maybe that's why she was so unpleasant, then."
Logan looked down at her, raising his brows. Did she realize she sounded almost—jealous? He'd seen too many catfights not to recognize the signs. But he hoped he was mistaken tonight, because he didn't want Amanda to start developing feelings for him.
"I think we should call it a night," he said, automatically reaching for her, before he remembered the 'no touching' rule and pulled back. Damn, this was going to be difficult.
"Good," Amanda answered. "If you're sure you don't need to stay."
They started toward the exit. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I only come to these events so they'll come to mine. It's all a revolving door."
"I'm surprised you have charities you feel that strongly about supporting."
He made a show of feeling around in his pockets for the coat check, even though he knew exactly where it was. He didn't want to look at her.
"I have a few causes that are near and dear." His tone wasn't as light as he'd been aiming for, but it would have to do.
He would never, ever, talk about the Juilliard music scholarship fund he'd established in his sister's name.
They walked out into a light rain. His black limo idled at the curb. Felipe exited the car to open the door. But before they reached him, a man walking along the sidewalk, his head down to avoid the rain, cut them off.
Logan put an arm around Amanda to steer her out of the way. He felt her stiffen. "Jamie?" she said.
The man looked up and broke into a huge smile. "Amanda Thompson, what are you doing here?"
"We've just been to the exhibit." She waved at the doors behind them. "But what are you doing in New York? Last I heard you were living in London."
"Got transferred back." His eyes slid over toward Logan, as if wondering who he was.
"Sorry." Amanda laughed. "Jamie, this is my boss, Logan Winter. Logan, Jamie Boudreau."
They shook hands, and Logan tried to ignore the annoyance he felt at being introduced as her boss. Really, that's exactly what he was.
"Amanda and I were just leaving," he said. "Nice to meet you."
Amanda hesitated, and then rushed into speech. "Are you free to get a cup of coffee, Jamie?"
"Sure! Love to catch up."
"That's good." She turned to Logan with a bright smile. "There's no need for you to take me home, then. But thanks for the networking opportunity tonight."
Logan knew he could turn this around in a heartbeat. But he saw the anger in the back of her eyes and, he had to admit, she was entitled to feel it. He had nothing to gain by forcing the issue, and plenty to lose if he overplayed his hand.
"Good night, then." He couldn't resist pulling her close with one arm and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. Let Jamie make of that what he would.
When he let her go, Amanda's eyes snapped at him. But she wouldn't make a scene over something so small. The best she could do was to tuck her hand through Jamie's arm and stroll off with him.
Logan was surprised how much the sight annoyed him.
Chapter 14
"Rosie." Amanda flipped through a rack of beautiful dresses at an exclusive Madison Avenue boutique. "I don't want to be indebted to Logan."
"Don't think of it like that." Rosie picked up a silver stiletto and looked it over. "You're doing this for me. Logan said so."
Amanda eyed her doubtfully. Today Rosie wore lime green leggings, black combat boots and an ivory lace dress. She looked adorable, and had announced that the entire outfit cost only twenty-five bucks.
But Amanda needed more sophisticated clothes, and the price tags Rosie steered her to were eye-popping.
"I thought you were going to make my clothes."
"I'm working on that." Rosie yanked out a gold, silk crepe dress with a narrow band of blonde lace decorating a deep, scalloped neck. "This is it. Perfect for you."
When Amanda reluctantly tried on the dress, she had to stare at herself. The crepe hugged her breasts, with the open neckline pointing subtly to them. The bias cut flattered her midsection, and the skirt flared gently around her knees, swishing when she moved.
"You can't pass this up," the saleslady said happily. "The dress was made for you."
"It's too expensive," Amanda said quickly. She didn't want to disappoint the saleslady, but there was no point in raising her hopes either.
"She'll take it," Rosie said.
The clerk glanced from Rosie to Amanda and back.
"I pay the bills," Rosie said. "And my reputation is at stake. Logan will love this."
The saleslady raised her eyebrows. "I see."
"Rosie," Amanda hissed when the dress was borne off. "You made her think I'm a mistress or something."
"Who cares?" Rosie handed over another dress. "You don't know her."
>
"This is exactly what happened when I went to that fundraiser at the Spensor Museum." Amanda's cheeks flushed at the memory. "Everyone thought I was his paid escort."
"That blue dress did make you look hot," Rosie said, giggling.
"I don't want to be hot!" Well, that was a little white lie, but whatever. She didn't want to be viewed as a hooker.
"Amanda." Rosie tapped her foot on the carpet. "Every woman wants to be hot for the right man."
"Logan is not the right man. I'm going out with Josh this Friday." Damn, she hadn't meant to say that. On the other hand, the sooner the office gossip mill got hold of the fact, the better.
"Excellent," Rosie said cheerfully. "You can wear the gold dress for that date, also. See how economical we're being?"
Amanda had to laugh. "You do know how to look on the bright side of everything."
"Exactly." Rosie leaned down to straighten the hem on a black cocktail dress. "You stick with me, and you'll go places."
"Into the unemployment line, when Logan sees how much you're spending."
Rosie frowned. "I think black is too severe for you." She waved a hand. "Take it off." She plucked another dress off its hanger. "As for Logan, he has so much money that no clothing wardrobe could make a dent in it."
"You don't know that."
Rosie tilted her head to view the new dress at an angle. "I may not have the facts and figures, but he owns all of Winter Enterprises. He ain't poor."
"He has some partners. We don't know what stakes they each have."
"The man has a private jet, for God's sake. He has an oceanfront estate on Cape Cod."
"He does?" That was one of the first facts Amanda had ever heard about his private life. She couldn't resist prying for more information. "How do you know that?"
"Well, the caretaker has been buggin' me about some upkeep for the house. I had to send a contractor over there." Rosie grinned. "So, once I had the address, I looked it up on Zillow."
"I wonder who lives there. Does he have family?"
Rosie moved in a little closer and lowered her voice. "My aunt warned me never, on pain of death, to ask about family."
"Strange."
"So of course, that's exactly what I want to know." Rosie flashed her leprechaun smile, a pointy triangle offset by red hair and sparkling eyes. "I've tried to ask around the company, but if anyone knows anything, they're keepin' it to themselves."
"It's really not our business." Amanda glanced in the mirror. Wow, this was another knockout dress. Rosie did have a knack for choosing clothes.
"But nothing's more fun than finding out what we're not supposed to know, right?" Rosie narrowed her eyes. "Perfect dress. Try on the matching coat."
Amanda was glad to change the subject. She really shouldn't be gossiping about her boss. As much fun as it might be, gossip could only lead to trouble.
She added the blue dress and coat to her order. It would be perfect for the lung association gala she was attending with Josh. Her twinge of guilt was banished with a reminder that Logan had authorized these purchases to help Rosie. Plus, he would never know she was using his money to dress for another man.
***
Josh's eyes lit up when she opened the door on Friday night. "You look beautiful," he said. "You've been hiding your light."
"Thanks." Amanda smiled. "I think."
He laughed. "I guess you do need to look professional at work. Sorry if my comment was tactless."
Amanda lifted the matching coat out of her tiny closet. "No need to apologize. You're right. But I do like to dress up when I have the opportunity." Even though she felt like she was lying by omission, she could hardly tell Josh that Logan was buying her a wardrobe to help Rosie get a design business off the ground.
He helped her on with the coat and then crooked his elbow for her hand. "Ready?"
Downstairs, he hailed a taxi and, when they reached their destination, they had a brief tussle over who would pay for the cab.
"You got the tickets," Josh said. "So I should pay for everything else."
"But this isn't a date," Amanda argued. "Remember? Even if it was, I asked you so I should pay." It was hard to be so noble when she was budgeting every penny, but right was right.
"If I asked you out, would you expect me to pay for everything?"
She looked up at him, nonplused.
"Exactly." He laughed, and by then, the cab driver had been paid.
Inside, they circled the tables that offered silent auction items. Amanda put her name down for a few things that wouldn't go too high. A spa afternoon had a one year expiration date. It would make a nice gift for her sister when she returned from Denver.
"Do you do a lot of these charity events?" Josh said.
"No." The single word sounded too abrupt, and she liked Josh. "My sister, Julie, is sick with a serious lung problem," she said. "Interstitial lung disease, to be precise."
"Hey." Josh put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thanks. She's in Denver for some specialized treatment."
"That's rough," Josh said. "I hope her treatment plan works out."
"Amanda!" An older couple waved her over, and Amanda was grateful for the interruption.
"Josh, this is Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien. They're the chairpersons for this gala."
After the introductions had been completed, Mrs. O'Brien smiled at Amanda. "I've heard that Julie is progressing well under her new treatment plan."
"Yes, we're very hopeful that she's turning a corner."
"I hope we can get together for lunch soon," the older woman said. "I'd love to get all the details."
Amanda nodded. "I'll be going to Denver for Christmas, and meeting with her doctors. I'll take good notes for you."
"Smile!" A photographer with a huge camera aimed it at them.
"Sorry." Mr. O'Brien grimaced in Josh's direction. "This is part of the drill."
"No problem." Josh slung his arm around Amanda and smiled gamely into the flashing lights. Flashbulbs popped, once, twice, three times.
Chapter 15
Noah Blankenship sat in Logan's office early on Monday morning, his enormous frame dwarfing the office chair. The broad smile that usually dominated his face was absent. Logan had hired the big black man as much for his easy manner as for his sharp mind and military experience. So when that affability was missing, something was wrong. Aside from all that, Logan knew his head of security wouldn't have requested a meeting if they didn't have a major problem.
The two men exchanged pleasantries, and then Logan said, "Give me the unvarnished truth."
Noah shifted in his chair. "It's not pretty."
Logan frowned. It wasn't like Noah to stall or shift his eyes away. "I can deal with the unpretty," he said.
"I don't know if this is something that will concern you," Noah said. He wiped a handkerchief over his forehead. "But I had to report it. It involves the company's reputation."
Was Noah going to accuse him of behaving improperly with Amanda? A flash of anger whipped through Logan. He crushed it. Noah was not stupid.
"Blankenship." Logan leaned forward. "Why are you chasing something around the mulberry bush? Spit it out."
"I don't like this, boss." Noah placed his laptop on the desk and punched a few keys. He turned the monitor to face Logan. The words "Adam and Eve Playground" danced across the screen in a heated red font.
Logan saw red. Shit. Why did every single thing he'd ever done in his life have to be paid for? He knew instantly what the website stood for. What he didn't know was how it affected his company.
"Why are you showing me this?" he asked. At least he could be grateful he wasn't looking at the name of the escort service he'd used himself.
"Uh, it's nothing personal," Noah responded, his voice carefully neutral. "But one of your employees is running this service out of the company offices."
Logan leaned back in his chair, hoping to trick his body into remaining calm
, even though fury was rushing through him. "Who?"
"Phoebe Cattus."
"Shit." Logan's chair crashed to the ground. "Get rid of her."
Noah spoke into a small microphone attached to his shirt. "Send an escort to the office of Phoebe Cattus and have him wait for her there."
Logan rolled his chair around and stared out the window. His brain whirred. Noah wouldn't be here without definitive proof. Although Logan would check it out anyway, he knew he'd find everything in order. Noah was very good at what he did.
But if the press found out, they'd have a field day. He could survive the mud-slinging, although he wouldn't enjoy it. But his public offering was scheduled for next week. In this environment, where everyone was jittery about initial public offerings, he couldn't afford to have negative publicity. If the share prices were driven too low, the underwriters might want to postpone the offering.
Worse than all that, the press would start digging and it was only a matter of time before they'd ferret out the fact that Logan himself used an escort service. That would only compound his problems.
The public would only hear the titillating sound bites. They wouldn't care about the underlying value of the company. Although the professional investors would understand the true worth of his company, that wouldn't be enough for a successful offering. Positive buzz and retail investors were key to any successful IPO.
He stared out, unseeing, at Central Park, as he sorted through the very few options available to him. Two things became obvious quickly.
When he flipped around to face Blankenship again, his mind was made up.
He pressed his intercom button. "Get Phoebe Cattus in here."
"Right away," Rosie chirped back.
He nodded at Noah. "The site is on the company computers, right?"
"It was." Noah gave a grim smile. "I've had IT block it already."
"Good move. You've sent me the documentation of everything, I presume."
"You know me, boss."
Logan pressed the intercom again. "I want Maria Lopez in here in thirty minutes." Since she was head of Marketing, the Public Relations department was part of her domain.