‘Quite enough,’ she agreed brightly. ‘I do hope you enjoy your meal.’ She walked away with an exaggerated sway of her slender hips.
Logan was furious, and Callie knew she was supposed to be upset, and yet somehow she wasn’t. Her feelings were ones of sympathy, for Danielle, that she still cared enough for Logan to hit out in that bitchy way, a way guaranteed to alienate him even though it must have given her tremendous satisfaction at the time.
Logan was still standing, had stood all during the conversation with Danielle, his eyes glittering dangerously now, his mouth a grim line. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he rasped, taking Callie’s hand in his and pulling her to her feet.
She frowned her consternation. ‘We haven’t even eaten yet!’
He sighed his impatience. ‘You’re hungry?’
‘Well, I— Yes.’ It might be mundane, but it was the truth. She had been too busy at work today to bother about lunch, and her stomach was now protesting loudly at the omission.
‘We’ll eat at my apartment,’ he told her derisively. ‘I’m sure my housekeeper can provide us with something.’
‘But, Logan—’
‘I know I said we should stay away from potentially dangerous situations,’ he ran an agitated hand through the thickness of his hair, ‘but I want to talk to you, and I certainly can’t do it here. Will you come with me?’
She offered no more resistance, welcoming the chance to go to Logan’s home. The restraint he had put on their relationship had meant they had shared no more than a brief if passionate goodnight kiss at the end of the evening, and the strain of it all was beginning to tell on her. They had been seeing each other for weeks now, and Logan controlled their meetings with the experience he had no trouble exerting. She welcomed this chance to be alone with him.
He had a beautiful home, with an elegance and style that Logan himself possessed. The lounge he took her into was on two levels, the sitting area almost seemed to be sunk into the floor, in several shades of brown and gold—like autumn, Callie thought wonderingly, the dining area being up three steps on the higher level.
Logan had just invited her to sit down when a middle-aged woman came into the room. Logan-ordered her out again after asking her to prepare dinner for two. All the time he was talking to the housekeeper his gaze never left Callie.
To the other woman’s credit she didn’t even blink at suddenly being asked to produce a meal for two people, and Logan didn’t seem to feel any awkwardness in asking her. Callie wondered what he would have made of the scratch meal she would have provided at such short notice—packet chips and eggs any style! The capable Mrs Brown looked as if she would provide something much more appetising than that.
Logan paced the room once they were alone, the anger that had possessed him all the way here now turning to charged tension. ‘God, I could strangle her!’ he muttered.
‘Logan, please—’
‘Danielle behaved disgracefully!’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told him gently. ‘Really it doesn’t. You and she were close—’
‘Too damned close!’
‘The sort of closeness I would like,’ she insisted softly, meeting his narrow-eyed gaze unflinchingly. ‘The sort of closeness I want, Logan?’
‘No!’
She paled. ‘You don’t want to make love to me?’
He came to sit down beside her. ‘Not make love to you?’ he groaned. ‘I think I’ll die if I can’t soon see your face beside me when I wake up in the morning, carry the memory of your warm loving with me all day until I can get home and we make love all over again.’
Her pulse raced, warmth entering her cheeks. ‘That’s what I want too,’ she told him huskily.
‘Not quite,’ he derided.
‘But I do!’
‘I haven’t finished saying all that needs to be said.’ He grimaced. ‘What I’m trying to say, and not making a very good job of it, is that I don’t just want an affair with you. I want more, much more. I want you beside me for the rest of my life, Callie.’
‘Logan…?’
He drew in a deep breath. ‘I want marriage, Callie.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘DARLING?’ he prompted anxiously at her numbed silence, her wide-eyed disbelief.
Callie swallowed hard. ‘But you don’t get married! You never—’
‘To you I get married.’ He held both her hands in his, caressing life back into their chilled numbness. ‘Callie, I love you. I want to marry you.’
He was so earnest, so sincere, that she could no longer doubt he meant every word he was saying. ‘We hardly know each other—’
‘I knew I loved you the moment I looked at you,’ he insisted firmly. ‘You were intelligent as well as beautiful. It’s taken me some time to admit to the way I feel, but after tonight—! I don’t intend leaving you open to any more barbs like the ones Danielle made tonight. You’re special, not a part of some damned routine to get you into bed. Do you believe me, darling?’
She had never doubted that she meant more to him than any of the other women he had had in his life, had known by his physical restraint that he respected her—but marriage! It had never occurred to her, not even in her wildest daydreams about this man.
‘Callie?’
She looked up at his pale, strained face, seeing the tension that surrounded him as he waited for her answer. ‘Logan, I—’
‘For God’s sake don’t turn me down!’ he groaned. ‘You have no idea how much I need you.’
She gave a breathless laugh. ‘Only a fool would turn you down, Logan,’ she smiled. ‘And I hope I’m no fool.’
He drew in a ragged breath. ‘Does that mean the answer is yes?’
Her amusement deepened, her eyes glowing with happiness. ‘Don’t look so surprised! I love you too, you see.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course.’ She gave a choked laugh at his astonishment.
‘Oh, Callie!’ He enfolded her in his arms, his face buried against her throat. ‘I thought you’d say no,’ he rained kisses over her face and throat. ‘I didn’t think you would want me.’
She touched his face with trembling fingertips. ‘I’m yours, Logan. I thought you already knew that.’
‘I do now. Callie—’
‘Dinner is ready, Mr— oh!’ a red-faced Mrs Brown stood in the now open doorway. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said stiffly. ‘I had no idea you were—occupied.’ Her arms were folded disapprovingly across her ample bosom.
It took tremendous effort of will for Logan to answer the woman and keep a straight face. ‘We’ll be there in ten minutes, Mrs Brown,’ he said dismissively.
‘Yes, sir.’ With another scathing look she left the room.
‘Oh, Logan!’ Callie giggled, snuggling into his arms. ‘The poor woman was scandalised!’
‘Damn Mrs Brown,’ he growled. ‘I’m the one you should feel sorry for, I only have ten minutes to show you how much I love you!’
Her mouth quirked provocatively. ‘Then you hadn’t better waste any of it, had you?’ she tempted.
Logan grinned. ‘I think I’m going to like being married to you.’
‘I hope so, because I don’t intend sharing you,’ she told him seriously.
‘I doubt I’ll have the time,’ he murmured into her hair.
‘I’ll make sure of it.’
‘Not like this you won’t,’ he taunted.
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, gasping as Logan took over the initiative, his mouth at once demanding and possessive.
By the time they walked into the dining-room fifteen minutes later Callie knew herself to be thoroughly kissed—and by the disapproving look on Mrs Brown’s face she knew it too!
‘Perhaps you should tell her we’re getting married,’ Callie giggled. ‘Then she might stop looking at me as though I’m one of your women.’
Logan gave what she thought of as ‘one of his arrogant looks’. ‘Even if you were just one of my “women”,’ he said ha
ughtily, ‘she has no right to look at you in any way. I shall talk to her—’
‘Oh no, darling!’ She clasped his hand as Mrs Brown served their dessert to them, a delicious orange concoction made with meringue. ‘Please don’t say anything to Mrs Brown, Logan,’ she pleaded once they were alone. ‘After all, I have to live here after we’re married. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with your housekeeper.’
‘We don’t have to keep her—’
‘Logan, don’t be so cold-hearted!’ she complained. ‘Mrs Brown is quite understandably a little surprised at your behaviour.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes.’ She held back a smile. ‘I’m much too young for you,’ she said mischievously.
‘You—!’
‘Yes?’ She raised innocent eyebrows.
‘Nothing—for now. I’ll deal with you later,’ he warned softly ‘And I have no intention of telling Mrs Brown you’ve agreed to become my wife. My mother will be the first to know—if she ever gets back from Switzerland,’ he frowned.
Her eyes glowed with happiness. ‘Oh, Logan, it’s going to be such fun being married to you!’ She gave a lighthearted laugh of sheer pleasure.
‘Fun?’ he questioned the description.
‘Oh yes,’ she smiled. ‘I love it when you forget to be all staid and respectable, forget you’re thirty-five—’
‘And you’re twenty-two,’ he groaned. ‘I must be mad!’
‘But you’re going to continue being mad?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I don’t think I can prevent it.’
‘I do hope not.’
It was very late when Logan suggested driving her home, the two of them having talked into the early hours of the morning. One thing had been made passionately clear to Callie—Logan wanted her for his wife soon, he had no intention of waiting longer than the New Year.
‘Would you like to come in?’ she offered when they reached her home.
‘I’d better not,’ he shook his head. ‘I’m too vulnerable.’
‘You are?’
‘I am,’ he nodded. ‘Now run along indoors before I change my mind.’
‘I wish you would,’ she pouted her disappointment.
‘I intend introducing you to my mother without guilt,’ he told her sternly. ‘She isn’t stupid, she knows the life I’ve led. I want her to know that with you it’s been different from the start.’
Callie couldn’t help but feel warmed by his desire to protect her, and she returned his goodnight kiss with a fervour that left them both gasping.
‘Tomorrow night?’ Logan murmured against her lips.
‘Oh yes,’ she agreed without hesitation.
‘Christmas Eve,’ he mused. ‘I wonder what Father Christmas is going to bring you?’
‘You?’
‘Oh, you’ve already got me,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ve been trussed up and ready for the kill from the beginning.’
‘Well, you’re all I want, so Father Christmas can give me a miss this year.’
She had never felt so happy, so very much alive, and even the last-minute Christmas shoppers couldn’t put her in a bad mood the next day as they pushed and shoved her about.
She had done her own shopping weeks before, had bought Logan an expensive aftershave set, but a prospective husband warranted something a little more personal. She found a beautiful pair of cufflinks, paying double for the engraving of Logan’s initials, knowing that with the Christmas rush the man didn’t really have the time to do them. They looked beautiful in their brown velvet box, and she only hoped Logan would like them.
‘You’re looking very pleased with yourself,’ Mike remarked when she got back from her successful lunch-hour.
She wished she could tell him the real reason for her-ecstatic happiness, but she understood and respected Logan’s wish that his mother be the first to be told their news. She would have plenty of time after Christmas to tell all her own friends the happy news.
‘It’s Christmas,’ she excused.
He grimaced. ‘I suppose that means you want to go home early.’
The idea hadn’t even occurred to her. Although it would be nice, there were still a few little presents she would like to get Logan, stocking-fillers. ‘I hadn’t thought about it…’ She looked at Mike hopefully.
‘But now that I’ve mentioned it…’ he said dryly.
‘Well . .’
‘Okay,’ he laughed. ‘Tidy your desk and you can go. Oh, and call your boy-friend before you leave. It sounded urgent.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Logan called?’
‘About half an hour ago,’ he nodded. ‘See, I didn’t forget this time.’
‘Thanks, Mike,’ she grinned, and went to her own desk to put the call through to Logan. Audrey Harris put her straight through to his office. She had met the other girl a couple of times when she had met Logan at his office if he was working late, and from the way she spoke about Logan it was obvious the infatuation was continuing. Callie had teased Logan about it only last night, claiming that perhaps it would stop when he was a married man. Logan had scowled, saying the stupid girl would probably just find him more intriguing. Stupid was the last thing Callie would have called Audrey Harris; the black-haired blue-eyed beauty was very intelligent, and made no secret of her envy of Callie.
‘Hello, darling,’ Logan interrupted her wandering-thoughts. ‘Good news—my mother gets back this evening.’
‘That’s wonderful!’ And indeed it was, it meant she wouldn’t have to keep her engagement to Logan a secret much longer.
She spared a thought for the poor Spencer family. What a shock they were going to get when they knew she was to marry Logan, that if Donald hadn’t taken her to that party she would never have met him. How furious they would be if they knew Donald was responsible for losing the chance to get their hands on her shares. Poor Donald would probably have to leave the country!
‘I wanted to meet you for lunch,’ Logan continued. ‘But your employer said you’d already left.’
‘Last-minute Christmas shopping,’ she smiled to herself, sure that he was going to like the cufflinks.
‘My mother wants you to join us for the Christmas holiday.’
‘You told her about me?’ Callie gasped.
‘No,’ he chuckled. ‘Much to her chagrin. She’s bursting with curiosity, and all I would tell her was that I wanted her to meet a friend of mine.’
‘Oh, Logan,’ she chided, ‘your poor mother!’
‘She’ll be overjoyed when I tell her the friend is to be my wife,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Telling her over the telephone isn’t what I had in mind at all. I have to go and meet her at the airport. Do you want to come along?’
‘What time?’
‘Seven-thirty.’
‘I can’t,’ she refused regretfully. ‘Bill is calling round this evening, and he said it would be between seven and eight.’
‘I see,’ he seemed to think for a moment. ‘Well, never mind,’ he dismissed. ‘It’s better if you meet her tomorrow anyway. She’ll probably be tired after her flight.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then?’
‘You’ll see me tonight,’ he told her firmly. ‘After I’ve dropped my mother off I’ll be back in London to see you.’
‘You don’t have to—’
‘Don’t I?’ he interrupted quietly.
‘No.’
‘And if I want to?’ he drawled.
‘Oh, that’s different,’ she said eagerly. ‘If you aren’t too late you can help me decorate the tree.’
‘You haven’t done that yet?’ Logan sounded surprised.
‘It’s traditional in our family to decorate the tree on Christmas Eve.’
‘I see. And is it going to be traditional in our family too?’ He chuckled at her sudden silence. ‘Callie, are you blushing?’
She was, deeply so. The prospect of having Logan as a husband was still so new to her that the idea of a family, of Logan’s children, had co
me as something of a shock to her.
‘Callie?’ he laughed.
‘I think you do it on purpose,’ she said irritably.
‘Do what?’ he teased.
‘I’m not going to humour you,’ she told him haughtily. ‘I’ll see you later tonight.’
‘It’s traditional in my family to give presents on Christmas Eve. Would you like your present tonight?’
‘That depends what it is,’ she said guardedly.
‘You’re learning, Callie,’ he chuckled. ‘You’re learning. But I guarantee you’ll like this. I love you,’ his voice lowered seductively.
‘Me too,’ she returned softly.
‘Can’t talk, hmm?’ he guessed.
‘No.’ She was very conscious of Mike sitting at his desk a few feet away from her, this being one of the open-plan style offices that are so popular nowadays—and which offered no privacy for its occupants.
‘But I can,’ said Logan with obvious enjoyment. ‘Tonight, when we’re alone, I’m going to—’
‘Behave yourself,’ Callie warned.
‘Or I’ll make you blush again?’ he mocked.
‘Logan—’
‘Okay, okay, I’m being unfair. But I will be back tonight, although it could be late. And tomorrow we’ll drive to my mother’s together.’
Callie quickly tidied her desk after ringing off, and hurried to the shops to buy a present for her future mother-in-law, choosing a beautiful cut-glass vase and buying some roses to put in it.
Bill arrived at twenty past seven. ‘For you,’ he handed her a gaily wrapped parcel.
‘For you,’ she laughingly handed him the presents she had bought for him, Marilyn, and Paul.
‘I think we came out best in that exchange,’ he grinned.
‘You haven’t seen what I bought you yet!’ She thought gleefully of the lurid underpants she had bought him.
‘I can imagine,’ he grimaced, sitting down to undo his briefcase. ‘That report on Spencer Plastics I’ve been promising you—’ He handed it to her, a brown folder that looked as if it would take some reading.
‘Thanks.’ She put it on the table.
‘Hey!’ Bill chided in a wounded voice. ‘Aren’t you even going to look at it?’
‘It’s Christmas, Bill—’
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