Best of Bosses 2008: In Bed With Her Italian Boss\Taken by Her Greek Boss\Blind Date With the Boss (50 page)

Carissa, twirling past with Geoff, beamed at them over her husband's shoulder and sent them the thumbs-up sign.

The dance bracket finished. One hurdle over. Logan thanked Sally sincerely, escorted her off the floor and found her a drink. She'd taken two sips before one of Logan's friends asked her to dance.

And that became the pattern of the next hour. Sally was amazed by the number of men who wanted to dance with her.
Most of them were curious, of course. They wanted to know how she and Logan had met, and why they'd never run into her before. But while Sally found their sincere interest and praise flattering, she also found that the time dragged.

She was super-aware that Logan didn't dance. He remained among the bystanders, nursing a glass of red wine, chatting and watching from the sidelines. Waiting till his ordeal was over.

At last the music stopped and Diana Devenish, who must have been sequestered away in a corner, appeared on the edge of the dance floor beneath a spotlight.

Sally felt that same panicky dread she'd felt during exams when the teacher had said, ‘You may commence reading your test paper…now.'

Logan, as the most generous donor, was to have the honour of dancing first. Any minute now, his name would be called out. Heart hammering, Sally made her way to his side. ‘Just remember—' she began, but her throat was strangely parched and the rest of her sentence dried on her lips.

He smiled into her eyes. ‘I'll remember. I'm a coat hanger. And I mustn't look down at my feet.'

She nodded and her throat was tight and sore. Logan's name was announced and she felt cold all over, sick with ridiculous nerves. He dipped his head, dropping a swift, warm kiss on her cool cheek.

‘Break a leg,' she whispered.

‘There's every chance,' came his dry reply and then he squared his shoulders and marched across the ballroom.

A subdued hush fell over the crowd as he approached Diana Devenish and Sally felt a cool hand clasp hers—Carissa was looking as nervous and sick as Sally felt.

‘When he was a boy at school, he hated performing. Always got terrible stage fright,' Carissa whispered.

It was rather too late to be remembering that now, Sally
wanted to tell her. ‘He'll be fine,' she said, but her stomach felt hollow and there was a scratchy soreness in her throat.

The attention of everyone in the room was focused on Diana Devenish and Logan.

‘Mr Logan Black is the Managing Director of Blackcorp Mining Consultancies,' the MC told them. ‘And he has chosen to dance the waltz with Ms Devenish.'

The lights in the ballroom dimmed and fine hairs lifted on Sally's arms as Logan entered the spotlight's circle with his shoulders back and his head proudly erect, as determined and brave as a gladiator entering the Colosseum.

Television cameras edged closer, zooming in as Diana Devenish greeted Logan with a kiss. Rising on tiptoe, she whispered something in his ear, smiled coyly and he nodded.

Then the band began to play a very lush and beautiful theme from a movie—a popular piece that everyone knew and loved. Logan took Diana's right hand in his and supported her back with his hand beneath her shoulder blade, just as Sally had taught him.
Think bra line.
Diana placed her left hand on his shoulder and smiled up at him, encouraging him to take the lead.

Logan didn't.

He didn't move. In fact, he looked as if his knees had locked and his feet were glued to the floor.

The music played on and Sally's throat squeezed tight. ‘Just start counting,' she whispered, willing him to remember.

She knew that if Logan didn't move soon, Diana Devenish almost certainly would. Diana would probably drag him around the dance floor if she had to. But he would be mortified, would hate to admit defeat.

She tried to tell herself it didn't matter. Her emotional investment in Logan's success was foolish. This was only a dance, for heaven's sake. Nothing life-threatening. He would get over this embarrassment.

Easy to say…

Scared that she might actually cry, Sally closed her eyes and the lovely music continued, lilting and lush. One, two, three. One, two, three.
Can you count to three, Mr Black?

She touched Chloe's locket. It seemed so silly now, to think of it as a good luck charm.

‘Sally!' Carissa joggled her elbow. ‘Sally, look!'

Forcing her eyes open, Sally felt her mouth wobble dangerously out of shape. Logan was dancing. He was leading with his body and gliding, gliding. Diana Devenish looked delighted as she floated in his arms, her high-heeled ruby shoes sparkling and twirling and her skirt trailing like a flame.

The handsome couple danced on and on, smoothly and elegantly, while the music swelled towards a dramatic conclusion and Logan, sensing that his ordeal was almost over, took Diana out into the centre and waltzed a little faster, showing off now. The crowd burst into applause and Sally, snuffling, clapped loudest of all.

 

It was ages before Logan was free. First he had to wait at Diana's table until the other two men had their turn at dancing. And then there were all kinds of strangers crowding in to offer their congratulations.

The whole time he was fielding their hugs and back slaps, he kept a weather eye open for Sally on the far side of the room where she was chatting to Carissa's friends. She looked, with her golden hair and her golden dress, like a slender beacon.

His little guiding light. If he hadn't already been in debt to Sally for saving his company, he was now. This evening he'd come within a hair's breadth of personal fiasco. He might have remained glued to the ballroom floor for ever if he hadn't heard her voice, whispering cheekily in his ear:
Can you count to three, Mr Black?

After that, Diana Devenish and the crowd had disappeared.
One, two-three. Strong, soft-soft.
He'd been dancing with Sally in Blackcorp's boardroom with the tables and chairs shoved up against the walls.
The waltz is all about poise, grace and elegance.

Thank you for everything, Sally Finch.

At last he reached her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him and told him that he was fabulous, as so many others had, but, for Logan, this embrace was nothing like the others. When he hugged Sally close, he wanted to pull her even closer and never let her go. She felt so absolutely right in his arms, as if she belonged there, clasped against his heart.

‘I've been telling Sally she should open a dancing studio,' Carissa said when he finally, reluctantly, released Sally.

‘She mustn't do that.' He looked down into Sally's shining eyes, as blue and bright as her topaz earrings. He touched his knuckles to her flushed cheek. ‘I need her at Blackcorp.'

The colour mounted in Sally's cheeks. She gave her trademark warm, dazzling smile and a rocky lump wedged in Logan's throat. Last night's lovemaking had been beyond wonderful. Sally's exquisite tenderness, her emotional honesty and total lack of inhibition had set him craving more.

He'd never felt desire with this deep intensity and he'd give anything to be able to whisk her away from here. Now. He would take her back to his place. Or hers. Anywhere where they could be together. Alone.

‘I think it must be my turn to dance with you, Sally.' Geoff's voice broke into Logan's distracted thoughts.

Sally turned to Carissa's husband and beamed at him. ‘I'd love that, Geoff. And hey, it's a tango! Let's go!'

They hurried away like happy children, hand in hand, laughing even before they reached the dance floor. Jealously,
Logan watched as they began to dance, grinning madly as they tangoed across the room, arms extended and cheeks touching.

Sally was so lovely, such fun. Everyone who met her was charmed by her vibrancy and warmth. She was like a tonic enriching his life.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Sally turned on the dance floor and looked back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes sparkled as their eyes met and she sent him a smile shining with love.

And then he knew…with unsettling clarity…that Sally had fallen in love with him. If only he was free to love her. If only…

Hell.

An ominous, deathlike clamp gripped his heart and he almost cried out in pain. He'd made a terrible, unforgivable mistake.

Last night Sally had told him about the rat who'd attacked her and he'd felt so protective. He'd wanted to shield her from the world.

But how could he? How could he stick to his five-year plan and remain on the pedestal she'd placed him on?

Last night she'd said:
Isn't honesty the best thing?

That
had been his cue.

He should have told her then.
While we're being honest, sweetheart, I have this business plan, which doesn't, unfortunately, allow me the luxury of a romance.

But if he'd told her that he would have ruined a beautiful, utterly perfect moment.

Sins of omission can be the most dangerous.

Hattie had told him that. And the really terrible thing was he'd been so damn eager to have another bout of fabulous sex with Sally that he'd avoided telling her an important detail—that his emotions were on hold for another five years.

Actually, he should have made sure she understood that
before
he'd lured her into his bed. He'd totally ignored his vow
to keep his distance from Sally Finch. He'd known from the start that she wasn't a sophisticated city woman, but a sweet country girl who believed in falling in love, in two people becoming soul mates and living happy-ever-after.

Which made him as bad as that creep who'd attacked her at the dance. And what was his excuse? That he'd been floating high yesterday because Sally had saved his company? Pumped with euphoria, overflowing with gratitude? How honourable was that?

Last night's emotions did not excuse him from giving in to forbidden desires. He should have remembered that, no matter how desperately he wanted Sally, he could not give her the emotional commitment she needed and deserved.

He should have been honest. Sally had told him about that rat because she trusted him. Poor darling. She'd trusted a man who hadn't the fortitude to tell her there was no space on his agenda for love.

But how would he find the strength to give her up?

Groaning heavily, Logan looked down at the drink someone had thrust in his hand. He had no choice. He had to be honest, had to tell Sally that he wasn't in a position to commit.

Carissa came to stand beside him and gave him a nudge with her elbow as she cocked her head in Sally's direction. ‘Tell me, little brother, are you still stuck on your crazy five-year plan?'

‘Of course,' he hissed through gritted teeth.

Carissa's mouth flattened unhappily as she watched Sally. ‘That poor girl.' She turned and shook her head at him. ‘Five years. That's sixty months. It's ridiculous.'

Logan tried to ignore the sickening hollow in his chest. He feared Carissa was right, but he couldn't change his plans. Yesterday's close encounter with financial disaster had proved that. In five years' time, if all went well, his business would
be secure enough for him to relax, to look around and find a life partner. Until then, he had to put his emotional life on hold.

God help him, Sally deserved the truth.

T
HE
sore throat that had started while Sally was watching Logan dance with Diana Devenish got worse on the way home. It was raining again, pelting at the car windows and rushing along the gutters, adding a sinister touch to the midnight journey.

Sally was exhausted, but that was what you got when you danced till you dropped.

‘Tired?' Logan asked as the car zipped past a crowd getting soaked as they came out of a nightclub.

‘No, not tired at all,' she lied.

Actually, her limbs were aching and her head had begun to throb in time with the back and forth action of the windscreen wipers. It couldn't be a hangover. She'd been too busy dancing and had hardly touched her champagne.

Whatever the cause, she wasn't going to pay any attention to her aches. No way could she let them spoil this fabulous night.

This perfect night.

Logan drove on in silence, but for Sally it was a comfortable silence. Curled languorously with her cheek against the soft leather upholstery, she stared out into the slanting rain and decided that
perfect
was the only word to describe this evening. Nothing had marred the Hospital Ball's dazzling brilliance.

She'd worn a spectacular gown. Logan had been dreamily handsome and a flatteringly attentive partner. Carissa and Geoff had made her feel completely at ease. And she'd danced with countless good-looking guys, all apparently rolling in money. To cap it off, the dancing lessons, that she'd fretted over, couldn't have turned in better results.

With a faraway smile, she rubbed Chloe's locket. The talisman had worked its magic and her godmother would have been proud of her. Come to think of it, her parents and brothers would have been proud, too. The menacing shadows of the past were vanquished. She was a new woman.

Any way Sally looked at it, her decision to come to Sydney had been the right one.

Logan pulled up outside her house and she felt a leap of happy anticipation. It was about to happen. The perfect ending to this perfect night. Best case scenario, she'd be with Logan till dawn. And the only improvement on that would be spending the rest of her life with him. She'd fallen so deeply in love with this man that she feared there was no way back.

‘Well,' she said, in a what-happens-next voice, ‘thanks for a wonderful evening, Logan.'

He turned off the ignition and released his seat belt. ‘I have to thank
you
, Sally. For everything.' He leaned towards her and touched her cheek with the knuckle of his forefinger. ‘I owe you so much.'

Something about his manner—an edge of carefulness and formality—bothered her. Where was last night's easy banter? Where were his ready smiles? His passion? They were alone, for heaven's sake. Why wasn't she in Logan's arms?

All night she'd seen the hunger in his eyes; she'd felt the heat of his longing whenever he'd touched her. But now she could only sense a new distance between them. A frightening distance.

She hunted for something light to say. ‘Now I can boast that I've danced with the man who's danced with Diana Devenish.'

He gave a half-hearted chuckle.

‘I'm so proud of you, Logan.'

‘The credit's all yours, Sally.'

She shook her head. ‘You were very brave. Carissa told me you used to get stage fright.'

‘Carissa has too much to say.'

He looked worried as he said this and he sighed heavily. Desperate to avoid ending this fabulous night on such an unsatisfactory note, Sally said quickly, ‘Would you like to come in for coffee?'

His eyes flashed. ‘Thanks, I'd like that.'

Phew.
Thank heavens he wasn't running away. Sally told herself she'd been worrying about nothing.

‘There should be an umbrella,' he said, peering into the gloom of the back seat. ‘Yes, here it is. Wait there. We don't want to get your lovely dress wet.'

The rain was gusting strongly when Logan opened Sally's door and he tried to shield her with the umbrella as well as his body. She gathered up her long skirt to keep it clear of puddles, slipped off her strappy gold shoes, and they ran together through the rain to her front door.

Breathless, she fumbled in her clutch bag for her key while Logan closed the umbrella and set it in a corner of the porch.

The door swung open and he followed her inside. Sally switched on the light in the front hallway and she turned to him expectantly.
Now
he would haul her into his lovely strong arms.

But no.

Logan stood stiffly, hands tightly clenched at his sides. His jaw was clenched too, and his dark eyes held frightening shadows. He gave the slightest shake of his head, as if to
warn her gently of impending danger, and fear strafed through her like a deadly bullet.

‘I was hoping we could talk,' he said.

Talk?
Not even a kiss? After last night's incredible passion? After the glamour and romance of the ball?

Sally needed to close her eyes as she adjusted to this. What did Logan want to talk about? Surely it could only be bad news.

Was he going to tell her that last night had been an aberration—a celebratory fling after the shock of almost losing his company? But what about the ball? Would he feel compelled to remind her that it had been no more than a charity commitment? Was it back to business as usual for the boss of Blackcorp and the front desk girl?

Fighting disappointment, Sally tried to think straight, took a steadying breath. ‘The kitchen's this way.'

Logan followed her through to the cosy, bright kitchen. He took off his jacket, which had damp patches on the shoulders, and hung it on the back of a chair. In his white shirt and bow-tie, he seemed somehow bigger and Sally had to remember to breathe as she filled the kettle.

‘Tea or coffee?' she asked. ‘I prefer tea at this time of night.'

‘So do I.'

See, we're compatible,
she wanted to joke, but this was no longer a night for joking. While the water came to the boil, Logan leaned casually against the door of the fridge and she tried to look busy, getting the teapot and a tea strainer, mugs and sugar and a tin of shortbread.

‘I'll need milk,' she said over her shoulder. ‘If you could get it out of the fridge, please.'

When their mugs were filled with tea—black with two sugars for Logan, white with one for Sally—she suggested they go through to the lounge room.

‘I'd prefer to stay here,' Logan said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Oh, yes. The lounge room held untold dangers. The sofa, for instance.

‘Take a seat, then,' she said, pulling out a chair for herself. She thought how incongruous they must look, sitting at a scrubbed pine kitchen table in their glamorous evening finery, sipping tea like an old married couple.

Don't even think that word.

Unwillingly, she asked, ‘What did you want to talk about?'

Logan's mouth turned down and he stared at the pattern on the side of his mug. ‘We've had two wonderful evenings,' he said and then he paused and looked uncomfortable.

Oh, help. This was terrible.

‘But you don't want me to get the wrong idea,' Sally said quietly.

He grimaced and looked more uncomfortable than ever. ‘There's something I should have told you, Sally.'

A cold chill gripped her stomach. ‘There's someone else?'

‘No, of course not.'

‘You're not secretly engaged, or anything like that?'

‘Nothing like that.'

Sally waited.

‘But I should have warned you that I'm totally committed to my business and I will be for some time. I can't afford any kind of emotional attachments. I've put my personal life on hold.'

‘Really? How long will it be on hold?'

‘For another five years,' he said.

This sounded ridiculous to Sally. ‘So last night was the last time you'll make love for five years? Get serious, Logan.'

He looked embarrassed. ‘That's not what I meant.'

‘But you're telling me that you're not even open for a casual relationship.'

His eyes registered surprise and he seemed to have to think about this before he replied. He sighed heavily. ‘You're not that kind of girl.'

No, she wasn't, but this was a battle and she was a fighter. ‘You don't know what kind of girl I am.'

‘I know enough to be sure I'm not right for you. You'd end up getting hurt, Sally, and I'd hate that. That's why I think it would be wise if we took a step back from each other. Put everything back on a business footing.'

How could he be so calm about this? Hadn't last night meant anything?
Damn him.
He was as bad as her bossy brothers, deciding whose emotions he was going to protect and whose he was going to stuff up. ‘If you're trying to protect me, don't bother. I don't need it.'

Logan's attempt at a smile failed. He looked unhappily at his mug and fiddled with the handle.

Sally found it hard to keep anger from her voice. ‘Just for the record, Logan, I wasn't expecting you to get down on your knees tonight and offer a proposal of marriage.'

‘I'm sorry,' he said gruffly. ‘I've offended you.'

‘I'm tougher than you think.'

Warmth crept into his eyes and the skin around them creased sexily.

Unfair.
Why did he have to look so attractive when he was busily rejecting her? ‘I think you owe me a better explanation,' she said but, before he could reply, she remembered, with a sharp pang of dismay, her last conversation with Hattie. She groaned.

Logan sent her a wary glance.

‘Your grandmother warned me that this was likely to happen.'

‘I'm cursed with a family of interfering women.'

Sally couldn't let him get away with that. ‘Hattie and Carissa are wonderful. I really like them. And I'm sure your mother must be nice too.'

‘She's very nice. But at least she's safely out of the way at the moment—caravanning around Australia.'

‘Hattie told me that too.' His parents were travelling together. And Hattie had also mentioned that Logan was funding their travel. Did he have an urge to manage and protect everyone? Hattie? His parents? Her?

‘Did Hattie also tell you about my father's bankruptcy?'

‘No.' But Sally realised that it must be significant. Logan had mentioned a family bankruptcy yesterday and he'd indicated his fear of it happening again.

‘My father had no real head for business,' he said. ‘He gambled on the most reckless schemes. Our family lost everything.'

‘Was that when you had to leave your private school?' she asked, remembering what he'd told her at the team-building workshop.

‘Yes, but I coped.' His face was stony. ‘My father didn't. He had a nervous breakdown and couldn't work again. My mother had to go out to work just to feed us.'

‘And you've never forgiven your father,' Sally said quietly. She wanted to cry. How could Logan let his father's mistakes rule his life?

‘It's not so much a matter of forgiveness.' Logan's jaw jutted stubbornly. ‘I learned a valuable lesson about planning for the future. I have to make absolutely certain that my finances are completely secure before I consider marriage or a family. I won't be looking for a permanent relationship for at least five years.'

‘What happens then?' This time Sally didn't even try to hold back her anger. ‘Will you take a quick look around and find Miss Right just sitting there, waiting to be snapped up?'

‘It's not as simplistic as it sounds.'

‘It's worse, Logan.' He was looking stubborn and gorgeous in equal parts and Sally wanted to hit him. She couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd made love to her. How could he
have been so tender and beautiful with her, so intense and passionate and then walk away as if it meant nothing?

Why couldn't he see that emotional well-being was equally if not more important than financial security?

‘Tell me,' she demanded hotly, ‘what will you do if you fall in love with someone before the five years are up?'

He shook his head. ‘That won't happen.'

‘How can you be so sure?'

‘I won't allow it to happen.'

‘You're crazy!' Something inside Sally snapped. She thumped her mug on the table and leapt to her feet. Tears clogged her throat as she raised her voice. ‘In another five years you might grow up.'

‘Sally!' Logan was on his feet too. ‘I didn't want to upset you.'

‘I'm not upset.' They both knew it was a lie, but she wasn't about to admit that she was angry, that she felt used, that her heart was ripping itself into a thousand pieces.