Eclipse of the Heart (11 page)

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.

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 pressed his hand down around her shoulder. "And I
like your softness." He had a good view into her cleavage and he almost
groaned. She'd put that tempting softness on display, by leaning into him like
she was. He could hardly wait to take her up on the offer.

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.