Eclipse of the Heart (15 page)

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.

"Yes, sir."
Rosie wasn't
as chipper this time.

Logan looked at Noah. "We'll need PR to be prepared.
Just in case."

The expansive smile Noah was known for flitted across his
face. "If anyone can contain it, she will."

"Right."
But Logan didn't
hold out much hope himself. His company had always had a pristine image. He
pushed away the memory of how hard he'd worked to achieve that image. It didn't
matter now. Both the press and the public would enjoy the crashing fall so much
more than a scandal from an already tarnished company.
Vultures,
one and all.

And he'd be the carcass.

Phoebe chose that inopportune moment to open the door and
lean against the jamb in a stance suggesting she thought she was posing for a
Penthouse pictorial. Her deep cleavage was highlighted by a closely fitted
shirt that tied at her waist. Her pants were tight enough to make walking
problematic. Even through the haze of his anger, Logan noticed that she was
pinup material. Funny, he'd never realized she was a working girl.

"How divine."
She swished
into the room.
"Two of the best-looking men in
Manhattan."

She leaned down to buss Noah on the cheek, and to show her
tits to Logan.

Noah averted his cheek.

Logan clenched his hands under the desk and looked directly
at her. "You're fired."

"Oh, my."
Lowering
herself into the chair next to Noah, Phoebe giggled.
"How
very dramatic."

"As you know," Logan said, as if she hadn't
spoken, "both your phone and your computer are Winter Enterprises
property. You will be allowed to remove your personal property from your
office."

"
Winter
is a good name for
you," she said pleasantly. "Not just cool, but cold."

Logan surveyed her more carefully. Were her pupils dilated?

He glanced at Noah. "Is she high?"

"It's possible. She definitely has a coke habit."

Phoebe's eyes flashed. "Don't even think of talking
about me as if I'm not here."

"Actually," Logan snapped. "You're not. Since
your employment here is terminated, your presence is no longer required."

"Actually," Phoebe mimicked in a sing-song voice,
"my job here is quite secure. But tell me, what is the reason you're
trying to fire me?"

"Your escort service," Noah said succinctly.
"We have all the documentation we need to make our case."

"You've forgotten one very important thing."
Phoebe smiled. "If you destroy my business, I'm afraid the press will hear
all about it."

"I'm not worried you'll tell them," Logan said.
"Your business is illegal."

"Was it illegal when you did it?" she retorted.

"Jesus." Logan closed his eyes. He did not need
this problem now. It would be bad enough if she were going to tarnish his
company. But it looked like she was determined to attack him personally, as
well.

He opened his eyes to see Blankenship on his feet,
anticipating Logan's orders.

"Please excuse us, Noah," Logan said. "Thank
you for all your help."

"Yeah."
Phoebe smiled at
Noah.
Slowly.
"You're a good boy, Noah," she
purred.
"A very good boy."

Noah fled.

Logan folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward.
"Okay. What is your game here in telling me I can't fire you?"

"Game?"
She arched her
brows. "I like working here. A girl needs a job, you know."

"Your job here is gone. So what are you thinking?
Blackmail?"

"So crude, Logan."
She
pouted.

"I think blackmail is crude. Or
extortion,
or whatever scheme you think you've cooked up."

"I need money, Logan. I do have expensive habits."
She stood up and sauntered around his desk. "I know you like to pay for
sex." Before he knew what she intended, she pulled the tie at the bottom
of her blouse and flipped open the two sides of the shirt. "Perhaps I
could tempt you."

"Sorry." He averted his eyes from her amazing
tits. Why in hell had he gotten rid of Blankenship? Who knew what this woman
would do next? More importantly, how could he get rid of her? He really wasn't
interested in insulting her, but he sure as hell didn't want to see her try to
wriggle out of those pants. "You're not my type," he muttered.

"We have far more in common than you think,
Logan." She leaned over his desk, her breasts swaying. "I, too, had a
sister."

Logan jerked in his seat, though his mind was frozen in
shock. How dare she?

"Oh, yes," she added. "I know all about you,
Logan Winter. I know exactly why you keep everyone at an arm's length distance.
Everyone knows your strengths. But only I know your pain." She leaned her
hip against his desk.
"And your weakness."

He shoved back his chair. "You know nothing," he
said, his voice deep with agony. "Whatever you think you know is wrong.
Whatever you're planning is not going to happen. Your office is being cleaned
out right now. I suggest you go salvage your personal belongings."

Phoebe straightened up. Her face contorted in a snarl.
"You're being hasty, Logan, and I promise you,
you'll
regret it." She grabbed the ends of her shirt and twisted them together.
"This—" She shoved her hand into her purse—"is the only personal
belonging I care about."

She slapped a dog-eared photo down on his desk. "I've
been carrying this around for just this moment." Her long, manicured
fingernail tapped the picture. "Here's my sister. Set your
uber
-hot guard dog on that, Logan."

She turned toward the door but then looked back over her
shoulder. "Oh, yeah, I've fucked him, too. You're the only holdout,
Logan." She smiled.
"So far."

Before she'd made it past Rosie's desk, Logan had
Blankenship on the phone. "Find out about her sister," he told Noah.
He didn't need to go into details with Noah, which is one reason why the man
was so useful. Logan didn't know what he'd do with the information Noah discovered.
That didn't matter right now. What mattered
was understanding
how and why Phoebe had become so twisted, so that he'd have facts to use
against her if necessary.

When Blankenship reported back around dinnertime, Logan was
surprised. Phoebe and her sister had been hit by a drunk driver when Phoebe was
twenty-one and her sister was only twelve. Phoebe had survived, basically
without a scratch. Her sister had died. Yeah, there was a lot of potential for
guilt there, deserved or otherwise. Phoebe had been driving.

Logan clicked off the report Noah had sent him. He couldn't
turn off the words so easily.

Two accidents.

Two deaths.

Phoebe was right about one thing. They did have something in
common.

But he had a more pressing personal problem to deal with. He
picked up his phone and contacted Amanda.

***

Logan threw a photo clipped from the newspaper onto his
desk.

Amanda's eyes widened as she saw the image of her and Josh
standing next to the
O'Briens
at the American Lung
Association benefit.

She glanced at Logan. Why was he showing her this?

"Had an exhausting weekend?" Logan opened the
inquisition with a snarl.

Amanda gaped at him. Her weekend had been somewhat
depressing, truth
be
told. She and Josh had attended
the gala, which had been fun enough. But she'd let Josh kiss her when he took
her home, and there had been no spark. She hadn't invited him in, and he hadn't
mentioned another date.

Deep in her heart, she feared she was comparing Josh to
Logan, and Josh couldn't measure up. No man could. She didn't doubt Josh could
sense her coolness, although it was certainly possible that he didn't feel any
spark either, because there simply wasn't any chemistry between them.

But she still had a need for a boyfriend.
Soon.

"My weekend was fine," she said to Logan.

"I didn't realize you were dating one of your
colleagues," Logan snapped.

"I—I"— She stopped her stammering and tried to
swallow. Her mouth was so dry. "Is that against company policy?"

"It could hardly be, since I am pursuing you."

Pursuing her? The words echoed, even as a burst of delight
exploded within her like a mini-firecracker. She shouldn't be pleased at his
words. She knew perfectly well, if he was pursuing her, his only intention was
to score and move on. Why should that gratify her?

"How did you get that picture?" she asked. The
best defense was always a good offense.

"Someone slipped it into my interoffice mail," he
said dryly.
"Anonymously, of course."

"Why are you showing it to me?"

"Perhaps I'm surprised, given that you've told me often
how you don't have time for a social life."

"This event," she said, gesturing to the photo,
"was for the American Lung Association benefit. I'm sure you understand
why it's an important cause to me."

He met her gaze. "I would have escorted you."

She couldn't stop a tiny gasp of surprise.
"You?
But you've been at great pains to tell me you
don't date."

"So this was a date?" He pounced on her words.
"Did you ask him?"

Her back stiffened. "My private life is my own."

"If you need to attend a social event, I will escort
you."

She stared at him. He couldn't be serious. "Is this an
order?"

He leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes. "Does
it need to be?"

"I don't intend to let you or anyone else
dictate
what I do on my personal time."

"I don't like the word 'dictate'. I merely suggested
what you might do to—ah, please me. Most of my employees wish to do so."

Amanda sucked in a breath, and leaned over his desk.
"If you are implying that I might lose my job over my social life, let me
inform you that would be sexual harassment."

"Have I said anything about sex?" He raised his
brows. She saw the heat in his gray eyes.

Amanda knew she'd made a mistake. Because the word
"sex" had jumped onto the desk between them, dressed up like a
red-hot devil, and throbbing with passion. She couldn't think of any response
as her brain was fully occupied with a heated fantasy of Logan standing up and
strolling around the desk, reaching out a hand and raising her from her seat.
Then he'd lay her across his desk—

"And you can't sue me for my thoughts," Logan said
softly.

She pulled back. "You can't control my private
life."

"Nor do I wish to," he responded. "But if you
think about what I'm saying instead of getting upset, you'll see it would have
made more sense for me to go with you. Obviously, you support this charity
because of your sister's illness. I would have been happy to make a—suitable
donation to the cause."

"You still could," she muttered.

He laughed. "Make it worth my while."

"That's cold, you know."

"Yes, it is. And I'm cold." He met her gaze
straight on. "Accept that fact and save yourself a lot of heartache."

She stood abruptly. "Don't worry. I don't intend to
have any heartache over you."

"Good." He leaned back in his chair, all cool
control and hot testosterone.
Handsome as sin and twice as
dangerous.

The little red devil jumped off the desk and skittered
through her brain. What would Logan do if she lifted her skirt? Could she snap his
control? Or would he simply smile, stroll around the desk, bend her over it,
and pound her into ecstasy?

She feared the latter. The man was too appealing to her, and
she knew him well enough to know he'd be an expert at anything he chose to do.

"This conversation is over." If she didn't leave
soon, she would make a terrible mistake.

"Agreed."
Logan palmed
his phone. "Plan to have dinner with me tonight."

She opened her mouth to issue a sharp refusal.

"Felipe will pick you up downstairs at 6," he
said. "We're having problems with the Dallas Robotics deal."

Amanda tried not to be nervous as they rode in silence to
Logan's home. She'd been surprised when he informed her that they'd have dinner
at his place, but his tone had been curt, and she didn't have a good reason to
argue. Certainly, he wasn't acting like seduction might be on his mind.

In fact, he seemed unusually tense, almost angry. Perhaps he
was still mad about the photo.

She'd be glad to get the meeting over with. She'd spent the
afternoon reviewing all her notes about Dallas Robotics and speaking with the
other company employees assigned to the case. As far as she could tell,
everything was in order.