Eclipse of the Heart (19 page)

But she didn't mind putting him on the spot. "What kind
of flowers did you send me?" She was sure the housekeeper had ordered
them.

He raised his eyebrows.
"Roses."

A safe answer
.

She glanced back. She'd closed her office door as she always
did since finding Phoebe Cattus snooping in there.

"What color?" She didn't understand her strange
determination to embarrass him, except that she refused to let him get away
with treating her like all his other women.

His eyes met hers. "Yellow. I overheard you once
telling Rosie they were your favorite color."

For a second she thought she saw a flash of amusement in his
gaze, but then she decided she must have imagined it when he said, "Plan
to have lunch with me. We'll go out."

She repressed a sharp sigh. Would he ever issue an
invitation, rather than a command? But he was her boss. What choice did she
have?

At lunchtime, he ushered her out of the building into a
cold, but sunny, day. The limo idled at the curb.

Logan glanced at her feet. "I usually walk at
lunchtime, but I asked Felipe to be available in case you preferred a
ride."

"Walking is fine." She had no intention of acting
like one of the pampered princesses he was undoubtedly used to.

Logan waved at Felipe, and they set off going south on Fifth
Avenue. Cars whizzed by, and pedestrians hunched into their coats, gripping
their cell phones. Honking horns punctuated the urban energy that pulsed in the
air. A blast of wind pushed against them. She shivered.

Logan grasped her elbow. "Let's buy you some boots.
Ferragamo
is nearby."

"I don't need boots."

"But I like them." He dropped his arm around her
and pulled her to his side. "Since I know you're practical, think about
how much warmer they are."

She tried not to notice how good it felt to have him tuck
her protectively against his body. Nothing could warm her up better than he
did. But she could not afford to start feeling mushy about him.

"I don't need boots," she repeated. She knew damn
good and well that if she said she couldn't afford them, he'd begin wearing
down her resistance.

"Most women like to shop."

She had to grit her teeth for a moment. "As I mentioned
earlier, I am not most women."

He tugged her inside the wide doors of Tiffany's. She
sighed, but knew better than to balk. If he had a chore to do, he wouldn't be
interested in hearing about the work she had waiting for her back at the
office. For all his charm, Logan Winter was a man who did exactly as he
pleased.

They walked past the gleaming glass counters presided over
by watchful, black-clad employees.

"You feel like browsing?" Logan asked.

She looked up at him. "Are you kidding? I don't shop
here."

"Fine."
He pushed the elevator
button. "I have a person who shops for me. I asked her to set aside a few
things."

Amanda stepped into the elevator. "Who are you buying
for?"

A slight frown creased his brow.
"You,
of course.
Why else would we be here?"

Her jaw fell open. "Me? You'd better not mean
that!"

An older man and woman, the only other occupants of the car
besides the attendant, watched them discreetly as the elevator hummed upwards.

"Of course I mean it." A trace of impatience
colored his voice. "What's the big deal?"

The doors opened and the other couple got off. But not
before the woman said in a low voice, "He likes you, honey. Go for
it."

Amanda sputtered with fury. Even a stranger thought she was
bought and paid for.

"It is a big deal to me," she said, baring her
teeth at Logan, "that you are treating me exactly the way you treat
your—your paid companions. I do not want flowers or jewelry or—or boots!"
She had to resist the urge to stamp her non-boot-shod foot.

A slight frown creased his brow. "I can't buy you
anything?"

The elevator doors opened just as she hissed, "I am not
for sale!"

The very handsome, impeccably clad, older
man who got on looked from Amanda's face to Logan's.
He stepped close to
Logan, but his deep voice carried too easily. "Double your offer," he
muttered. "Always works."

"Double of nothing is still nothing," Amanda
snapped. "
Which is precisely what he's going to spend on
me.
"

The other man raised his brows at Logan.
"Spitfire," he mouthed.

Logan shook his head slightly at the man before turning to Amanda.
"You don't even want to see what they've set aside? I'd like to get you
something."

Amanda grabbed for her control. She couldn't afford to
humiliate him or really anger him. "I'm hungry," she said.
"Let's have lunch. I'll let you pay."

But lunch didn't ease the depression that was creeping over
her.

Logan Winter was a man who bought and paid for sex. Emotion
and tenderness were not the coins he used. None of that changed just because
Amanda wasn't a hired escort. She was still an object to him, a person to be
"paid for" with gifts, if not cash.

She had to move on from him. Hope was a poor substitute for
affection. "What did you want to discuss?" she asked, as the waiter
handed them menus.
"Dallas Robotics?"
She
was proud of her cool tone.

"No," he answered. "I worked out the problem
we were having with them this morning."

She eyed him, wondering if she should challenge him on his
subterfuge last night. She didn't believe he'd ever intended to talk about the
deal. But she didn't want to raise the subject of last night.

Logan closed his menu. "Let's order lunch before we
talk."

When the waiter left after taking their orders, Logan folded
his hands on the table. "We have a few things to discuss about last
night."

"Sorry," she said tersely. "I was
drunk."

Surprise flitted across his face. "Had you been
drinking earlier in the evening?"

"No! I'm not an alcoholic. I just get drunk
easily."

He nodded. "I wondered about that at the wedding."

"Wonder no more. It makes me a cheap date and,
obviously,
an—
an—easy—" She fluttered her hands
as a substitute for words.

Logan laughed. "You," he pronounced, "are not
an easy lay."

Her lips twisted. He wasn't one to mince words. It sounded
ugly.

He captured her hands across the small table, and folded
them within his. "I apologize if I took advantage of you. I deliberately
didn't give you much wine in order to avoid compromising your sobriety."

"I'm not a child," she said pettishly.

"Five percent of the population can't tolerate alcohol
well. You must be one of them. It's actually a good trait to have."

"You would think so. But it wasn't last night. If I'd
been in my right mind, I never would have—stayed with you."

His face darkened as he let go of her hands. "Given the
circumstances, I'll let that rude comment pass. However, I had you last this
morning at dawn, and the effects of the alcohol must have worn off by then. I
didn't hear any complaints from you."

Amanda stared at the tablecloth. She had been rude, and he
was right about her willingness. But his emotional disengagement hurt her, and
this was the only way she had to fight back.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, still talking to the
table. "The whole episode was a mistake. Can we leave it at that?"

The waiter arrived with their food, a filet mignon for him
and a
yellowfin
tuna burger for her.

Logan took a bite and then began talking again as if he
hadn't heard her last plea. "I enjoyed myself very much last night."
His gray eyes bored into hers. "I thought you did, too."

"Whether or not we enjoyed ourselves is
irrelevant." She fought a blush. "It can't happen again."

"That kind of pleasure is never irrelevant." He
took a sip of wine. "I'd like very much to have it happen again."

She clenched her hands around her fork and knife.
"No." She couldn't have him pursuing her. She was honest enough, at
least with herself, to fear she would succumb just as she had last night. So,
to keep herself safe, she had to convince him to back off.
Which
wouldn't be easy, as he wasn't the type to give up easily on something he
wanted.

He nodded, and took another bite of steak while she waited
tensely for his next approach. But he managed to surprise her.

"I'm disappointed," he said in his calm way.
"But I'll respect your wishes."

Geez.
Why did his easy acquiescence
make her feel worse? She was right to end this now. She knew it and he had to
know it as well. Whether they ended this now or a month from now, he'd be able
to move on. But she, a month hence, might well be in over her head. She
couldn't take the chance.

Amanda traveled to Denver for Christmas, grateful to see her
sister improving under the care of the talented team at Jewish American
Hospital. Even her mother, though constantly worried, looked a little more
rested. Amanda herself was stressed and anxious.

She'd thought Logan was cold and distant when they were in
contact with each other. But she hadn't known how lonely she could feel when
his daily presence was withdrawn completely from her life. According to Rosie,
Logan was traveling constantly, so there was little chance that Amanda would
run into him even accidentally at work.

He kept his word and didn't seek her out at all. Sometimes
she saw him at a staff meeting, but he scarcely looked at her. He avoided
asking her for the in-person reports he used to request. Their business
transactions were handled via email.

Worst of all, Amanda had to assume he'd found himself an
escort from that service he used, and she felt a bitter jealousy that was
totally inappropriate given the circumstances. It was hard to remember she had
insisted on ending the relationship, when she felt as if she'd been abandoned
by him.

Rosie was the one bright spot in Amanda's existence. She
insisted on continuing the shopping expeditions, pointing out that she hadn't
received orders from Logan to stop them, and she really wanted to earn a chance
to get backing from one of Logan's contacts. Amanda didn't have the heart to
shop, but she did want to help Rosie.

However, it was completely inappropriate and unnecessary for
Logan to continue to buy her clothes since Amanda wasn't attending business
events with him. They switched their focus to sewing clothes. Rosie bought tons
of supplies—gorgeous fabrics, beadings and trims, perfect accessories. She
begged Amanda to participate in fittings.

"I really don't need more clothes," Amanda said
one Saturday afternoon as Rosie pinned a bolero-type jacket around her.

"I know. But Logan keeps
payin
'
the bills so he doesn't mind." Rosie raised her blue eyes to Amanda.
"I'll never have another break like this."

"When is your aunt coming back to work?"

Rosie's eyes shifted. "I don't know. The rehab isn't
going so well."

"Are things okay with you and Logan?" Amanda
didn't want her actions to cause trouble for her friend.

Rosie stopped pinning. "I messed up an interview yesterday.
He was so mad!"

"He didn't fire you, did he?"

"Oh, no."
She shook her
head and her red curls bounced. "It was worse. He just looked at me and
called me Ms. Taylor and said he hoped the job wasn't too much for me."
She shivered dramatically.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"Then you don't know how he can give you a stare that
makes you want to apologize just for
bein
'
alive."

Amanda laughed. "Now you're exaggerating."

"Am not.
I don't know how he
does it, but I purely hate to disappoint that man." She poked another pin
through the green fabric. "
Which is silly because lately
he's as surly as a cabbie in gridlock.
"

"That's his normal personality, Rosie. Don't take it
personally."

"Hey!" Rosie straightened up. "Why don't I
see you around the office any more? You two have a fight?"

Amanda jerked involuntarily. "Sorry," she said.
"A pin."

Rosie regarded her. "You didn't answer my
question."

"Of course we didn't have a fight. We aren't working on
any deals right now that require face-to-face interaction."

Rosie snorted.
"If you say so.
But I say half his bad temper is due to the fact that he's not getting
any."

"Rosie!"

"Well, no one can call you a frump now that I'm
dressing you," Rosie said with a gratified air. "As for the other
part…I thought for sure he'd get you in the sack. The man is
nothin
' if not determined."

Which only proved he wasn't that
interested in her, Amanda reminded herself.
Something she had to
remember on those long nights when she lay in her lonely bed, thinking of his
hands roving over her, his lips pressing against her, his tongue doing all
kinds of delicious things to her.

"No," she said to Rosie, her voice squeaking
around the lie. "I told you that you were exaggerating his interest in
me."

Rosie snorted. "Got eyes in my head, don't I?"

"Besides," Amanda said, venturing into dicey
territory, "he must have found himself a—a girlfriend by now."

"Nope."
Rosie snapped off
the word with certainty. "I've never sent anyone in for an interview for
that
position. Not since I sent you in by mistake."
She giggled, and Amanda regretted the impulse that had made her share the story
with Rosie.

"How do you know?" Amanda asked. "I'm sure he
doesn't advertise that Hookers
4You
is knocking on
the door."