Eclipse of the Heart (7 page)

She tilted her head to one side. "I'm willing to follow
your business orders.
Nothing more."

"Fine.
Consider the party a
job requirement. I'll see you there."

She muttered something under her breath as she turned to go.
It sounded a lot like 'Tyrant'.

He repressed a smile.

"We dress up for the Christmas party," he heard
himself say. Hell, why had he said that? Of course, anything would be better
than what she was currently wearing. But he hadn't worn a costume since he'd
been a kid at Halloween.

"So you'll be wearing a red suit and a beard?" She
smiled with fake sweetness.

He pointed his pen at her.
"If you
come as a Christmas tree."

"Something green and pointy and
sharp?"

An unexpected smile curved his lips. "A string of
lights and two bits of tinsel would do nicely."

"You wish." She stomped out.

Logan was not amused when Amanda showed up at the party in
baggy black pants and a big red Christmas sweater decorated with a tree. The
tree, which plastered the sweater from neck to hem, came complete with
sparkling lights.

Well, maybe he was a little amused. One of the red lights
had fallen onto her right breast. It must have become partially disconnected from
its power source because it blinked on and off, drawing attention to exactly
the spot he wanted to look at anyway.

He didn't bother to hide his grin as she approached.

"What is making you so happy?" she demanded.
"The fact that I followed your suggestion?"
She
gestured to the sweater.

"It's more the advertisement of your own personal red
light district I'm enjoying."

Her eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

He glanced down.

She followed his gaze.
"Oh, for God's
sake."
She yanked the red light up to where it should be. "Are
you two years old?"

"Feeling more twelve, I'd say.
An age
when a guy is just looking for an excuse to stare at tits."

She shook her head.
"Adolescence.
Great.
Thought I'd left those days
behind me."

"Never do if you're dealing with guys." The red
light had fallen down once more, and clearly intended to stay there, blinking
right over her nipple. He resisted the temptation to fix it.

"By the look of glee on your face," she said,
"I'm guessing the light has re-positioned itself once more?" She
grabbed a glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter and took a gulp.

"I didn't do it." He spread his hands in a show of
innocence. "But this is a business party for professionals." He bit
the side of his cheek to keep from grinning. "I don't know if you want to
go around flashing a red light on your chest like you're trying to be Rudolph
in drag."

"Damn it." She yanked the sweater up over her
head. "There. Are you happy?"

Oh, yeah, he was.  For a second he'd had a perfect view
while the sweater covered her face. The white turtleneck hugged her curves
exactly like
he
wanted to. But, by the time she'd
shaken out her hair, passed a hand over her neat hairstyle, and folded the
sweater onto her arm, he had his eyes fixed firmly on her face.

"I could comment on the granny pants," he
murmured, just to see her eyes flash, "but I'll just pray I'm never
confronted with them again." He touched her arm. "Let me introduce
you to some of the executives."

 
Amanda had no choice
but to go
with Logan
and suffer through the introductions
. She had to meet the staff if she
wanted to succeed at this job. But she regretted the outfit she'd chosen. What
had seemed inspired in the safety of her apartment was absurd at this elegant
party. The other attendees had dressed in festive Christmas attire, with
shimmering silks, subtle glitter and snappy shoes all showing up her—she had to
admit it—appropriately named, granny outfit. She'd be lucky to make a good
impression on anyone tonight.

Logan introduced her to several people, all of whom were
polite.
Except for one woman, a blonde who would have been
pretty if she didn't seem to have a permanent sneer on her face.
Amanda
recognized her as the woman who'd been gossiping with Rosie when Amanda had
arrived for her first interview.

Logan introduced her as Phoebe Cattus.

"Director of Entrepreneurial
Services?"
Phoebe lifted her thin eyebrows. "That's a new name
for an old job."

"You're right," Logan said so smoothly that Amanda
wasn't sure if he'd heard the snide undertone. "I'm excited about the new
opportunities Amanda can discover for the company."

"We all know what excites you, Logan." Phoebe
lowered her eyelashes in an unmistakable invitation.

"I hope you do." There was an edge to his voice
now.
"Hard work and dedication."

He grasped Amanda's arm above her elbow to steer her away.
She managed to step aside without being too obvious. His warm hand was too
alluring, and she had no intention of allowing him any familiarity.

"Sorry about Phoebe," he murmured. "She has
her good points, but she wasn't showing them off just then."

"Good points?" She shot him a look. "Am I
going to run into your jealous exes all over the place?"

"Exes?"
He raised an
eyebrow. "Phoebe is an employee. As far as exes go, no, you won't run into
them. When it's over, it's over."

She shivered. That sounded too much like a warning.

"Hey." Rosie walked up, her gold velvet dress
looking medieval, with its crossed corset bodice and deep cleavage. "I see
you met the company sniper."

"Sniper?"

"Verbal shots, but they're usually dead on target.
She's dubbed me the Fashion Maven of the Homeless."

Amanda almost giggled, even as she cringed. "You look
fabulous." She did, too, because the fitted dress emphasized Rosie's hourglass
shape. Rosie had an ability to take unusual, even odd, ideas, and craft them
into an appealing look.

Rosie grinned. "I like it, and that's what
counts." She moved closer and spoke in a low voice.
"More
on the sniper, later."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rosie." Amanda turned to
Logan. "Speaking of which, tomorrow's a work day." She hoped she
sounded like a good employee rather than a boring nerd. "The party has
been fun. Thank you."

"I'll see you home." His face revealed nothing, as
Rosie melted away.

"That's not necessary."

He shrugged. "It's time for me to go. They can't have
fun with the boss around."

"That's up to you. I'll be fine going home alone."

He raised his brows in silent mockery. "Are you afraid
I'll make a pass at you?"

"Afraid? Not likely."

He grinned. "Good instincts."

There was an ambiguous answer.

She lifted her chin. "I'll walk out with you. But
that's it."

"Excellent." He touched the small of her back once
more as they made their way out to the coat check. He held out his hand, but Amanda
gave her claim check directly to the tired-looking woman behind the table. Then
she dug in her wallet for a tip.

Logan placed a hand on her forearm. "Allow me."

The woman lifted Amanda's coat over the barrier, and Logan
managed to take the coat and also pass over a folded bill.

A gasp sounded and Amanda glanced up to see the coat check
lady flush bright red.

"Thank you, sir," she said, thrusting the bill
into her pocket.

Logan smiled as he shook out Amanda's coat while she put her
Christmas sweater back on. When he lifted the coat over her shoulders, he
lingered a bit too long over helping her into it, smoothing one hand over her
back after she'd settled into the coat.

Then he grasped her elbow to steer her to the elevators.

"Was that a hundred dollar bill?" The words
escaped Amanda.

He lifted his eyebrows, but she saw humor lurking around his
mouth. "You don't think she deserves it?"

"Well…well…" She could only sputter. What to say?
Of course the woman undoubtedly deserved the money.

She resorted to silence as they rode down in the elevator.
They walked out into a crisp night speckled with lightly falling snow. The
dusting emphasized Logan's broad shoulders and Amanda had to tear her gaze away
from him.

She needed to be looking for a cab, anyway. Normally, she'd
take the subway to save money. It wasn't late enough yet to be unsafe. But she
knew if she mentioned the subway, Logan would seize the opening to insist she
go with him.

"I think I'll walk up to Fifth Avenue," she said.
"Some fresh air would be nice."
And the cabs more
plentiful.
Obviously, there weren't any on this dark side street.
Though a limo waited.

"Good idea."  Thrusting his hands into the
pockets of his wool coat, Logan fell into step alongside her. The limo crawled
down the street after them.

Of course.
Mentally, she smacked
herself in the head. That was Logan's car, with Felipe at the wheel.

She cast it an evil glance. Now they looked ridiculous.
Walking in snowy weather on a cold night, while a limo followed
them.

The ballet flats she'd worn provided no grip on the slippery
sidewalk. Though she concentrated on placing her feet carefully, it was
inevitable that she'd hit an icy patch. When she did, Logan casually gripped
her elbow, holding her firmly upright.

"Are you all right?" His head slanted down toward
her and she looked up to see his gray eyes laughing at her in the light of a
street lamp.

"I am perfectly capable of getting home on my
own."

"I don't doubt it. But my car does look warm and
comfortable, doesn't it?"

"I live way downtown in Alphabet City."

"Felipe keeps the car gassed up."

Mulishly, she kept on walking, keeping her head down to
watch for ice, and her shoulders hunched to retain warmth. She hoped it was her
imagination when Logan tugged her closer.
Because if it was
only her imagination, there was no need for her to do anything about it but to
enjoy the warm heat emanating from him.
To lean a bit
closer to catch his male scent.
Yum.
Cleanliness with a touch of snow-dusted musk.

They reached the corner of Fifth and she watched the cars
whizzing downtown. Every cab was occupied. If she did spot a lit-up bar, it
would be highlighted by the 'Off-Duty' lights. She tried to marshal her
patience. All she had to do was
wait
.

Like Felipe was doing with the town car, sitting at the side
of the road, watching her, no doubt, with annoyance. He couldn't go home until
he got Logan home.

Her feet were numb already, and she wished she'd worn a hat,
or at least a scarf. She glanced at Logan, to see him fighting a smile.

"What's so damn funny?" she muttered.

"I'm just hoping a cop doesn't drive by. An ambulance
might be helpful if you're determined to freeze to death, but not a cop."

She knew she'd regret asking, but the words slipped out.
"Why not?
We're not doing anything wrong."

"It's an interesting effect to see those red lights on
your sweater flashing out from the neck of your coat. I feel like a pimp with
my own mobile red light district."

"I'll take your word for it," she said sweetly.
"I'm sure you know more about the business side of sex than I do."

"Touché."
He had the
nerve to smile at her. "I'll enjoy watching that quick mind of yours
working for me."

Huffing, she stuffed her hands further into her pockets. How
did he make her feel so churlish so easily? Here she was standing foolishly in
the cold, waiting for a cab, when a warm car idled beside her. It was
ridiculous. But she needed to maintain her independence.

Didn't she?

As if he heard her thoughts, Logan spoke again, his deep
voice warm in the cold night. "It's just a ride, Mandy.
Nothing
more."

She jerked her head up to look at him. "Why did you
call me Mandy?"

His eyes widened a fraction. "It suits you, I
guess."

She wondered if he'd even realized he said it.

"I like Amanda." She lifted her chin.

His lips quirked upwards.
"I'll try to remember that." He nodded toward the limo. "Now can
we get in the car and get everyone home tonight?"

"Fine."
She tried to
stomp over to the limo, but the slippery footing foiled her. Logan's hand was
always there to catch her, and she was well aware of how cleverly she was being
maneuvered into accepting his touch.

Too bad they were going to Philadelphia in two days.

She had to be careful not to end up alone with him again.

Logan ushered Amanda into their suite at the Four Seasons
Philadelphia, with a light hand on the back of her waist. This stage of the
game would be both fun and frustrating. He needed to lull her into accepting
both his presence and his touch, without losing his own patience.

"I've arranged a dinner here with the Molloys, the
owners of Daily Eats," he said, hoping to forestall any complaints from
her about sharing the suite. "They'll be here at 5:30."

She gazed at him for a long moment. "Feeling clever,
aren't you?"

"Mrs. Molloy is in a wheelchair." He was careful
to keep any smugness out of his tone. "It's easier for her if we don't
have to deal with a restaurant."

"Surely it would be easier for her if we went to their
place."

"I gave them their choice. They work out of their home
and said it would be a treat to get out."

"A hotel suite is not a professional place in which to
hold business meetings."