Eclipse of the Heart

chapter 11

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.

He stepped back before his hands could linger. She might be uncomfortable sleeping in that clinging dress, but he knew he couldn't be responsible for his behavior if he slid that dress down those slender hips, and over those long legs.

She'd only be wearing panties, and he had an overwhelming desire to see exactly what kind she had on. A thong? Silk bikinis?

The possibilities were endless, and each of them made his blood pound. She looked girlish, lying there with her clothes and hair mussed. And also as erotic as anything he'd ever seen. No mistress with exquisitely practiced moves had ever looked as sexy.

Shit, he was getting into serious trouble here.

He forced his gaze away from the danger zone.

Walking swiftly, he moved through the apartment, barely looking around, not wanting to invade her privacy. He noticed a normal amount of clutter, the haphazard décor of occupants without extensive funding, and the overall cleanliness.

He dropped her keys on the table in the small foyer.

The door closed quietly behind him, and he checked the lock.

Good. He was locked out.

Safe. For the moment.

***

The next morning, Logan was not surprised when Amanda stormed through his office door.

"What happened last night?" she demanded.

He looked up from his computer. "You don't remember?"

She glared at him. "Did you touch my breasts?"

"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I didn't."

"My dress was open and my bra unhooked when I woke up this morning."

"I did that," he said, "so you'd be comfortable."

"You had no right to touch me." Her low voice trembled slightly.

"Don't be such a prude. I didn't take advantage of you."

"Did you get me drunk?"

"Absolutely not," he snapped. "I take offense at that question. I don't need to get a woman drunk to seduce her, nor do I enjoy spending time with drunks. "

She passed a hand over her forehead. "I have a bad headache."

"Had you been drinking before I picked you up?"

Her gaze flickered away from him suddenly. "Not much."

Mentally, he shrugged. She must have had too much if she couldn't even remember. "I suggest," he said, "that we agree that you don't have a head for liquor, and we carry on with our day. I have plenty of work to do."

The reminder worked as he intended. She straightened her shoulders, and turned to go. But not without a final word.

"The date that wasn't a date was not a good idea." She swept out the door.