Eclipse of the Heart

chapter 15

Noah Blankenship sat in Logan's office early on Monday morning, his enormous frame dwarfing the office chair. The broad smile that usually dominated his face was absent. Logan had hired the big black man as much for his easy manner as for his sharp mind and military experience. So when that affability was missing, something was wrong. Aside from all that, Logan knew his head of security wouldn't have requested a meeting if they didn't have a major problem.

The two men exchanged pleasantries, and then Logan said, "Give me the unvarnished truth."

Noah shifted in his chair. "It's not pretty."

Logan frowned. It wasn't like Noah to stall or shift his eyes away. "I can deal with the unpretty," he said.

"I don't know if this is something that will concern you," Noah said. He wiped a handkerchief over his forehead. "But I had to report it. It involves the company's reputation."

Was Noah going to accuse him of behaving improperly with Amanda? A flash of anger whipped through Logan. He crushed it. Noah was not stupid.

"Blankenship." Logan leaned forward. "Why are you chasing something around the mulberry bush? Spit it out."

"I don't like this, boss." Noah placed his laptop on the desk and punched a few keys. He turned the monitor to face Logan. The words "Adam and Eve Playground" danced across the screen in a heated red font.

Logan saw red. Shit. Why did every single thing he'd ever done in his life have to be paid for? He knew instantly what the website stood for. What he didn't know was how it affected his company.

"Why are you showing me this?" he asked. At least he could be grateful he wasn't looking at the name of the escort service he'd used himself.

"Uh, it's nothing personal," Noah responded, his voice carefully neutral. "But one of your employees is running this service out of the company offices."

Logan leaned back in his chair, hoping to trick his body into remaining calm, even though fury was rushing through him. "Who?"

"Phoebe Cattus."

"Shit." Logan's chair crashed to the ground. "Get rid of her."

Noah spoke into a small microphone attached to his shirt. "Send an escort to the office of Phoebe Cattus and have him wait for her there."

Logan rolled his chair around and stared out the window. His brain whirred. Noah wouldn't be here without definitive proof. Although Logan would check it out anyway, he knew he'd find everything in order. Noah was very good at what he did.

But if the press found out, they'd have a field day. He could survive the mud-slinging, although he wouldn't enjoy it. But his public offering was scheduled for next week. In this environment, where everyone was jittery about initial public offerings, he couldn't afford to have negative publicity. If the share prices were driven too low, the underwriters might want to postpone the offering.

Worse than all that, the press would start digging and it was only a matter of time before they'd ferret out the fact that Logan himself used an escort service. That would only compound his problems.

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 f*cked 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."