Eclipse of the Heart

chapter 16

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.

Of course, Logan had contacts higher up in the target company, so he may well have heard something she had not.

She sighed as Logan unlocked his door, one of only a few on the hallway facing them as they exited the elevator. Yeah, Rosie was probably right. Looked like he was loaded. The beautiful, well-maintained building on Park Avenue was a far cry from her sublet down on the lower East side.

Logan led the way into his dark apartment, flipping on light switches as they passed through a pin-neat foyer. But she was surprised to see that the apartment, though spacious and well-appointed, was not enormous. On the left she saw a good-sized living room, with large windows black with night. A formal dining room seated ten or twelve people. The kitchen ahead turned out to be utilitarian, with stainless steel appliances, plain European cabinets and black granite counters.

But someone had softened all the coldness of the kitchen with hints of color. A bouquet of flowers brightened the center island. Oven mitts decorated with shiny red cherries lay on the counter next to a neat array of serving platters.

Logan saw her eye light on them. "The housekeeper," he said. "She says even when you keep getting the pits, cherries are still worth eating."

Amanda laughed. "I'm sure she's not referring to you."

Logan raised his eyebrows. "No?"

She rolled her eyes. As if he ever got the pits. "What about the roosters?" She waved at the lineup on the window sill. Half a dozen brightly decorated roosters marched along the ledge, and a few more stood next to the sink, as if they'd fallen off the higher perch.

"She likes roosters." Logan lifted a platter of steak from the refrigerator. "She says there's always a new day."

"Kitchen philosopher, huh? Has she had a lot of trouble in her life?"

"Enough."

Logan ducked his head back into the fridge, almost as if he didn't want to look at her.

"What can I do to help?" She wasn't much of a cook, but a salad should be within her capabilities.

"Everything's all prepared," he said. He checked something in the oven. "I'll grill the steak and maybe you could carry the rest of the food into the dining room." He waved at the lineup on the island.

In twenty minutes, they were seated. Logan had lit candles on the sideboard, and a modern chandelier over the table cast a low light. Amanda suddenly wondered exactly what type of dinner this was. What had happened to the discussion of Dallas Robotics?

Logan stood behind her chair as she sat, and then pushed it in gently. He picked up a bottle of red wine that had been resting on the table and poured them each a glass. After sitting down, he lifted his wine goblet and tilted it in her direction.

"Cheers," he said. A slight smile curved his lips, but his eyes were guarded.

"Cheers." She took a bigger gulp than she'd intended. Should she bring up the business discussion? Did he want to eat first? She wasn't used to work discussions held in private homes.

She needn't have worried. Logan launched into a conversation about her interest in nutrition. In passing, he mentioned the fact that some of his employees who'd held her current position had moved on to manage companies they'd worked on acquiring. Without actually stating it, he implied that the Daily Eats deal might be an opportunity for her to do the same.

Although she glowed inwardly with pleasure at his apparent faith in her abilities, she didn't allow herself to go off-topic to talk too much about work. He clearly wanted to relax. He'd taken off his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his blue business shirt before grilling the steak.

Now, he leaned back in his chair, idly cupping the delicate bowl of his crystal wine glass. He kept his gaze focused on her. She was reminded, once again, of how intently he paid attention. It was impossible not to feel flattered by this powerful, dynamic man, when he acted like she was the only thing in his world.

He poured himself another glass of wine, but didn't refill hers. The oversight was out of character, but otherwise he was a perfect host. The food was delicious, the conversation interesting, and the view unbeatable.

She almost giggled. Of course, she meant the view of him, but no one else would know that. It would be her secret. She picked up her wine glass and drained it. It was delicious. She wouldn't mind a bit more.

"Ready for dessert?" Logan asked as he stood up.

"Sure." She pushed back her chair. "Let me help you."

Logan held up a hand. "Allow me. It will be my pleasure to wait on you."

He returned with a small tray holding two round, golden pastries, a small pitcher, which she soon discovered was full of hot fudge, and a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

"Profiteroles." Logan waved at the tray. "I don't do many private dinners," he said. "My housekeeper outdid herself making my favorite dishes tonight."

"They look delicious," Amanda answered. She watched as he sliced the pastry, tucked a large scoop of vanilla-flecked ice cream inside, and swirled hot fudge over it all.

Next, he opened a bottle of white wine, filled his glass and poured her half a glass. She frowned. Was he limiting her alcohol consumption?

"You don't seem like much of a drinker," he said calmly as he placed the bottle on the sideboard.

Amanda picked up her glass with a hint of defiance. "I'm not, but your wine is delicious." She sipped, and the liquid burst in flavorful fragrance against her tongue. Yum.

She placed the wine goblet on the table, careful not to spill it. But she wasn't as lucky with the profiterole. When she pressed her fork down on top of it, the pastry skidded off her plate. She giggled.

"Allow me." Logan took her knife and fork. Never had he received a better opening.

Cutting a small portion, he lifted the fork. Amanda lowered her gaze and opened her mouth. He slipped in the morsel and watched as she savored the contrasting sensations.

Flaky pastry, cold ice cream, and warm chocolate sauce.

"Yum," she said, licking a speck of chocolate off her lips. "More."

Logan almost groaned. He could so easily imagine her saying those words in a different context. His body canted toward her as he fed her another bite.

This time her gaze locked with his. "Is cooking among your many talents?" she asked.

"My housekeeper does the cooking."

Amanda glanced around as if she expected a person to materialize beside them. "Does she live here?"

"She has her own condo in this building."

"Wow." Amanda took another sip of the dessert wine. "Nice digs for a housekeeper."

He smiled and said lightly, "She's worth it." She was an old family retainer, but he'd never told anyone in his new life that fact. The relationship he had with Mrs. MacDonald was something he could never discuss.

Amanda closed her lips over the next bite and chewed slowly. "I have to agree with your assessment," she said finally. "Your housekeeper is talented."

"Have another bite." He lifted his fork and she opened her mouth obediently. Between her parted lips, he could see her pink tongue.

Lord, she was killing him. All he could think about was something else he wanted to slide against her tongue. His hand trembled and a trickle of hot fudge slipped off the fork and onto her neck.

Quickly, he bent his head, and licked up the sweetness. Her delicate skin inflamed him. So soft. So yielding. He wanted to mark her, to use every part of his mouth, his lips, his teeth, to draw sensation to the surface, to arouse every one of her nerve endings.

Just for starters.

When he raised his head, her eyes were wide, staring at him.

He tried to smile. "Didn't want the chocolate to ruin your blouse."

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's an ugly blouse."

"In that case…" He dug into the dessert, lifted the fork again, and this time he deliberately dropped a dollop of fudge on her collarbone.

She inhaled a sharp breath. Her eyes glazed over. But she didn't stop him.

He licked slowly this time, allowing his tongue to wander up her neck, and his lips to press against her fragrant skin. He could feel her heart pounding.

"Why do you wear clothes you think are ugly?" he murmured.

She stiffened beneath his searching tongue. "So you won't find me attractive."

He was surprised into a chuckle. "You see how well that's working." He nipped her neck, then nipped it again. She trembled, and his cock, already as stiff as the knife, pressed against his zipper, seeking release.

"I don't think…" Her voice wandered off as he continued to kiss the curve of her neck.

"Try feeling instead of thinking." He raised his head, scooped up more warm sauce, and dribbled it directly into her cleavage.

She gasped, and her nipples pebbled. He could see them clearly through the white blouse.

He followed the sweet chocolate with his tongue. Down and down, deeper into her cleavage he delved. His fingers were already busy on the buttons of her blouse, although he expected a sharp reprimand at any moment. If he could get to her nipples, he'd be able to get her body working against her mind.

Buttons popped. "My blouse," she murmured. But her back was already arched and Logan knew she was losing the battle.

Her soft, round breasts pressed against his face on either side.

"I'll buy you a new blouse," he said. "A pretty one. One that shows off your beautiful breasts." He dropped the fork on the table and used his fingers to caress her, exulting in the heavy weight in his hands.

Triumph roared through him when Amanda moaned and threw back her head. He reached behind her blouse and opened her bra, certain that she didn't even notice as he continued licking each of her creamy breasts. With the bra loose, a feast was suddenly before him, and he took advantage. He licked up one slope, nosing aside the fabric that protected her no longer. When he reached his goal, he circled her pink nipple, around and around while the tight point poked his tongue.

She tasted so good. He sucked hard, a sudden flare of hunger almost causing him to lose control. Harder and harder. His entire body was clenched with the need to plunder her. He barely her her moans until she called out. "Logan!"

He released her at once. "Sorry," he muttered.

She mashed her breasts into his face. "The other side," she pleaded.

With a muffled laugh, he switched sides. There was nothing he loved more than sexual eagerness. Well, a climax was better. But, after an orgasm, he would have to withdraw completely, and be alone. So until then, he loved foreplay and the sights and sounds of a well-aroused woman.

"I want to try something," he said, his voice pitched low, to be soothing. He scooped up a dollop of ice cream. Before she could wonder what he intended, he spilled the cold ice cream onto one nipple.

She jerked in surprise. "Logan!"

He latched onto her breast, licked the ice cream off, and then sucked her nipple into his mouth.

She moaned again.

"You taste so good," he murmured. He gave her other nipple the same treatment.

She grabbed the hair on his head. "What are you doing?"

He glanced up to see her eyes closed, and her head thrown back against the chair.

"I'm enjoying my dessert," he said. "And I intend to finish every bite."

He scooped up another dollop of ice cream.

Amanda heard his deep voice talking, but she barely comprehended the words. Her body was in the throes of a pleasure that was overwhelming her ability to think. She couldn't be sitting here, with her breasts outthrust while Logan played with them.

Her boss.

She started to straighten up from her leaning position. "Logan—"

But he seemed not to hear her warning, or to see anything amiss. He continued eating his dessert off her.

The cold of the ice cream contrasted with the warmth of his mouth, and the sensations were heightened by the naughtiness of what he was doing.

Cold, then hot.

The impersonal touch of the ice cream, followed by the deeply personal touch of his mouth. His lips. His tongue.

He played with one nipple, and then the other. Each time he dropped another spot of ice cream on her, he increased the suction he used to clean it off. First his tongue would swirl all around her nipple, then his mouth would close over it and he'd suck. Gently at first, and then with increasing pressure.

Until he was pulling her already peaked nipple into a stinging point.

She moaned as her body drew tighter and tighter. Her legs wanted to spread wide open, and her hands clutched his head, as if he might be her salvation, rather than her ruin. Her own head swam with both pleasure and a slight dizziness. A small voice in her brain tried to speak up and issue a warning, but every time the tiny voice intruded, another wave of delight swamped it.

She told herself she was safe. Logan was only playing with her breasts while enjoying his dessert. They were still seated at the dining room table. He was still fully dressed.

By the time Logan put his spoon down in the empty bowl, the clink against the china barely registered. She was tense with desire, overcome with the sensations he'd skillfully aroused in her body. She refused to think about sex, but she was needy and clingy and as empty as the bowl.

She opened her eyes to see Logan rise to his feet. Alarm barreled through her. Was he done with her? Would he make another of his abrupt departures? She glanced up at him, barely aware of what she was doing.

"That's quite an effective look of appeal," he said, his voice low. "I think I'm flattered."

She tried to clear her thoughts. "I should be going home, I think."

He chuckled. "Your words lack a certain note of conviction."

"Are you done with dessert?"

"The ice cream is all gone, I'm afraid." He bent over and scooped her up in his arms. "But licking is still on the menu."

Her head swam as he turned her and laid her on the dining room table. Her feet dangled over the edge, unbalancing her, until he grasped her thighs and moved them apart. The move stabilized her, but also increased her vulnerability.

Logan lifted her skirt and she stiffened in alarm. But he immediately trailed his hands down her legs until he reached her feet. He removed her shoes, dropping them to the Oriental carpet. He cupped her feet in his big hands.

He began massaging her—feet? Surprise skittered through her. She knew she was laid out on his dining room table, her breasts exposed, her skirt hiked up.

But her panties still covered her, and he seemed interested only in her feet. No man had ever made such a surprising move.

She relaxed, as much as she could when her body was still drawn tight with an unfulfilled need. But the foot massage was heavenly.

She let her legs fall open a bit more. Or had he widened the gap between her feet?

No matter. He wasn't doing anything alarming. Yes, he'd played with her breasts. But the pleasure had been irresistible. The foot massage was almost equally as delicious.

His hands massaged her soles while he pressed a kiss to one knee, and then the other. Had he nudged her legs further apart again?

She murmured what might have been a small protest.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll never do anything you don't want."

That was true. She relaxed a bit more as she remembered all the times he'd left her, when she'd thought he might make a pass at her.

The only niggle of worry that wormed its way through her pleasure was the fear that he'd stop too soon. She wasn't ready quite yet to halt this pleasure.

She would stop him at some point.

She had to.

But not yet.

His strong fingers moved up to her toes and he began massaging each one individually, starting with her smallest toe. Oooh, that felt good. Every so often, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her legs. She scarcely noticed when the kiss landed on her thighs. It was just part of his pattern.

By the time he finished with her foot massage, her toes were curling in delight, a sensation she'd never experienced.

He raised his head and looked up at her. "You look so wanton," he said. "Quite delightful." A flush rode high on his cheeks.

"Are we done?"

"Not yet." His lips curved slowly. "I have one more thing I want to do." He placed his hands on her hips, paused for an infinitesimal moment, and then slowly peeled her underpants down her legs.

One more thing? Then would he stop? Amanda didn't move, even as she silently begged him to touch her body again. He still had all his clothes on. It didn't seem he had any intention of removing them. She was still safe.

"Yes," he said, "that's better."

Amanda opened her eyes to see him staring at her.

"Mandy," he said on a long breath. "You have no idea what you do to me." He placed one strong hand at the top of each of her thighs, and slowly pushed her open.

"Logan," she gasped. She was totally exposed to him and the sensation of being on display jolted her with excitement. She had to stop him now.

He lowered his head and kissed her right at the opening between her legs.

Then he licked her.

She whimpered, as her brain moved in the same dizzying circles as his tongue. Except that her brain was trying to tell her one thing, and the spot between her legs was clinging to something else entirely— the joy he was giving her.

Her entire body buzzed with pleasure from that one spot of contact. Then his fingers entered her, strong and sure. First one, testing her, exploring. Then, another, filling her, pushing upward and stroking in and out. Once. Twice. Three times.

She convulsed.

Over and over.

Until she finally sighed out his name and grasped his head to stop him, or to have something to hold onto. She feared she might pass out.

He raised his head, his gaze meeting hers. She shifted her eyes away as the buzzing in her head continued to distract her. How had this happened? What had she been thinking?

Logan stood up and pressed himself between her thighs. The wool of his pants was soft, but beneath them was a hardness that pulsed with urgency.

Amanda lifted one hand. "Help me sit up." When she was vertical, she put her hands on his waist and leaned into him. His hard heat pressed into her nakedness. She sighed with contentment, and then was betrayed into a giggle. If Rosie could only see her now—

He frowned. "Are you drunk?"

Her eyes flew open. "Of course not."

"We have to stop now if you are." But he didn't move away.

"What? You're developing a conscience?" Starched cotton slid over her hands as her fingers drifted inside the buttons of his shirt and she touched his hot skin.

"I always have a conscience." He sucked in a sharp breath. "Though it's receding quickly right now."

She moved down his smooth, muscular abs until she reached rough hair that fanned outward.

Logan's harsh breathing kicked up a notch.

She jerked her hands out from under his shirt, but couldn't resist arrowing her thumbs downward, along the side of his zipper. His wool pants were soft, dense. His erection poked up and out at her.

"You don't want me to stop, do you?" she asked.

"God, no." He closed his eyes and murmured, "I can't help noticing you're not behaving in character here."

"You don't really know me, I don't think." She'd wanted him from the first moment she stepped into his office and saw him sitting behind his desk, calm, powerful, intense. His mere presence had called out to something deep inside her. She'd never expected to do anything about her attraction, but now that she was here in his home, just the two of them, some barrier within her had crumbled away. The values and morals she'd thought were strong and impenetrable had turned out to be as fleeting as bubbles in champagne.

Passion was a much stronger force than she'd ever imagined. Sitting here on the edge of his table, trembling in the aftermath of a powerful orgasm, she still wanted more.

Logan snapped his eyes open and their gazes collided.

"I'd like to know you better," he said.

She stared into his face as she heard the sound of a zipper. She was aware of the condom being opened. She was incapable of stopping him, when all she wanted was to be as close as possible with him, to combine their bodies in a heated bliss that would never end.

Then she felt the pressure, the smooth, heated strength invading her. He pushed her thighs wider, and his fingers began to stroke her. He was surprisingly gentle.

She lifted her hips.

"Finally," he said in a guttural voice as he surged into her.

And Amanda knew she'd made a terrible mistake.