Eclipse of the Heart

chapter 8

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."

He shrugged, maintaining his casual approach. "Believe it or not, I often have meetings at my hotel when traveling. It's easier for me and it justifies the expense of renting a suite."

Amanda pressed her lips together, tightened her hold on her rolling suitcase, and marched off to one of the bedrooms.

She was back in the living area of the suite at 5:15. On the table in the dining area, she laid out her laptop and some brochures he'd given her. "This is an interesting business," she said. "Why are the Molloys selling?"

"Her illness." Logan placed his own laptop on the table next to hers. "Multiple sclerosis. They've lived with it for a long time, but apparently her episodes of sickness are becoming more frequent."

Amanda nodded. "I've prepared a list of questions and forwarded them to you."

"I saw them. Good job. Why don't you start off the meeting?"

He was interested in seeing how she handled herself with clients. Even though he wanted a personal relationship with her, he expected her to also handle the professional job for which he'd hired her.

They ate the dinner provided by room service first. Amanda single-handedly kept the conversation going, as Bill Molloy was faintly hostile throughout the meal, and Mrs. Molloy very quiet.

Then she was equally as impressive during the after-dinner meeting. She was professionally cordial to the Molloys, keeping an eye out for Mrs. Molloy's comfort, while still pressing forward with the hard questions that needed to be asked.

Logan was able to sit back and watch, interjecting an occasional comment when necessary. This gave him more time than he wanted to indulge his fantasies. Tonight, Amanda was wearing the same suit she'd worn on her first interview with him. The cut did not flatter her lush figure. Fortunately, he had a good imagination.

He pictured her dressed in the suit, minus the prim, high-necked blouse. He could slip his hand inside her jacket, caress the underside of her breast, and tease her a bit. He knew she'd be soft and plump where it counted.

"What do you think, Logan?" Amanda raised her brows, a puzzled look in her eyes, and he wondered if she'd had to repeat the question.

"Good idea," he said, trying to focus his attention. "What do you think?"

She frowned. "I just agreed with the Molloys' suggestion that we meet with their accountant after we visit their offices tomorrow."

"Yes, certainly." He jerked his gaze away from her lips. "We can do that."

"You told me we were returning to New York at 3 in the afternoon. We'd have to change those plans to accommodate the accountant." Amanda still had a squiggle of concern between her eyebrows.

"I'll check with Jack," Logan said. "Let's assume it's something we can do."

Amanda nodded while Bill Molloy typed in some notes on his Blackberry. Then Molloy looked up and met Logan's gaze with a hard stare. "After seeing our operations," Molloy said, "I'm sure you'll agree that the price you're offering for the company is ridiculously low."

Logan's mind was jerked back to business. "It's a fair price."

"No, it's not. You're taking advantage of the fact that we have to sell in a bad market due to my wife's condition."

"A bad economy reduces the value of all assets," Logan replied evenly. "That's not my fault. I can't and won't pay more than the company is worth to me." He leaned back in his chair. "You are always free to reject my offer."

"You bastard. You know we can't find another buyer."

Logan pressed his lips together to force back the words he wanted to say. No buyer ever thought a purchase price was high enough. Despite Mrs. Molloy's illness, Winter Enterprises was not a charity. Logan had to price every deal with the expectation of making a profit. Even then, some deals never made money, and he simply had to swallow the loss. But he couldn't go in planning to lose money.

He thought this company might be perfect for Amanda and, when his relationship with her ended, it would be an easy move to transfer her from his main company to Daily Eats.

"We haven't finalized any terms yet," he said to Molloy.

Molloy pointed a finger at him. "You cheat me, and there will be hell to pay."

He grabbed the handles of Mrs. Molloy's chair and wheeled her out of the room.

Logan called room service to remove dinner. Then he returned to the dining table and sat down. "What's your opinion of the deal?"

"Naturally, they've overpriced the company." Amanda glanced down at some notes she'd made on a paper pad. "There are also red flags other than the price."

"Such as?"

"They only want to sell a minority stake. You don't do minority stakes."

He raised his brows. She'd done some homework.

"They would be undercapitalized, even with the stake they're putting up for sale."

Logan nodded. "I figure they need twice as much money as they think, minimum."

"Right. If they don't spend more on marketing, it doesn't matter how good their product is."

He liked the way her mind worked. "What other concerns do you have?"

"Mr. Molloy seems quite hostile. Although his desire to remain Chief Executive Officer is reasonable on the surface, I wonder if his presence would doom the deal if he can't reconcile himself to the terms."

"For all the reasons you've outlined, the deal will only work if I invest more money, buy a majority stake, and force Molloy out."

"I don't think he'd go quietly."

"Money always talks."

"I wouldn't want the job at the expense of someone else."

"That's your choice, of course. But if I were to make this investment, I would need someone loyal to me to run the business. If you're not interested, I won't do the deal."

She sighed. "I didn't say I'm not interested. But why do I get the feeling that you're already planning my departure? How many other exes do you have running subsidiaries of your company?"

He had to press back a smile. "I have several protégés running small companies I've acquired." He met her gaze. "None of them could be considered exes."

"Fine." Her tone said it was anything but. "I'd like to take a closer look at the business before making any decision."

"I agree. That's why I planned the visit tomorrow to their offices. Though the Molloys work at home, their employees are based in a small building nearby."

Amanda nodded. "Okay. What time?"

He'd never get a better exit opportunity. He logged off his computer, pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'm going out. Shall we meet here for breakfast at 8?" The surprise on her face made it worth the effort he had to make to leave the suite.

The next day, since they'd postponed their departure in order to meet with the Molloys' accountant, they'd be spending the night in Philadelphia again. After a full day of meetings at the offices of Daily Eats, Logan felt entitled to claim a reward.

"The Philadelphia Symphony is playing tonight," he said casually, as they entered the suite. "Would you care to join me?"

Confusion chased surprise across her face. Excellent. She wanted to go, but was nervous about his intentions. He didn't mind keeping her guessing.

"Okay," she said slowly. "That might be enjoyable."

"Good." He strode toward his bedroom, turning back at the last moment. "We'll have to leave quickly. Say 6? I've made dinner reservations at Marquesa's." Before she could respond with the negative comment he could see forming on her lips, he closed the door to his bedroom behind him. She wouldn't venture there just to smack him down.

***

Once they were on private time, Logan segued easily into subtle courting behavior. A touch on her back when going through doorways. A helping hand on her elbow when getting into or out of the limo. And his favorite. Assisting her with her coat. The lingering touches on her shoulders were just enough to remind her he was there, yet not enough to force her to object.

Marquesa's was an intimate and romantic restaurant, the tables small enough that the occasional brush of his knee on hers could be accepted as accidental. But her cheeks flushed delightfully every time he did it.

He was careful not to overdo it. Three times only, in one long meal. It was tough, but he was good at keeping his long-term goal in mind.

When the waiter had poured the excellent red wine he'd ordered, he raised his glass. "To a successful partnership."

She clicked his glass. "Thanks for giving me another chance."

"I'm sure you'll do a great job. Tell me, have your mother and sister moved to Denver?"

"They have. Julia has already begun her treatments."

"How long will they take?"

"Hopefully, not more than six months. My mother is on a leave from her job and that's the amount of time she has."

"I thought she was quitting?"

"We decided a leave would be better." Her tone was frosty, and he almost smiled. He was sure she'd changed the plans to give herself a little wiggle room in case her job with him didn't work out.

Not that he objected. He'd never kept a mistress for more than three months, though he could see he'd need more time with Amanda, especially since a courting period was required. Six months might be an excellent period of time.

He probed her gently for information, maintaining a friendly, non-threatening manner. He wanted to disarm her, but he also truly enjoyed her company. By the end of the meal, he'd learned she was sub-letting an apartment from a college friend who was leaving soon to go to France on a Fulbright scholarship. Her sister had a serious lung disease being treated at the National Jewish hospital in Denver. Her mother worked at a medical office, and it was clear that their financial circumstances, while not dire, had never been comfortable.

He also knew that Amanda was a positive thinker, who had a clear-eyed plan for her future, and took her responsibilities to her family seriously.

She appealed to him on a basic level that he didn't see any need to question. Everything about her - from her softly flowing honey hair, to her warm laugh, to the lush body he could only glimpse occasionally - everything appealed to the male in him. He wanted to have her now, right away, to forget about the symphony, return to the hotel and undress her slowly. He wanted to caress her with his hands and lips, to press his body down upon hers and invade her, to rouse her into trembling ecstasy.

But tonight was not the night. He signaled for the check. Achieving his goal would require a lot of patience.

Amanda sank back into the luxuriously padded leather seat of the limo. Quiet classical music swirled through their confined space. Although she and Logan weren't touching, she could have closed her eyes and still felt his heat and smelled his faint essence of wealth and power.

She knew better than to close her eyes in his presence, though. He wouldn't pounce. He was too skilled and subtle for that. But he would do something to advance his position if she let down her guard. She was sure of that.

For some reason, he was still pursuing her.

Or were his casual touches just his way of treating women in general? He hadn't asked her out. He hadn't made suggestive comments, other than his teasing at the Christmas party. He'd gone out without her last night.

Perhaps she was paranoid.

She wouldn't be able to think clearly until she got into her own bedroom. And maybe not then, because he'd still be nearby.

The car stopped at the Kimmell Center for the Performing Arts. Amanda gawked at the vaulted glass ceiling that arched over the building.

"It's not your traditional concert hall," Logan said, placing his hand under her elbow to guide her into the plaza through the well-dressed crowd.

"It's beautiful."

"And very popular."

An usher led them to their seats, down front and center in the orchestra. Amanda hated to be so shallow, but it was nice to have the kind of money that was able to obtain such excellent seats in this gorgeous hall.

She sat down and Logan squeezed into his spot, his long legs wedged against the chair back in front of him. But he didn't sprawl into her space and she was grateful for that.

"Do you enjoy the symphony?" he asked.

"We never had money for this type of outing," she said. "Sometimes the school would sponsor a small series and my mother would splurge."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Connecticut. In a quiet town."

"Just you, your sister, and your mom?"

She knew what he was asking. It was always hard to say. She wet her lips, fascinated to see Logan's eyes follow the movement. "My dad died when I was ten. A car accident."

Logan reached for her hand. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

His strong fingers wrapped securely around hers, warm, a little rough. She couldn't force herself to pull away.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the orchestra tune up. Logan didn't rush into speech and slowly, minute by minute, Amanda felt herself relax. She'd said the awful words about her father. She wouldn't have to say them again, at least not to Logan.

The strength in his hand seemed to travel up her arm, warming her, providing a comfort she'd rarely been offered. Or—a surprising insight blinded her. She never talked about her father. Maybe she didn't get empathy for her loss because she didn't give people the opportunity to offer it. So why had she told Logan?

His willingness to sit quietly soothed her somehow. He didn't offer platitudes or change the subject.

She'd experienced a terrible loss and his silent comfort acknowledged the pain, and the fact that nothing could be done about it. It was simply something that had to be borne. Had she sensed that he would know how to react calmly, soothing her by his mere presence?

She suddenly wondered about his family. He'd never mentioned anyone, but of course she'd hardly known him more than a couple of days. He must have someone. Everyone did.

Now was not the time to ask. She didn't want to destroy the odd peace of this moment.

The conductor strode onto the stage, acknowledged the applause, and Amanda allowed herself to be swept into the music.

The concert was beautiful, and Amanda felt grateful to Logan for providing the treat. He was a wonderful escort, knowledgeable about the music, solicitous of her comfort. When they returned to the hotel, he dominated the entire lobby with his broad-shouldered presence. Amanda saw other women eyeing him and she was ashamed to feel a spurt of pride to be walking beside him. He wasn't hers, and there was no point in pretending even for one second that he might ever be hers.

He touched her arm to halt her just before they reached the elevators.

"I'm meeting someone in the bar," he said calmly. "So I'll say goodnight here. I've scheduled the jet for 9 a.m."

Amanda's jaw dropped. He was leaving her? An unpleasant emotion flared within her, but she couldn't take the time to analyze it. She had to respond.

"Okay. I'll be ready at 8." She couldn't meet his gaze. She was afraid of what he might see there.

"Excellent." Was his voice a little too hearty?

She fled for the elevators, finally recognizing the nameless emotion.

Jealousy.

Oh, she was in trouble already.