Authors: Jennifer Probst
Then she twisted the knob and stepped inside, firmly shutting the door behind her.
Logan Grant leaned back in his leather chair and signaled for his secretary to leave. Tapping his pen absently against the edge of the desk, he studied the papers in front of him and searched for a rational solution to his problem.
It had been one week since their confrontation. Five full days. Four long nights. And he wasn’t any closer to scaling her walls.
He let out a frustrated breath. Besides tying him up in knots, she caused more trouble than any other woman he’d ever known. The logical side to his nature entreated him to walk away, and therefore, solve his problem. But he didn’t.
It already seemed too late to walk away from Chandler Santell.
Logan flipped through the pages of the dossier, feeling like a Peeping Tom as he skimmed through the events of her life. Ever since Alexander Santell approached him with a deal to make his company skyrocket to the top, he’d been suspicious. Ordering Chandler’s life story seemed the reasonable thing to do given the circumstances. He needed to be cautious. The rapid growth of his company made it vulnerable to predators looking for a piece of the action. She could be a corporate spy hand delivered by her father. Logan didn’t believe in coincidence, and his instincts told him something wasn’t right when the deal of a lifetime presented itself a few weeks after hiring Chandler.
He was a businessman who needed to look out for his company. He refused to apologize for doing his job.
Then why did he feel like he was making one of the biggest mistakes of his life?
Disgusted with his rioting emotions, he swiveled around to gaze out from his office window. The sun began to sink, turning the river skyline a dark silhouette against fiery red, orange, and yellow. Towering buildings thrust toward the sky, competing for attention with nature’s radiance. The man made structures fought for dominance, and once again, failed compared to the river and sunset. It was a scene of New York meant for a painting.
God, he was tired. A slight throbbing behind his eyes told him a migraine was on the way. Normally, the view from his office made a rush of pride and energy course through him, refreshing his drive for ambition and his desire to have the city of New York recognize his name. But today, he only felt more alone. He questioned what he really wanted for himself. More money? More power? After that, would he crave more, always driven to fill an empty space inside?
Whenever Chandler walked into his office something stirred deep inside him. She made him feel things he thought long buried. Normally, when he got involved in a deal it consumed him, leaving no time or thought for anything else. Since he’d met her, business didn’t seem as important. Suddenly, it wasn’t urgent to be the first one in the office or the last to leave at night. He always wondered what she was doing, or who she was with, until the need to see her overpowered everything else.
You’re getting soft.
The inner voice taunted him. Letting a woman break his concentration was dangerous. Especially when the future of his company could hinge on this contract.
Logan rubbed his forehead. Why did Chandler run from him, if Alexander Santell hired her as a spy? Wouldn’t she drop into his bed in order to learn his secrets? Why had she left her father’s company years ago? There was no record of a disagreement between them. Unless the ex-fiancee caused her to walk away from such a powerful position. Had he done something to betray her trust? Had she loved him so much she had to run from him?
Tension coiled tightly in his stomach at the thought. He picked up the dossier and stared at the leather binder. Within the pages lay all the answers to his questions. All he had to do was open the cover.
With one decisive motion, Logan swiveled back around in his chair and tossed the report in his wastebasket. The hell with it. His instincts told him to believe in her honesty and integrity. For the first time, he’d go on trust, and assume she knew nothing about her father’s offer.
The full impact of his action hit him like a freight train. Trust. A word that meant danger in the business world. Pain in personal relationships. And, of course, betrayal. One thought flashed before his eyes, almost like a neon sign, and stopped him from retrieving her dossier again.
She was the woman who could save his soul.
“Hey, boss, got a minute?”
He looked up. Richard stood in the doorway with a pile of papers in his hand. Logan admitted the man exuded an air of confidence as he waited for a response. He wondered if the lawyer practiced his motions in the mirror each morning. Dressed the part in a navy blue suit, silk tie, and custom made cuff links, Logan wondered what image he presented to Chandler when they were alone. Thoughtfully, he tapped his pen on the edge of the polished wood and motioned him in.
“Sure. Are we ready for our meeting with Tommy?”
Richard nodded and took a seat. His brown eyes took in the room with one sweep, as if memorizing something for future use. Logan casually kicked the wastebasket out of the man’s view. “Contracts are ready to go, and I think we’ll go ahead with the final negotiations. It’s a killer deal, boss.”
Logan nodded and watched Richard adjust his gold cuff links. “I know. I’ve been working on it almost a year now. Most other investors gave up, thinking he’d never sell the company.” Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Tommy plays the waiting game. Watch the weak ones crumble. He likes a man with patience, so I just gave him what he wanted.”
Richard lifted a brow. “Patience, huh?”
The pen tapped in a steady beat. “The Japanese respect the art of patience. It’s Americans who want immediate satisfaction.”
“Nothing wrong with going after your goals.”
“Move too fast and you’ll lose every time.” He paused. “When I go after something, I always win. Because I wait for my opening.”
Richard shifted in his chair. Silence filled the room as they both watched each other. Then he gave a short laugh. “Trying to tell me something, boss?”
Primitive male energy hummed through the air. “Stay away from Chandler.”
Richard blinked, then recovered quickly enough to screen his features to attain an element of blandness. “That a direct order?”
Logan leaned back and studied the younger man. “Consider it a warning. You’re a hell of a lawyer, Richard. You remind me a lot of myself in my younger days, when I was so hungry I’d do anything for a deal. But I won’t watch while Chandler becomes one of your sacrifices.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t involve her with your games. Something is going on that I haven’t figured out yet. I will, though. And if she gets hurt, I’ll find the person who did it.” He smiled. “Then I’ll make him pay.”
Electricity pulsed within the silence. Richard cleared his throat. “Point taken. Since we’re putting cards on the table, I’ve got a few home truths for you, boss.” Ruthlessness gleamed in brown eyes. “Stay out of my personal life. I’ll see Chandler for as long as she’s interested.” He smirked. “You may have the hots for her, but she wants more than a quick trip to the bedroom. I can give her that. No hidden motives.”
Logan knew with a cold certainty the man lied. He quickly squashed the flicker of disappointment when he realized Richard Thorne needed to be stopped. In any way possible. He forced himself to nod. “Point taken. Every man for himself.”
“Guess so.” Richard stood up and dropped a handful of papers in front of him. “Look those over. If everything goes well today, we’ll be able to draw up the final contracts.”
“Fine. Richard?”
“Yeah?”
“A man always deserves one warning.”
A flicker of wariness flashed in Richard’s eyes, then disappeared. Satisfaction surged within him at the man’s unguarded response. Logan thought he’d left until he heard Richard’s voice from the doorway.
“I heard what you said about patience. But the Japanese have another code they follow, boss.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t play the game until you know the rules.” Then he walked out.
Logan stared at the closed door for a few moments.
His gut told him time was running out, and he needed answers. He stared thoughtfully at the phone. Then reached for the receiver.
Chandler lay back on the mat in Corpse pose after finishing her class. Palms up, legs slightly open, she enjoyed the benefits of a demanding routine and let her muscles relax. She had an hour free before the intermediate students arrived, and needed to clear her mind. The morning class had been difficult because of her constantly drifting thoughts regarding a certain business executive.
Why did she think she could challenge him?
Logan Grant was, indeed, a master of the game.
She’d been prepared for him to initiate a ruthless game of pursuit and retreat. She expected him to break her down by playing on the weakness of her body’s reaction. Throughout the last week she built up her defenses to handle any maneuver thrown at her. When she realized she had no need to fight off his advances, she discovered his subtle manipulations already began to work.
When she demonstrated a new stretch, he always seemed to need her personal assistance. As his employees teased him on his inability to copy her movements, she’d be forced to position his muscled arms; come in contact with the bare flesh of his calves; adjust his shoulders so the breath went deeply into his lungs.
He always arrived early to help her set up for class. He insisted he liked to clear his mind before the other employees arrived. She would have believed him if it hadn’t been for the accidental brushes of his fingertips against hers as he reached for the mats; or how he stood behind her, his breath a warm rush against the nape of her neck, his voice murmuring in her ear when he made a comment.
He acted like a gentleman, but she knew every moment they were together he wanted her. Desire shown through his speech, his touch, his eyes.
He was driving her insane.
She eased herself to her feet and bent to position both hands on the mat. Her head hung down and released her neck muscles. She discovered many things about the famous CEO by casually questioning his employees. She wasn’t surprised to find respect and admiration in most of their statements.
What intrigued her was the warmth expressed by everyone she spoke with. She found he financed a luxurious vacation for an employee recovering from a hospital stay. He set up special tuition reimbursement plans for anyone who wanted to pursue educational classes. His open door policy invited workers with a problem to see him personally, and its continued usage proved the effectiveness of such a plan. All surprising actions from a man with a heart of steel.
But did any employee know the inner Logan Grant? Chandler realized his job demanded all of his effort and time, but the sacrifice was evident when she watched him from across the room. Even when surrounded by people, he always stood alone. An invisible barrier stretched around him. Logan had climbed the ladder of success, but he hadn’t taken anyone with him. It had been a lonely climb.
She wondered why knowing that about him hurt. Her new feelings were dangerous. She’d been prepared to withstand the aggressive actions of a man who wanted her in his bed. What she hadn’t expected was the tender emotions flowering inside of her in response to the onslaught of a warm, summer rain rather than a crashing thunderstorm. But perhaps he knew how she felt. Perhaps it was all part of his game of seduction. Perhaps—
“I think I’m extremely jealous of the men in your classes.”
Chandler jerked upward and spun around to face a pair of wicked gray eyes. He towered in the doorway, looking powerful and at ease in his black, conservative, custom tailored suit. He’d taken off the jacket and hooked it over his shoulder. His white starched shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of red suspenders molded the fabric to his frame. Black winged tip shoes peeked from underneath his slacks. He cut an intimidating figure. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “What do you mean?”
Logan walked towards her. “If that’s the view students get during class, sign me up.”
She blushed at his pointed gaze, and realized her hips and backside had been raised in the air. “That is not very gentlemanly of you to notice, or comment, Mr. Grant.”
He put his hands to his heart. “I was only trying to protect a lady from future embarrassment. What if I had been an old evil lecher bent on ravishing your body?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I what?”
“Bent on ravishing my body?”
His eyes darkened. One lid dropped in a naughty wink. “Yes, but I draw the line at being called old and evil.” He reached out and brushed at a stray tendril of her golden brown hair. “How do I know you didn’t strike this pose to drive me insane?”