Authors: Jennifer Probst
She fought a smile. “Mr. Grant, I would never deliberately provoke you.”
She knew by the look on his face he remembered that night. His voice dropped. “You’re doing it right now.”
“Doing what?”
“Provoking me.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Each time you call me Mr. Grant in such a proper tone, you challenge me to make you say my first name. I have many pleasurable ideas in mind. Want to hear them?”
“No.”
He smiled and tossed his jacket on the coat rack. “Too bad. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I’ve come on business.”
Chandler blinked and grabbed for composure. Too many delicious ideas lingered in her mind. “What kind of business?”
“I’m having dinner with an important client tonight. I gave him some information about your seminar, and he seems interested. I’d like you to come with me.”
She hesitated. Having dinner with him could be dangerous on her part. But if she declined she’d miss an important opportunity. After a few moments, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you for speaking with him about the program.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced around with interest. “This is a beautiful studio.” He walked toward the oversized bay windows which overlooked the Hudson River and mountains in the distance. “Very peaceful. You have to actually strain to hear the sounds of the taxis and factories.”
She laughed. “I fell in love with this location the moment I saw it. A fire gutted the building years ago, and it remained vacant. I think the structure was too far off the beaten path for investors to make a profit.” A gleam of pride shone in her eyes as she spoke. “I renovated the place and bought it outright.”
“You did a wonderful job.” His gaze encompassed the bare wood floors and large, airy space. One wall was covered with mirrors, and at the far end the windows were flung open, allowing the late summer breeze to whisper in. Black and white photographs displayed a figure posed in a series of different postures called Sun Salutation. Near the front of the room, small vases filled with fresh daisies and wild flowers graced an elaborate rock garden. Toward the back sat a pottery bowl filled with softly bubbling water. A small Buddha statue sat in the center. The plump, smiling figure radiated peace.
He motioned toward the display. “What’s that for?”
“When students first come into the studio they take off their shoes and bow before starting their practice. It’s a way of leaving your ego at the door. There’s no competition in a yoga class, so we try to come to the practice with humility. Buddha represents enlightenment. Flowers and water represent new life. Rocks represent the earth. We pay our respect to all of these elements.”
The beauty of her words struck him full force. He pondered them as he strolled through the room. Logan caught a glimpse of her office in the corner and peeked through the open door. The room held a worn pink sofa, one battered desk, and a variety of papers scattered across the floor. Purple mats and meditation cushions were stacked neatly in the corners. He smiled and breathed in the faint scent of incense. “Did you have a difficult time finding students? Your location is away from the mainstream where business thrives.”
“The first year was a struggle,” she said. “I invested in some advertising and sponsored workshops for the community, so it helped with new clients and referrals.” She shook her head, remembering those months of hard work as she struggled to make a profit on a business she believed in, but others mocked. “I’ve reached a point where there seems to be enough demand to increase classes and hire more help. There’s so much more I want to do here. When I first decided to develop the Yoga and Arts Center I knew I wanted a place where people could escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I stumbled upon this building when I visited a meditation retreat close by. I knew immediately this was what I had been looking for.”
He watched her from across the room with curiosity. “This was an enormous undertaking for anyone. Did you have help?”
The shutter dropped over her face and closed off all emotion. “No,” she said softly. “I did this by myself.”
“But now you need me.”
Her gaze cut to his. Fire glittered within her eyes, reminding him of emeralds catching the sun. “I needed an opportunity to show how my program could work. If you had declined my proposal, I would’ve found someone else.”
He closed the distance between them. Her head tilted back to look at him with defiance. “But you didn’t.” Logan ran his finger along the side of her jaw. “You found me. You’re mine now. You belong to me.”
Raw, sexual energy sizzled in the air. She fought for breath as her fingers curled into tight fists to hold herself back from touching him. She wanted him. Wanted his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, his taste against her tongue. All the weeks of abstinence only increased her hunger. Logan growled something under his breath, either a curse or a prayer, and his head lowered toward hers. His arms reached out to snag her and draw her closer and—
“Chandler!”
Her name echoed through the room. He released her, never taking his gaze from her face. Chandler shook herself out of the sensual spell and turned, torn between relief and regret at the interruption.
Harry rushed through the entrance in his usual manner and stopped short when he spotted them. “Oh!” He hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.”
She waved him in. “It’s okay, we were just finishing up.” She made the introductions and watched them shake hands. Logan acted as if he was measuring up a business rival. Poor Harry looked confused. “Logan was just leaving. He doesn’t like to be away from the office for too long.”
“Oh, I have plenty of time,” Logan drawled. “My schedule is clear for the afternoon. So, you’re Chandler’s lawyer?”
Harry beamed with pride. “Yes, Chandler is my first official client. She was one of the only people who supported me though school. Even after I failed the bar she always believed in me.”
“I gather you two are close friends.”
Harry nodded. “We’ve known each other for years. Whenever I’m under pressure she helps me relax. I knew when she decided to open the Yoga and Arts Center she’d become a success. You were lucky to snatch her up before she’s in demand.”
“She helps you relax with yoga?”
“Sure. She also gives a great massage. Knows all the pressure points.”
Chandler almost groaned. She knew her friend’s intentions were good, but the look on Logan’s face was quite distressing. He looked as if he could cheerfully strangle her friend. “Harry, is there something you needed?” she interrupted.
“Want to have dinner tomorrow night? I need to talk to you about some things happening at work. Anyway, I’ve been craving Italian lately.”
The room fell silent. Chandler dared a look at Logan’s face and was sorry she did. He looked ready to strike.
His lean, muscled length coiled tight, as if to hold himself back. His jaw clenched and unclenched. She watched with fascination as his gaze came to rest upon her with a warning deep in its depth.
A thrill shot through her at his obvious jealousy. It seemed his control over the last week was finally at an end. He thought something was going on between her and Harry, and wanted to put an end to it. He had the same look he always gave Richard when he caught them together.
Chandler bit back the explanations on the tip of her tongue meant to soothe his worries. Logan Grant had started this game the moment he kissed her. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to put him in his place by making him think she could be involved with Harry. Time she taught him a lesson.
Her lips curved in a smile. “Sounds good. Why don’t I meet you at seven?”
“Great. We’ll talk then. Nice to meet you, Logan.” He turned and left. The clock ticked and she stood her ground as she waited for Logan to finally speak.
“You will not go to dinner with him.”
She blinked. “You’re joking.”
His face set like hard stone. Slowly, he walked towards her with a predatory grace. “Consider your affair with him over. If something was meant to happen between the two of you it would have occurred years ago.”
She took one step backward for each one of his. “You have no right to tell me what to do. You know nothing about the relationship I have with Harry.”
“I know you’re not in love with him.” Arrogance pulsed through his tone. “I know you don’t respond to him the way you do to me. I also know he’s not right for you. Just like Richard Thorne isn’t for you.”
“And you are?”
His jaw tightened. “I won’t let you go running to your ex-lover because you’re scared to death of the way I make you feel. You do the same thing with Thorne. You’re with him because he makes you feel safe.”
“Safe is good.”
“Safe is cowardly.”
He advanced a step. She retreated as she said, “Harry is sweet. You’re overbearing and insufferable. I won’t let you walk all over me.”
“You don’t belong with him.”
“Harry listens to my ideas and supports me. You’re domineering and a pigheaded.”
“I won’t let you do things that will get you in trouble.”
Chandler continued backing up from his looming figure. “Harry’s patient and understanding. He'd never rush me into bed without being my friend first.”
“I won’t wait around on the sidelines while you try to compare me to men in your past.”
“Harry would never demand something I’m not ready to give.”
“I won’t let you lie about your feelings.
She caught the gleam of triumph in his eyes too late. Her back slammed against the wall and trapped her from further retreat. She tilted her chin in defiance. He was so close she saw the heat in his eyes, smelled the musk of his cologne. She rallied her crumbling forces and battled for control over her treacherous body. “Harry would never use forceful tactics to get what he wanted.”
“Harry will never make love to you the way I will, Chandler.”
Her knees went weak and her gasp of outrage was smothered by his mouth over hers. He plundered her lips in a sensual invasion that drove the breath from her lungs. Heat exploded through her as his tongue thrust against hers, diving in and out of her mouth as if to plummet every dark secret, demanding her response, until she grasped his shoulders for balance and hung on. Her nails dug into the hard muscles as the searing kiss went on.
Raw sexual energy crackled between them as Logan slid his hands up her back to rip at the pins holding her hair. He dragged the honeyed strands through his fingers and murmured in pleasure as the heavy waves tumbled down to cloak them in a world of mindless abandonment.
She pressed her body against his, luxuriating in the feel of his hips cradling hers, the lean strength of his thighs, the bold evidence of his arousal. He pulled back, heard her strangled cry of protest, and re-slanted his mouth to kiss her more deeply. He used his lips and teeth and tongue to push her to the limits of control, until she became helpless beneath the onslaught and surrendered completely.
When he withdrew from her, it took a few moments to register the loss. She blinked in confusion and stared up at him. His eyes were hot and smoky as he gazed at her, but his words fell like icy drops of water and made her stiffen in shock.
“Cancel your dinner appointment with him. If you insist on starting this game, I’ll insist on finishing it.”
When she finally recovered enough to hurl some choice words at him she was too late.
He was already gone.
The following evening Chandler sipped her wine and gazed at the man who wreaked havoc with her life. Her dinner appointment with Harry had been postponed, replaced with one of Logan’s making.
She had picked up the phone a hundred times to cancel on Logan, then replaced the receiver while she raged at his incredible arrogance. The whole time she dressed she vowed he would not order her around like one of his employees. The only reason she hadn’t canceled was the business opportunity for her school. When he picked her up she acted cool and distant, prepared to ignore any apology or explanation he offered. It only angered her further when he’d taken her lead and treated her with utmost politeness and kept their conversation on a neutral basis.
She wanted to hit him over the head with a blunt object.
Chandler re-focused her attention on the conversation. “I’m pleased with the final negotiations,” Thomas Weatherall said. He glanced lovingly at his wife. “Time to relinquish some responsibilities and give Laura the attention she deserves. She’s been patient for too long.”
Laura laughed and laid her hand over her husband’s. “I knew what I was walking into when I married him, but I admit I’m looking forward to doing some traveling. With the kids grown we finally have time to do what we want.”