Eclipse of the Heart (8 page)

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?