"Can I help you?"
Chandler realized she had no idea where he would be. "Ummm, I'm looking for a particular person. He may be visiting someone but I'm not sure who."
"What's the name?"
"Logan Grant."
The woman's smile grew warmer. "Oh, Mr. Grant. He's in the community room. Second floor. Make the first left out of the elevator."
"Thank you." She walked through the hallways, noting the clean, simple atmosphere of the rooms decorated in soothing blues and greens. Sunlight poured generously through the windows and fell upon cherry wood tables and comfortable cloth chairs. She wondered if the building catered to an exclusive crowd. Most nursing homes she knew gave off the scents of disinfectant and a gloomy glow. When the doors slid open on the second floor, she made a left and followed the frequent bursts of laughter echoing down the hall. She paused in the doorway and studied the scene before her.
A group of eight elderly men and women sat gathered around a large table. Most were in wheelchairs, others sat on high cushioned chairs. The sounds of Frank Sinatra boomed from the speakers and filled the room. Brightly colored chips were stacked up in piles in front of each person, and they all held cards in their hand. Logan sat at the head of the table with a fierce scowl upon his face. Then he threw one of his cards in the pile.
"I'm taking one card," he announced to the group.
A woman on his right giggled. "I think you're bluffing, babe. And I'm raising you five bucks to prove it."
She threw her chip into the circle with a confident air. The man next to her chewed on a toothpick and squinted at his cards. "Evelyn, you're a lousy player. You think everyone bluffs. That's why you've lost every hand."
"Well, one day someone's gonna bluff and I'm gonna win."
The man snorted with disgust. "You shouldn't even be allowed to play for a theory like that. Women."
Another woman threw her chip in. Chandler noticed she had two glasses full of water in front of her. One of the cups held her teeth. She gave a toothless grin and cackled. "Come on, Jim, you're pissed cause you lost the last three deals. Women have been beating your butt for years, and you can't handle it."
Jim chewed harder on his toothpick. "Hey, Shirley, I noticed you checking out that new guy in room 212. Pretty hot, huh?"
Shirley blushed and reached for her teeth. "I didn't notice."
Jim laughed. "Didn't notice, huh? Is that why I caught you staring when he leaned over to grab a soda in the cafeteria?"
"Shut up and play!"
"Fine, I'm in."
The rest of the group threw in their chips. Chandler watched Logan fight the smile on his lips, but his eyes lost the battle. For one moment, she caught him completely unguarded. Genuine affection warmed his gray eyes and turned them to smoke. His face softened into a playful expression, as he contemplated his cards and put on a show, pretending he had a hand that would blow them away. He teased them back, played the role of peacemaker when they fought, and made them laugh. Then his gaze slid up and locked with hers.
She held her breath. He stared at her for what seemed like hours, until she felt like a prey in his trap. She waited for his carved features to settle back into stone, but his expression didn't change. For those few seconds, he let her in and allowed her to see a part of him he kept hidden. Her stomach dipped and plunged. She glimpsed a man who experienced laughter and pain and caring.
A man who experienced love.
Then the moment was gone.
He rose from the table and motioned her over. "I fold." A combined groan echoed from the group. Jim called him a wimp. Logan chuckled. "You're mad cause you want more of my money. This is a ruthless crowd. Sure you guys don't want to come work for me?"
"Nah, you don't pay enough," Jim grumbled. Everyone cackled with laughter.
"Minimum wage, Jim. Just give me the word."
"I make more with Social Security."
Logan winked at her. "Actually, I'm excusing myself because this lovely lady will break my concentration. Chandler Santell, let me introduce you to the poker club."
He rattled off the list of names and she was greeted with a warm enthusiasm, except for Jim. He looked as if he was sizing her up to see if she was worth Logan's company. The realization that the elderly man was protective of the city's most ruthless businessman caused a spark of tenderness.
Logan called over one of the nurses. "Lucy, take my place, and don't let them intimidate you."
Jim snorted. "Yeah, and why don't you change the music while you're at it. Sinatra's old news. Put on the new Kid Rock CD."
Logan shook his head and guided her out of the room. They didn't speak as he led her toward a lounge marked PRIVATE QUARTERS. She watched while he stopped before the window and stared out at the lake. Old faded Levis clung to his thighs and muscled calves. He wore a navy short sleeve Ralph Lauren polo shirt which showed off corded arms sprinkled with dark hair. A gold Rolex shimmered around his wrist. He stood with legs slightly apart, hands on hips, his powerful shoulders thrown back with an unconscious male arrogance. She shivered as she recognized her body's instant reaction. The man was a pure sex symbol, but she refused to let her mind be weak any longer. Because he was also a liar.
And dangerous.
"How did you find me?"
His tone was mellow. His deep voice stroked her like a velvet glove. Chandler cleared her throat. "I called Laura. Told her it was an emergency."
He nodded. Then turned. She was struck full force by his presence, and the raw masculinity that filled the room. "Is it an emergency?"
Her eyes narrowed with bitterness. "Probably not for you. But when someone lies to me, I like to know the reason why."
One brow lifted. "Sounds serious."
She waited for more but he stood there, staring at her. The anger came back, hot and demanding. "Serious for people who believe in the truth. Not so serious for people who don't care who they hurt to get what they want."
"Do you regret last night?"
Color flooded her cheeks. She shifted her feet for better position. "Last night never should have happened. It won't again."
"Won't it?" he murmured.
Temper exploded within her. She reminded herself to breathe calmly. "No, it won't. I don't sleep with men who treat me like a plaything."
"I thought I treated you like the passionate woman you are."
"Why did you order a dossier on me?"
He stepped back as if struck. Surprise glimmered in his eyes, then quickly turned to regret. He cursed under his breath. "How do you know?"
She clenched her fists. "That's the question? No denial? No explanation? Oh, but of course, that's a businessman answer, isn't it? Fine, this is my answer--it doesn't matter. You admitted the truth. Consider our contract null and void."
She turned to walk out the door. In seconds, his hand shot out and clasped her upper arm.
"Don't be stupid, Chandler. Don't throw your entire school away because of your temper. Think for a minute."
She did. Her words had been impulsive, but pride kept her silent. He turned her gently around and tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I did order the dossier. And you're right, it doesn't matter how you found out. I'm asking for one thing."
"You have no right to ask for anything." She practically spit out the words.
"I know. I'm asking anyway. Hear me out. If you want to leave after I'm done, I won't stop you."
She told herself to walk out the door without a glance back. Her mind directed her to act. Her heart told her to stay. For a little while longer.
"Fine. You've got five minutes."
He nodded and settled down in one of the chairs. "It's been a long time since I've wanted to trust somebody. I told you before, I won't make any excuses to how I've lived in the past. I did what I had to do. But when you walked into my life, I wanted something else. For the first time, I wanted to know what it would be like to trust a woman. Have a relationship."
He let out a hum
orless laugh. "But I'm still a businessman. Your father called my office to set up a meeting. A meeting to discuss a huge merger. I've been trying to get him for years, and he never made a move. You walk into my life, and suddenly I get this phone call. Something didn't add up, so I hired a PI to check your background."
Dizziness swept over her, so she grabbed the chair opposite Logan. He spoke in a factual manner. "When the dossier got delivered to my office, I started to read it. Dry details about your childhood. How your mom died. Then I stopped."
"Why?"
"It wasn't enough." He laid his palms flat out on the table and leaned over. "I wanted to learn about you, but not through a statistic report. I want you to tell me what happened with your father, and who hurt you in the past, and what made you the woman you are. I knew if I read it, you'd never forgive me. I knew we wouldn't have a chance."
His jaw clenched with resolve. "So, I threw it away. I went with my gut and decided to take a shot. I'm going to trust you. I'm going to trust you're not in league with your father, and you don't know what's going on either."
The fight went out of her. Alexander Santell was trying to control her life again. She had to make a decision. She could trust Logan to stand up to her father and make his own choices. Or she could flee like she did before.
"You lied to me," she whispered.
He shook his head. "No, Chandler. I'd never lie to you. Ask me a direct question and I'll give you the answer. Telling you I ordered a dossier and threw it out didn't seem to be something you needed to know. I never lied about my feelings for you."
"What about Richard?"
"What about him?"
"Did you threaten him?" she asked.
His face tightened. "I warned him. Told him I knew he was playing games and to stay away from you."
"Did you threaten his job?"
"No. That would be stupid. He's an excellent worker. But something is going on, and I haven't been able to figure it out. I don't want you involved with his power plays."
She made herself ask the next question. "Do you think he's involved with my father?"
"I don't know. I'll find out, but in the meantime he needs to keep his distance."
"You had no right to get involved in my relationship with Richard."
A smile touched his lips. "I had every right. You let me show you things no man has before. You gave me part of yourself, and I'm not about to stand back and let another man try to hurt you."
She closed her eyes and searched for the answer. She had to choose which man to believe. Either way, she wasn't ready to admit the whole truth about her father to anyone. Her past pained her, and she needed to explore her emotions before she made another leap of faith. This time she needed to be sure of who to trust.
"I don't know you." She opened her eyes, and knew he could see the raw fear reflected there. "I'm not sure how much I can trust you."
He nodded. "I know. I won't ask about your past. You can tell me when the time is right."
"What do you want?"
"An honest chance. Stop fighting me and yourself. And I'll try to give you what you need." He shook his head in mock humor. "Not that I know how good I am with this. I'm more the Type-A personality. Not your normal sensitive millennium man."
She laughed. "It's okay. I realized that immediately."
"Do you believe me about the dossier?"
She looked him in the eye. Chandler was amazed at the simple answer she uttered automatically. "Yes." Her gut said he gave her the truth. All he asked for was time. She'd never experienced such complicated emotions with a man before, and if she walked away she'd always regret. She'd learned long ago not to live life with regrets. "Yes, I believe you," she repeated.
A gentle smile curved his lips, the one she'd seen when he spoke with the elderly residents. "Good. Now we can get down to business."
"What business?"
"Getting to know me." He settled back in the chair. "Ask your questions."
She bit her lip to stop from laughing at his efficient demeanor. "Hmmm, somehow I didn't think getting to know each other would be like a business meeting."
"Best way to learn about a person. Direct questions and answers. What do you want to know?"
She smothered a giggle. The opportunity to ask anything was too tempting to ignore so she tried to pick a good one. "Are you into sports?"
He snorted as if disgusted with such an easy question. "Racquetball and skiing. Hate football. And I'm not afraid to admit I'm a Mets fan. Gotta love the underdogs, even if they haven't won a World Series since 1986. Next."
She wrinkled her nose and thought hard. "First girlfriend. Tell me about her."
"Sally Demarco. Went to the junior prom together. Dumped me for a football player."
"Is that why you hate football?"
"Very cute. Next question."
"Favorite color?"
"Blue. Not too loud and not too fashionable."
"Interesting. Favorite meal?"
"Anything I don't have to cook. Come on, ask me a real question."
"Why do you come here every Sunday?"
That threw him for a moment. Then he grinned like he was proud of her. "Good one. I like to visit with older people. It's amazing how much you learn by their stories."
She waited for more but he seemed to be finished. Slowly, she reached out and took his hand. Startled, he watched her interlace all five fingers with his. She smiled. The warmth of her flesh against his made a shudder wrack his body. "Now tell me the truth," she said softly.
Chandler watched the demons dance within the depths of his eyes, fighting to get out. "When my mother got sick, I didn't have enough money to take care of her. We had no insurance. Private care centers were too expensive, and I couldn't spend all day with her. She had nowhere to go except for the state nursing home."
She winced when she imagined the horrors of a little boy trying to make the right decisions for his mother. "You had no other family to help?"
"Nope. Mom was an only child. My father had taken off years ago and wouldn't have helped anyway."
"What happened?"
"She died there. I was at school. I went to visit her in the afternoon and her bed was already occupied. They never even called the school, just let me find out when I got there. Told me it was some kind of mix up and they were truly sorry." He shook his head as if to clear the memory. "Anyway, the place was a horror. I decided I'd make a safe home for people with no money to go. Like a private institution, but with no pressure of funding."
She blinked. "Logan, did you build this?"
"Yes. This is what I couldn't do for my mother when she was around. But every time I see a person here smile, or thank me, or meet one of their families, it's all worth it."
Sudden tears burned behind her eyelids. "You didn't name it after yourself?"
He shrugged. "I hate that stuff. I don't want to be a picture on the wall as founder, and my mother wouldn't want that either. I want to be involved with every person here." He looked disgusted with himself. "Oh, hell, now I sound like a wimp. Just like Jim said."
She laughed and lowered her forehead to their clasped hands. One tear ran down her cheek and splashed against his wrist. His fingers tightened around hers. "You make me crazy, Logan Grant," she muttered. "Before you know it, we're going to discover behind that Type A personality lies a true millennium man. Sensitivity and all."
"Don't let the rumor get around." She raised her head and smiled. He smiled back. "Want a complete tour?"
"I'd love it."
"Just watch out when I introduce you to Mr. Baxter. He likes to pinch ladies' backsides."
"That's okay. Men deserve a thrill now and then."
"Not that kind of thrill. One look at your butt and he'll drop dead of a heart attack."
She laughed. "Thanks for the complement."
He leaned down and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. One finger trailed down her cheek. "Thanks for giving me a shot."
Electricity
crackled between them. Sexual awareness burned hot, taking away her breath. He sensed the connection and dropped his hand to allow her the space. Chandler fought for composure, fought the need to hurl herself into his arms and let him take her for another ride of pure pleasure. She regained control, then nodded.
Logan smiled as if he knew her thoughts. Then he led her outside.
Chapter 8
*
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Why are you--"
"I tried to--"
They both stopped at once and laughed together. Logan moved further into the conference room. Chandler shifted her feet. Her eyes roved over his figure, and she knew a silly grin tugged at her lips. She'd tossed and turned most of the night, haunted by erotic images dancing behind her closed eyelids that kept her from sleep. Now, with him standing before her, she felt like a teenager seeing her boyfriend after a night of heavy necking. "What were you going to say?" She fought the impulse to pull his head toward her for a long, passionate kiss.