She punched him in the arm. "I have to break you of these terrible Medieval ideas. The first chore to help you confront your narrow-mindedness is to cook me dinner."
One black brow shot up. "Cook?"
"Yes, you know, to make. Prepare food. Cook." She twisted around to study him with suspicion. "You do know how to cook, don't you?"
"I made hamburgers on the grill once."
Chandler closed her eyes and groaned. "Wonderful. No wonder you have so many employees working for you. You can go to a different house each night without anyone becoming suspicious." She rose from the bed, glanced around the room, and plucked a white shirt draped across a tapestry covered chair. He watched her with a wolfish grin. She tossed him a threatening glare and buttoned the shirt all the way to the neck. The hem fell almost to her knees. She rolled up the cuffs, pushed back her hair, and walked out of the bedroom.
"Where are you going?" he called out, admiring the way her derriere swung enchantingly when she walked.
"To see what you have in the house to make dinner."
Smiling, she found her way into the kitchen. Chandler knew immediately Logan barely used the room. New copper pots dangled above an old world Spanish custom cabinetry island. Smooth earth-toned marbled counter-tops graced the room. The elegant off-white ceramic tile floor shone with a high gleam, and all the stainless steel appliances looked to be the latest gourmet's delight.
Sighing, she opened the sub-zero refrigerator and made a mental list. Hamburger meat and a piece of chicken. One head of iceberg lettuce. Various containers half filled with concoctions she barely recognized. Bread, cheese, milk, bacon, and two eggs. She checked the rest of the compartments in horror.
A pair of strong arms circled her waist from behind. "Find anything interesting?" He splayed his palms wide over her belly.
"You have no vegetables."
"You say that like I've committed a crime."
She turned to face him with concern. "Logan, from the looks of this refrigerator, I'd say you eat a lot of take-out or strictly red meat."
"So?"
She shook her head and worried her lip between her teeth. His eyes watched the action with interest. "Vegetables are the key to a healthy diet. They supply you with all the nutrition needed on a daily basis. If you want to keep up this hectic pace, your body needs them desperately."
"I know what else it needs desperately," he growled against her ear.
"Logan, I'm serious. Don't you have someone to cook for you?"
He shrugged. "Nah. I use a cleaning service for the house, but I don't like the idea of a stranger in my kitchen. I prefer my solitude."
"There are professional chefs who could prepare something healthy for you."
"I work late into the night, sweetheart. I'm lucky if I can grab a home cooked meal once a month." He studied her face for a few moments. "Are you really worried about me?"
"Yes. You have to start changing your habits. Tonight."
He watched her stalk up the stairs and back into the bedroom. Hiding a smile, he felt a rush of pleasure from her obvious concern with his diet. He couldn't remember the last time a woman cared about what he ate or how hard he worked. Her worry caused a heady feeling he was actually starting to enjoy. He followed her. "What are you doing?"
She picked through the pile of clothes on the carpet. "I'm getting dressed to go to the store. I want to pick up a supply of vegetables so we can cook tonight. Do you have a Wok?"
"Hmmm, somewhere in the cabinets, I've never used it. You're not going anywhere."
"What?"
He watched in amusement as she tumbled back on the bed, one leg stuck in her jeans. "I'll go to the store, just give me a list. You don't have your car back, remember?"
She stopped struggling into the tight material. "I forgot. Are you sure you can handle it?"
"Just give me a description of what each vegetable looks like and I'll be fine."
"You're kidding."
"Yes, I'm kidding." He walked to the edge of the bed and eased her one leg out of the jeans. Kneeling down, he slid his palms up over her thighs and parted them gently. Her breath caught in her throat, and incredibly, her body quickened. His lips curved into a sensual smile as he watched her reaction to his touch.
"Oh no, not again."
A low rumble of laughter rose from his chest. He pushed her down on the bed, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the shirt, displaying her naked body to his hungry gaze. He kissed the tops of her thighs, nipping at the tender flesh, working his way inward. "Oh, yes, Chandler again. I'll never tire of loving you."
His mouth found the inner core of her desire, and her sweet wild cries echoed through the air, as Logan taught her a new way to fly.
Chandler hummed the words with Frank Sinatra as she uncorked the bottle of Pinot Grigio she discovered in the wine rack. Pouring the golden liquid into two glasses, she sipped from hers as she cut up the chicken into neat squares and waited for Logan to return. After he left, she'd taken a hot shower, letting the stinging jets of water soothe each muscle and smiling when she thought over their last encounter. The way he kissed her. Touched her. Shown her ecstasy she'd never known existed.
And here she was, in a man's house, dressed in his robe, cooking him dinner, doing nothing but making mad, passionate love for the entire day, and never feeling more happy or alive than she had in her life.
She was totally in love with Logan Grant.
Now he knew it.
She squeezed a little lemon on each piece of chicken and wondered how he really felt about her confession. He'd wrung the words from her lips countless times, and each time he kissed her fiercely, as if she'd said the words he wished to hear. But he never responded with his own feelings. Never told her what he wanted from the relationship. Never said the words back.
Because he wasn't in love with her.
Using her forearm to push her hair away from her face, she attacked the lone head of lettuce and shredded each piece with total concentration. She didn't want to think of any negative thoughts this weekend, but it was something she had to face. Logan may never allow himself to fall in love with a woman, choosing instead to give everything to his business. How long could she go on, waiting to see if his feelings would evolve into love? How long could she wait on the sidelines, hoping one day he'd change?
Then there was the Yoga and Arts Center. The six month trial period would be up soon, and she'd be faced with a decision. The outcome of their contract decided the whole future of her business. If Logan made a practical decision to terminate the arrangement, would she be able to accept it? Could she be involved with a man who never let his emotional entanglements interfere with business? And if he did decide to sign the long term contract, would she always wonder if it was pity and responsibility toward her that made him accept the offer?
The door slammed and interrupted her thoughts. Logan entered the kitchen. Rivulets of water streamed down his face and hair, sopping into the brown paper bag he carried under one arm. "It's raining?" she asked in surprise.
"Just started on the way back." He threw his jacket over the chair and studied her. He seemed to enjoy the picture she made wrapped up in his floor length terry robe. "You took a shower."
"Yes, I didn't think you'd mind."
"The only thing I mind is that you didn't wait for me." He raked his wet hair back with his fingers and shook off the excess water. His t-shirt clung to him, damp from the moisture, and outlined his broad chest.
Chandler stared at him for a few moments, loving the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled, the full sensual line of his mouth, the lean muscled grace when he moved. At that moment she didn't care about the problems between them. She only knew being with him fulfilled her in a way she'd never experienced before, and she would take each moment he gave her as a precious gift, greedily storing up as many memories as she could.
Emotion struck her full force. She closed the distance between them and hurled herself into his arms. She sunk
all ten fingers into the midnight depth of his hair and urged his mouth down on hers. Her tongue thrust between his lips savoring his unique taste. They kissed each other hungrily, Logan's hands gliding down her back, pulling her hips into his as their tongues battled in an intimate game, until, breathless, she pulled away.
He groaned. "If that's the way I'm greeted every time I walk in the door, I'll be sure to do it often."
Chandler laughed. "I'm happy." She interlaced her fingers with his and brought it up between them admiring the size and strength of his hand in hers.
He smiled down at her and opened her palm to place a tender kiss. "I'm just as happy." His gaze wandered over her face as if searching for something. She caught a familiar, wicked gleam in charcoal eyes that made her suddenly wary.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I was thinking about all the benefits of vegetables."
She didn't trust the lazy smile that curved his lips. "You agree vegetables are the key to a healthy diet?"
"Not exactly." He crouched down and tossed her over his shoulder, chuckling at her outraged cry of protest. With determined strides, he started back to the bedroom. "I'm just grateful they can be eaten raw. This way, we won't have to worry about our meal getting cold. I've suddenly decided to work up a better appetite."
She tried to keep her tone dignified as he carried her upstairs, but a giggle escaped. "Next time I'll introduce you to the benefits of fruit."
Logan chuckled and kicked the bedroom door closed.
The living room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated by the last few crackling embers burning in the fireplace. Flashes of lightning exploded outside. The only sound to break the peaceful silence was the steady pounding of the rain as it beat against the windows and the distant rumble of thunder. Chandler's head rested comfortably against Logan's chest as they sat wrapped in each other arms on the sofa. Her fingers played with the fringe on the soft blanket cocooning them.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked.
Chandler lowered her voice to match his husky tone. "I was thinking about my mother."
"What was she like?"
She smiled, and her face glowed with memories. "Like an angel. She had long golden hair and a smile that lit up the room. She laughed all the time and tried to fill each moment with happiness."
"Tell me what happened." His hands stroked her hair.
"She died when I was nine. She had cancer. When she was confined to bed we'd make a tent in her room and pretend it was a fort. We'd eat together and play games." Chandler paused, thinking back. "I know my father loved her, but he never had time for her. There was always the business to run, and the bigger the company grew the more time he needed to spend there. It finally got a point where he was never home, and the fights would start late at night, angry whispers I overheard through the walls." She sighed. "I think my father feels guilty about her death even to this day. After she died it only made things worse. I couldn't seem to reach him. He practically lived at the office, and then he started to send me there after school."
She laughed shortly. "While everyone else practiced for cheerleading tryouts, I became best friends with the secretaries outside his office."
"So one day you decided to leave."
She heard the question in his voice. She knew she should share the details of her past with him but the humiliation of the event still hurt; the anger that her own father could use her as a commodity to further his business dealings. She hesitated for a moment, torn between not wanting to have any secrets between them and wanting to keep it buried for a while longer. She didn't want to spoil their time together sharing hurtful memories. Vowing to tell him the whole story at a later time, she repeated, "Yes, so one day I decided to leave."
The driving rhythm of the rain filled the silence. "Do you ever see your father?" he asked.
"Not really. We speak occasionally on the phone but it always ends up in an argument. He thinks I should be married by now."
Logan stiffened. His hand stilled on her thigh. "And you disagree with him?"
"Let's just say I disagree with the type of man he wants me to marry. Marriage is another business arrangement to my father, and I refuse to be involved with one of his deals."
He caught the bitter tone in her voice and almost groaned. Half of him longed to tell her the whole truth; her father had approached him with the business deal of a lifetime, all in exchange for marrying his daughter. Logan had learned Alexander Santell had also offered the same deal to Thorne. If Logan had any doubt of the way Chandler felt about his attorney, he could sever any lingering emotions she may harbor for Thorne by telling her the attorney was courting her because of her father's deal. The other half resisted, buying himself more time until he could figure out what action to take. Something inside him balked at exposing her father's dirty dealings. Instinctively he knew Chandler still held a tiny thread of hope that one day she'd be able to patch up the relationship with her father. Logan needed to find another way out of this mess. He decided to change the subject. Fast.
"What made you decide to open the Yoga and Arts Center?"
Her legs wrapped around his as she snuggled closer to his body. "I studied yoga and meditation for two years and became certified as an instructor. I worked a couple of different jobs to support myself before I decided to buy my own building and set up my business. Harry had a friend at the bank who helped me with a loan.
"But then I got to a point where even though my clients were expanding, my bills seemed to be tripling. I struggled more and more to meet those monthly payments. Something had to break. I couldn't get another loan to keep me afloat, so I needed to come up with an idea."
"It was an excellent idea." He trailed one finger up the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. "Except for that crazy escape clause you threw in."
"The escape clause made you sign the contract," she retorted, letting one hand explore below his waist. His breath hissed through his teeth. "Logan, what are we going to do?"
"I'm coming up with a few ideas."
"No, about our working relationship. About the contract." Her eyebrows lowered in a slight frown. "There could be complications."
With one swift movement he lifted her up and on top of his body, positioning her so her knees straddled his hips. Her hair fell in glorious waves down her back and brush against his skin. Her flesh glowed like burnished gold against the dying embers of the fire. Their figures threw shadows against the wall, mirroring their image.
"I'm going to take care of everything, Chandler." His hands cupped her heavy breasts. He watched her emerald eyes glitter with desire. "We'll work it out. The only complication we need to worry about right now is how I'm going to slake this hunger I have for you day and night."
A sensual smile curved her mouth. She tossed her hair with a shake and laughed. It was a low husky growl, a sexy sound that made his gut clench. At that moment, she reminded him of an ancient pagan goddess; a free spirit who let her body guide her in her pleasures, whose eyes mirrored the wildness in her soul. She leaned over him. Her hands ran teasingly down his chest in a light caress.
"Then we should do something about that complication, shouldn't we?"
She lowered her mouth to his, her tongue tracing the outline of his lips, slipping between them in a slow, sensual rhythm that made his breath catch in his throat and a low moan rumble from his chest. His hips were held captive by her legs as she moved her mouth down his body. She nibbled on his neck, her teeth scraped the muscles in his shoulders, and she playfully bit and licked at his masculine nipples that tightened in response to her touch. Her hands explored the carved flatness of his stomach and roamed lower, tickling the hairs on his inner thighs. She moved inward, cupping his shaft that throbbed and grew even harder beneath her fingers. Logan fought for control when she squeezed him lightly, stroking him, whispering hot words of what she wanted to do to him, with him.
The living room windows shook beneath the driving onslaught of wind
, rain and thunder. Trees bent and danced in the storm, casting dark shadows on the wall.
She continued the teasing, sensual torment, moving her mouth down his body, her breath warm and moist against his skin as he waited in anguish, torn between ordering her to stop and begging her to continue.
"I want to do everything you've done to me," she whispered against him. "I want to drive you to the ends of pleasure and pull you back again, until the only thing you can think about is how deeply you can get inside of me, over and over again."
Logan felt the first touch of her mouth on his core, felt her taste him tentatively, then with more boldness as she drove him to the edge of his control. His hands clenched into tight fists at his side, and a steady stream of both a curses and a prayers escaped his lips. He pulled her back up the length of his body covered her mouth with his.
This time she was the one to pull away to reach for the wrapped packet, taking the necessary precautions. Then she took him inside of her with one single motion.
A flash of lightning lit the room. The house shook with a crack of thunder. The shadows on the wall joined together in an ancient steady rhythm, Chandler's head thrown back in ecstasy, Logan's hands grasping her hips, holding her in place while the plunging motions melded into one. They arched together as another explosion of thunder ripped through the air, the sound overpowering their passionate cries as they came together for the last time. Then Chandler slumped over Logan, his hands holding her tightly to him, their breathing mingling together as the storm raged outside, and they drifted into sleep, clasped in one another's arms.