Blind Date with the Boss

by Barbara Hannay

  Whatever the cause, she wasn’t going to pay any attention to her aches. No way could she let them spoil this fabulous night.

  This perfect night.

  Logan drove on in silence, but for Sally it was a comfortable silence. Curled languorously with her cheek against the soft leather upholstery, she stared out into the slanting rain and decided that perfect was the only word to describe this evening. Nothing had marred the Hospital Ball’s dazzling brilliance.

  She’d worn a spectacular gown. Logan had been dreamily handsome and a flatteringly attentive partner. Carissa and Geoff had made her feel completely at ease. And she’d danced with countless good-looking guys, all apparently rolling in money. To cap it off, the dancing lessons, that she’d fretted over, couldn’t have turned in better results.

  With a faraway smile, she rubbed Chloe’s locket. The talisman had worked its magic and her godmother would have been proud of her. Come to think of it, her parents and brothers would have been proud, too. The menacing shadows of the past were vanquished. She was a new woman.

  Any way Sally looked at it, her decision to come to Sydney had been the right one.

  Logan pulled up outside her house and she felt a leap of happy anticipation. It was about to happen. The perfect ending to this perfect night. Best case scenario, she’d be with Logan till dawn.

  And the only improvement on that would be spending the rest of her life with him. She’d fallen so deeply in love with this man that she feared there was no way back.

  ‘Well,’ she said, in a what-happens-next voice, ‘thanks for a wonderful evening, Logan.’

  He turned off the ignition and released his seat belt. ‘I have to thank you, Sally. For everything.’ He leaned towards her and touched her cheek with the knuckle of his forefinger. ‘I owe you so much.’

  Something about his manner—an edge of carefulness and formality—bothered her. Where was last night’s easy banter? Where were his ready smiles? His passion? They were alone, for heaven’s sake. Why wasn’t she in Logan’s arms?

  All night she’d seen the hunger in his eyes; she’d felt the heat of his longing whenever he’d touched her. But now she could only sense a new distance between them. A frightening distance.

  She hunted for something light to say. ‘Now I can boast that I’ve danced with the man who’s danced with Diana Devenish.’

  He gave a half-hearted chuckle.

  ‘I’m so proud of you, Logan.’

  ‘The credit’s all yours, Sally.’

  She shook her head. ‘You were very brave. Carissa told me you used to get stage fright.’

  ‘Carissa has too much to say.’

  He looked worried as he said this and he sighed heavily. Desperate to avoid ending this fabulous night on such an unsatisfactory note, Sally said quickly, ‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’

  His eyes flashed. ‘Thanks, I’d like that.’

  Phew. Thank heavens he wasn’t running away. Sally told herself she’d been worrying about nothing.

  ‘There should be an umbrella,’ he said, peering into the gloom of the back seat. ‘Yes, here it is. Wait there. We don’t want to get your lovely dress wet.’

  The rain was gusting strongly when Logan opened Sally’s door and he tried to shield her with the umbrella as well as his body. She gathered up her long skirt to keep it clear of puddles, slipped off her strappy gold shoes, and they ran together through the rain to her front door.

  Breathless, she fumbled in her clutch bag for her key while Logan closed the umbrella and set it in a corner of the porch.

  The door swung open and he followed her inside. Sally switched on the light in the front hallway and she turned to him expectantly. Now he would haul her into his lovely strong arms.

  But no.

  Logan stood stiffly, hands tightly clenched at his sides. His jaw was clenched too, and his dark eyes held frightening shadows. He gave the slightest shake of his head, as if to warn her gently of impending danger, and fear strafed through her like a deadly bullet.

  ‘I was hoping we could talk,’ he said.

  Talk? Not even a kiss? After last night’s incredible passion? After the glamour and romance of the ball?

  Sally needed to close her eyes as she adjusted to this. What did Logan want to talk about? Surely it could only be bad news.

  Was he going to tell her that last night had been an aberration—a celebratory fling after the shock of almost losing his company? But what about the ball? Would he feel compelled to remind her that it had been no more than a charity commitment? Was it back to business as usual for the boss of Blackcorp and the front desk girl?

  Fighting disappointment, Sally tried to think straight, took a steadying breath. ‘The kitchen’s this way.’

  Logan followed her through to the cosy, bright kitchen. He took off his jacket, which had damp patches on the shoulders, and hung it on the back of a chair. In his white shirt and bow-tie, he seemed somehow bigger and Sally had to remember to breathe as she filled the kettle.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked. ‘I prefer tea at this time of night.’

  ‘So do I.’

  See, we’re compatible, she wanted to joke, but this was no longer a night for joking. While the water came to the boil, Logan leaned casually against the door of the fridge and she tried to look busy, getting the teapot and a tea strainer, mugs and sugar and a tin of shortbread.

  ‘I’ll need milk,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘If you could get it out of the fridge, please.’

  When their mugs were filled with tea—black with two sugars for Logan, white with one for Sally—she suggested they go through to the lounge room.

  ‘I’d prefer to stay here,’ Logan said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  Oh, yes. The lounge room held untold dangers. The sofa, for instance.

  ‘Take a seat, then,’ she said, pulling out a chair for herself. She thought how incongruous they must look, sitting at a scrubbed pine kitchen table in their glamorous evening finery, sipping tea like an old married couple.

  Don’t even think that word.

  Unwillingly, she asked, ‘What did you want to talk about?’

  Logan’s mouth turned down and he stared at the pattern on the side of his mug. ‘We’ve had two wonderful evenings,’ he said and then he paused and looked uncomfortable.

  Oh, help. This was terrible.

  ‘But you don’t want me to get the wrong idea,’ Sally said quietly.

  He grimaced and looked more uncomfortable than ever. ‘There’s something I should have told you, Sally.’

  A cold chill gripped her stomach. ‘There’s someone else?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘You’re not secretly engaged, or anything like that?’

  ‘Nothing like that.’

  Sally waited.

  ‘But I should have warned you that I’m totally committed to my business and I will be for some time. I can’t afford any kind of emotional attachments. I’ve put my personal life on hold.’

  ‘Really? How long will it be on hold?’

  ‘For another five years,’ he said.

  This sounded ridiculous to Sally. ‘So last night was the last time you’ll make love for five years? Get serious, Logan.’

  He looked embarrassed. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘But you’re telling me that you’re not even open for a casual relationship.’

  His eyes registered surprise and he seemed to have to think about this before he replied. He sighed heavily. ‘You’re not that kind of girl.’

  No, she wasn’t, but this was a battle and she was a fighter. ‘You don’t know what kind of girl I am.’

  ‘I know enough to be sure I’m not right for you. You’d end up getting hurt, Sally, and I’d hate that. That’s why I think it would be wise if we took a step back from each other. Put everything back on a business footing.’

  How could he be so calm about this? Hadn’t last night meant anything? Damn him. He was as bad as h
er bossy brothers, deciding whose emotions he was going to protect and whose he was going to stuff up. ‘If you’re trying to protect me, don’t bother. I don’t need it.’

  Logan’s attempt at a smile failed. He looked unhappily at his mug and fiddled with the handle.

  Sally found it hard to keep anger from her voice. ‘Just for the record, Logan, I wasn’t expecting you to get down on your knees tonight and offer a proposal of marriage.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ve offended you.’

  ‘I’m tougher than you think.’

  Warmth crept into his eyes and the skin around them creased sexily.

  Unfair. Why did he have to look so attractive when he was busily rejecting her? ‘I think you owe me a better explanation,’ she said but, before he could reply, she remembered, with a sharp pang of dismay, her last conversation with Hattie. She groaned.

  Logan sent her a wary glance.

  ‘Your grandmother warned me that this was likely to happen.’

  ‘I’m cursed with a family of interfering women.’

  Sally couldn’t let him get away with that. ‘Hattie and Carissa are wonderful. I really like them. And I’m sure your mother must be nice too.’

  ‘She’s very nice. But at least she’s safely out of the way at the moment—caravanning around Australia.’

  ‘Hattie told me that too.’ His parents were travelling together. And Hattie had also mentioned that Logan was funding their travel. Did he have an urge to manage and protect everyone? Hattie? His parents? Her?

  ‘Did Hattie also tell you about my father’s bankruptcy?’

  ‘No.’ But Sally realised that it must be significant. Logan had mentioned a family bankruptcy yesterday and he’d indicated his fear of it happening again.

  ‘My father had no real head for business,’ he said. ‘He gambled on the most reckless schemes. Our family lost everything.’

  ‘Was that when you had to leave your private school?’ she asked, remembering what he’d told her at the team-building workshop.

  ‘Yes, but I coped.’ His face was stony. ‘My father didn’t. He had a nervous breakdown and couldn’t work again. My mother had to go out to work just to feed us.’

  ‘And you’ve never forgiven your father,’ Sally said quietly. She wanted to cry. How could Logan let his father’s mistakes rule his life?

  ‘It’s not so much a matter of forgiveness.’ Logan’s jaw jutted stubbornly. ‘I learned a valuable lesson about planning for the future. I have to make absolutely certain that my finances are completely secure before I consider marriage or a family. I won’t be looking for a permanent relationship for at least five years.’

  ‘What happens then?’ This time Sally didn’t even try to hold back her anger. ‘Will you take a quick look around and find Miss Right just sitting there, waiting to be snapped up?’

  ‘It’s not as simplistic as it sounds.’

  ‘It’s worse, Logan.’ He was looking stubborn and gorgeous in equal parts and Sally wanted to hit him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d made love to her. How could he have been so tender and beautiful with her, so intense and passionate and then walk away as if it meant nothing?

  Why couldn’t he see that emotional wellbeing was equally if not more important than financial security?

  ‘Tell me,’ she demanded hotly, ‘what will you do if you fall in love with someone before the five years are up?’

  He shook his head. ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘I won’t allow it to happen.’

  ‘You’re crazy!’ Something inside Sally snapped. She thumped her mug on the table and leapt to her feet. Tears clogged her throat as she raised her voice. ‘In another five years you might grow up.’

  ‘Sally!’ Logan was on his feet too. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘I’m not upset.’ They both knew it was a lie, but she wasn’t about to admit that she was angry, that she felt used, that her heart was ripping itself into a thousand pieces.

  ‘I suppose you’d like me to leave,’ he said quietly.

  No, no! She wanted to plead with him to stay and it almost killed her to be strong. She said icily, ‘You’ve made it obvious there’s no reason for you to stay. I’m sure you have a business to worry about!’

  Grim-faced, Logan picked up his damp jacket and shrugged into it.

  They didn’t speak as they walked to the door. This was unbearable. Logan’s hang-ups had ruined everything. Sally was sure he had strong feelings for her. They should have been taking up where they’d left off last night—like any normal couple who were madly attracted to each other. But he’d chosen to punish himself and punish her as well. How dared he play with her emotions?

  They reached the front hallway. ‘Sally, you’re a wonderful—’

  ‘Don’t!’ she shouted as her disappointment and anger exploded. ‘You’ve said enough.’ Fighting tears, she reached behind and slid down the zip on her dress.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  She glared at him. ‘Giving you back the dress you paid so much precious money for.’ She pushed the straps aside and wriggled her shoulders free.

  ‘B-but you don’t have to.’

  ‘I most certainly do. And you know it!’ The dress slid downwards in a silken whisper.

  Logan gaped at her. He looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel.

  Wearing nothing but her strapless bra and tiny panties, she stepped haughtily out of the golden pool of fabric, then scooped it up and thrust it into his hands. ‘Thanks a million, Mr Black. I adored wearing this.’

  She opened the door for him, but Logan was too stunned to move, so she set her hands squarely in his midriff and pushed him. He got the message then and backed away with the rippling gold gown in his hands.

  The last thing Sally saw was the pain and sad loss in his eyes. She had just enough time to slam the door before she burst into tears.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  UPSTAIRS in her bedroom, Sally threw herself on to the rose satin quilt and gave way to a bitter storm of weeping. She was so disillusioned, so mad with herself. She’d stupidly—stupidly—allowed herself to fall heart and soul for a man who had no capacity for returning her love.

  Last night, the most beautiful night of her life, she’d given Logan everything. Everything. They’d been so close. He’d shared his lovely fantasy—Brahms, wine, the red couch—and she was sure he’d felt true emotional connection, so much more than lust.

  And she’d bared her soul to him, had told him he’d healed her of her fear.

  How naïve she’d been. Now she knew there were many ways to be hurt. She couldn’t bear that Logan wasn’t in love with her. But that was the truth. Logan was only interested in her skills as a receptionist and as a dancing instructor and tonight, the second most wonderful night of her life, she’d been left with nothing but humiliation and heartbreak.

  When she’d finished crying about that, Sally cried for Chloe, who had wanted her to be so happy here in Sydney, and she cried for Hattie, who had warned her about her grandson, but who’d also given her reason to hope.

  Vain hope.

  Sally’s throat, already sore before the tears had begun, ached unbearably now. And she was cold as she lay on top of the bed in her scanty underwear, but she stayed there for ages, shivering and racked by sobbing, too utterly miserable to climb sensibly under the covers.

  It was a long time before her exhaustion and the cold stilled her tears. When she sat up, her head ached horribly. She ached all over and she thought, for an awful moment, that she might throw up. Dragging Chloe’s blue kimono about her, she staggered through to the bathroom to wash her face.

  Her reflection in the mirror was shocking. Even after she’d washed away the black streaks of mascara, her eyes were red and puffy and her face was white with dark red blotches. Her hair was a mess of curls matted with hairspray and the blue topaz earrings winked in the mirror, mocki
ng her. She remembered how happy and excited she’d been when she’d put them on and almost started crying again.

  Back in her bedroom, she carefully removed the earrings and put them in the velvet-lined box. She undid the locket, felt again the cool, solid weight of it in her hands and turned it over, wondering about the times her godmother had worn this jewellery. She hoped they’d been happier times than tonight.

  And, as she climbed beneath the bedclothes, it occurred to her that she wasn’t really like Chloe at all. In her bid for independence, she’d been trying to live Chloe’s life, but now that she’d fallen helplessly in love, Sally understood that it wasn’t living in a big city or living the high life that made a person happy. Building a life together with the one special person you loved was the secret to happiness.

  But Logan had a very different vision and he was so focused on his goal that he wouldn’t recognise a chance for lifelong happiness if it kissed him on the lips.

  Or taught him to waltz.

  Logan fretted and fumed as he paced the white-carpeted length of his penthouse. If ever a man deserved a booby prize for blunders, he did. From the day he’d first seen Sally Finch he’d made stuff-up after stuff-up.

  His frantic gaze flashed to her gown, now lying where he’d flung it, a river of gold flowing over the red sofa. He pictured Sally as he’d seen her last, standing before him like an avenging angel, with her head proudly high, her eyes shooting daggers while she looked utterly divine in her wispy, barely-there underwear. Before she’d sent him packing.

  In spite of his self-loathing, Logan’s mouth twisted in a wry half smile. What spunk Sally had! He was full of admiration for her. She was gutsy and warm-hearted, loyal and kind, clever and sexy—the list could go on and on.

  In a word, she was perfect.

  And he’d rejected her out of hand.

  Tonight, she’d asked: What will you do if you fall in love with someone before the five years are up?

  And he’d told her in all seriousness: That won’t happen.

  Fool! What a simpleton he was. An idiot. An arrogant, totally unthinking moron who’d flirted with an innocent, courageous and perfect girl, and then thoughtlessly seduced her and toyed with her emotions. Had toyed, unthinkingly, with his own emotions as well.