by Arlene James
Logan chuckled. “She beats everything going, doesn’t she? Fight you one minute, hug you the next.”
Emily turned, Amanda Sue perched on her hip. Her eyes never met his, as if he was entirely extraneous to the situation. “She’s a strong, charming personality, all right,” she agreed, tapping the child’s chin. “There’s no doubt she means to have her way, but she’s loving, too.”
“And bright,” Logan said, holding out his hands.
“As a new copper penny,” Emily confirmed, moving closer as Amanda Sue reached for him. “Think you can manage her for a bit while I get dressed?” Again, she didn’t bother to look at him, and so he didn’t bother to answer her directly.
“Not this time, young lady,” Logan admonished his daughter as she lifted the pointed end of his tie toward her mouth. “Ties are for wearing, not eating. Besides, you’ve had your breakfast.” He flipped the tie back over his shoulder as he nodded in Emily’s direction. “We’ll manage. In fact, after I have a bite of something, I’ll see if I can get her dressed.”
“In that case I’ll lay out something before I get in the shower.”
“Great.”
She moved toward the door, and he couldn’t help following with his eyes. Her long, slender legs moved gracefully, pulling taut the seat of her short, tailored pajamas. She looked adorable with that long, shiny hair swaying against the tips of her shoulder blades.
“I like your hair down,” he heard himself saying.
She stopped in the doorway and turned slightly, giving him her profile. “Thanks.”
He desperately wanted to hold her there, though he couldn’t really imagine why. “I, um, didn’t know it was so long.”
“Well, I usually wear it up,” she said.
“You should wear it down more often,” he told her softly, pushing away Amanda Sue’s hand as she reached for the tie folded over his shoulder. Amanda Sue stuck her fingers in her mouth and studied him solemnly.
Emily turned to fully face him, her golden-brown gaze implacable. “I don’t consider it a suitable style for the office.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“That’s beside the point,” she retorted smartly. “I don’t consider it appropriate.”
Logan winced inwardly. She couldn’t have told him more plainly that his opinion and preferences counted for less than nothing with her. Amanda Sue made another grab for his tie just then, and Logan gave his full attention to discouraging her, aware that Emily slipped from the room as he did so. He let her go. She wasn’t getting away, not really, not that easily. She was keeping him at arm’s length, nothing more, and not for long if he had anything to say about it. He wasn’t certain why, but he couldn’t let her get away with that.
All right, he had made the moves last night, but she had kissed him back. For one scorching moment she had kissed him back with the same fervor as a drowning woman clutching a life preserver. Maybe it meant nothing—and maybe it meant that she was not so cool toward him as she pretended. If the slightest chance existed that even an ember of that passion he’d tasted so briefly the night before still burned, he’d fan it to flame. One way or another, he’d make Emily Applegate burn for him. Hell, he’d burn the house down around them before he was through.
Like a little ape, Amanda Sue tried to climb over him to get to his tie. Laughing, he pulled her off his head and cradled her against his chest, making a seat of his arms. “No, you don’t. Not this time. I can’t have you behaving like a little savage in front of our nanny applicants again today.” Or could he? Was he really certain that he wanted to hire a nanny right away?
Emily might be indifferent toward him, but she adored his daughter, and she was good for Amanda Sue. She was good for both of them. And the longer he could keep her here in his house, the more likely she was to come around to his way of thinking. He suddenly knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t be meeting any acceptable nannies that day or for some time to come. They already had the one they needed at hand.
Oh, yes, this could work out very well to his personal advantage. Emily could try to keep him at a distance, but as long as Amanda Sue held a piece of her heart, she wouldn’t succeed. In fact, he vowed silently, he was going to get next to Emily Applegate if it was the very last thing he ever did. She could keep right on closing that door in his face, but sometime soon he’d find a way to open it again—and his daughter would have the care she needed in the meantime. Even Emily could benefit from this arrangement. She’d been in need of some loosening up for quite some time now, and he was an old hand at removing the inhibitions of beautiful women. Yes, indeed, this could work out very well for them all.
Five
Emily dropped into the chair behind her desk, took off her glasses and put a hand to her head, where a debilitating throb had started almost an hour earlier. “I cannot believe it’s this difficult to find a competent, caring, live-in nanny.”
Poised on the corner of her desk, Logan folded his arms. “They seem to come in four categories. Too young, too old, non-English-speaking, and sadistic.”
Emily rubbed the hollows of her temples with her fingertips, eyes closed. Why hadn’t she replenished her aspirin stash? On the other hand, if she could just relax she wouldn’t have given herself this tension headache to begin with. What was wrong with her, anyway? One little kiss should not have her so on edge like this.
But it wasn’t just the kiss, much as she wished it was. No, it was more than that, much more. It was the new blaze in Logan’s blue eyes, the unaccustomed huskiness in his voice, the brief, unexpected touches, the intimate warmth of his smile. It was this feeling of couplehood that seemed to have replaced the old teamwork. In short, it was the effort required to resist the potent, concentrated allure of Logan Fortune. She wished he’d go back to this morning’s indifference. Didn’t she? Once more, she pushed away such thoughts.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked, careful not to include herself in either the decision-making or the solution.
He sighed. “Keep looking, I guess. What else? Meanwhile, though, we can’t keep bringing her to the office.”
We. There it was again, that pesky plural pronoun that he’d been using with such liberal ease. Emily dropped her hands and opened her eyes, ignoring the persistent ache. “At least she’s napping now. She didn’t so much as close her eyes last time she was here.”
He chuckled and passed a hand over his crumpled tie. “Plus my neckwear’s dry. We’re making some headway.”
“Not that we’re getting any work done, mind you,” she retorted.
He got up off the corner of her desk, and she assumed that he was going into his office to take care of business while he could. Instead, he walked around behind her chair and laid his warm, strong hands on her shoulders. “Let’s take care of that headache,” he said smoothly, “so we can talk this over and come up with a plan of action.”
“It’s not that bad,” she lied, but his hands were already lifting to the nape of her neck. He pressed his thumbs into the hollow there.
“Lean your head back.”
She resisted, shaking her head. The weight of the pain sloshed heavily inside her skull.
“Lean your head back,” he repeated firmly, moving his thumbs in small circles that radiated tiny ebbs of irresistible relief.
She laid her head back. He spread his fingers, gently massaging her scalp. Despite the pinching pull at her hairline, she sighed.
“No wonder your head’s pounding. This is much too tight,” he said, making quick work of the pins that held her hair in place.
She made a grab for them, but they were on her desk and he was ruffling her hair with his hands before she could manage it. Instantly she felt ten pounds lighter. His fingers began to move, walking across her scalp until they found the distended veins beneath the skin, then applying pressure in small, gentle swirls.
It was exquisite. Moaning, she felt her muscles relax and her bones begin to melt. He kept it up, occasionally readj
usting his grip and the pressure he applied, until she was mindless, the headache a distant memory as clean oxygen filled her lungs and a sense of well-being pushed away her worries. When at last he stopped, she made a sound of protest, but his hands fell to her shoulders in a pat of warning.
“Emily has a headache,” Logan said, and total awareness flooded her. They were not, she suddenly realized, alone any longer. She popped her eyes open. Terence Colper, public relations guru, stood on the other side of her desk, a sheaf of papers under one arm, both hands in his pants’ pockets, a grin the size of Houston on his too round, too smooth face.
“Emily should get a headache more often,” Colper said, grinning down at her. “You look completely different with your hair down.”
Already mortified, her face flamed hot when Logan said silkily, “I told her the same thing.” Mentally, she kicked him—hard—and had no doubt that her expression telegraphed it. He ignored her, smiling smugly.
Colper lifted one eyebrow, put away his grin, and cleared his throat. “I, um, have those news releases and notices you wanted to review,” he said to Logan while Emily quickly twisted up her hair and stabbed the pins into place. “If you have a minute we can go into your office and have a look at them.”
“Let’s do it here,” Logan said, reaching for the papers. “My daughter’s asleep in the other room.”
Colper laid the papers on the desk. “Yeah, I, um, heard about that. It was quite a shock.”
“No more to you than me,” Logan said wryly, spreading out the papers and bending over them.
Emily moved aside, rolling her chair out of the way. Col-per slid his hands into his pockets again, eyeing her curiously. She opened a drawer and took out a blue pencil, offering it to Logan. He took it and shoved it behind one ear, murmuring thanks as he concentrated on the papers. “This is good,” he said, tapping one sheet with his forefinger.
Colper rocked back on his heels, pleased. “Thanks.”
Logan went on reading. Emily turned to her computer, opening a file and trying to concentrate on it. Colper shifted impatiently.
“Have a seat, Terence,” Logan murmured, plucking the pencil from behind his ear.
“Aw, I’m fine,” Colper said, jingling the change in his pocket.
“Suit yourself,” Logan told him. “This won’t take long.” He crossed out a few lines with the pencil, saying, “I think we’ll leave out these particulars until everyone formally signs off on the plan.”
“I thought you might say that,” Colper admitted. “That’s why I had my people prepare a second version there.”
“Ah.” Logan picked up the indicated paper and read it carefully. “Better. Much better. Excellent. Let’s release it next week.”
“Will do.” Colper gathered up the papers and neatened them.
“Want to take a peek at her before you go?” Logan asked, brushing back the sides of his coat. Emily stopped what she was doing, alerted by the now familiar note of pride in his voice, and turned, pivoting in her chair. Colper took a moment to put it together.
“Your daughter.” He sounded uncertain about the prospect.
Logan smiled. “She’s cute as a bug, curly auburn hair, big, blue eyes.”
Colper chuckled, relaxing into his good-old-boy mode. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Logan Fortune, the doting father.”
Logan grinned. “I can’t help it. She’s just so darned cute—and smart. And stubborn. Oh, man! She wants what she wants when she wants it.” His tone left no doubt that he delighted in even this aspect of his daughter’s personality.
Colper shook his head and backed away, pointing a teasing finger. “You stay away from me. I’ve heard this stuff is catching, and I don’t want any part of it.”
“Spoken like a truly degenerate bachelor,” Logan quipped, laughing.
“Takes one to know one,” Colper declared.
They both laughed, and a demanding wail followed. Col-per put a hand over his mouth. “Oops.”
Logan waved a hand unconcernedly. “It was time for her to get up.”
Emily was on her feet. “I’ll get her.”
Logan held out a restraining hand. “No, I’ll do it.” He was on his way even as he spoke. “Emily’s been invaluable. She’s a real expert on kids.”
Colper smiled knowingly at Emily, as if to say that she was obviously expert in lots of areas he hadn’t considered before. Emily gulped and turned away, wondering what would happen to Amanda Sue after she murdered her father.
The intended victim returned then, his sleepy-eyed daughter draped across his chest. “Amanda Sue,” he said, “this is Mr. Colper.”
Amanda Sue looked at Colper without interest, then reached for Emily. “Mimy. Oan grink.”
“I have a drink for you right here, darling,” Emily said, carrying her to the water cooler. She set the child on her feet, then pulled a paper cone and filled it with water. Amanda Sue drank heartily, then made a grab for the cone, squashing it and splashing the remaining drops of water on her shirtfront. She thought it was terribly funny and chuckled gleefully. Logan chuckled with her, and she was quick to pick up on it, showing him her perfect little white teeth in appreciation before turning back abruptly to the water cooler.
“Grink,” she said, reaching for the paper cone dispenser.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Emily scolded gently. “You’ve had your drink.”
Amanda Sue twisted around with a cry of dispute and wobbled her lip for effect. “Daddy, oan grink!”
Logan laughed, his hands at his hips. “What’d I tell you?” he said to Colper, such pride ringing in every syllable that Emily could almost forgive him for embarrassing her.
A grinning Terence clapped Logan on the back. “There is justice in this world, after all.”
Logan made a face. “You wait, your day’s coming.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
It was Colper’s turn to make a face. “My mother always said I was meant to be a priest. Maybe she was right.”
Logan rolled his eyes while Colper laughed. “Get outta here and get back to work, you bum.”
Colper saluted and pushed through the door, shaking his head and smiling. Emily, meanwhile, was trying to maneuver Amanda Sue away from the water cooler. Logan stooped and clapped his hands, opening his arms. When Amanda Sue hesitated, he enticed her with a smile. Won over, Amanda Sue ran to him, holding out her own arms. He swept her up, and she shrieked with laughter. He slung her over his shoulder. “Speaking of work,” he said to Emily, “it’s Friday, and we haven’t accomplished a thing all week. Something has to give.”
“What would you suggest?”
He pretended to tip Amanda Sue over his back, holding her by the ankles, while she giggled piercingly. “This little monkey has to be my first priority,” he said, “so I want you to get someone in the office to help out temporarily. That way you can stay home with her until I find help. I’ll start interviewing nannies again on Monday. Meanwhile, maybe I can catch up around here.”
Emily wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. It was the only solution that made sense at this point. Besides, it would keep her away from him until this attraction cooled off and he turned his attention elsewhere, which she had no doubt he would do soon. So she would baby-sit his daughter at his home, daytimes, and regain her own equilibrium; however, she would not, under any circumstances, stay the night again. Not that it would make any difference as far as the office gossip mill was concerned, not after today. But what was done was done. “I’ll call down to personnel,” she said resignedly.
Logan smiled and headed toward his office with his daughter crawling all over him as though he were a jungle gym. “And I’ll change her diaper,” he said heartily.
Emily shook her head. Colper was right about one thing: Logan Fortune was turning out to be a surprisingly doting father. Too bad he couldn’t be counted on to make as good a husband. Pu
shing such thoughts aside, Emily sat down and dialed up personnel, explaining that Mr. Fortune required a temporary replacement for his executive assistant.
Almost the entire remainder of the afternoon was taken up with discussing résumés and conducting quick interviews with those deemed suitable by both the human resources consultant and Emily. Finally, Emily settled on a young man named Halpern Roberts. Hal was eager, presentable in a militarily clean-cut way, and smart. Plus, he showed no signs of being either overly impressed with or easily intimidated by the boss. Logan approved, and it was done. Emily gathered up Amanda Sue and her gear and headed out.
Her first stop was her own apartment. The place was small and characterless, but it was conveniently close to the office and boasted a tiny private courtyard filled to overflowing with plants. After checking her answering machine, Emily changed into jeans and a sweater. Amanda Sue seemed intent on exploring, even crawling under Emily’s creaky old iron bed at one point, so Emily spent a little while following her around the place, letting her get to know it. Then she let Amanda Sue help her water the houseplants, which meant taking time for a quick mop-up afterward.
While Emily was swabbing the living room floor dry, Goody, her fat yellow cat, finally put in an appearance, having decided that Amanda Sue was interesting enough to stir herself over. The two sized up each other like a pair of prizefighters, carefully circling and watching until finally Amanda Sue simply sat down and patted her knee. Goody groomed herself for a moment while Amanda Sue made kissing sounds, then the cat casually strode over and plopped down next to her. Emily sat down on the floor with them and showed the child how to pet the animal, warning her away from the ears, eyes and whiskers. Amanda Sue took the instruction so easily that Emily would have bet she’d been around other animals.
