Jennifer Probst - Heart of Steel

What was probably worse, she thought as she stabbed her fork into her Caesar salad, was his reaction when he’d seen her outfit. She’d prepared for a shocking response, but the pure masculine satisfaction mirrored in his eyes made her nervous.

Chandler had passed on wearing her white chiffon and instead wore a black lace bodysuit that peaked out from under a sheer black blouse in the finest of silk. Her black silk skirt flowed down to her ankles, but when she moved the material parted to reveal a dozen slits cut to her thigh. A wide silver belt completed the outfit. The fabric moved with her every movement and skimmed her body with lightness.

She gave up on hair clips and pins and let her hair fall loose, allowing her dark honey and sun-bleached tawny strands to curl wildly about her shoulders and down her back. She wore no jewelry, having always preferred bare skin to the overdone-in-gold look. Many arguments ensued with her father based on her tendency to dislike clothes suitable to the business world, but Logan didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she almost blushed under his direct gaze.

She sipped her Pinot Grigio and watched him carry on a lively conversation with the waiter about the Giants and their chance to win the Super Bowl. The man actually knew how to talk football. This hardly seemed fair given the amount of time he spent in the office.

“Food seems to be another one of life’s pleasures. Don’t you agree?” he asked in an amused tone, interrupting her thoughts. She paused in the act of reaching for another shrimp cocktail as the waiter left.

“I try to be vegetarian and eat tofu and yogurt, but my heart just isn’t in it.” She smiled. “I feel guilty when I lecture my students on nutrition. I’ve already made note of the dessert menu.”

He laughed. “A woman whose heart is controlled by her stomach. I respect that.” He watched her bite into the shrimp and close her eyes in delight. “I hope your profession can support your appetite.”

“If I wanted a fortune, I would have worked as a business executive.”

“So you said before. What else do you hate besides money, Chandler?”

Her green eyes glittered with a hint of moisture. “Power. People who control. Lies hidden behind smiles. The usual things most people hate.”

“It’s not so simple,” he said softly. “Most grab at an opportunity with both hands. People raised in poverty see money as their only way out of hell.”

She shook her head. “It’s a trap. They’re really giving up the self, and what they get in return is a lie. Money and power are illusions and only soothe for a temporary period. Then they wake up one morning needing more, and sacrificing more to get it. In the end they lose everything important and find themselves alone. Money can’t help loneliness.”

“That sounds like a conclusion drawn by one who followed the path and got burned. You talk from experience. What made you change?”

She looked up from her plate, startled. She never meant to get involved in this type of conversation. She didn’t like to tread in such dangerous territory, in fact she refused. Chandler forced a bright smile. “Why, my therapist, of course. Doesn’t everyone in New York have one?”

She held her breath and waited to see if he'd follow her lead. She relaxed when he smiled back. If he wanted answers she had a sinking feeling she’d have no choice in the matter. She made a mental note to be more careful of the information she leaked.

He focused his attention back to his dinner. “I’ll have Richard look over the contract and you can start the workshops on Monday.” His voice was cool and brisk. “I know your lawyer is inexperienced, but an escape clause shouldn’t have been offered. It puts you at risk.”

“Harry didn’t know until it was too late,” she said. “I came up with the idea myself. He gave me hell later.”

One black brow shot up. “Do you usually do impulsive things without telling anyone?”

She shrugged. “I only have myself to answer to, so I take responsibility for my actions.”

“Your Harry doesn’t take offense?”

Chandler frowned. “He has no say in my decisions.”

Logan watched her for a moment, then shook his head. “You haven’t met the man who’ll set a couple of rules for you.” He cut into his prime rib. “You’re too impulsive, so you need to be watched. I bet most men in your life don’t know how to handle you. You need someone with enough strength to tell you no once in a while.”

Her mouth dropped open. She took a quick grab at her temper. “I do not need, nor will I ever need, a man telling me what to do with my life,” she said firmly. “I am a capable, rational woman who knows exactly what will make me happy. No wonder I swore off business executives. Too many of your kind think they know what’s good for a woman and refuse to converse in a normal manner. They dictate, threaten, and bully their wives into doing what they want, forgetting the bedroom is not the boardroom. I refuse to be put through that experience again.”

“Again?”

She ignored his question and forged on. “Furthermore, I’m looking for a man who listens to what I have to say and supports my goals. A man willing to compromise when he disagrees with me.”

“You’d be bored out of your mind. You need someone who will yell back in the living room, and make up in the bedroom.”

She gasped. “That is the most ridiculous, chauvinistic remark I ever heard! I want a partner, not a caveman. I’m quite satisfied with my life and refuse to change for any man. Besides, you don’t know the men I date. They certainly don’t bore me.”

Logan clamped down hard on the wave of irritation that flowed through him at the idea of her dating a wide variety of men. His free spirited yoga teacher intended to show him she refused to cater to a man’s whims. Unfortunately, he became more determined to put an end to her experiments. Hell, this was crazy, he thought to himself in disgust. He’d never been a possessive man where women were concerned. Possessiveness indicated a messy emotion, which he normally stayed away from. Maybe this woman called to his sense of challenge. Obviously, she’d been burned by a corporate executive, and chose to stay far away from a man who wore a three piece suit.

His lips tightened. Time she learned a lesson. Chandler probably dated men she safely controlled, but she was about to discover he wouldn’t stay meekly on the sidelines once he decided he wanted her.

Logan studied her face. She stuck her chin high in the air, practically daring him to challenge her. A dab of red cocktail sauce clung to her lower lip. Almost as if she knew, her tongue snaked out and licked off the drop, unconscious of how damn sexy she appeared. He waited a beat. Then made his decision.

He wanted Chandler Santell.

“You haven’t met the right man yet,” he repeated.

Her hand trembled around the stem of her wine glass. The certainty in his voice and the heat in his eyes made her stomach slide downward, as if she had just plunged off the peak of a roller coaster. She fought the sudden urge to fidget, but reminded herself the deal was closed, and she didn’t have to plead her case. Of course, she still needed to placate him throughout the six month trial period, but refused to allow him to pry into her personal life. A strangled laugh rose to her lips. “You’re impossible.” She reached up and pushed back her hair. “Is this how you wear down your enemies?”

“Words won’t convince you. Action will.”

A chill ran down her spine. She ignored his remark and chalked it up to one of his control moves.

He devoted the rest of the conversation to neutral topics. She enjoyed matching her wits against his sharp mind, and was surprised at his dry sense of humor. No doubt, he had his share of fair offers by the way women in the restaurant snuck glances at their table. Chandler wondered if his good looks or his money held their rapt attention. The combination was a deadly mixture.