Blind Date with the Boss (Heads or Hearts #6)

CHAPTER TWELVE

THURSDAY evening began with Logan’s arrival on Sally’s doorstep, which was an event in itself. He was wearing battered blue jeans and a faded blue T shirt, thin from much washing and when Sally opened her door, she forgot that it was rude to stare.

He looked so different! So casual and relaxed and – gulp – even more drop dead divine than usual.

‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

‘No, nothing’s wrong,’ Sally squeaked. ‘Nothing at all.’

He pointed to his feet. ‘I remembered the shoes.’

Dragging her gaze reluctantly downwards, she saw that he was indeed wearing his leather lace ups. ‘Well done.’

For most of the short journey through the dark city streets, she tried to put into practice what she’d learned at yoga classes about keeping calm and balanced. It’s all in the breathing. Keep your breaths even and steady. In, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

Fortunately, Logan was happy to concentrate on the traffic and he didn’t try to distract her with scintillating conversation. There was no way could Sally calm down and scintillate at the same time.

They reached the underground car park beneath Blackcorp’s offices and parked in the space assigned to BMC’s Managing Director. The lighting was minimal and their footsteps echoed eerily in the empty subterranean chamber as they made their way to the lift.

Sally’s heartbeats raced and she felt wings of panic, but soon they were inside the main building and the security guy bustled up to them importantly as Logan was unlocking Blackcorp’s door.

‘Everything all right, Mr. Black?’ His eyes bulged with curiosity when he saw Sally.

‘Of course, Reg. Perfectly fine.’ If Logan was embarrassed to be caught after hours, sneaking back into the office with the front desk girl, he hid the fact behind a ferocious frown. ‘Miss Finch and I are working on a special project.’

‘Oh, right then, sir. I’ll leave you to it.’

Sally was relieved to know that the guard was close by as she and Logan went through both sets of doors, then along the hall to the meeting room. They became very efficient as they pushed tables and chairs to the sides to make a space in the centre. Then Logan tapped at his phone and the bright notes of a Strauss waltz filled the room.

‘Will this music be okay?’ he asked.

Sally wrinkled her nose. ‘It might be a bit old fashioned for a modern ball, but it’s the real thing!’

‘Everything’s ready then.’ He stood to attention and took a deep breath. ‘Now, what do I have to do?’

Looking at him as he stood there, his expression so tense and serious, Sally’s nervousness evaporated. Logan Black wasn’t the rat who’d been so vile at the country dance. Right now, he was barely recognisable as her arrogant and distant boss.

He was a vulnerable man, who would be mortified if his inadequacies were exposed, and yet, conscientious to a fault, he was determined to do the right thing by his sister.

He genuinely needed her help.

Smiling her warmest smile, Sally walked towards him, reached for his hands and took them lightly in hers. The tentative contact was enough to launch her into orbit, but she schooled herself to ignore the sizzle and to concentrate on helping him to waltz.

She was determined to do her absolute best.

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

The instant Sally’s warm hands clasped his, Logan knew he was in trouble.

To start with, Sally was wearing a sleeveless yellow dress made from some kind of T shirt material. With a low-backed top that hugged her lithe body like a leotard and a full skirt that rippled about her legs whenever she moved, the outfit was no doubt very suitable for dancing. But it totally threatened the boss-employee dynamics he’d been determined to maintain.

And now she was standing close and touching him. Her bright hair framed her intent face, her eyes signalled intelligence and sensitivity, and all he wanted to do was haul her closer and kiss her and –

‘The waltz is all about poise, grace and elegance,’ she told him. ‘If you listen carefully to the music, you can hear how light and smooth and airy it is.’

Obediently, Logan censored his thoughts and concentrated on Strauss’s Blue Danube . ‘The beat’s important, isn’t it?’

? ‘Absolutely. Counting the music is most important. That’s what will get you through this waltz. Can you count to three, Mr. Black?’

? He favoured her with a lopsided smile.

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Sally said in mock apology. ‘You’ve already told me you’re very good at mathematics, so this should be a cinch.’

He couldn’t help admiring her confidence and her easy use of humour to help him to relax. She really was a surprise package – and, right now, very much in control.

‘All you have to do is count to three,’ she continued. ‘ One is the most important. You need to emphasise the first beat.’

Holding his left hand in her right, she beat in time to the music. ‘Hear it? One, two, three. One , two, three. One, two, three.’

‘Yep. Got that.’

‘The other key to the waltz is posture.’

Automatically, Logan thrust his jaw forward and his shoulders back.

‘Not like that. We don’t want you standing like a wooden soldier. You need to be lifted and light on your feet. You mustn’t weigh your partner down.’ Her eyes twinkled at him. ‘On the dance floor, the man becomes his partner’s coat hanger.’

‘That’s a role I’ve never aspired to . ’

‘It’s important to remember,’ she said, suppressing a smile. ‘You need to be strong and supportive, so your arms can provide the frame for Diana Devenish to look fabulous.’

? ‘Right.’ Logan turned his grimace into a smile. ‘An awesome responsibility.’

‘You’ll be fine, Logan,’ she said more gently.

Logan .

It was the first time Sally had used his first name and it bothered him that he’d noticed. Why? It was of no particular significance, but simply part of her technique to get him to relax.

And yet, somehow, crazily, it felt like a big deal.

‘Now,’ she said. ‘Place your right hand just below my scapula.’

‘Your what?’

‘Sorry. Too many first aid classes. Put your hand just below my shoulder blade.’

Her shoulder blade…

Valiantly, Logan attempted to follow her instruction but as soon as his fingers made contact with her soft, exposed skin, he inhaled sharply, retracted his hand abruptly.

She had to be joking.

He shifted his hand lower to the safety of clothing. The further away from her bare skin the better .

‘Not my waist, my shoulder blade.’ Reaching behind, Sally slid his hand up her back. ‘Just think bra line.’ Her eyes narrowed shrewdly and she looked at him with a cheeky tilt of her head. ‘I’m quite sure you’ve managed to find that on a woman before.’

Very true. So why was he breaking out in a cold sweat now?

‘Now, let’s count to three and –’ Frowning at him, Sally hesitated. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Never better,’ he lied. With his hand at Sally’s bra line, counting to three was suddenly as easy as climbing Mt. Everest with frost bite.

‘Fabulous. Now, we’ll step out the beat. Let’s go. One, two, three. One, two three. Left, right left. Right, left, right.’

Somehow, Logan managed to survive this without trampling on Sally’s toes and they actually completed a circuit around the cleared floor.

‘You make it easy,’ he told her somewhat triumphantly.

‘You’re doing really well, but we’ve a little way to go yet. Now, I want you to make the first beat strong and the second two lighter. Strong, soft, soft. Strong soft, soft.’

They whirled together, bumped knees once or twice, but continued on without any major mishap.

‘Great!’ Sally cried. ‘Now you’re really getting it!’

He could have kissed her, might have kissed her, but she was too busy issuing more instructions.

‘Okay. Now you still need to emphasize the first beat, but I’d like you to make the steps a bit oozy. Kind of like sliding in syrup.’

‘In syrup?’ he echoed faintly.

‘Mmmm. You need to keep in time, but try changing the quality to a smooth, gentle, gliding motion.’

Sally demonstrated, moving away from him, gliding smoothly, fluid as air.

‘I’ll never be able to do that.’

‘Don’t be defeatist,’ she scolded.

‘I’m a realist.’

But it seemed that Sally had no plans to give up on him.

‘Let’s look at this another way then.’ Tapping a finger against her lips, she watched him thoughtfully. ‘Let me see. You’re a wine connoisseur. Why don’t you think of the waltz as a fine red?’

His eyebrows arched with bemusement. ‘How is that supposed to help?’

‘Imagine Diana Devenish as some kind of exquisite cabinet sauvignon – rich and complex, yet mysterious. You give her a swirl and admire her finer qualities, including her fabulous legs and all the while you’re careful not to spill a drop. You take the wine slowly, savouring every sip as it glides smoothly down your throat. Except you’re gliding along the dance floor instead!’

Logan grinned. ‘That kind of works for me. I’ll give it a go.’

Once again, she stepped towards him, took his hand and assumed the dancing position. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand at her bra line and tried to ignore her tantalising, silky-soft skin. Sally was amazing. Fancy likening the waltz to wine. But it worked. He could picture it. How many intriguing layers were there to this girl?

‘Okay, let’s glide, Logan.’

Drawing Sally in, Logan glided. One, two, three. Strong, soft, soft. She was light and graceful in his arms, and as they whirled, he caught wafts of her enticing, tormenting perfume. And somewhere, in the midst of it all, he gave up worrying and let go, giving in, at last, to the moment, to the flow of the music.

Sally was probably right. Dancing was like drinking fine wine. He certainly longed to know how she tasted, couldn’t shake the feeling that she would be one of those rare finds, imparting a surprisingly delicious aftertaste that left him wanting more.

Yes, he definitely wanted more, wanted Sally’s slender curves pressed more closely against him, wanted her soft lips –

Logan stumbled. ‘I’m so sorry.’

In the next breath he realised that his stumble hadn’t been caused by his own inadequacies, but by Sally, who had stopped dancing and was now slipping out of his arms.

Flushed and trembling, she stood with her hands buried in the folds of her skirt, not looking at him.

‘That – that was very good,’ she said. ‘You’re really getting the hang of it.’

‘You’re a very good teacher,’ he assured her and he might have added more compliments, but watching her intently, he realised that something was wrong. Very wrong.

How had this sudden change happened? Why? Had he held her too tightly? God forbid she’d sensed the direction of his thoughts.

She still wouldn’t look at him and she had completely lost her sparkle. Clouds had arrived to cover the stars.

‘That’s probably enough for one night,’ she said.

What could he do, but agree?

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘I really appreciate your help.’

One corner of her mouth lifted into a sadly wry smile, then she turned and crossed the room and switched off the music and the silence seemed to echo in the big empty room.

‘And now I must pay you,’ Logan said.

‘Oh, no.’ Sally’s hands rose to stop him. ‘There’s no need. I’m happy to do this – but I’m not a professional.’

He cursed himself for handling this so clumsily. ‘I’m going to need more tuition before the ball.’

She nodded unhappily.

‘Perhaps I could take you to dinner in lieu of payment.’ It was an idea that had just come to him and he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. ‘After all, you’ll be giving up your evenings.’

Eyes fixed on her clasped hands, Sally continued to look unhappy. ‘I don’t think dinner’s a good idea.’

‘Why ever not?’

She looked up then and her blue eyes shone with an unnatural intensity. ‘It would be too much like a date.’

‘And that’s a crime?’

‘You’re my boss, remember?’

‘Well, yes. That’s… true.’ Logan scratched his jaw. Somehow, his original plan to keep business and pleasure apart no longer made any sense. He was quite sure that he and Sally should have dinner together. The sooner the better. ‘Let’s keep Blackcorp out of this. You’ll be sacrificing your evenings to help me. Surely I owe you one dinner.’

Chin lifted, Sally answered him with a long and challenging stare. ‘Isn’t there someone who might object if we had dinner together?’

‘I can’t think of anyone.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What about the white roses women?’

‘The who ?’

She gave an impatient toss of her lively curls and glared at him. ‘Don’t play dumb, Mr. Black. You know very well who I’m talking about. You have a standing order for white roses and they come every Friday and they’re always for a woman, aren’t they?’

‘Well… yes,’ he admitted, admiring her spirit. ‘You’re absolutely right. The roses are most definitely for a woman.’

Sally blinked hard and looked away. ‘Does she know you’re having dancing lessons with me?’

‘No. She has no idea.’

‘Are you planning to inform her that you’ve invited me to dinner?’

‘I must admit I haven’t given it any thought, but I don’t see why I couldn’t tell her.’

In the face of his calm responses, Sally’s self-righteous certainty lost a little of its starch. She cast an anxious glance about the meeting room, then lifted her shoulders in an annoyed shrug. ‘We’d better get this place tidied up.’

‘There’s no need. The cleaners will appreciate having a cleared floor to work with and they’ll rearrange the furniture in the morning.’

‘Fine.’ Sally picked up Logan’s phone and handed it to him.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now, about dinner.’

To his dismay, Sally closed her eyes, as if the very idea of dinner with him was upsetting.

Unwilling to be put off, he said, quickly, ‘You’re right. I should clear this with the white roses woman, as you call her.’

Her blue eyes flew open.

‘Why don’t you come with me to meet her, Sally?’

Her jaw sagged and Logan watched the play of emotions on her expressive face as her anger morphed into doubt and confusion.

He pressed his advantage. ‘We can kill two birds with one stone. You can make sure that our dinner is not interpreted as a date. And she’ll enjoy meeting you very much.’

‘Do you really think so?’

‘I’m sure of it.’

Sally let this sink in. After a bit, she said, ‘I would certainly be much happier if everything was out in the open. Where I come from I’m used to people being up front and honest and I’d hate to go behind another woman’s back.’

‘That’s very commendable,’ Logan agreed with necessary gravity. ‘Why don’t you come with me tomorrow when I deliver the roses? We’ll clear the air and then we can have dinner.’

It seemed an age that she stood there, considering this. He held his breath, bracing himself for her refusal, but then she shrugged. ‘That seems reasonable.’