Eclipse of the Heart - By Carly Carson Page 0,13

doing working in an office?"

"I can read," she said. "Just not when I'm nervous."

He saw his message about Amanda. Unread. Unforwarded. Amanda had been waiting to hear from him for more than a week.

Fury blazed through him.

"I make people nervous!" he roared, slamming his hand on the desk. "You can't work for me if being nervous prevents you from performing your job."

She lifted her chin. "That's nothing to be proud of." Her words were defiant, but her voice trembled.

"You've made a serious mistake," he yelled. "I want you to forward this message while I watch. Ask the recipient to be here tomorrow at 10 a.m. to meet with me."

She lifted a shaking hand.

Logan grabbed hold of his temper. What was wrong with him? He never yelled at people. Partly because he didn't have to. Partly because he didn't think it was right to yell at someone who was dependent on him for her living. The power imbalance shouldn't be abused.

All he could think of right now was Amanda and her big brown eyes, brimming with anxiety as she talked about her need for insurance. Damn. He didn't want to worry about her sister. He'd given up those kinds of emotions a long time ago.

"I'm sorry," he said curtly. He leaned over her desk and began typing on her keyboard. He hit send.

Then he straightened up and regarded his hapless assistant. "Look, I need someone I can depend on. I'm sure there's another job in the company more suited to your talents."

Whatever they were. He looked over her costume of the day. The two ponytails dangling over her ears looked kind of girlish. But heavy metal jewelry dangled from her earlobes and wrapped around her neck in a way that looked like she'd dressed this morning in a junkyard. He couldn't imagine why HR had hired her in the first place, never mind sent her to his office.

She looked up at him through heavily made up eyes and curly bangs. "They don't want me in other departments," she said sadly. "I'm too different."

"Perhaps the corporate world is not the best milieu for you." He waved a hand vaguely at her to indicate her attire.

"It's not." She heaved up a big sigh. "But I need an income."

"This can't be your dream job."

"Of course not!" She looked shocked at the mere suggestion. "I'm a fashion designer."

"Ah." He didn't even know what to say. Would people pay good money to look like she did?

"Perhaps this isn't your taste." She waved at the junk. "But I have to be noticeable."

"You are that," he admitted.

"I thought you would understand! Bridget said you were nice under your tough guy exterior."

Logan barely suppressed his surprise. Ms. Lockwood had said that? He couldn't imagine where she'd gotten such an idea.

Even she wouldn't know what to with this child who looked and sounded like a rebellious teenager. How could he? He bore down hard on the memory of his sister. He didn't walk down memory lane. Ever.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I need both competence and a certain dignity fronting my office."

"I shouldn't have repeated what Bridget said." She waved a be-ringed hand. "I actually meant that I thought you'd understand someone being different because of your sister."

His mouth dropped open and he stared in shock. No one mentioned his family. If they ever had, back when the tragedy occurred, they'd quickly learned the subject was a one-way ticket out the door.

She hurried into the breach of his silence. "You know, the rock star."

Logan turned on his heel and walked out. One call to HR and the woman would be gone. Obliterated from his life. No one could force him to remember.

Chapter 6

Tuesday morning, Logan strode off the elevator, alarmed at the scent of pines that assaulted him. An unwelcome memory of Christmases past rushed over him – tall trees gracing their enormous family room, Lauren and he hanging their ornaments with pride. Music was always present, as was the scent of cider steaming on the stove, and sugar cookies baking in the oven. Surrounding everything, always, was the love of their parents.

A love he wished he'd never known. Its loss was too painful.

He banished the memories with a sharp verbal attack.

"Rosie!" Damn it, why had Ms. Lockwood gone and developed complications from her surgery? Rosie had turned the outer office into an enchanted village on steroids.

Was that a Santa sleigh outside his office, piled high with colorful presents? And who on earth had brought in the live tree and festooned