said slowly. "That might be enjoyable."
"Good." He strode toward his bedroom, turning back at the last moment. "We'll have to leave quickly. Say 6? I've made dinner reservations at Marquesa's." Before she could respond with the negative comment he could see forming on her lips, he closed the door to his bedroom behind him. She wouldn't venture there just to smack him down.
***
Once they were on private time, Logan segued easily into subtle courting behavior. A touch on her back when going through doorways. A helping hand on her elbow when getting into or out of the limo. And his favorite. Assisting her with her coat. The lingering touches on her shoulders were just enough to remind her he was there, yet not enough to force her to object.
Marquesa's was an intimate and romantic restaurant, the tables small enough that the occasional brush of his knee on hers could be accepted as accidental. But her cheeks flushed delightfully every time he did it.
He was careful not to overdo it. Three times only, in one long meal. It was tough, but he was good at keeping his long-term goal in mind.
When the waiter had poured the excellent red wine he'd ordered, he raised his glass. "To a successful partnership."
She clicked his glass. "Thanks for giving me another chance."
"I'm sure you'll do a great job. Tell me, have your mother and sister moved to Denver?"
"They have. Julia has already begun her treatments."
"How long will they take?"
"Hopefully, not more than six months. My mother is on a leave from her job and that's the amount of time she has."
"I thought she was quitting?"
"We decided a leave would be better." Her tone was frosty, and he almost smiled. He was sure she'd changed the plans to give herself a little wiggle room in case her job with him didn't work out.
Not that he objected. He'd never kept a mistress for more than three months, though he could see he'd need more time with Amanda, especially since a courting period was required. Six months might be an excellent period of time.
He probed her gently for information, maintaining a friendly, non-threatening manner. He wanted to disarm her, but he also truly enjoyed her company. By the end of the meal, he'd learned she was sub-letting an apartment from a college friend who was leaving soon to go to France on a Fulbright scholarship. Her sister had a serious lung disease being treated at the National Jewish hospital in Denver. Her mother worked at a medical office, and it was clear that their financial circumstances, while not dire, had never been comfortable.
He also knew that Amanda was a positive thinker, who had a clear-eyed plan for her future, and took her responsibilities to her family seriously.
She appealed to him on a basic level that he didn't see any need to question. Everything about her - from her softly flowing honey hair, to her warm laugh, to the lush body he could only glimpse occasionally - everything appealed to the male in him. He wanted to have her now, right away, to forget about the symphony, return to the hotel and undress her slowly. He wanted to caress her with his hands and lips, to press his body down upon hers and invade her, to rouse her into trembling ecstasy.
But tonight was not the night. He signaled for the check. Achieving his goal would require a lot of patience.
Amanda sank back into the luxuriously padded leather seat of the limo. Quiet classical music swirled through their confined space. Although she and Logan weren't touching, she could have closed her eyes and still felt his heat and smelled his faint essence of wealth and power.
She knew better than to close her eyes in his presence, though. He wouldn't pounce. He was too skilled and subtle for that. But he would do something to advance his position if she let down her guard. She was sure of that.
For some reason, he was still pursuing her.
Or were his casual touches just his way of treating women in general? He hadn't asked her out. He hadn't made suggestive comments, other than his teasing at the Christmas party. He'd gone out without her last night.
Perhaps she was paranoid.
She wouldn't be able to think clearly until she got into her own bedroom. And maybe not then, because he'd still be nearby.
The car stopped at the Kimmell Center for the Performing Arts. Amanda gawked at the vaulted glass ceiling that arched over the building.
"It's not