you're lying down when I leave."
"Okay." She walked through a small living room and down a short hallway. "Ta da!" She waved an open hand toward a bedroom on her right. "The inner san—san—"
"Sanctum," he muttered. "Where you'll be safe."
He stalked over to the bed and pulled down the cream-colored comforter. The sooner he got this done, the better. He straightened up to find her standing right beside him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"You need to go to bed." He cleared his throat. This was definitely not the way he'd fantasized about this particular situation. "Do you need help getting undressed?"
"Yup." She plopped down on the bed in a modified spread-eagle position. Another giggle escaped. "My head is spinning."
He eyed her, wondering what he could loosen. Sure as hell, he wasn't going to strip her. His noble intentions wouldn't survive that.
Carefully, he turned her on her side and eased down the zipper of her dress. She'd closed her eyes, and made no objection. Next he lifted her shoulders and unhooked her strapless bra. He was sure she'd be more comfortable without it, but there was no way he was going to take it off.
He stepped back before his hands could linger. She might be uncomfortable sleeping in that clinging dress, but he knew he couldn't be responsible for his behavior if he slid that dress down those slender hips, and over those long legs.
She'd only be wearing panties, and he had an overwhelming desire to see exactly what kind she had on. A thong? Silk bikinis?
The possibilities were endless, and each of them made his blood pound. She looked girlish, lying there with her clothes and hair mussed. And also as erotic as anything he'd ever seen. No mistress with exquisitely practiced moves had ever looked as sexy.
Shit, he was getting into serious trouble here.
He forced his gaze away from the danger zone.
Walking swiftly, he moved through the apartment, barely looking around, not wanting to invade her privacy. He noticed a normal amount of clutter, the haphazard décor of occupants without extensive funding, and the overall cleanliness.
He dropped her keys on the table in the small foyer.
The door closed quietly behind him, and he checked the lock.
Good. He was locked out.
Safe. For the moment.
***
The next morning, Logan was not surprised when Amanda stormed through his office door.
"What happened last night?" she demanded.
He looked up from his computer. "You don't remember?"
She glared at him. "Did you touch my breasts?"
"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I didn't."
"My dress was open and my bra unhooked when I woke up this morning."
"I did that," he said, "so you'd be comfortable."
"You had no right to touch me." Her low voice trembled slightly.
"Don't be such a prude. I didn't take advantage of you."
"Did you get me drunk?"
"Absolutely not," he snapped. "I take offense at that question. I don't need to get a woman drunk to seduce her, nor do I enjoy spending time with drunks. "
She passed a hand over her forehead. "I have a bad headache."
"Had you been drinking before I picked you up?"
Her gaze flickered away from him suddenly. "Not much."
Mentally, he shrugged. She must have had too much if she couldn't even remember. "I suggest," he said, "that we agree that you don't have a head for liquor, and we carry on with our day. I have plenty of work to do."
The reminder worked as he intended. She straightened her shoulders, and turned to go. But not without a final word.
"The date that wasn't a date was not a good idea." She swept out the door.
Chapter 12
Amanda spent a week traveling on business. A long, lonely week filled with anonymous hotel rooms and long security lines. She worked hard and was pleased with what she accomplished. Her only potential problem was the Daily Eats deal. The due diligence work there was falling behind schedule. She'd have to look into the delay when she got back to the office.
When she checked her email on the Monday of her return, the first thing she saw was a message from Logan. The lick of pleasure at seeing his name annoyed her. She did not enjoy feeling like a sophomore with a crush on the football captain.
His message commanded her presence in his office as early as possible on Monday morning, which she knew meant before the 9 a.m. staff meeting. She made sure her notes were all in order, and knocked on his door at 8. The sound of his deep voice calling to enter made