turned her away. "Please excuse us."
He dropped his hand from her arm abruptly. He had to stop touching her in public. Such personal behavior would only encourage people to think she was his mistress.
Biting back a curse, he moved several inches away from her. All the effort he'd put into subtly getting her used to his touch was going to be wasted.
She looked at the space that had opened between them, and then raised her eyes to his. "A change in tactics?"
"I don't want them to think you're…what you're not."
"They all think I'm a hooker." She pressed her lips together.
"Not you."
"Then who?"
"My companion. Any attractive woman who is with me." The words ate into him, biting him with the ugliness of what he'd done. He'd conditioned people to believe that any woman who was with him was a whore.
"You never dated—regular women?"
"I told you. I don't date, and I don't do relationships." Despite everything, he needed to be clear on that. No matter how badly he desired her, he wouldn't lie to get what he wanted. When she came to his bed, she would do so in the full knowledge that it was only sex between them.
"I don't have any trouble believing you don't do relationships, Logan." She gestured to the room full of people. "Clearly, you've convinced the world of that, as well."
That couldn't be helped. He was unable to feel emotions. He refused to feel emotions. Therefore, it was only fair of him to make sure that women in his company understood that.
He had also learned that women would pursue him for his financial success, regardless of whether he could feel anything for them. Or whether they, in fact, had any feelings for him.
So he was doubly cautious. It was better all around if he treated sex like any other commodity. An arms-length transaction, where each party knew exactly what he or she was getting. Or not getting.
He caught the eye of a waiter who promptly approached them with a tray of sushi. Right behind him was another distraction. Logan was grateful for the reprieve.
"Hey, there's someone I want you to meet." He waved over a petite blonde dressed in a fire-engine red suit. She click-clacked toward them in a pair of tall heels that barely brought her to average height.
"Amanda," he said, "I'd like you to meet Patrice Collins. Patrice, this is Amanda Thompson. She has the job you used to have."
At his side, Amanda made a funny noise, like a smothered gasp, and Logan knew instantly that Amanda thought Patrice was someone who'd shared his bed.
"Director of Entrepreneurial Ventures," he injected smoothly. "Patrice, Amanda is taking to the job as well as you did."
Patrice looked at Amanda, her blue eyes hostile. She did not extend her hand. "Lovely." The single word dropped into the conversational pool and sank like a stone. She turned her gaze to Logan.
"Will you be attending the Cabot's Christmas Ball next weekend?"
Logan nodded, but refused to be drawn into a topic that was designed to exclude Amanda.
"We've been looking at a company you investigated a few years back," he said. "Daily Eats."
Patrice sniffed. "You must have forgotten that I told you it was a dog of a company. Surely no one would recommend buying them?" She glanced at Amanda with barely tinged contempt.
"They have an excellent cash flow, a strong strategic direction, and good management," Amanda said coolly. "Perhaps the situation has changed since you looked at them."
Amanda raised her chin, and the coolness in her tone suggested that Patrice had failed to adequately assess the company.
Logan had to press his lips together to hide a smile.
"Patrice," he said, "I'm sure you recall they weren't interested in selling a few years ago. Now they are. Different circumstances make them more appealing today."
Patrice's nostrils pinched with displeasure. "I see my husband over there." She emphasized the word 'husband', as if she wanted to point out the difference between her and Amanda.
Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should have remembered that Patrice had once made a pass at him. Apparently, he hadn't steered her away as diplomatically as he'd thought.
"I need to discuss something with him." Patrice tottered off.
"Ick." Amanda shook her head. "I don't think I'd like being a paid companion."
"Patrice never was, as far as I know."
"Maybe that's why she was so unpleasant, then."
Logan looked down at her, raising his brows. Did she realize she sounded almost—jealous? He'd seen too many catfights not to recognize the signs. But he