him, nonplused.
"Exactly." He laughed, and by then, the cab driver had been paid.
Inside, they circled the tables that offered silent auction items. Amanda put her name down for a few things that wouldn't go too high. A spa afternoon had a one year expiration date. It would make a nice gift for her sister when she returned from Denver.
"Do you do a lot of these charity events?" Josh said.
"No." The single word sounded too abrupt, and she liked Josh. "My sister, Julie, is sick with a serious lung problem," she said. "Interstitial lung disease, to be precise."
"Hey." Josh put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thanks. She's in Denver for some specialized treatment."
"That's rough," Josh said. "I hope her treatment plan works out."
"Amanda!" An older couple waved her over, and Amanda was grateful for the interruption.
"Josh, this is Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien. They're the chairpersons for this gala."
After the introductions had been completed, Mrs. O'Brien smiled at Amanda. "I've heard that Julie is progressing well under her new treatment plan."
"Yes, we're very hopeful that she's turning a corner."
"I hope we can get together for lunch soon," the older woman said. "I'd love to get all the details."
Amanda nodded. "I'll be going to Denver for Christmas, and meeting with her doctors. I'll take good notes for you."
"Smile!" A photographer with a huge camera aimed it at them.
"Sorry." Mr. O'Brien grimaced in Josh's direction. "This is part of the drill."
"No problem." Josh slung his arm around Amanda and smiled gamely into the flashing lights. Flashbulbs popped, once, twice, three times.
Chapter 15
Noah Blankenship sat in Logan's office early on Monday morning, his enormous frame dwarfing the office chair. The broad smile that usually dominated his face was absent. Logan had hired the big black man as much for his easy manner as for his sharp mind and military experience. So when that affability was missing, something was wrong. Aside from all that, Logan knew his head of security wouldn't have requested a meeting if they didn't have a major problem.
The two men exchanged pleasantries, and then Logan said, "Give me the unvarnished truth."
Noah shifted in his chair. "It's not pretty."
Logan frowned. It wasn't like Noah to stall or shift his eyes away. "I can deal with the unpretty," he said.
"I don't know if this is something that will concern you," Noah said. He wiped a handkerchief over his forehead. "But I had to report it. It involves the company's reputation."
Was Noah going to accuse him of behaving improperly with Amanda? A flash of anger whipped through Logan. He crushed it. Noah was not stupid.
"Blankenship." Logan leaned forward. "Why are you chasing something around the mulberry bush? Spit it out."
"I don't like this, boss." Noah placed his laptop on the desk and punched a few keys. He turned the monitor to face Logan. The words "Adam and Eve Playground" danced across the screen in a heated red font.
Logan saw red. Shit. Why did every single thing he'd ever done in his life have to be paid for? He knew instantly what the website stood for. What he didn't know was how it affected his company.
"Why are you showing me this?" he asked. At least he could be grateful he wasn't looking at the name of the escort service he'd used himself.
"Uh, it's nothing personal," Noah responded, his voice carefully neutral. "But one of your employees is running this service out of the company offices."
Logan leaned back in his chair, hoping to trick his body into remaining calm, even though fury was rushing through him. "Who?"
"Phoebe Cattus."
"Shit." Logan's chair crashed to the ground. "Get rid of her."
Noah spoke into a small microphone attached to his shirt. "Send an escort to the office of Phoebe Cattus and have him wait for her there."
Logan rolled his chair around and stared out the window. His brain whirred. Noah wouldn't be here without definitive proof. Although Logan would check it out anyway, he knew he'd find everything in order. Noah was very good at what he did.
But if the press found out, they'd have a field day. He could survive the mud-slinging, although he wouldn't enjoy it. But his public offering was scheduled for next week. In this environment, where everyone was jittery about initial public offerings, he couldn't afford to have negative publicity. If the share prices were driven too low, the underwriters might want to postpone the offering.
Worse than all that, the press would start digging and it was only a