Eclipse of the Heart - By Carly Carson Page 0,40

matter of time before they'd ferret out the fact that Logan himself used an escort service. That would only compound his problems.

The public would only hear the titillating sound bites. They wouldn't care about the underlying value of the company. Although the professional investors would understand the true worth of his company, that wouldn't be enough for a successful offering. Positive buzz and retail investors were key to any successful IPO.

He stared out, unseeing, at Central Park, as he sorted through the very few options available to him. Two things became obvious quickly.

When he flipped around to face Blankenship again, his mind was made up.

He pressed his intercom button. "Get Phoebe Cattus in here."

"Right away," Rosie chirped back.

He nodded at Noah. "The site is on the company computers, right?"

"It was." Noah gave a grim smile. "I've had IT block it already."

"Good move. You've sent me the documentation of everything, I presume."

"You know me, boss."

Logan pressed the intercom again. "I want Maria Lopez in here in thirty minutes." Since she was head of Marketing, the Public Relations department was part of her domain.

"Yes, sir." Rosie wasn't as chipper this time.

Logan looked at Noah. "We'll need PR to be prepared. Just in case."

The expansive smile Noah was known for flitted across his face. "If anyone can contain it, she will."

"Right." But Logan didn't hold out much hope himself. His company had always had a pristine image. He pushed away the memory of how hard he'd worked to achieve that image. It didn't matter now. Both the press and the public would enjoy the crashing fall so much more than a scandal from an already tarnished company. Vultures, one and all.

And he'd be the carcass.

Phoebe chose that inopportune moment to open the door and lean against the jamb in a stance suggesting she thought she was posing for a Penthouse pictorial. Her deep cleavage was highlighted by a closely fitted shirt that tied at her waist. Her pants were tight enough to make walking problematic. Even through the haze of his anger, Logan noticed that she was pinup material. Funny, he'd never realized she was a working girl.

"How divine." She swished into the room. "Two of the best-looking men in Manhattan."

She leaned down to buss Noah on the cheek, and to show her tits to Logan.

Noah averted his cheek.

Logan clenched his hands under the desk and looked directly at her. "You're fired."

"Oh, my." Lowering herself into the chair next to Noah, Phoebe giggled. "How very dramatic."

"As you know," Logan said, as if she hadn't spoken, "both your phone and your computer are Winter Enterprises property. You will be allowed to remove your personal property from your office."

"Winter is a good name for you," she said pleasantly. "Not just cool, but cold."

Logan surveyed her more carefully. Were her pupils dilated?

He glanced at Noah. "Is she high?"

"It's possible. She definitely has a coke habit."

Phoebe's eyes flashed. "Don't even think of talking about me as if I'm not here."

"Actually," Logan snapped. "You're not. Since your employment here is terminated, your presence is no longer required."

"Actually," Phoebe mimicked in a sing-song voice, "my job here is quite secure. But tell me, what is the reason you're trying to fire me?"

"Your escort service," Noah said succinctly. "We have all the documentation we need to make our case."

"You've forgotten one very important thing." Phoebe smiled. "If you destroy my business, I'm afraid the press will hear all about it."

"I'm not worried you'll tell them," Logan said. "Your business is illegal."

"Was it illegal when you did it?" she retorted.

"Jesus." Logan closed his eyes. He did not need this problem now. It would be bad enough if she were going to tarnish his company. But it looked like she was determined to attack him personally, as well.

He opened his eyes to see Blankenship on his feet, anticipating Logan's orders.

"Please excuse us, Noah," Logan said. "Thank you for all your help."

"Yeah." Phoebe smiled at Noah. Slowly. "You're a good boy, Noah," she purred. "A very good boy."

Noah fled.

Logan folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "Okay. What is your game here in telling me I can't fire you?"

"Game?" She arched her brows. "I like working here. A girl needs a job, you know."

"Your job here is gone. So what are you thinking? Blackmail?"

"So crude, Logan." She pouted.

"I think blackmail is crude. Or extortion, or whatever scheme you think you've cooked up."

"I need money, Logan. I do have expensive habits." She stood up and sauntered around his desk. "I know you