Avenue was a far cry from her sublet down on the lower East side.
Logan led the way into his dark apartment, flipping on light switches as they passed through a pin-neat foyer. But she was surprised to see that the apartment, though spacious and well-appointed, was not enormous. On the left she saw a good-sized living room, with large windows black with night. A formal dining room seated ten or twelve people. The kitchen ahead turned out to be utilitarian, with stainless steel appliances, plain European cabinets and black granite counters.
But someone had softened all the coldness of the kitchen with hints of color. A bouquet of flowers brightened the center island. Oven mitts decorated with shiny red cherries lay on the counter next to a neat array of serving platters.
Logan saw her eye light on them. "The housekeeper," he said. "She says even when you keep getting the pits, cherries are still worth eating."
Amanda laughed. "I'm sure she's not referring to you."
Logan raised his eyebrows. "No?"
She rolled her eyes. As if he ever got the pits. "What about the roosters?" She waved at the lineup on the window sill. Half a dozen brightly decorated roosters marched along the ledge, and a few more stood next to the sink, as if they'd fallen off the higher perch.
"She likes roosters." Logan lifted a platter of steak from the refrigerator. "She says there's always a new day."
"Kitchen philosopher, huh? Has she had a lot of trouble in her life?"
"Enough."
Logan ducked his head back into the fridge, almost as if he didn't want to look at her.
"What can I do to help?" She wasn't much of a cook, but a salad should be within her capabilities.
"Everything's all prepared," he said. He checked something in the oven. "I'll grill the steak and maybe you could carry the rest of the food into the dining room." He waved at the lineup on the island.
In twenty minutes, they were seated. Logan had lit candles on the sideboard, and a modern chandelier over the table cast a low light. Amanda suddenly wondered exactly what type of dinner this was. What had happened to the discussion of Dallas Robotics?
Logan stood behind her chair as she sat, and then pushed it in gently. He picked up a bottle of red wine that had been resting on the table and poured them each a glass. After sitting down, he lifted his wine goblet and tilted it in her direction.
"Cheers," he said. A slight smile curved his lips, but his eyes were guarded.
"Cheers." She took a bigger gulp than she'd intended. Should she bring up the business discussion? Did he want to eat first? She wasn't used to work discussions held in private homes.
She needn't have worried. Logan launched into a conversation about her interest in nutrition. In passing, he mentioned the fact that some of his employees who'd held her current position had moved on to manage companies they'd worked on acquiring. Without actually stating it, he implied that the Daily Eats deal might be an opportunity for her to do the same.
Although she glowed inwardly with pleasure at his apparent faith in her abilities, she didn't allow herself to go off-topic to talk too much about work. He clearly wanted to relax. He'd taken off his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his blue business shirt before grilling the steak.
Now, he leaned back in his chair, idly cupping the delicate bowl of his crystal wine glass. He kept his gaze focused on her. She was reminded, once again, of how intently he paid attention. It was impossible not to feel flattered by this powerful, dynamic man, when he acted like she was the only thing in his world.
He poured himself another glass of wine, but didn't refill hers. The oversight was out of character, but otherwise he was a perfect host. The food was delicious, the conversation interesting, and the view unbeatable.
She almost giggled. Of course, she meant the view of him, but no one else would know that. It would be her secret. She picked up her wine glass and drained it. It was delicious. She wouldn't mind a bit more.
"Ready for dessert?" Logan asked as he stood up.
"Sure." She pushed back her chair. "Let me help you."
Logan held up a hand. "Allow me. It will be my pleasure to wait on you."
He returned with a small tray holding two round, golden pastries, a small pitcher, which she soon discovered was full of hot fudge, and a