Eclipse of the Heart - By Carly Carson Page 0,5

in Chicago's Dover Hotel.

"It’s a suite," Logan said, his deep voice feathering over the back of her neck.

She fought back a shiver. She should have worn something more protective. Kevlar. A burka.

"Great." Amanda averted her eyes from his shoulders and jabbed the key card in the slot above the doorknob. "Can you give me a few minutes to unpack before we start working?" She needed some time to collect herself away from his demanding presence.

The light on the doorknob flashed red. She jammed the card in again, almost folding it in her haste. Still red. Muttering under her breath, she yanked the card out. She couldn’t see anything the way he blocked the light from the hall fixture.

"Allow me." Logan plucked the card out of her hand and gently inserted it. The little green light flashed in invitation.

"Stupid key thinks this is your room, too," Amanda muttered. She held her hand out stiffly for the key card. If she couldn’t control the way her nerves twitched in his presence, she’d never be able to make this job work. And she had no choice but to succeed.

Logan turned the handle and pushed the door open. "This is my suite also."

She stared at him for a long moment before she recovered her equilibrium. "I’m not sharing!"

"Relax." He placed one hand on the small of her back to propel her through the door. "There are two bedrooms. This arrangement is much easier when we’re traveling."

"I don’t care what’s easier. I want my privacy."

"Amanda." He sighed. "Why don’t you look at the rooms? I think you’ll find them comfortable and private."

Closing the door behind them, he strode across the spacious living room, removing his business jacket casually, as if he were perfectly at ease with the notion of sharing a hotel suite with a woman he’d just hired. His dark hair gleamed in the soft lamplight that glowed throughout the honey-colored living room. A thin strip of tan skin between the edge of his crisply cut hair and the starched collar of his white cotton shirt drew her eye. But she banished the imp in her brain who wondered what else he might take off. Where would that kind of thinking lead her?

She forced her gaze around the room, looking for a distraction. The suite was big enough that they wouldn’t be tripping over each other. Logan had walked behind the sleek mahogany bar, a sinuous curve of polished wood slinking against the left wall. For her part, if she were going to do any slinking, it would be on those huge, overstuffed sofas, which whispered a silky invitation to lie back, relax, and accept their voluptuous embrace. She moved toward one, then decided against taking a seat. No one could look professional reclining in that almost-bed.

The floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the room had an angel’s view of the gleaming lights of Chicago. Not that she felt one bit like an angel. More like the devil’s mistress.

She watched Logan’s dark head dip down behind the huge bouquet of jewel-toned flowers adorning the bar. When his broad shoulders re-emerged, one arm lifting a bottle of amber colored liquid, she knew exactly how Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden. Choose the clever, enticing devil, capable of luring any woman to any delight – or the milquetoast Adam? No competition at all.

Logan raised the bottle. "You look nervous," he said. "Would you like a drink?"

He poured the whiskey into a crystal tumbler. Amanda almost expected the tinkling ice cubes to vaporize under the heat of his gaze.

"No, thanks." She cleared her throat. "I don’t drink when I’m working."

Raising one brow, he set the bottle down on the bar with a small thud. "I won’t take advantage of you."

Amanda caught her breath. Why did the look in his eye say otherwise?

He walked toward her, holding his drink in one hand while he loosened his tie and yanked it off with his other hand.

"Where will I be working?" she asked. Perhaps a reminder of her employment status would halt his advance. Or at least the disrobing.

"That’s your choice," he answered, giving her that half smile he’d perfected. Just one corner of his mouth turned up, but his lips and dark eyes relaxed.

He gestured with his drink. "The office and the kitchenette are to your left, the bedrooms on the right."

Bedrooms? She stiffened.

His alert eyes caught the slight movement. "Don’t worry." His long fingers moved at his throat and the top button on his