Heart of Steel Read online

  She shook off her disturbing thoughts and poured a cup of herbal tea. The hot liquid slid down her throat with ease. "Logan will help me keep my business. I guarantee him his investment. We both get what we want."

  "The escape clause was a mistake. You never discussed the option with me."

  "You know I'm desperate. Logan behaved oddly, too. After I offered him a full reimbursement, he acted angry. Almost as if he cared about what happened to my studio."

  Harry gave a snort. "Grant doesn't care about people. He cares about money."

  "Yeah, you're right. His lawyer seemed nice, though. His name is Richard Thorne, and he actually studies yoga."

  Harry lifted one brow. "An attorney of Grant's doing yoga? That's a new one." He studied her face thoughtfully. "What did you think of him?"

  "He's nice. Not like Logan at all. He seemed more, well, light-hearted. Non-threatening."

  "Hmmm. Just your type."

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

  "Yeah, you need a date."

  "Harry, you're so subtle."

  "It's been too long since you had a man in your life. A lawyer who's interested in yoga is a rarity these days. Go for it."

  "Thanks for the advice, but I'm not jumping into anything. I'm content with my life, and men make things complicated. Besides, he works for Logan. He wanted to draw up the contracts but I told them I'd use my own lawyer."

  "Good move. I'll add a clause so you can break the arrangement within six months if you think the program won't work. I want you both on equal footing." He grimaced as he took a sip of the herbal tea she handed him. "Damn, don't you have any coffee in this place?"

  "Too much caffeine isn't good for you. Besides, this tea contains antioxidants."

  "I'd rather die happy. This stuff tastes terrible." He put the mug back down. "How will you manage the extra workload?

  "Linda will handle the bulk, but I'll have to cut back on some classes temporarily. If this deal works out I can hire new instructors and expand without a deficit. This contract is the start of a whole new future. Can you imagine how many new students I could teach? I can renovate the building, and get that soft lighting we talked about, and new mats and--"

  "What if the deal falls through?"

  She raised her chin. "The deal will go through. I'll prove to Logan this is the best program he ever invested in."

  Harry shook his head. "No offense, but I can't believe he agreed. Can you picture the 'man of steel' trying to relax and clear his mind?"

  "I know. I bet half of his work force suffers from ulcers."

  Harry chuckled. "Those finance boys won't know what hit them. I bet after a month of your classes they'll watch what they eat and breathe deeply in stressful situations."

  Chandler laughed. "I hope you're right. But the first executive I need to impress is the man picking me up in a couple of hours." She glanced at her watch. "I have to get home and change. I'm sure at exactly seven he'll show up at the door in the usual suit and tie."

  Harry went over a few details he added to the contract. "Are you wearing the itchy suit?" he asked.

  Chandler made a face at his teasing remark. "No, I'm donating that to charity. I have a different outfit in mind for Mr. Grant. Maybe the white chiffon."

  He whistled. "The one with the headdress? Your father almost dropped on the floor when you showed up at dinner and caused his client to spill champagne in his lap."

  Her laughter floated through the room as she shut the door behind her.

  The situation was not what she'd expected.

  Chandler watched the man from across the table as she bit into a slice of crusty French bread slathered in butter. From the moment he'd picked her up in his low slung Italian sports car he'd thrown her curve balls. Instead of the usual suit and tie, he lounged before her in a casual sport jacket and black turtleneck, which molded to his body and defined his broad shoulders and chest. Black slacks clung to his muscular thighs and a pair of Nike Air completed the outfit. Logan Grant actually wore sneakers. She couldn't seem to accept it.

  What was probably worse, she thought as she stabbed her fork into her Caesar salad, was his reaction when he'd seen her outfit. She'd prepared for a shocking response, but the pure masculine satisfaction mirrored in his eyes made her nervous.

  Chandler had passed on wearing her white chiffon and instead wore a black lace bodysuit that peaked out from under a sheer black blouse in the finest of silk. Her black silk skirt flowed down to her ankles, but when she moved the material parted to reveal a dozen slits cut to her thigh. A wide silver belt completed the outfit. The fabric moved with her every movement and skimmed her body with lightness.

  She gave up on hair clips and pins and let her hair fall loose, allowing her dark honey and sun-bleached tawny strands to curl wildly about her shoulders and down her back. She wore no jewelry, having always preferred bare skin to the overdone-in-gold look. Many arguments ensued with her father based on her tendency to dislike clothes suitable to the business world, but Logan didn't seem to mind. In fact, she almost blushed under his direct gaze.

  She sipped her Pinot Grigio and watched him carry on a lively conversation with the waiter about the Giants and their chance to win the Super Bowl. The man actually knew how to talk football. This hardly seemed fair given the amount of time he spent in the office.

  "Food seems to be another one of life's pleasures. Don't you agree?" he asked in an amused tone, interrupting her thoughts. She paused in the act of reaching for another shrimp cocktail as the waiter left.

  "I try to be vegetarian and eat tofu and yogurt, but my heart just isn't in it." She smiled. "I feel guilty when I lecture my students on nutrition. I've already made note of the dessert menu."

  He laughed. "A woman whose heart is controlled by her stomach. I respect that." He watched her bite into the shrimp and close her eyes in delight. "I hope your profession can support your appetite."

  "If I wanted a fortune, I would have worked as a business executive."

  "So you said before. What else do you hate besides money, Chandler?"

  Her green eyes glittered with a hint of moisture. "Power. People who control. Lies hidden behind smiles. The usual things most people hate."

  "It's not so simple," he said softly. "Most grab at an opportunity with both hands. People raised in poverty see money as their only way out of hell."

  She shook her head. "It's a trap. They're really giving up the self, and what they get in return is a lie. Money and power are illusions and only soothe for a temporary period. Then they wake up one morning needing more, and sacrificing more to get it. In the end they lose everything important and find themselves alone. Money can't help loneliness."

  "That sounds like a conclusion drawn by one who followed the path and got burned. You talk from experience. What made you change?"

  She looked up from her plate, startled. She never meant to get involved in this type of conversation. She didn't like to tread in such dangerous territory, in fact she refused. Chandler forced a bright smile. "Why, my therapist, of course. Doesn't everyone in New York have one?"

  She held her breath and waited to see if he'd follow her lead. She relaxed when he smiled back. If he wanted answers she had a sinking feeling she'd have no choice in the matter. She made a mental note to be more careful of the information she leaked.

  He focused his attention back to his dinner. "I'll have Richard look over the contract and you can start the workshops on Monday." His voice was cool and brisk. "I know your lawyer is inexperienced, but an escape clause shouldn't have been offered. It puts you at risk."

  "Harry didn't know until it was too late," she said. "I came up with the idea myself. He gave me hell later."

  One black brow shot up. "Do you usually do impulsive things without telling anyone?"

  She shrugged. "I only have myself to answer to, so I take responsibility for my actions."

  "Your Harry doesn't take offense?"<
br />
  Chandler frowned. "He has no say in my decisions."

  Logan watched her for a moment, then shook his head. "You haven't met the man who'll set a couple of rules for you." He cut into his prime rib. "You're too impulsive, so you need to be watched. I bet most men in your life don't know how to handle you. You need someone with enough strength to tell you no once in a while."

  Her mouth dropped open. She took a quick grab at her temper. "I do not need, nor will I ever need, a man telling me what to do with my life," she said firmly. "I am a capable, rational woman who knows exactly what will make me happy. No wonder I swore off business executives. Too many of your kind think they know what's good for a woman and refuse to converse in a normal manner. They dictate, threaten, and bully their wives into doing what they want, forgetting the bedroom is not the boardroom. I refuse to be put through that experience again."

  "Again?"

  She ignored his question and forged on. "Furthermore, I'm looking for a man who listens to what I have to say and supports my goals. A man willing to compromise when he disagrees with me."

  "You'd be bored out of your mind. You need someone who will yell back in the living room, and make up in the bedroom."

  She gasped. "That is the most ridiculous, chauvinistic remark I ever heard! I want a partner, not a caveman. I'm quite satisfied with my life and refuse to change for any man. Besides, you don't know the men I date. They certainly don't bore me."

  Logan clamped down hard on the wave of irritation that flowed through him at the idea of her dating a wide variety of men. His free spirited yoga teacher intended to show him she refused to cater to a man's whims. Unfortunately, he became more determined to put an end to her experiments. Hell, this was crazy, he thought to himself in disgust. He'd never been a possessive man where women were concerned. Possessiveness indicated a messy emotion, which he normally stayed away from. Maybe this woman called to his sense of challenge. Obviously, she'd been burned by a corporate executive, and chose to stay far away from a man who wore a three piece suit.

  His lips tightened. Time she learned a lesson. Chandler probably dated men she safely controlled, but she was about to discover he wouldn't stay meekly on the sidelines once he decided he wanted her.

  Logan studied her face. She stuck her chin high in the air, practically daring him to challenge her. A dab of red cocktail sauce clung to her lower lip. Almost as if she knew, her tongue snaked out and licked off the drop, unconscious of how damn sexy she appeared. He waited a beat. Then made his decision.

  He wanted Chandler Santell.

  "You haven't met the right man yet," he repeated.

  Her hand trembled around the stem of her wine glass. The certainty in his voice and the heat in his eyes made her stomach slide downward, as if she had just plunged off the peak of a roller coaster. She fought the sudden urge to fidget, but reminded herself the deal was closed, and she didn't have to plead her case. Of course, she still needed to placate him throughout the six month trial period, but refused to allow him to pry into her personal life. A strangled laugh rose to her lips. "You're impossible." She reached up and pushed back her hair. "Is this how you wear down your enemies?"

  "Words won't convince you. Action will."

  A chill ran down her spine. She ignored his remark and chalked it up to one of his control moves.

  He devoted the rest of the conversation to neutral topics. She enjoyed matching her wits against his sharp mind, and was surprised at his dry sense of humor. No doubt, he had his share of fair offers by the way women in the restaurant snuck glances at their table. Chandler wondered if his good looks or his money held their rapt attention. The combination was a deadly mixture.

  As he escorted her into his sports car, she admitted Logan made a nice dinner companion. As long as she kept the subject firmly averted from her personal life, he'd be the perfect advisor to help her business expand.

  He pulled up to her apartment building. "Why don't we finish celebrating our deal over brandy?" he asked.

  Chandler hesitated, then decided she'd be rude not to agree. "Sure, come on up." They walked up the flight of stairs and Chandler slid the key in the lock. She flipped on the lights and waved toward the sofa. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll only be a moment." She walked into the kitchen and kicked off her shoes.

  Logan smiled at her sigh of relief before turning his attention to the room around him. He wandered around, pausing now and then to finger an object or study a painting. The cream walls, pale yellow carpet and off-white furniture helped set off a whirling array of colors and sights that attacked the senses. Cheerful, bright watercolors hung on the walls in a blinding intensity of images, they practically jumped out of their frames at him. They were so full of life.

  Lush, green plants dangled above him as he checked the view out the window. A large ficus tree dominated one corner and half a dozen smaller plants he didn't immediately recognize surrounded it. Some sort of Christmas looking pine tree and bunches of flowers claimed the other corner plus one entire wall. Chandler obviously had a green thumb with plants--he was curious to see how green she would make his bottom line.

  Sitting among the foliage were three large marble sculptures struggling for attention. Each figure stretched in a different yoga position. He made a safe assumption they were not high art, but more of an emotional attachment. Books and magazines were tossed over the floor and furniture, and Logan caught the faint smell of incense which still hung in the air. He studied the sculptures in curiosity.

  "One of my teachers gave me those." She placed two snifters on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. Logan sat next to her. "They were supposed to represent the new commitment I made to my life."

  "What commitment?"

  Chandler smiled. "Truth in speech. Simplicity in manner. Firmness of mind. Three things to constantly strive for."

  "Have you succeeded?"

  She took a sip of brandy. The heated liquid trickled down her throat and warmed her body. "I don't think many people end up succeeding," she said. "Peace is a constant journey. I know I'm happier and more satisfied than I've been in the past. Giving up the drive for wealth and power wasn't as hard as I thought. I've gotten back so much."

  "Why does it have to be all or nothing? A person can still have money and reach spiritual height without giving up his dream."

  She shook her head. "I think the path sounds easier than it really is. Most people think they can have both, which may work for a while. But someone who is truly reaching for spiritual height will eventually have to choose between truth and lies. Truth must be chosen. When money's involved, the decision becomes harder."

  Logan reached for his brandy and studied the amber liquid. "I disagree. If a person knows himself, he knows what path must be chosen. Money doesn't corrupt, Chandler. People do."

  "Perhaps." She settled back on the couch. "I think we talk too much about me. I want to know how the 'man of steel' received his nickname."

  He groaned. "If I ever get my hands on the journalist who wrote that article he will sorely regret it. I feel like I should wear a cape and be called Clark."

  Chandler laughed. "Oh, your reputation can't be that bad," she teased. "Your last coup with Larson Securities was very successful. Investors knock down your door to get a hint of your next target." She swished the liquid around in her glass. "Now, I know you started off as a stockbroker and cultivated some high number of accounts, but you've expanded since then. You're buying corporations outright now."

  He nodded. "I look for companies that are solid but in trouble. I buy them out, fix them up, and make more money. If I decide it's not profitable, I just take the business apart and sell it off."

  "Like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman."

  Amusement gleamed in his eyes. "Yes, just like the movie."

  "In such a competitive market you've made quite a name for yourself."

  "I've managed."

  "You've more than managed. But you didn't tell me how you got your nickname.
"

  A shadow passed over his face. His voice chilled when he finally spoke. "Does it matter?" She blinked in surprise. "No. I just thought we'd get to know one another. Since we'll be working together, of course."

  "Of course." A muscle worked in his jaw, but he seemed to want to answer her question. "When I first started L&G Brokerage, I needed to score some particular deals in order to keep afloat. Steele Investments was an up and coming company earning a lot of press. I decided if I was able to acquire them, I could easily double my company's profits."

  The name skittered on the edge of her memory. "Wasn't that a family owned company?"

  "Yes. I researched all the members in the family. I learned their strengths and weaknesses, in their professional and private lives. It took me months, but I finally found the weak link."

  "What?"