Logan's Redemption (3 page)

Franco sat across the table from her and winked. She narrowed her eyes and he laughed softly.

While her father shuffled the stack of papers on the table in front of him, Doriana’s mind drifted to Logan. She’d tried to concentrate on work after he left her office today, but he consumed her thoughts.

On some level she’d always known he’d return and had dreaded the day. Her fears for Josh welded with her own suppressed yearnings. If Josh knew about Logan would he dream of having a father in his life? Would the dream be shredded...as her hopes were splintered like a chunk of dead wood the day Logan walked away?

Despite his dark edge, Logan still carried the sadness that had touched her from the first time she saw him so long ago. As hard as she’d tried then, she’d been unable to erase the melancholy that clung to him. She had to be very careful now or she’d be hurt again. Or worse...Josh would be hurt. She squeezed the pencil she held. It broke in two. Her father peered at her from above his reading glasses. Face burning, she looked quickly away.

“Let’s get started,” her dad said. He laid his glasses on the table and looked around at the faces staring back at him. “We’ve had more bad news.”

Tension snaked around the room. Doriana sat straighter, focusing on her father, the man she adored, the man she tried so hard to please.

Her dad waved a piece of paper in front of him. “We lost the Trenton bid. To Ackerly. They beat our price by eleven percent, just enough to get the job.”

A collective groan went up from the other officers.

Bryce James, the sales director, licked his lips. Sweat beaded his forehead. “That’s the third job we’ve lost in four months. What’s going on?” 

“That’s what I want to know.” Her father pounded the table. “And there’s more.” A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “We had vandalism last night at the Riverfront project. Someone managed to sneak past the guards and throw paint on the walls. It will be hell getting black paint off white lacquer.” He scrunched the paper in his hand and threw it on the floor.

Gathering her courage, Doriana took a deep breath. “Dad, it has to be someone in the company who is leaking the bids. The figures are sealed.”

“Come on, Doriana,” Bryce James said. “That’s ridiculous.”

Her father gave him a withering look. Bryce sank into his seat. Doriana sensed the others in the room backing away, wanting to distance themselves from the coming wrath.

“No one in our company would be that disloyal.” Her dad stared at her with eyes dark as storm clouds. “I refuse to believe that one of my employees would betray me. Their jobs depend on this company’s success. I will not tolerate any more talk about sabotage, or whatever you call it.”

She bit her lip, holding back her anger at her father, as she always did. Whispers and murmurs skirted the table.

“Dan’s right,” the chief financial officer said.  

“It can’t be any of us,” one of the attorneys said.

Doriana looked at the others, pretending a confidence she didn’t feel. “It’s not coincidence that our last three bids have been undercut by our competitors just enough to get the jobs. And now the deliberate destruction of property. What’s next? We can’t continue to lose money like this. We should look into the possibility of corporate espionage.”

Franco snickered. “Lighten up, Dorie. Corporate espionage? You’ve been watching too much TV. You need to get out more.”

Anger at his attitude and his dig at her lack of social life stiffened her spine. And he’d called her Dorie...Logan’s name for her. She fisted her hand on the table. “Don’t patronize me. I’m an officer in this corporation with as much right to speak as anyone.”

“Cut it out, both of you,” their father said in a tight voice. “This is a business meeting.”

Doriana glared at Franco until he looked away.

Her dad’s sharp gaze rounded the table, seeming to settle on each person in turn. Chairs squeaked and plastic hit wood as the meeting attendees squirmed in their seats and tapped their pens on the wooden table.

“What we have to do,” her dad said with a firmness that demanded attention, “is a better job of putting together our bids. The sales department has gotten very lax and I will not tolerate it.” He narrowed his eyes at Bryce James. James’ face purpled.

Her father glanced down at the appointment book in front of him and back at the sweating sales director. “Clear your calendar tomorrow. I want to meet with you and your staff. I want an action plan as to how your department intends to correct this problem. We will not lose any more bids. And we need to review your security policies.”  

“I’ll get with them as soon as this meeting is over,” James said, running a finger under his shirt collar.  

Doriana forced the tension from her muscles. She wanted to remind her dad that he’d taken drastic measures after the last setback, to no avail. But he turned a deaf ear to her advice. She knew she was right. Someone was sabotaging them. For what? Money? Love? Greed? Whatever the reason, it surpassed any loyalty he or she felt for the company. It could be someone seated around this table. She shivered.

Right now she needed to talk to her dad about Logan. If he wanted to keep Logan on the payroll, he’d have to find another place for him. But no way would he be her assistant.

When the meeting ended, she waited until the others filed out. Her father, seated at the table and gathering up papers, gave her a questioning look.

“Dad,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I need to speak with you about the assistant you hired. He won’t work out.”

Her father fixed her with one of his strong glares. She stared back.

“He’ll work just fine,” he said. “I checked his credentials. He has the skills to do the job. He stays.”

His firm voice brooked no argument. She dove in anyway. “What do you really know about this guy? He said you hired him as a favor to a mutual friend. What friend?”

Her father looked at her over his glasses. “Is that what he said?”

“Did he lie?”  She leaned across the table.

“Of course not.” He began stuffing papers into manila folders, not looking at her.

“Dad, who is the mutual friend?”

“Someone you don’t know,” he said, busy with his papers.

“I know all your friends.”

He took off his glasses and leveled his gaze at her. “Apparently you don’t. Logan stays. End of discussion.”   

* * * *

Doriana crossed her arms over her stomach and paced her bedroom. Ten o’clock. Where was Josh? He hadn’t come home from school or gone to visit Mom or Nonna. None of his friends knew where he was. He didn’t have his driver’s license. Where could he be?

What a day. Logan shows up after sixteen years. Now this. Father and son. Cut from the same mold?

The sound of a revved-up car engine tore down the street, stopping in front of her house. A car door slammed, then running steps and a key unlocking the front door.

She hurried down the stairs to meet Josh in the entry hall. He looked at her with a sheepish grin that reminded her of the lovable child he’d been. His grin morphed into the cocky smirk of the teenager he’d become.

“Where the hell were you?”  Her voice shook.

He stared at her, his expression guarded.

She tapped her bare foot on the cold tile. “Answer me.” Flaring her nostrils, she fought the urge to shake some sense into him and then hold him until all was right again.

“Chill out, Mom. I was with friends.” His gold-flecked hazel eyes, Logan’s eyes, mocked her.

“What friends?”

“You don’t know them. God, I’m hungry.” He dropped his backpack on the floor and loped away, heading for the kitchen.

“Joshua, stop right there.”

He turned around. Impatience and arrogance blended together on his chiseled features. Logan’s features. “Mom, I’m starving. Can I go eat?” 

“Not until I get some answers,” she said, walking up to him. “How dare you come in at ten o’clock with not even a phone call to tell me where you were or who you were with. I tried calling, but you had your phone turned off.” Leaning closer, she sniffed him and wrinkled her nose. “Why do you smell like exhaust fumes?” 

He backed away. “This is Philadelphia. It’s a dirty city.”

“Forget that,” she said. “Who are these friends? Do they go to your school?” 

“They go to public school.” Challenge flashed in his eyes. “Do you have a problem with that?” 

Anger boiled through her, heating her. “Don’t pull that act on me. As long as your friends are decent I don’t care what school they attend. But I do care that my fifteen-year-old is running around at night with people I don’t know.”

“I’ll be sixteen next month and I’ll have my license and a car.”

She glared at him. “No car for you until you’ve earned the right.”

He shrugged. “Grandpop said he’d buy me one.”

She brushed fingers through her hair and fought tears of frustration and fatigue. “No car until I say it’s okay.”

“I’ll get a car.” He lifted a defiant chin. “Grandpop never listens to you.”

His words slapped her with the old doubts and insecurities.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Josh said, looking contrite. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She squared her shoulders. “You are grounded for one week.”

“Aw, Mom. That’s too harsh. I haven’t done anything wrong. I was just hanging with some friends.”

“You know the rules. You don’t take off after school without letting me know where you are.” She exhaled a deep breath. “It’s been a long day. Tomorrow you’ll tell me all about these new friends.”

“God, Mom, relax.”

“Any more backtalk and you’re grounded for two weeks.”

He groaned.

“Your dinner is in the refrigerator.” She rubbed her hands over her tired eyes and watched his retreating back. He looked more like his father every day. He had Logan’s height, taller than the men in her family, and Logan’s broad shoulders. Once Josh filled out, he would be the image of his father. His jet-black hair was the only legacy she’d passed on.

Her stomach churned with fear. Would Dad and Franco catch the resemblance between Logan and Josh? They had no reason to suspect. And men were usually clueless about those things. Mom and Nonna were a different matter, but they’d never meet Logan.

Heart heavy as a lump of clay, Doriana slowly climbed the stairs. She loved Josh so much. She’d done her best, bringing him up alone. Almost alone. Her family meant well, but they sometimes interfered too much.

Josh was becoming a man and he needed a father. Was it fair to keep Josh and Logan from each other? A knot twisted in her chest. Her son was troubled enough without disrupting his life with a temporary father. Her head pounded. She needed sleep. Tomorrow everything would look better.

* * * *

She always had great legs and she knew it. In the week Logan had worked with Doriana she seemed to take pains to make herself as drab as possible, with her conservative suits and her long mane of hair clasped primly at her neck. But she wore her skirts short. He smiled at her small vanity as he followed her into her office.

When she reached her desk she picked up a folder and turned to him. He quickly settled his features into an indifferent mask.

“Here are the properties I told you about.” Not looking at him, she handed him the folder and rounded the desk, putting the slab of oak between them.

Her body language spoke loud and clear. She was nervous around him.   

“Inside is a list of questions,” she said, her voice cool and professional. “Call the agent for each property and get the information I need. I’ll expect a report on my desk tomorrow.”

She sat down in the leather chair and began shuffling papers. He recognized a dismissal.

Once the snub would have made him defensive, a holdover from his hardscrabble childhood. But not anymore. He ran a successful business and he was good at his work. Dan Callahan expected results for his money. But first Logan had a few issues to settle with Ms. Doriana Callahan. He set the folder on the desk and leaned forward until his face was inches from hers.

She jerked her head up. Surprise and another emotion he couldn’t read flickered in her chocolate eyes...eyes that used to reduce him to slush. And still could, he realized as longing blitzed him. Releasing his breath, he forced his thoughts to a safer place.

“Is there a problem with the assignment?”  The huskiness in her voice gave lie to the rigid set of her body.

He lowered himself onto the chair in front of her desk and crossed his legs at the ankles, pretending casualness.

Her gaze cool, she picked up a gold pen and waved a hand over her cluttered desk. “I’m very busy. Is there something on your mind?”

“Damn straight there is.” He heard her sharp intake of breath and leaned forward. “You and I will be working together for the next six months.” The lie clutched his gut. More like six weeks. He pushed the guilt away, hiding his feelings, the way he’d been trained.

“I’m well aware of that,” she said in a tight voice. Pride, anger and fear flitted over the exquisite planes of her face. The pride and anger he understood, but the fear...where did that come from?