But did any employee know the inner Logan Grant? Chandler realized his job demanded all of his effort and time, but the sacrifice was evident when she watched him from across the room. Even when surrounded by people, he always stood alone. An invisible barrier stretched around him. Logan had climbed the ladder of success, but he hadn’t taken anyone with him. It had been a lonely climb.

     She wondered why knowing that about him hurt. Her new feelings were dangerous. She’d been prepared to withstand the aggressive actions of a man who wanted her in his bed. What she hadn’t expected was the tender emotions flowering inside of her in response to the onslaught of a warm, summer rain rather than a crashing thunderstorm. But perhaps he knew how she felt. Perhaps it was all part of his game of seduction. Perhaps—

     “I think I’m extremely jealous of the men in your classes.”

     Chandler jerked upward and spun around to face a pair of wicked gray eyes. He towered in the doorway, looking powerful and at ease in his black, conservative, custom tailored suit. He’d taken off the jacket and hooked it over his shoulder. His white starched shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of red suspenders molded the fabric to his frame. Black winged tip shoes peeked from underneath his slacks. He cut an intimidating figure. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “What do you mean?”

     Logan walked towards her. “If that’s the view students get during class, sign me up.”

     She blushed at his pointed gaze, and realized her hips and backside had been raised in the air. “That is not very gentlemanly of you to notice, or comment, Mr. Grant.”

     He put his hands to his heart. “I was only trying to protect a lady from future embarrassment. What if I had been an old evil lecher bent on ravishing your body?”

     “Aren’t you?”

     “Aren’t I what?”

     “Bent on ravishing my body?”

     His eyes darkened. One lid dropped in a naughty wink. “Yes, but I draw the line at being called old and evil.” He reached out and brushed at a stray tendril of her golden brown hair. “How do I know you didn’t strike this pose to drive me insane?”

     She fought a smile. “Mr. Grant, I would never deliberately provoke you.”

     She knew by the look on his face he remembered that night. His voice dropped. “You’re doing it right now.”

     “Doing what?”

     “Provoking me.”

     “I’m not doing anything.”

     “Each time you call me Mr. Grant in such a proper tone, you challenge me to make you say my first name. I have many pleasurable ideas in mind. Want to hear them?”

     “No.”

     He smiled and tossed his jacket on the coat rack. “Too bad. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I’ve come on business.”

     Chandler blinked and grabbed for composure. Too many delicious ideas lingered in her mind. “What kind of business?”

     “I’m having dinner with an important client tonight. I gave him some information about your seminar, and he seems interested. I’d like you to come with me.”

     She hesitated. Having dinner with him could be dangerous on her part. But if she declined she’d miss an important opportunity. After a few moments, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you for speaking with him about the program.”

     “You’re welcome.” He glanced around with interest. “This is a beautiful studio.” He walked toward the oversized bay windows which overlooked the Hudson River and mountains in the distance. “Very peaceful. You have to actually strain to hear the sounds of the taxis and factories.”

     She laughed. “I fell in love with this location the moment I saw it. A fire gutted the building years ago, and it remained vacant. I think the structure was too far off the beaten path for investors to make a profit.” A gleam of pride shone in her eyes as she spoke. “I renovated the place and bought it outright.”

     “You did a wonderful job.” His gaze encompassed the bare wood floors and large, airy space. One wall was covered with mirrors, and at the far end the windows were flung open, allowing the late summer breeze to whisper in. Black and white photographs displayed a figure posed in a series of different postures called Sun Salutation. Near the front of the room, small vases filled with fresh daisies and wild flowers graced an elaborate rock garden. Toward the back sat a pottery bowl filled with softly bubbling water. A small Buddha statue sat in the center. The plump, smiling figure radiated peace.

     He motioned toward the display. “What’s that for?”

     “When students first come into the studio they take off their shoes and bow before starting their practice. It’s a way of leaving your ego at the door. There’s no competition in a yoga class, so we try to come to the practice with humility. Buddha represents enlightenment. Flowers and water represent new life. Rocks represent the earth. We pay our respect to all of these elements.”

     The beauty of her words struck him full force. He pondered them as he strolled through the room. Logan caught a glimpse of her office in the corner and peeked through the open door. The room held a worn pink sofa, one battered desk, and a variety of papers scattered across the floor. Purple mats and meditation cushions were stacked neatly in the corners. He smiled and breathed in the faint scent of incense. “Did you have a difficult time finding students? Your location is away from the mainstream where business thrives.”

     “The first year was a struggle,” she said. “I invested in some advertising and sponsored workshops for the community, so it helped with new clients and referrals.” She shook her head, remembering those months of hard work as she struggled to make a profit on a business she believed in, but others mocked. “I’ve reached a point where there seems to be enough demand to increase classes and hire more help. There’s so much more I want to do here. When I first decided to develop the Yoga and Arts Center I knew I wanted a place where people could escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I stumbled upon this building when I visited a meditation retreat close by. I knew immediately this was what I had been looking for.”

     He watched her from across the room with curiosity. “This was an enormous undertaking for anyone. Did you have help?”

     The shutter dropped over her face and closed off all emotion. “No,” she said softly. “I did this by myself.”

     “But now you need me.”

     Her gaze cut to his. Fire glittered within her eyes, reminding him of emeralds catching the sun. “I needed an opportunity to show how my program could work. If you had declined my proposal, I would’ve found someone else.”

     He closed the distance between them. Her head tilted back to look at him with defiance. “But you didn’t.” Logan ran his finger along the side of her jaw. “You found me. You’re mine now. You belong to me.”

     Raw, sexual energy sizzled in the air. She fought for breath as her fingers curled into tight fists to hold herself back from touching him. She wanted him. Wanted his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, his taste against her tongue. All the weeks of abstinence only increased her hunger. Logan growled something under his breath, either a curse or a prayer, and his head lowered toward hers. His arms reached out to snag her and draw her closer and—

     “Chandler!”

     Her name echoed through the room. He released her, never taking his gaze from her face. Chandler shook herself out of the sensual spell and turned, torn between relief and regret at the interruption.

     Harry rushed through the entrance in his usual manner and stopped short when he spotted them. “Oh!” He hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.”

     She waved him in. “It’s okay, we were just finishing up.” She made the introductions and watched them shake hands. Logan acted as if he was measuring up a business rival. Poor Harry looked confused. “Logan was just leaving. He doesn’t like to be away from the office for too long.”

     “Oh, I have plenty of time,” Logan drawled. “My schedule is clear for the afternoon. So, you’re Chandler’s lawyer?”

     Harry beamed with pride. “Yes, Chandler is my first official client. She was one of the only people who supported me though school. Even after I failed the bar she always believed in me.”

     “I gather you two are close friends.”

     Harry nodded. “We’ve known each other for years. Whenever I’m under pressure she helps me relax. I knew when she decided to open the Yoga and Arts Center she’d become a success. You were lucky to snatch her up before she’s in demand.”

     “She helps you relax with yoga?”

     “Sure. She also gives a great massage. Knows all the pressure points.”

     Chandler almost groaned. She knew her friend’s intentions were good, but the look on Logan’s face was quite distressing. He looked as if he could cheerfully strangle her friend. “Harry, is there something you needed?” she interrupted.

     “Want to have dinner tomorrow night? I need to talk to you about some things happening at work. Anyway, I’ve been craving Italian lately.”

     The room fell silent. Chandler dared a look at Logan’s face and was sorry she did. He looked ready to strike.

     His lean, muscled length coiled tight, as if to hold himself back. His jaw clenched and unclenched. She watched with fascination as his gaze came to rest upon her with a warning deep in its depth.

     A thrill shot through her at his obvious jealousy. It seemed his control over the last week was finally at an end. He thought something was going on between her and Harry, and wanted to put an end to it. He had the same look he always gave Richard when he caught them together.