Chandler winced at the sound of his name. Three weeks. Somehow it seemed like another lifetime, but at the same time, it felt like just last night she had woken up in his arms, snuggled against his warm body. Then she reminded herself sharply that she’d made the right decision. She’d been strong, and now she needed to rebuild her life.

     The Yoga and Arts Center had become her most important goal. Knowing she needed to come up with a drastic plan in order to make up for the capital and time she lost, she dedicated herself to forming as many new classes as she could handle, while she and Linda worked around the clock to survive. Ironically, she was becoming a workaholic and the type of person she normally counseled about reducing stress. She reminded herself it was only for a temporary period, until she got her school back on profitable footing.

     And, of course, until she exorcised the ghost of Logan Grant.

     “Harry, I don’t have a choice right now. We’re sinking fast and I have to do everything possible to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

     “Linda said Logan wants to hire you on a permanent contract with his company.” He studied her face. “You refused to even consider it. Two other corporations have contacted you about setting up a workshop, and you haven’t even pursued a meeting. That would save the Yoga and Arts Center without putting you in an early grave.”

     “I don’t need his charity.” Temper surged within her. “The only reason he wants to finish this contract is because he feels sorry for me and guilty for everything he’s done. He’s probably contacted those other companies for the same reason. I can do this on my own.”

     Harry didn’t say anything for a while. “Hmmm, interesting. Besides giving up your health you’ve acquired the trait of pride, which you always told me was a sin. You used to always say that accepting help from other people is sometimes the greatest form of strength.”

     Chandler glowered at him. “I don’t need Logan Grant’s help.”

     “I think he’s in love with you.”

     Her mouth dropped open at her friend’s stark words. “That’s crazy. It was all a big game to him, he never loved me.”

     “I think he messed up by not telling you about the meeting with your father and obviously regrets it. I think he’s the type of man to know what and who he wants without being influenced by your father’s money and power. I also think you’re terrified of believing him, because then you wouldn’t have an easy out of the relationship. I think you’re running away from love.”

     “You think a lot, don’t you, Harry?” she muttered under her breath. Chandler buried her face in her mug. “Anyway, what about Richard? He’s still waiting for my answer to his marriage proposal. Don’t you think we’re better suited?”

     Harry shook his head. “I think Thorne is lying and I think you know it. Believing Thorne is a lot easier. Cast Logan in the role of the villain, and you don’t have to deal with your feelings for him.”

     “Did you two bond over a beer or something?”

     Harry smiled. “Have you talked to your father?”

     “No. I refuse to take his calls or see him.”

     “Your father would be able to tell you the truth. If you’re ready to know the truth.”

     “Why are you on Logan’s side?” she demanded. “My whole nightmare came true all over again. It was a replay of four years ago.”

     He sat beside her and spoke in a gentle voice. “I know you went through hell. But Logan isn’t Michael, and I think you could get past it if you wanted to. Unless of course, you’re not in love with him. Are you?”

     Did she still breathe and think and feel? Every part of her body ached for him. She had focused all her energy into work and hoped to drive away the urgent need to go to him. Even after everything he’d done, she still loved him. Nothing could take that away, not even working herself into the ground. A tiny part deep inside wondered if Harry could be right. Maybe Logan had decided to decline the contract. Maybe he had never lied when he spoke about his feelings.

     Maybe she had made a terrible mistake and misjudged him.

     Her mind went over the time they spent together. In the beginning, she had felt like it was all a game, but then something had connected them. She’d glimpsed a tenderness such an isolated man who was commonly called the “man of steel” should never have shown. He had made love to her and sworn his body wouldn’t lie. He’d sworn she could trust him.

     He’d tried to convince her he told the truth, but she was so caught up in her own emotions, she hadn’t listened. And she hadn’t believed him.

     Her mind swirled with a dizzying flow of thoughts. “Do you love him?” Harry asked again.

     She nodded.

     “Then what are you going to do about it?”

     She turned to face her friend in surprise. “What do you mean?”

     “You’ve always fought for what you wanted. When you make a mistake you apologize, fix it, and keep going. If you want him back you have to take the first step.”

     “What if I judged him wrong?” she asked. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

     Harry smiled. “What have you got to lose?”

     A life of loneliness. Years of regrets. Nights spent alone in bed, wondering if she had made a mistake for giving up so easily. Suddenly, a blinding flash of realization coursed through her. She had to give it a shot. She needed to talk to her father about what happened. She had already wasted three weeks of self pity while she mourned her unhappy, unlucky existence.

     She was damn tired of it.

     She sprang up from the sofa and slammed the mug down. “Will you call Linda for me and have her take over my next class? I’m going to see my father.”

     “Sure, no problem.” He watched her race out the door. After a moment, she peeked her head back in.

     “Thanks, Harry.”

     He laughed. “Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”


     The modern high-rise building centered in the heart of Manhattan thrust toward the sky in rivalry with newer skyscrapers. Tracing the path she had followed since her youth, she waited patiently for the elevator to stop at the top floor, then walked through a long hallway filled with a string of secretaries. Her father had trained them well, as they all questioned her destination, and she’d been almost tackled by the older woman standing by the water fountain. The woman’s voice dripped icicles, and her eyes gazed behind thick, gray glasses. She liked Connie at Logan’s office much better, Chandler thought to herself absently.

     The inside of his office was the same. The thick oriental carpet set off the rich wood paneling and cherry wood desk. Ceiling to wall windows tempted the onlooker to dream of money and power as he gazed over the city. Plush chairs scattered around heavily carved tables to relax clients, and a fully stocked bar took up one side of the room. The smell of cigar smoke still drifted in the air, and stacks of paperwork filled the room, bursting from every spare inch of space.

     Alexander Santell looked amazed to see Chandler storm into his office. She hadn’t bothered to change, thinking her old sweat pants, faded t-shirt declaring the Yoga and Arts Center, and a pair of worn Reeboks represented her true identity best. She’d caught up her honey brown hair in a pony tail high on her head, and she knew her eyes shone with exhaustion. But a determined spark flamed within her and she directed it against him.

     “Good God, daughter, what have you done with yourself?” He dropped a leather binder back on his desk.

     Chandler looked around the office as the memories rushed back. Four years ago she had stood in front of her father in his own personal kingdom, an office where she grew up. Now, it didn’t seem to be as intimidating as she remembered.

     Neither did her father.

     He stood behind his desk. His figure emanated waves of raw energy. His silver hair was still thick and distinguished, marking him as an experienced adversary to the younger generation.

     But something felt different. For the first time, she saw her father for who he really was. A human being who had lost his wife and only daughter. A man still fighting a losing battle to get what he wanted. Funny how she never really noticed before.

     Alexander Santell was lonely.

     She settled herself down on the smooth leather chair opposite his desk. “I want to know everything that happened between you and Logan Grant.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

     He puffed on his cigar while he studied her. “Why do you always insist on wearing those old clothes?” he asked gruffly. “You always looked so nice in those wool business suits.”

     “I’m allergic to wool, father. And I happen to like my old clothes, they’re more conductive to teaching yoga.”

     “Ah, yes, yoga. I thought you had lost your mind when you started teaching those courses, but I have to admit you may have started a new craze in the business world. I saw the figures from Logan’s report. Besides having every employee up in arms about your departure, you were able to show some results. Employee satisfaction increased. Quality of work improved. And morale went through the roof. Therefore, you made the company money. Nice job.”

     Her mouth fell open. Chandler wondered if she was hallucinating. “You spoke with Logan about my program?”

     “Sure. Maybe you can do your old man a favor and start classes here. I always like to be ahead of the competition, even though there’s no way in hell I’ll roll around the floor to relieve stress.”