The bar was unexpectedly large inside, with parquet flooring and Oriental rugs, timber panelling and plush leather armchairs. The waiters were dressed like butlers and Sally felt as if she were walking into an exclusive men’s club. At first she thought all the customers were men in dark business suits, but then she realised that there were several women, also dressed in dark business suits, with serious, businesslike expressions to match.
In her pale grey suit and rose-pink top with a beaded neckline, Sally felt girlish and frivolous by comparison.
‘Let’s sit here,’ Logan said, indicating two deep leather armchairs and a low polished table in a quiet corner. Sally sat very carefully, as she’d been taught years ago in deportment classes, knees together, feet tucked neatly, so that her legs didn’t draw inappropriate attention.
A waiter approached them.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Logan asked her. ‘Do you like wine?’
‘Yes, thanks. Red or white, I don’t mind.’
He ordered Cabernet Sauvignon for both of them and then, as the waiter left, he confessed, ‘I know you must be wondering why on earth I’ve dragged you here.’
‘I must admit I can’t imagine why you’d need my help.’
He released a button on his jacket and let it swing open to reveal rather a lot of pale blue, very fine shirt.
Looking utterly relaxed, he said, ‘My sister appealed to me to donate money to the Children’s Hospital. Her husband’s a doctor and she’s a physiotherapist and it’s a cause dear to their hearts.’
A donation to a hospital? Sally couldn’t imagine where this conversation was heading.
Logan continued. ‘Carissa, my sister, can be extraordinarily persuasive. She spent a few minutes talking to me about very sick children and I found myself writing a cheque with too many zeroes. But, as it turns out, I was actually buying tickets in a raffle.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Sally smiled and leaned forward, intrigued. ‘So what did you end up with?’
‘Tickets to the Hospital Ball and the honour of making a fool of myself on the dance floor with Diana Devenish.’
A ball…a dance floor… Sally’s heart took off like a startled possum. Get over it, girl, get a grip. You’re not going to be there.
She swallowed. ‘Isn’t Diana Devenish a television breakfast show personality?’
‘The one and only.’
More calmly, she said, ‘I remember reading that she won a celebrity dancing competition on television.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And they expect you to dance with her?’
‘Exactly.’
‘But you can’t dance. You told me last week that you’re absolutely hopeless.’
The waiter chose that exact moment to arrive with their wine and Sally blushed when she realised that he must have overheard her comment. When will I ever learn to watch what I say?
Logan, however, looked more amused than angry and the very discreet waiter showed no sign that he’d heard her.
When they were alone again, Logan smiled and raised his glass. ‘Here’s to team-building.’
‘To team-building.’ Sally’s faint response betrayed her confusion. She took a small sip of the wine, which was very dark and full-bodied and smooth. She was sure it had cost a small fortune. ‘Lovely,’ she said.
‘It’s not a bad drop.’
She still had no idea where this conversation was heading, so she set the glass down. She had to keep her wits about her.
Logan said, ‘As you so rightly remembered, I’m absolutely clueless about dancing.’ With a rueful smile, he took another sip of his wine.
‘I don’t suppose you can wriggle out of this?’
‘Not without upsetting a lot of people, including my brother-in-law on the Hospital Board.’
‘Well, the Children’s Hospital is a very good cause,’ Sally said, thinking of little Oliver and his problem with asthma. ‘And I’m sure you’ll be fine. No one will expect you to perform like Fred Astaire.’
Logan laughed. ‘There’s absolutely no chance of that.’
Sally smiled. But then she made the mistake of picturing Logan Black on a dance floor, and then, more foolishly, she imagined herself in his arms. And suddenly the bad memories were back—Kyle Francis holding her down, the smell and the taste of earth and male sweat. His hands hurting her. She felt a rush of panic and struggled to breathe as fear gripped her throat.
Fortunately, Logan didn’t appear to notice her distress. ‘Even without the burden of great expectations,’ he said smoothly, ‘I’d rather not trample all over Diana Devenish’s expert toes.’