‘Typical male!’ Callie tried to sound annoyed, and knew she had failed miserably as Logan began to chuckle. ‘I’ll have you know your attitude is chauvinistic,’ she added crossly.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have to sound so—so proud of it?’
‘Are you a Woman’s Libber?’
He made it sound like something insulting, and Callie wished she could have said yes. ‘No,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘I admit to liking equal opportunities, but I like to be treated as a woman.’
‘Protected?’
‘I suppose so,’ she nodded.
‘You want it all ways,’ he drawled mockingly.
‘Yes!’ her eyes flashed.
‘As a man, I can tell you we like to protect. I also like a woman to have a mind of her own. We humans are a mass of contradictions, aren’t we?’
‘We’ve also discussed some very unusual subjects for two people that just met!’ Callie had suddenly realised the strangeness of the situation. She and Logan Carrington had only met fifteen minutes ago, and yet they had been talking, arguing, like old friends. He was a man she found it easy to talk to, and she was aware of talking to him as she and Jeff used to talk, lightly arguing, airing different points of view. After four months it felt good to be with someone she could be like this with.
‘Maybe we could discuss some more unusual subjects,’ Logan suggested huskily. ‘Maybe over dinner one night in the week?’
She was tempted—oh, how she was tempted! But she didn’t know this man, no matter how relaxed she felt with him. She knew nothing about him except that she liked talking to him, liked the challenge of their conversation.
‘I’d really like it, Callie,’ he prompted.
She stood up. ‘I should get back to the party.’
Logan stood up too, suddenly very serious, his expression intent. ‘Dinner, Callie. Please?’
He didn’t look as if it were a word that came easily to him. ‘Maybe you could call me…’
‘Give me your number,’ he nodded.
She watched while he wrote it down, the pen he used obviously gold. He looked as if he might be a wealthy man; he had an air about him that spoke of authority.
She gave him the number, not really expecting to hear from him again, sure that he wouldn’t even remember the meeting tomorrow, then watched as he moved across the outer room with lithe grace to join a tall willowy redhead, whispering something in the woman’s ear before they made their excuses and left. The woman had been beautiful, and their relationship was obviously intimate. No, Logan Carrington wouldn’t remember her tomorrow—but Callie knew she would remember him!
‘There you are!’ Donald pounced. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘I think I’d like to leave now, Donald,’ she told him coolly.
‘That’s why I’ve been looking for you. It’s late, I have to work in the morning.’
What a husband he would make! ‘No, I can’t make love to you tonight, I have to go to work in the morning’! He didn’t know the meaning of the word spontaneity.
As she had known, he didn’t take the news that she didn’t want to see him again very well. But she didn’t tell him the real reason she had been stringing him on this last month—let the Spencers stew for a while! Bill was looking into Spencer Plastics for her, and by the time she attended the shareholder’s meeting next month she should have a fair idea of what was going on. She would knock down their marriage plans at the same time.
The telephone was ringing as she let herself into the flat, and she rushed to pick it up, the silence from the adjoining flat telling her that so far Marilyn was having an undisturbed night.
‘Yes?’ she hissed into the receiver.
‘Callie?’
She instantly recognised the voice. ‘Heavens, Logan, it’s almost one o’clock in the morning!’
‘Am I disturbing you?’ His voice had cooled.