had far more of a chance of winning the Kentucky Derby than she had of appealing to Eric.
There was silence again and she was quick to remedy it. “You’re his best friend, Jordan. You talk to him.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because, as his best friend, Eric wouldn’t be uncomfortable saying no to me. But he won’t say no to you. Especially since his parents have donated a considerable amount of money to your cause as well as to the Children’s Connection,” he told her, mentioning the name of the adoption organization associated with both Portland General Hospital and PAN itself. “He just needs a little convincing.”
She knew all about the Logans’ generosity, as well as what Eric did and didn’t do. She made it a point to keep tabs on him, even if he was completely unattainable. “And you think I can do that.”
“Hey, you’re the chairlady. I can’t do all your work for you. Besides, you’re the one who can argue the ears off an Indian Elephant.”
She supposed that was a compliment, although she’d had better. “Lovely image.”
“You’ll find him at Logan Corporation. I know he’s free this afternoon about one.” Jordan paused. “He’s expecting you.”
She was due in court by three o’clock. That gave her a small margin of time if she juggled it right and had lunch at her desk.
So what else was new?
Jenny felt her heart hammering as she echoed incredulously, “He’s expecting me?”
“Uh-huh. I told Eric that you might drop by to try to convince him to jump on the bandwagon, so to speak.”
Jenny felt her mouth becoming completely dry. That was because all the moisture in her body had suddenly rerouted itself straight to her hands and then condensed there.
She heard herself saying with more than a little disbelief, “Then I guess one o’clock it is.”
“Great. Talk to you about the details later.”
She wasn’t sure if her brother was referring to the details involved in his taking part in the auction, or the details of what was probably going to prove to be her latest mortifying experience, but she didn’t have the opportunity to ask. Jordan had hung up.
Gripping both sides of the desk, she rose from behind it on shaky legs that had suddenly been rented out to someone else. In a gait she knew had to approximate that of Frankenstein’s monster as he took his first unattended steps, she began to cross to the hall.
“Hey, your next appointment is here,” Betty hissed to her as Jenny strode past the younger woman’s cluttered desk.
Jenny didn’t even spare Betty a look. She couldn’t. Moving her head to the left or right might carry dangerous consequences with it.
“Tell them I’ll be right back.”
Getting accustomed to her new wooden legs, Jenny quickened her steps as she hurried to the bathroom. To throw up.
For a second after she exited the cab, Jenny stood on the curb, looking up at the tall edifice before her. The building that was owned by and housed the Logan Corporation. With effort, she gathered together the last drops of her courage. She needed all the help she could get.
Despite her last appointment running over, she’d made it to the Logan Corporation building with a few minutes to spare.
All the way over to the shining thirty-story edifice she had practiced what she was going to say to Eric once she was alone with him. But, unlike when she was preparing to deliver summations in court, no amount of rehearsal seemed to improve her performance. The moment she went through her arguments, they melted from her brain like lone snowflakes out on a June sidewalk.
He was just a man, she told herself as she rode up the elevator to his floor. Two legs, two arms, one body in between to hold the limbs together. Beneath his tanned skin he had the same skeletal structure as millions of other men.
But oh, that skin, Jenny caught herself thinking. And growing warmer.
This thinking was going to get her nowhere. Worse, if she wasn’t careful, it would lose the auction a potential and incredibly desirable bachelor. The fewer bachelors, the less money would be raised. Any fool could see that having Eric Logan on the block would raise the organization a very pretty penny.
There were no two ways about it. She had to think of him as just another body.
Focus, focus, she ordered herself as she stepped off the elevator and walked down the hallway to the inner sanctum that was the gateway to his office.
His office lay just behind the massive double doors. As the VP of Marketing & Sales for the Logan Corporation, Eric occupied an impressive suite. She had no doubts that the entire staff of Advocate Aid, Inc. could easily fit into it with room to spare, desks and all.
She presented herself to the keeper of the gate. “I’m Jennifer Hall. Mr. Logan is expecting me.”
Unlike Betty, who came to work in jeans that had seen a better century, the woman she addressed looked as if she had been forged out of a mold that was labeled: Perfect Secretary.
The woman smiled distantly but politely, then checked a list before her.
“Yes, he is,” she replied coolly. “If you’ll come this way.” Rising to her feet, the secretary led the way back. She knocked on the door, then turned the knob, opening the door just wide enough to allow Jenny to slip through. “Ms. Hall to see you, sir.”
Nodding her thanks to the woman, Jenny crossed the threshold. When the door closed again behind her, Jenny concentrated on not sinking to the floor in a heap.
She looked like the personification of efficiency, Eric thought as he rose to his feet to greet Jenny. Every light brown hair was pulled back and in place, except for one wayward wisp at her right temple that seemed to have rebelliously disengaged itself from the rest.
It made her look more human, he thought, his eyes sweeping over the rest of her. Jordan’s sister was wearing a light gray suit that appeared just large enough to hide her figure.
Was there a figure beneath all that, or was she shapeless?
Didn’t matter one way or another. He reminded himself that this was his best friend’s sister and not another conquest to be won over. This was strictly business, not pleasure. If anything, he was doing a favor for a friend. A friend to whom he’d ultimately lost a handball game to yesterday.
“Sit down.” He gestured toward the comfortable chair before his desk.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
The words were uttered slowly, distinctly. She wasn’t enunciating so much as trying to work around a tongue that felt as if it had swollen to three times its normal size. Sitting, she leaned her briefcase against the back of the desk and placed her hands on either armrest, praying she wouldn’t leave damp streaks on them. Her palms felt as if they were more than one half water.
Taking
