Tossing the Caber (The Toss Trilogy) (2 page)

chapter two

She’ll be here—relax. She’ll be here.

In a grey pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, and tie, Logan sat facing the entrance to the Commonwealth Room of the historic
Yorktowne hotel and waved away the waiter who wanted to bring him a drink. He leaned back in his chair, the better to appear relaxed and in control.

It was a lie. Diana Lennox was late.

She’ll be here.

He’d left her office without giving her a chance to respond to his r
equest for a meeting. Maybe he should have waited—

No. She’ll be here.

The mingled scents of starched linen, fine food, and subtle perfume combined to make him feel outclassed and undercapitalized.
Well, maybe I am
—but his biggest problem was Ms. CEO Lennox. She had no real interest in selling her company to him. Why should she? She already held an exceptional offer from Carbon Unlimited; one she had worked hard to get.

Only the discipline he’d developed in the Army allowed him to sit, apparently at ease, and wait without fidgeting or looking at his watch. Instead, he let his gaze wander around the room. The setting would fit her. The hotel was a
veritable landmark, an old-fashioned showplace with intricate eight-inch baseboards, pillared walls, and magnificent crystal chandeliers suspended from high arched ceilings. Conservative. Elegant. Expensive.

She’ll be here.

He focused on the arguments he planned to make. She’d mentioned that Carbon Unlimited would retain her employees—for a while. He could better that—he’d keep them all, period. But that would only help if she actually cared. Pain flashed briefly, and he winced. He’d had his own first hand lessons in how little people mattered to career women. He should focus on the money, and the prestige of leading the field. That might impress her—especially if he agreed to keep the company name unchanged.

His gaze moved again to the entryway.

Hah! I knew she’d come.

Her business suit had been replaced by a soft black dress and jacket. Conservative. Elegant. Expensive. Exactly what he’d expected. He watched her follow the maître d’ toward him. She moved with a sway and a sigh of silk, her glossy black hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders.

Warmth feathered across his skin.
She looks like seduction… elegant, subtle seduction.
Ruthlessly, he negated his body’s response.
It’s all part of the game to her. She probably made me wait deliberately—to give herself an edge when we negotiate… If we negotiate.
There was no guarantee she would even listen with an open mind.

When she reached the table, he rose, dismissing the maître d’ with a look, and seated her across from him. He caught a whisper of scent that reminded him of summer—sweet-scented air, splashing streams, and blooming flowers.

Crushing a desire to lean forward and take a deeper breath, he pushed in her chair and sat down.
Stay on target, Carmichael. No entanglements, no collateral damage. Just work the deal.
“Would you like a drink, Ms. Lennox?”

“I don’t drink during business meetings.” She turned to the approac
hing waiter. “I’d like sparkling water with a twist of lemon, the Yorktowne house salad, and the roast venison.”

The waiter turned to Logan. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have beef tenderloin and a Caesar salad, with…water.” He could really use a drink now, but it would be smarter to follow her lead.

As the waiter left, Logan smiled. It was time to turn on the charm. “Venison? I’d have expected chicken or fish, not wild game.”

When she tilted her head, laughing quietly, his gaze locked on her mouth. The full, soft lips were lightly glossed.

He wondered how she would taste, and felt a predatory awareness of her slim form.
Let’s not go there. Stay clear—her kind are dangerous.
He realized she was speaking and pulled his attention back to her words.

“…
that chauvinistic viewpoint, but at any other restaurant in town you’d likely be correct. The truth is I can’t resist the incredible chestnut puree that comes with the venison here.”

Logan smiled politely. “I see.” He tilted his head toward hers. “So, what’s your pleasure, Ms. Lennox, business first or business later?”

“All business, Dr. Carmichael.” She leaned back in her chair. “To start with, I’d like to know why you think your idea is so revolutionary that you’d try to buy a company, just to be sure you held onto it.”

So, we cut straight to the chase. Good.
He smiled. Once the action started, his nervousness would disappear.
Bring it on, lady.
He loosened his tie and leaned forward. “My changes to the standard processes used in the pultrusion of carbon rods should increase efficiency by at least ten percent, and produce rods I estimate will be more than fifty percent stronger in tension and eighty percent stronger in compression than the best product on the market today.” Her expression didn’t change, but he had seen her eyes lift from his shoulders to his face as he threw the numbers at her.

She was interested. He straightened in his seat. “Carbon Unlimited will bury it—they’re too invested in the old technology. Lennox Incorp
orated”—his head tilted toward Diana—“is small enough to make the changeover feasible. Once these rods hit the market, everyone else will be playing catch-up for years.”

“Go on.”

Those lips were a major distraction. He had to keep his focus. Watching closely for any response from her, he shifted in his seat and continued.

“The theory and planning on this are complete. Now I need conve
ntional equipment I can convert to the new process. And materials and testing facilities. I want to make an offer for your firm.” Her gaze was roaming over his chest again. He usually welcomed the effect his body had on women, but he needed her to listen to his proposal. He waited until she met his eyes. “I’m coming to you, Ms. Lennox, because I need what you have.”

She froze for a moment. Then he saw her graceful fingers curl into a fist, and the slight shift in posture.

In response to her body language, his own sexual awareness ratcheted up a notch. Damn, he should have phrased that differently.

She jolted into speech, her well-schooled face automatically denying what he’d seen her body say. “Do you have a patent on the process?”

Logan’s brows drew together. What a dumb question. When did she think he’d had a chance to get a patent? Wasn’t he telling her he needed testing facilities? “Obviously, the data to support a patent application haven’t been produced yet. That’s why I need access to a factory.”

A flush crept over the back of her jaw.

Apparently, he hadn’t succeeded in keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. Her posture grew stiff and her eyes narrowed. “Dr. Carmichael, perhaps you need to look elsewhere for your company.”

Oh, shit.

Her voice was cold and those beautiful brown eyes had turned to ice. “Your idea appears to have potential, but Carbon Unlimited’s offer for Lennox is good for my employees and good for me. I came here as a courtesy to you, but frankly, I don’t need the aggravation.”

Damn, she’s touchy.

She rose to leave, but Logan moved quickly to block her way. “Wait.”

He was too close, only inches away from soft lips at the perfect height for kissing, with her scent swirling around his head.

Focus.
He tossed his pride aside. “Ms. Lennox, please. Once again I have to apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Really?” Standing squarely in his space, she glared up at him. “Is condescension your normal mode for relating to women? You may have a Penn State Ph. D., Dr. Carmichael, but I know my company and my field. If you can’t accept that, we have nothing to discuss.”

“You’re right.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “You are right. Message received loud and clear.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I give you my word, it won’t happen again. Please sit down and let me run my ideas past you. I promise you, I will welcome any input you have.”

She looked up at him, and he could see she wasn’t buying it. His plans were going down the drain. But then, inexplicably, she hesitated and stepped back looking embarrassed, as if she’d been admonished. “Very well, Dr. Carmichael. Let’s talk about the changes you envision.”

Why the sudden switch?

No matter. Adrenalin surged, and he moved to take advantage of the opening. “The key to the entire process is the new resin formulation I’ve developed. It makes the other changes possible.” He put his hands on the back of her chair and pulled it further out.

She stepped over and sat. “How have you altered it? Have you changed the polymer or the additives?”

“Both.” He pushed in the chair. “Actually, I’ve come at the problem from a whole new direction.” He seated himself. “Instead of a therm
oplastic, I’ve gone with an organic resin that can be chemically modified to cure at fifteen degrees Celsius. That will produce the increase in strength.”

Her brows snapped together. “How can that be? The resin we use now cures at ten. Lower temperature gives greater strength.”

Taken aback, he tried to frame his answer in terms she would understand. “That is the conventional wisdom, but in the case of this chemically-modified organic, it doesn’t apply.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Why not?”

He pulled his thoughts together and began to explain, carefully avoiding too much technical detail. It didn’t satisfy her. He wound up inking chemical structures all over a cloth napkin before finally convincing her that he was right.

That had been only the beginning. Her dark chocolate eyes alive with intelligence, she’d questioned his choice of materials, insisted he go over the calculations for his efficiency estimates, and more. What rankled most was that she’d found a few weak spots in his plans and told him how she thought they should be fixed—and she’d been right.

Get over it, Carmichael—the woman knows her stuff.
Clearly, she had expertise in more than just administration.

When Diana—they’d switched to first names while wrangling over the best way to insure the carbo
n fibers ran parallel—ran out of questions at last, he couldn’t tell if he’d made his case or not. He tried to engage her in conversation, but it fell flat and dessert arrived in near silence. Instead of talking to him, she put her head down and picked at her crème brûlée. It was damn annoying. She was younger than him by at least a couple of years, and he found her physically distracting, but she never let him forget it was her company they were discussing. Though to be fair, if she’d been unappealing it might not have bothered him so much.

Pushing aside the dessert, she looked up. “Logan?”

He saw her forehead clear as she spoke his name. Involuntarily, his heart rate increased and he found himself staring hopefully into her eyes. Clearing his throat provided an excuse to turn his head away. What was the matter with him anyhow? He turned back to her, putting on his practiced poker face. “Yes?”

“How do you propose to fund your purchase of a company?”

This time he didn’t mind that his heart rate went up, even though she’d said “a company” instead of “my company.” He squared his shoulders. “I don’t have the collateral to finance the purchase myself. I’ll arrange for a backer to secure initial funding, and pay that loan off out of the increased profits from the new process.”

“How long do you estimate the period of the loan will be?” Her head tilted and a long sweep of glossy hair rested on her jacket. It looked like a drift of black night shot with stars. She straightened her head, and the shining strands lifted.

He swallowed hard and took a drink of water, partly to clear his head and partly to buy time. “I’ll get an eighteen month period on the loan, at minimum.”

“You’d be wiser to go for two years. Do you have a backer lined up?”

He hadn’t felt this pressured since he’d taken the oral exam for his Master’s degree. She seemed to be implying he was unprepared to buy her company, and he answered abruptly. “No, I haven’t had an opportunity to contact possible backers. I hadn’t intended to make an offer for a company this soon.”

She didn’t seem to notice, or mind, his annoyance. “I understand. I’m impressed with the potential of your ideas. Let’s meet Monday afternoon to discuss this further. I’ll put some numbers together for you. My office, one o’clock.” She stood.

“One o’clock.”
All right!
He’d done better than he thought. He began to rise to walk her to the cloakroom.

“Please don’t get up, Dr. Carmichael. She gave him a smile that was no more than polite. “I will see you Monday.”

Logan sat back and jerked his head in a stiff nod.
So my ideas are good enough to do business, but you’re out of my league otherwise. Is that it?

She turned and walked from the room, just a suggestion of sway in her hips. The cut of the dress and jacket left what was beneath largely to his imagination.
Classy and cold.

So why couldn’t he just ignore her? Why this constant undercurrent urging him to grab her, kiss her, make her his? It must be left over from the way she challenged him this morning.
Just your ego wanting to assert itself, Carmichael.
Best to let it go.
He signaled to a hovering waiter and ordered that drink, cursing his overactive libido.
Dangerous, nothing! She’s poison, and I’d damn well better remember it.