Tossing the Caber (The Toss Trilogy) (3 page)

As she left the building, Diana tried to quiet the excitement running like wildfire through her veins. Logan’s ideas were nothing short of brilliant. Arguing with him had been exhilarating, waking up areas of her brain that had lain dormant since college. She had to admit her physical reaction to him had been exhilarating too. Unfortunately, she didn’t want to be exhilarated. She wanted to be free.

For six years she’d been working to get out from under the respons
ibilities she’d taken on after her parents died. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been prepared to be CEO of Lennox Incorporated. Her education, her activities, even the children she’d been allowed to associate with had always been chosen by her parents with a view toward her eventual role. She knew the right people, wore the right clothes, had her condo done by the right decorator.

It had been a big job to mold her into the woman who ran Lennox so well. Her love of color and texture had not been an asset and her sh
yness—mainly the result of constantly being told what was wrong with her—had been a definite negative. So she had learned to wear the masks that allowed her to hide her unacceptable self. Soon that would change. She would quit living a lie and build a life based on who she really was.

Going with Carbon Unlimited would give her immediate freedom. Agreeing to sell to Carmichael might delay
her release a bit, but the potential advantages were great.

Sliding into her silver Lexus, Diana let her businesswoman persona drop off like the mask it was. Logan Carmichael had left her frustrated. She found herself wanting to give him a chance, wanting to turn down Carbon Unlimited and sell him the company. He had unsettled her plans. And he had unsettled her in other ways as well. She started the car and punched up the CD scan in her stereo. The scratchy voice of Bob Dylan came on, singing the opening lines of “Lay Lady Lay.” Diana li
stened to the refrain once, smiling, then switched the CD off. She didn’t need to listen to Dylan’s whiskey-rough voice inviting her to lay across his big brass bed. Not tonight. She was already too susceptible to the earthy sexuality of Logan Carmichael.

Why was that? She knew plenty of handsome, well-built men. What was it about Logan that caused him to affect her so strongly?

Maybe that his body didn’t look like it came from a gym. It seemed more elemental. She could picture him shirtless—rolling boulders, hefting tree trunks, preparing for battle. Thinking of it made her insides feel like they were melting and shifting. And his unusual coloring made it hard to look away when he captured her eye. Caramel-colored hair brushed straight back above eyes the same shade of brown. You’d think it would make him seem softer, but it hadn’t. Even a simple glance from below those arrow straight brows felt like a demand. Meeting his eyes as they discussed business arrangements had caused her to feel an irrational desire to capitulate to whatever he asked.

That could be dangerous.
She’d never before had to work so hard to keep her wits about her. In fact, thinking about him now was getting her hot all over again. She deliberately redirected her thoughts toward business.

He seemed to be honest. She pulled onto the street. And he was good at what he did. Diana recalled taking him on a tour of Lennox Incorp
orated, just before hiring him. When they had entered the heat of the plant his white shirt had clung to the hard muscles of his body, his loosened tie had exposed his throat, and the yellow hard hat perched on his head had made him look taller than his already impressive height. Watching him, it had been nearly impossible to keep her mind on work. But he asked pertinent questions about their resins, spoke knowledgably to the man monitoring the surfacing veil feed, and demonstrated the familiarity with chemical process industries that she was looking for. A good hire.

Just a few days ago when she’d gone into the plant to speak to Joe, her line boss, Logan had been there looking very much at home with his clipboard, hard hat, and steel-toed boots.
Definitely not a hands-off stick-to-the-office type. Still, there was something about him that made her uneasy—and not just sexually.

He seemed to be
hiding something. As she left the historic buildings of downtown York behind, she wondered what it could be. Anger? What reason would he have for that? Distrust? There was no reason for that either. All her transactions in business, and indeed in her personal life as well, had always been above board. Perhaps he was just slow to get to know people.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t his type. Men with Logan’s looks and ambition didn’t fall for women like her. He would want the real deal, not a woman whose self-assurance depended on having a pr
escribed role to play. At day’s end, Diana admitted, she left her confidence in the office…unless there was an evening business meeting, of course.

Oh, who cares?
She grinned. It didn’t matter so much, really. She could enjoy the view, even if she knew she’d never get past the window. And what a view it was… Smiling, she let her thoughts roll back to Logan as she drove home alone.

chapter three

Diana sang enthusiastically, and just a smidgen off-key, as water cascaded over her body. She felt full of energy. It was Saturday morning. Time to play with puppies.

She stepped into her bedroom where a happy jumble of pillows bu
ried the squishy armchair, and sunbeams streamed through the open window to dance over an unmade bed.

Pulling on worn jeans and an old blue T-shirt, she stuffed her license and a credit card in the pocket and grabbed her cell phone and keys. In the living room, the sunlight was subdued by elegant drapes. A few stray rays highlighted sleek modern furniture and reflected from a dramatic angular sculpture on the gleaming coffee table. Diana turned her back on the room’s sterile perfection and headed out the door.

With her window open and an elbow on the frame, she drove one-handed down the country road, singing along with classic rock from the radio. The breeze that tossed and tangled her hair carried the scent of tall grass plumed with seed and flowers welcoming the sun. Opening Man’s Best Friend four years ago had given her so much. Besides being a humanitarian effort, it was her recreation—an escape from the corporate world. It had provided a way to help her friend Sally, whom she’d hired to manage the place. Best of all, at the animal shelter Diana had no need for masks.

The Lexus kicked up gravel as
she pulled off the road and drove past the pens and small runs connected to the west side of the sprawling frame building. At the far end of the lot, near the wing housing the main offices, she parked the car and jumped out. A clamor of barks and howls heralded her arrival as she trotted into the building.

“Hi, Sally! How are my babies today?”

The tall blonde behind the reception desk looked up, smiling. “They’re all ready and eager to play, Boss.” Stepping away from her computer, she walked toward the back door. Two inches taller than Diana’s five foot ten, Sally Johnston had the taut body of an athlete and the energy of a twelve-year-old boy. It took both to keep things running smoothly at Man’s Best Friend. She looked over at Diana. “How goes the business grind?”

“You know, I must be nuts. I have an offer from Carbon Unlimited that would break me free from the company, and I’ve almost decided to turn it down.”

Sally’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Turn it down?”

Diana wasn’t surprised by the incredulous tone of Sally’s voice. They’d been friends since college, and had become even closer in the four years since the death of Sally’s husband. Sally knew, more than an
yone, how Diana longed to escape the obligations that came with running Lennox Incorporated. So Diana smiled as she closed the back door of the shelter, waiting for the question she knew was coming.

“Why on earth would you turn it down?”

“Yesterday one of my people came in—a chemical engineer, actually—with an idea for a new process he claims will revolutionize the industry. He wants to rent the company to test the process and then buy the place and put his idea into production. I’m thinking about working with him instead of Carbon Unlimited.” Diana moved toward a large grassy paddock at the far end of the concrete runs.

Sally kept pace. “Why on earth would you do that? Carbon Unli
mited is a sure thing. A new process? Sounds like a gamble to me.”

“Not so much as you might think. He walked me through it at dinner last night, and I think it has real potential. I’m tempted to invest in it myself.”

“Still, Carbon Unlimited agreed to keep your people on. I thought that was a big deal for you.”

“It was—it is, but the deal with Carbon Unlimited only protects them until our current contracts run out—that’s six months at the outside. Carmichael’s offered to keep our workers long term, so his may be the better deal.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe this process he’s developed could put Lennox in a strong position—make it a leader in the field. It would give the folks at the plant security, not just more time to find a new job, but real,
long-term job security. I keep thinking about Mildred—I’ve known her since I was a child—and the others who’ve been with Lennox for so long. I was willing to go with Carbon Unlimited because it was the best I thought I could do for them, short of running the plant forever myself. But this is better.”

“Well, that will free you up anyhow, won’t it—if he rents the comp
any, I mean?”

Diana shook her head. Life was never simple. “I don’t think it will—not for a couple of years anyhow. He doesn’t have the capital up front to pay for development. I could easily invest enough in the process to cover initial costs and keep things going while production scales up, but I can’t just walk off and leave the money and the company in his hands. He’s an engineer, for God’s sake! He might turn out to be all right at running things, but I don’t want to risk it until I know for sure.”

“Is he okay with that?”

“He’s going to have to be if he wants the company. The thing is, if his idea works out it will cut me loose
and
mean greater security for the people who work in the plant. Lennox will have a real advantage over the competition. That would be worth a couple extra years to me. Besides, if he’s got some managerial ability hidden in that body of his, I might be able to bow out sooner.”

“Body of his?” Sally’s brow arched almost to her hairline.

Diana grinned. “Did I forget to mention he has the body of a Greek statue under his business suit? One might argue he’s actually quite pleasant to look at.” Feigning disinterest, she turned to reach for the gate to the west paddock.

“Details,” Sally demanded, blocking her way.

“Well over six feet tall, broad shoulders and biceps to die for, strong features, and monochromatic coloring.” Diana sidestepped around her friend and entered the enclosure.

Sally spun around to follow her. “
Monochro-what?”

“Monochromatic. His hair and his eyes are both the same color. Just the color of Brady’s coat, aren’t they, Brady boy?” Diana squatted down to rub the belly of a wiggly fawn-colored Great Dane pup, “And his skin is… not pale, exactly, but light-toned.”

Sally spoke over her shoulder as she carefully latched the gate. “Pretty boy?”

Diana snorted. “Oh, no. Not this guy.” She stood to pet a big choc
olate Lab. “He’s more the rugged type, like Cocoa here.”

“Sounds interesting.” Sally raised her eyebrows. “So is he the reason you’re thinking about renting out the business, instead of being done with it?”

A flush warmed Diana’s face. “No. I’ve already told you my reasons for that. He’s not my style anyway, probably likes the sophisticated heiress type.”

Clipping a leash to the big lab’s collar, she avoided Sally’s gaze. “Come on Cocoa, let’s take a run.”
He’s not my type. He’s not.
The phrase matched the rhythm of her feet as she and Cocoa ran across the meadow.
He’s not…He’s not…He’s not.

Sweat rolled down Logan’s chest as he wrestled the dusty, broken commode out of the farmhouse shed and into the rented dumpster. He didn’t think Uncle Ned had ever thrown away a thing. Every broken appliance, every outdated magazine, and an astonishing collection of empty cottage cheese containers had found their way into the storage area out back. But it was empty now—and Logan had a place to park his Jeep. Using the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, he hopped into the seat of the SUV and moved it out of the noonday sun.
Time for a slice and a shower.
Then he would see about finding some companionship.

In the kitchen, Logan grabbed a huge piece of pizza from the scarred oak table and snagged a can of beer from the ancient refrigerator. He stepped into the tiny front room and leaned a shoulder against the wall, looking out the window as he ate. The front porch and steps were downright unsafe. He’d have to repair or replace them, first thing. They topped the long list of improvements the old place needed. No rush, though. Most of the work would have to wait until his cash flow i
mproved.

Swallowing the last bite of pizza, he washed it down with the rest of his beer. Four long strides carried him nearly to the end of the hallway off the kitchen. The door to his left led to the bathroom. Across the way, facing the front yard was the room where he slept. It wasn’t better or larger than the bedroom next to the bath, but it was on the west side of the house—where the morning sun was not. Dirty jeans landed below the bare window, followed by the sweaty T-shirt. He grabbed a towel from the pile of laundry folded on the bed and stepped across the hall.

As he stood in the tub with hot water raining down on him, Logan was glad the bones of the house had stayed strong, despite being untended as Uncle Ned declined. The foundation was good, the roof didn’t leak and—best of all right now—even outdated as it was, the plumbing worked just fine.

Maybe it was a blessing he’d been paying back Uncle Sam overseas when Ned had the stroke. It was better to remember hunting trips and evenings by the lake than a hospital bed. Still, if he’d had the chance, he’d have been at his uncle’s side.

Not that Ned ever complained—he’d been the one to encourage Logan to trade three years of his life for a first-class education. “A good education lasts forever.” How often had Ned told him that?

Practically speaking, going into the service had been the only choice. Uncle Ned had been well into retirement when Logan’s dad lost his long, hard battle with cancer. His mother had left them years before that. L
ogan clenched his jaw, remembering.
Dad never got over her leaving…

He’d been lucky to have Uncle Ned. But there had been no insurance, no real jobs for a raw seventeen-year-old, and Ned hadn’t had the r
esources to help with college. The three years of service that bought his bachelor’s degree had stretched into nine and a doctorate. Logan didn’t regret a day of it. But he was home now, and here he would stay.

Pushing aside the shower curtain, he stepped out of the tub, water dripping down his strong legs, as he toweled himself dry. The old far
mhouse was livable now. It had taken him two days to empty it out and clean it. Then he had furnished it with a second-hand bed, Uncle Ned’s old kitchen table and chairs, and an ancient leather couch from the Salvation Army thrift store.

Most would have called it bare; Logan thought of it as uncluttered. His clothes hung on wire hangers in the tiny closet or lay, neatly folded, in the suitcase open on the floor. It was a whole lot better than some places he’d been.

He pulled on fresh jeans and grabbed a shirt, buttoning it as he walked toward the kitchen. On his way through, he grabbed the empty pizza box and a scribbled address from the table.
Food, paper plates and a microwave. Then I’ll be set.

Closing the back door behind him, he
tossed the box into the dumpster, stuffed the address into his pocket, hopped into his Jeep, and roared off down the road.

Hours later, after a marathon of grocery buying and with a new m
icrowave installed in his kitchen, Logan pulled the dusty SUV into the lot outside Man’s Best Friend. It was time for the good stuff. He hadn’t had a pet since he was a kid. Now he had a home, and to his mind, every home needed a dog. He strode into the shelter and smiled at the boy behind the reception counter. Eleven, Logan guessed. “Hi. Can you help me? I’m looking for a dog.”

“Sure. Is your dog lost, or do you need a new one? I’m Tyler, my mom works here. What’s your name?”

“Hi, Tyler. I’m Logan, and I need a new dog—a big one, not a puppy.”

“That’s okay. We don’t have many puppies, but we have lots of big old dogs.” The boy puffed out his chest. “I can show you some, when my mom comes back—I’m watching the desk.”

Logan nodded. “I can see that.” Not eleven. Maybe ten? He looked up as a tall blonde with sharp green eyes stepped behind the counter. “Is this your mom?”

“Yeah, this is Mom.” The boy turned his back on Logan. “Mom, can I show him the dogs? He wants a big old one. His name is…” The flow of words slowed. Tyler looked back at Logan, frowning. “What was your name again?”

“Logan. Logan Carmichael.” He smiled and extended his hand to the woman.

Her grip was firm and warm. “Sally Johnston.” She tucked a bit of short, streaked blonde hair behind her ear.

She was a looker. Why weren’t his senses humming? In response to the questioning look on her face he went on. “I’m looking for a dog, like Tyler said. I thought you folks might have a nice adult dog who needs a good home.”

She smiled politely. “We might, but we like to know a bit about the people our dogs go to, is that all right?”

Logan nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

“Great. Then, Tyler, you can grab a leash and take Mr. Carmichael out back to see the dogs.” She grinned at Logan. “Tyler knows most of the dogs pretty well, so he’ll be able to tell you which are the best ones to play with. If you find a dog you’re interested in, bring it back here to me and we’ll talk.”

“Sounds good. Say, how old is he?” Watching the boy sprint down the hall to retrieve a leash, Logan had revised his guess downward again.

The blonde smiled as if she could read his thoughts. “Not quite nine—he’s tall for his age.”