Heart of Steel

  Heart of Steel

  by

  Jennifer Probst

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Blue Star Books

  903 Pacific Ave.

  Suite 207A

  Santa Cruz, CA 95060

  831-466-0145

  Email us at [email protected]

  Visit our web site at www.book-hub.com

  Cover design: M.A. Heathman

  Cover model: George E. Haber

  Copyright (c) 2004 by Jennifer Probst

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except for excerpts used for reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information contact Blue Star Books.

  ISBN: x-xxxxx-xxx-x

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  This book is dedicated to

  all the good friends

  who have helped me on my journey:

  Jodi Prada, Marlaine Scotto,

  Lisa Hamel-Soldano, Kimberly Cornman,

  Colleen La Pierre, and Nancy Chaudhry.

  Without their friendship and support,

  this would never be possible

  Special thanks to the members in my writers group,

  The Hudson Valley RWA, who never failed to

  inspire me and tell the truth.

  And finally, to my two boys,

  Jake and Joshua,

  and nieces,

  Taylor, Kaitlyn and Amanda.

  You all make the world a more beautiful place.

  Dear Reader,

  Many writers don't get the opportunity to publish their first book, let alone the chance to publish it twice. Heart of Steel was the very first novel I ever penned. It went through many editors, who believed my alpha hero was "problematic" before hitting the desk of LionHearted. My first editor, MaryAnn, believed in this story enough to publish it. We eventually lost her in this world, and the company decided to close. When I received my rights back to the story, I knew I wanted to revise and freshen it up a bit. I now have the opportunity to re-issue the book in e-format with Book Hub. Chandler and Logan will now have another chance to reach my readership.

  Writers grow and change with experience, but I didn't want to alter my original, much younger voice. The revisions made are more surface - a bit more technology is now incorporated for my powerful CEO. A few tweaks. The rest remains the same.

  I believe Heart of Steel is still a keeper; a true love story about change, redemption and the power of love.

  I hope you all enjoy my very first novel - ready for the digital age.

  Jen

  Chapter 1

  *

  Chandler Santell studied the man behind the sprawling mahogany desk and wondered if she'd lost her mind. She took a deep breath and tried not to fidget, but her expensive celadon wool business suit was beginning to itch.

  How could she make a business deal with one of the most powerful men in the finance industry? Every firm she had contacted in New York City had rejected her proposal. Desperate, and almost out of time to save her Yoga and Arts Center, she decided to take a shot on one last name.

  Logan Grant.

  She knew why he was the "man of steel."

  Chandler ran down his list of attributes: owner of L&G Brokerage--one of the most successful companies in the city; dubbed the "man of steel" by the business community due to his ruthless reputation in closing a deal; a man whose word was law--and whose name commanded respect. His hard, steely presence in a room made people step out of his way. One word from the man's lips caused companies to double their profits or go bankrupt from loss of investors.

  Now Logan Grant held another fate in his very capable, very large hands. He held her entire future.

  He read her business proposal without looking up. She studied the strands of dark sable hair cut slightly longer than fashionable. A hint of silver at his temples helped Chandler place him in his mid-thirties. His features were too bold to be called typically handsome, but he had an interesting face. A tanned, almost olive complexion set off hard cheekbones and a strong jaw. Dark eyebrows lowered in a frown as he flipped through the pages of her proposal. His mouth tightened into a thin line, but his lower lip hinted at a devastating smile that could change his whole demeanor. Unfortunately, Chandler bet the man didn't smile too often.

  He wore a dark charcoal gray suit, and though conservatively cut, the quality of the fabric and elegant lines told her his clothes were custom made. When he had stood to welcome her, he towered easily over six feet and radiated a tightly contained raw energy. Even as he studied the figures in front of him, his presence pressed down upon her in a purely masculine intimidating manner. Another advantage the man held when closing a business deal.

  Chandler pulled discreetly at the itchy neckline of her suit and wished she was back in her studio, conducting a class in her own comfortable clothes. Four years ago, she'd walked away from the corporate world and vowed to never return. The irony of the situation hit her full force. The Fates certainly possessed a sense of humor. She was now about to use all the skills she acquired from her past to convince Logan Grant to help save the Yoga and Arts Center, the school she built from scratch.

  She hoped the Fates were also kind.

  Logan dropped the proposal back on the polished wood and looked up. His gray gaze, as clear as ice but with a smoky intenseness, made her stare helplessly back, as if she had no choice. A shiver rose up her spine. She knew immediately he was not a kind man. Chandler fought against the sudden urge to walk out of his office and hide in a safe place.

  An inner voice mocked her thought. If Logan Grant wanted to find her, there would be no safe place. She took another deep breath and braced herself for his decision.

  "You are one gutsy lady."

  She blinked. "Excuse me?"

  He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her. The leather creaked gently beneath his weight. "I've seen many projects looking for funding, but never one with so many--how should I put it? Good intentions. I've heard of financing a health club, but a class that helps my employees manage stress? The results are impossible to measure. How do I make a profit?"

  Chandler leaned forward and resisted the urge to pull down the hem of her tight skirt. Her legs itched from the scratchy material, but she wasn't about to drawn his attention there. "Your investment will come back to you time and time again, Mr. Grant.

  As you've just read in my research, employees today aren't working to their full potential. L&G Brokerage, like many firms, suffers from high turnover. An employee hired by your firm shows productive results for an average of two years. Then the employee exhibits signs of burnout, and your firm hires a batch of fresh blood. Teach an employee to deal with stress, and he or she will keep productivity steady over the years. This saves you from hiring and retraining a new work force."

  He studied her in silence. Chandler felt his piercing gaze try to strip away the cool, professional image she presented. She hoped he never saw her desperation, or she would fail. A man in his position respected strength, and she guessed he'd expected a mild mannered yoga teacher with no developed business plan. She'd spent weeks begging his secretary to schedule this meeting. Chandler knew she'd have one shot to sell her proposal.

  She reached up unconsciously to push back her long hair, then realized the strands were confined in a tight bun. "Mr. Grant, if you'd let me--"

  "Logan," he interrupted smoothly.

 
"Logan, if you'd let me give you a brief rundown of my plan, I'm sure you'll see the benefits."

  A soft knock on the door made her pause. A tall man with light brown hair entered the room and stopped beside her chair.

  "Chandler, this is Richard Thorne, one of my attorneys. I asked him to sit in on this meeting, if you don't mind."

  She forced a smile and stood. Offering up a quick prayer that her palms weren't damp, she reached out and shook the attorney's hand. Somehow, the idea of a lawyer listening to her proposal drove home the fact she was dealing with major league players. She fought back a nervous giggle when she remembered she'd never even scored in the minor leagues. "Nice to meet you," she said.

  The attorney's hand held hers for a moment longer, and he smiled as if he knew her thoughts. Chestnut colored eyes showed a teasing glint. "Don't let my being an attorney intimidate you," he said, with a wink. "I'm really harmless."

  She laughed. His lean, angular face seemed kinder than Logan's and his smile came quick and easy. He took a chair near the window and settled a legal pad on his lap.

  Chandler managed to give one leg a quick scratch, and her skirt a discreet tug as she sat back down. She re-focused her attention back to Logan.

  "You've made some good points but still didn't answer my question." Logan handed the proposal to his attorney, then tapped his gold pen against the arm of his leather chair. "Why funnel money into a program that can't guarantee a profit?"

  Chandler dug bronze fingernails into the seat cushion, and reigned in her frustration. Businessmen only liked the bottom line--money. People didn't interest Logan Grant. Profit did.

  She concealed her rising irritation and gave Logan her most convincing business smile. "When employees suffer from stress, job performance also suffers. My workshop will teach them to be calm under pressure, and attack problems with a clear mind. Employees will show a more positive attitude toward their jobs. Maybe my workshop won't make you a million dollars, but investing in people always brings profit in the long run."

  She almost bit her tongue when she caught the hard steel gleam in his eyes. Damn, she wasn't softening him up. In fact, he looked a little angry. She tried to casually re-cross her legs. Perfect. Both mens' eyes went immediately to her hemline. The meeting was becoming a disaster, and she was definitely allergic to wool.

  "Interesting point," Logan said, his gaze rising to her face. "But you don't sound as if you approve of million dollar profits."

  "Oh, but I do. As long as people aren't sacrificed."

  He nodded. "Spoken like a true yoga teacher." His gray gaze drilled into her. "I'm curious how you became involved in this field of work. Your proposal is impressive. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you graduated with a business degree."

  "I hold a bachelor's degree in psychology with a minor in business." She tried to keep a straight face when she saw his surprise. "I confess I'm a vegetarian--or at least I try to be--but I hate green sprouts and tofu. I still have trouble standing on my head. But I do take a multi-vitamin daily."

  A smile tugged at his lips. "Am I that bad?"

  Chandler nodded her head and laughed. "Most people equate the term yoga with an image of a guru in a turban. I was equally doubtful the first time I took a class. I completed a paper in college on the effect of meditation on society. I researched yoga, and became hooked. Learning to focus so clearly gave me the feeling I could accomplish anything. It also gave me the freedom to be comfortable doing nothing at all."

  She shook her head at the memory. "Everyone is so caught up in the rat race. Complete a degree, make loads of money, support a family." She leaned forward. "We start to forget the feel of sunshine on our face, the salty smell of the ocean, the taste of chocolate. We sleep through the sunrise and ignore the sunset. We don't know how to stand still and enjoy the moment."

  She watched as a slight frown creased his brow.

  Logan studied her for a moment, saying nothing. When he'd first heard he was scheduled to speak with a yoga teacher, he'd been ready to wring his secretary's neck. The last thing he wanted was to waste time discussing proposals with a flower child of the new millennium, so he'd decided to cut the meeting short.

  He changed his mind the moment she entered the room. Maybe it was the banked flame he saw in her emerald eyes; or all that dark honey hair begging to be set free of her severe spinster bun. He wondered how far it would tumble down her back.

  She moved with a natural grace and had greeted him in a low, husky voice that soothed his ears. As they exchanged pleasantries, he'd decided to humor her for a while and look over the proposal. After all, the time was blocked on his calendar, and he'd have the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity.

  He hadn't expected her business plan to be good.

  But what was even worse, Logan decided as he watched her fidget beneath his stare, was his reaction to the woman herself. Her passion for her plan caused an odd hunger to stir deep in his gut. When was the last time he'd gotten impassioned over a sunset, or even thought of something other than his next business deal? Maybe, Chandler Santell lived moment to moment, with no intentions of settling down with a husband and family. Logan ignored the faint prickle of unease that shot through him at the image of her making love to anyone but him.

  "You sound like you decided to give up the kind of life most people strive for," he said.

  A shadow passed over her face as she dealt with the memories. Then she forced a smile. "There's a certain amount of reality in that world. I follow a different path. I'd like to see people made more aware of the simple daily pleasures, then they can make their own choice."

  "Sometimes there are no choices, Chandler. Sometimes people do the best they can."

  She blinked in surprise at her body's sudden, feminine reaction to his words. Her mouth became dry. Her stomach clenched into a tight, silken fist. Funny, how the sound of her name from this man's lips evoked a sensation she'd never experienced before. Her body seemed to vibrate, humming to a tune she couldn't quite catch. Maybe it was just the way his voice caressed, deepening to a low, dark pitch as he spoke. Maybe it was the sudden glint of regret she caught in his eyes, that made her wonder what events had shaped this powerful man's life. Or maybe she was finally losing her mind.

  This time she caught her hand in mid-air before she pushed away honey brown strands that weren't there. She tried to re-direct the conversation back to business. "This program will keep you on the cutting edge."

  "How would you implement the workshops?" he asked. "To be perfectly blunt, I can't see my executives seeking out a stress reduction class."

  She nodded. This was the delicate part of the negotiations. She tried to keep her mind clear and calm her nerves. "I've given the matter some thought. When a seminar is offered in a company the employees take note of which groups attend and how important their function is. For example, if top management signs up for a seminar, the lower level managers usually follow, until it works its way down the hierarchy."

  She clasped her hands together and knew she had his full attention. "So, if we institute a stress reduction workshop, there's only one way every employee will attend." Chandler paused. "You have to be the first person to enroll."

  A short silence fell as her words hung in the air. Then he smiled. Chandler pulled in her breath at the sight of his dangerous, masculine smile which displayed a row of straight, white teeth. Logan Grant looked as if he'd found an interesting prey and wanted to toy with his catch. She shivered at the thought.

  "You want me to go to these classes personally?"

  Chandler gathered her courage and took the plunge. "Yes, I do, Mr. Grant. It's the only way this program will work and--"

  "Logan," he interrupted softly.

  "I think this class will be the best thing for you."

  "How so?" he drawled, leaning back in his chair.

  She crossed her arms in front of her and vowed not to be intimidated by his tone. The words bubbled out of her mouth before she stopped to think.r />
  "I'd guess by the dregs left in the coffee pot and the tired look in your eyes that you've been up half the night, going on caffeine and raw adrenaline. I'd also guess your temper hit full steam first thing this morning by the way your secretary looks at you with fear. Papers are stacked on your desk, it took me over a month to get an appointment, and I bet the door behind you leads directly to a bathroom and sofa. You probably work day and night here. All in all, I think a class teaching you to deal with stress couldn't hurt."

  She inwardly cringed and waited for the explosion. No wonder she hadn't done well in the business world. Her father always warned her blunt honesty never closed a deal. But how could she stay quiet and watch someone go blithely through life, without really living? Collecting the next degree or earning the next million didn't ensure peace or happiness. Once, she lived her life by a similar philosophy, and searched for something to help her forget the emptiness. Alexander Santell taught her about money and power, confident his only daughter would follow in his footsteps and inherit control of the company. She'd watched her father ignore his own family to pursue the path of success, and he lost everyone who'd ever cared or loved him. She didn't want to someday see the man across from her in the hospital because of a heart attack, where all the money in the world couldn't help. If she implemented her stress seminar, he'd finally understand.