On Wednesday, a snow globe. To an outside observer, the gift held little meaning. But the scene inside depicted canoeing on the Charles River—and a gentle shake showered the boats in falling snow. Snow in the summertime. And she remembered the words on the card: “Miracles Do Happen.”
He was her miracle, and she was enveloped by the aching desire to feel his arms around her. Oh, he was good. The right gifts, the right words. A subtle, mental seduction, she thought. Did a man go to those lengths for one more night of sex?
Making love, her heart said. And that’s where they were headed if she went with him tonight. The third gift that arrived this morning was proof of that. He’d sent a playlist to her phone. The jazz music from the night they’d spent in each other’s arms and a text: “Until We Can Be Together Again.”
She touched her music app and a different desire kicked in this time. The need to have this music, their music, filling her ears at the same time he filled her body. A shot of desire rocked her hard, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach to stop the trembling.
“Cat? Cat? Are you okay?”
“What?” Her sister came into focus. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Where did you disappear to?”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to think. These gifts are…”
“Sweet? Thoughtful? Stop trying to put a word on it and go with what you feel.”
Catherine laughed. “I remember telling you to do just that before your first date with Kane.”
Kayla grinned. “And look where it got me.” She spread her hands across her large stomach.
“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re doing a good job.” But Catherine couldn’t deny the thought of being Logan’s wife, having his babies, held a strange appeal considering the short time in which they’d known each other.
She shouldn’t rush things. He wanted another night. Never had the long-term future been mentioned.
“Oh, come on,” her sister said. “Tell me you don’t want this.” She spread her arms out in a broad sweep. “The husband, the love, the security… the house, the kids…”
“The dog and the white picket fence? Get real, Kayla. This is me we’re talking about, not you. I don’t inspire a man to thoughts of permanence.” Of course, she’d never considered a future with any of the men she’d met, either. Until now.
“Oh, and you think I did? Before Kane, what did I ever get out of a guy except it’s been fun, see you around sometime? Why don’t you believe that one person exists who was meant for you? That you deserve it all?” Kayla asked, pure frustration in her voice.
“Because I’m not an incurable romantic like you. And even if I was, we’re talking about Logan Montgomery here. You didn’t see that house. I’m sorry, that mansion. The coat closet was bigger than our room growing up.”
“So? You said his house was your dream cottage. And before you start in, I have an answer for every argument you can throw out.”
“Except this one. Can you see me as the mayor’s wife?” Catherine stood and gestured to her outfit, the clothes she’d picked up from her apartment the other day. With a white T-shirt, black jeans, and leopard-print sandals on her feet, she wasn’t exactly the demure type.
“I can see you as the mayor’s unique wife, yes. I can also see you adapting. But as I recall, Logan denied the rumors. Instead, he’s pursuing you. He’s obviously not concerned about these things. Why are you? The past is behind us. You’re more than worthy of him… unless you’re looking for an excuse to steer clear,” Kayla guessed with dead-on accuracy.
“Would you please have this baby already so you’ll have something else to worry about besides me?” Catherine muttered.
“I could have ten kids and I’d still worry about you.”
“I know.” Tears filled her eyes. Without Kayla, she’d have no one.
She told herself she wasn’t foolish enough to believe Logan was in it for the long haul. She glanced at his thoughtful, sentimental gifts. No matter how much her heart disagreed.
Chapter Nine
Catherine didn’t have to wonder what she wanted from Logan. He’d made certain of that.
She wanted him.
Every gift, with every note, had led her to that conclusion. When all her thoughts were consumed with him, what else could she possibly desire? She shook the globe and watched the snow shimmer and fall on the summertime scene.
And after listening to the low strains of jazz all afternoon, her heart throbbed in time to its beat, and her body yearned for his touch. She was beginning to believe he was right and that they had a chance.
He hadn’t called. No doubt that, too, was calculated to heighten her sense of anticipation. It worked. By the time the doorbell rang, Catherine didn’t care about backgrounds, class, money… or anything except being with him again. Because not only had he seduced her, but he’d also chipped away at the wall she’d erected to keep him at arm’s length. He’d reached her heart—from a distance, at that. Heaven help her now that he was here.
Kane beat her to the door. His and Logan’s greetings bought her time to calm her raging nerves. By the time she made her way downstairs, the two men were deep in conversation. They’d probably discovered they had the law in common, even if Logan did work to spring the men Kane put behind bars. Good thing they worked in separate jurisdictions, Catherine thought wryly.
She caught sight of him the second her feet hit the floor of the small entryway. She took in his dark denim jeans, an olive green shirt pulled taut over his broad shoulders, day-old razor stubble, and nearly lost it right then. His penetrating gaze met hers, deep and knowing. He looked at her as if he could read minds, as if he knew her most secret desire.
He held her gaze and winked. Catherine drew a deep, shuddering breath. Because she saw it in his eyes. His feelings mirrored her own.
Although he continued to talk to Kane, Logan held one hand out toward her. No sooner had she come within touching distance than he snagged her hand and linked their arms together, drawing her close. His skin was warm, his touch possessive and welcoming. She thought she’d calmed the flutters in her stomach, but they returned full force.
She’d never had a father to greet her dates and she felt twice as ridiculous now at the thought of making small talk with Logan and Kane. She cleared her throat. “So. I see you two have met.”
Kane nodded. Logan opened his mouth to speak.
“But we haven’t.” Kayla’s voice sounded from the top of the stairs and cut him off.
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Kane growled, but Catherine heard the affection laced with concern in his tone.
“And I suppose one of you was going to bring Mr. Montgomery up to meet me?” Kayla asked, knowing neither Catherine nor Kane would have done any such thing.
“It’s Logan. And it’s nice to meet you, Kayla.” Logan grinned. He couldn’t mistake the resemblance between the sisters despite Kayla’s obviously fuller and very pregnant form.
“And now you can get back in bed,” Kane ordered. He turned to Logan. “Doctor’s orders,” he explained.
“No, your orders. You know darn well he said it’s safe for the baby to come any day and I can switch to restricted activity.”
Kane held out his hand and Logan shook it. “Nice to meet you, Montgomery. I’m going to carry my wife back to bed.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Kayla called back.
Catherine’s laughter sounded in Logan’s ear, as sexy and arousing as he’d remembered. Obviously, she was used to this byplay. Logan wasn’t. Not once had he seen his parents so obviously happy together.
But he had that chance for himself. Thanks to Catherine, they had that chance—to see where this thing between them led.
Before Kane hit the top step, he called out, “Montgomery.”
Logan glanced up.
“Hurt my sister-in-law and you answer to me.” Seconds later, Kane had swept his very pregnant wife off her feet and into his arms. As they di
sappeared down the hall, a door slammed shut behind them.
Logan understood Kane’s warning. He accepted it without malice. But he doubted Catherine would appreciate her brother-in-law’s interference. Yet when he met her gaze, instead of anger, he saw wonder and disbelief.
“I thought he put up with me for Kayla’s sake,” she murmured in answer to his unspoken question.
Her reaction hit him in the gut. Had she always felt so alone? He knew the answer because he often felt the same. One more thing they had in common. One more thing he wanted to change in her life.
Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms. “There you go again, selling yourself short. I won’t have it, Cat.”
“What will you have, Logan?” Her eyes glittered with pleasure.
Pleasure he wanted to increase. “You.” His hands moved and cupped her waist. Because her ruffled shirt ended at the waistband of her fitted black pants, his hands gripped bare skin. Logan let out a slow groan.
She sucked in an answering breath before meeting his gaze. “Say that again.”
He glanced into her green eyes and recognized her need to be reassured. Their week apart had worried him, and he saw now he’d been right to be concerned. He curled a strand of her hair around his finger and tugged lightly. “I want you, Cat. All of you.”
She sighed softly. The sound went straight to his groin, stopping first to wrap itself around his heart. She surprised him by moving closer. Their lower bodies collided and a shaft of white heat shot through him, hard and fast. No way could she mistake his body’s reaction.
He glanced at her, expecting to see remnants of self-doubt in her gaze. He saw only clear certainty. Unabashed desire.
For him.
He’d never been more relieved. When Emma had informed him she’d sent Catherine a gift—fairy dust, of all things—he’d nearly had a coronary. Of all the corny, harebrained schemes, with this one, Emma had outdone herself. But, as she’d informed him, he could spend his time yelling or pick up the ball she’d dropped and run with it.
He still wasn’t taking his grandmother’s calls and was barely speaking to her, but he’d chosen to run with it. Once his eighty-year-old spitfire interfered, what else could he do?
Catherine wasn’t one for expensive gifts or flowers. She wasn’t impressed with money or material things. Honesty had reached her once before, during the closet episode. He hadn’t forgotten that.
When he’d left her at her sister’s, she’d been wary and skittish. If he wanted to reach her again, he had to sway her mind first. Her body he had no trouble with, he thought wryly. So, taking quick breaks from work, he’d come up with the other two gifts, choosing to let his words speak for him.
Apparently, he’d been on target, he thought as her hands pulled his shirt out of his jeans and her palms splayed against his back.
“I think we ought to move this someplace else,” he said, and she nodded.
Heartened, he asked, “Are you ready to let yourself believe in possibilities?” Because he didn’t want just another night with regrets in the morning.
The week without her had been hell. And if this thing between them had happened fast, he was willing to let it take the lead. He’d had too many other weak imitations of what he and Catherine shared not to recognize its potential.
But she had to be open to the future, too. He couldn’t pursue this alone. He held her and waited.
“I believe in you,” she admitted, her heart in her eyes.
He’d be a fool not to know what the admission cost her. And it deserved one from him in return. “I was thinking we could go home.”
She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. He kissed each eyelid and then her upturned nose. “My home,” he added. “And there’s something I want you to know. You’re the only woman I’ve ever brought there, Cat.”
Before she could answer, he brushed a kiss over her soft lips. He meant to reassure, but the fire flared fast and without warning. Breaking contact wasn’t easy, but he managed.
She let out a shaky laugh. “You do have a way with words, Mr. Montgomery.”
“I do, don’t I?” he said with a grin. “Now, let’s go.”
* * *
The cottage loomed in the distance, as warm and welcoming as she’d remembered it. Logan pulled in front of the small house and cut the engine. With the sun setting behind them, Catherine followed him inside. Desire throbbed inside her as fast as her rapidly beating heart. But the one thing she was aware of was a sense of belonging.
Deprived and lost were the only words Catherine could think of to describe how she’d felt the week without Logan. She’d known him one day. It felt like a lifetime, maybe because he’d used that week wisely, to build faith. Trust. Longing.
The minute the door to the cottage slammed closed behind him, all those feelings came rushing to the surface. She wasn’t sure who turned first, who reached for whom first. It didn’t matter because his arms were around her and his mouth came down hard on hers. She welcomed the firmness of his lips and the sweeping thrusts of his tongue because she’d been deprived for too long.
She ran her fingers through his hair, holding his head, silently pleading with him not to stop. Not to leave her. He groaned and pulled her closer, aligning their bodies so she could feel him, hard and full, throbbing against her. Liquid heat pooled inside her and trickled between her legs.
She whimpered and he moved his hand and cupped her intimately, knowing and anticipating her need. “Logan.” Somehow, she found the strength to separate their lips.
With an agonized groan, he met her gaze. But he didn’t move his hand and his thumb rubbed in lazy circles over the soft denim covering her until her breath came in shallow gasps and the dampness increased.
“What is it, Cat? Tell me what you want.”
She wanted the ache to ease. The throbbing to stop. And she never wanted it to end.
She wanted him.
She tipped her head back and realized she was braced against the wall, her legs bracketed between his strong thighs. He stared back at her with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Talk to me,” he murmured.
But one of his fingers was tracing her lips and the sensation was both sensual and hypnotic. Clearing her mind wasn’t easy. She wasn’t even sure why she needed to, but it had to do with explanations and what he thought of her. “I don’t… I mean, I’m not usually so…” Her voice trailed off as his wet finger moved from her lips to her jaw, to her collarbone, settling finally in the soft V of her top, enfolded in layers of ruffles.
His gaze never left hers and that same finger pushed down on the elastic, exposing her breast to his heated gaze. Her stomach muscles contracted with need and her nipples tightened at the first rush of cool air.
He sucked in a ragged breath that matched one of her own. “It’s never been like this for me, either,” he muttered.
Was that what she’d been about to say? She wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter. Not when he was right. When everything was so right.
And that was the problem. Nothing had ever felt so good, so perfect… so meant to be. How was that possible? Life didn’t work that way. It didn’t give something so wonderful, not without taking away in return.
“Don’t think, Cat. Not now.” He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head for a gentle kiss. A hard, demanding one would have been more welcome. She could have handled want. Sweetness and understanding might be her undoing.
After her lifelong protests and years of disbelief, she felt herself being swept away, succumbing to the fantasy. The one she’d buried and the one he wove. The happily ever after one. She shivered in outright fear.
He grabbed her shoulders for support. “We’ll talk all you want. Later.”
After he’d bonded them together again, Logan thought. After he’d reminded her of how good they could be—if only she’d let herself believe.
Her sigh was one of acceptance. He knew because she leaned toward him, not away. Because her hips bucked against h
is painful erection. And because she leaned forward and whispered, “Yes,” in his ear.
Only then did he let himself look down at her full breast filling his hand. “You’re not wearing a bra,” he muttered. Her breast, heavy and hot, filled his palm.
A warm flush rose to her cheeks. “It’s not like you can see anything through the ruffles.”
He grinned. “But I’ve gotten way past the ruffles.” He brushed his thumb over one tight peak and felt the pull straight down to his own groin. He dipped his head for a taste.
Her unique scent filled him as he pulled the tight bud into his mouth. He flicked and teased with his tongue, then his teeth, until her hips rocked so insistently against him, he was in danger of losing control. Beyond thought or reason, he reached for her snap, and somehow, he remembered to grab for protection. Then between the two of them, her pants hit the floor, then his, and their underwear followed.
He turned and grabbed for her once more. He lifted her. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart.” She did, and as he lowered her onto his waiting erection, her body took him deep inside.
He’d known she was wet and hot, but the glide into her slick heat was as easy as it was sweet. A muffled sound broke through his ecstasy. He opened his eyes in time to catch a lone tear drip down her cheek. He recoiled immediately and tried to back off. “I’m hurting you.”
She shook her head. “Not the way you mean,” she whispered. “It’s a good hurt.”
The constricting in his chest eased. Her legs grasped him tighter and her wet muscles contracted around him. He let out a groan. “Baby, I know what you mean.”
He met her gaze, grateful to see her smiling this time. Leaning forward, he licked the salty tear off her cheek. The motion had the effect of grinding their lower bodies together. The wave crested and eased. Her soft sigh told him she’d felt it, too.
“Logan?”
“Hmm?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Any slower and I might have to strangle you.”
“You have to admit, it’s a helluva way to go.”
Simply Scandalous (Simply Series Book 2) Page 11
