“Oh my, are you all right?” Cassie asked, patting Delaney on the back harder than necessary.
“Fine,” Delaney wheezed. She flipped her strawberry-blond ponytail over her shoulder, the long ribbon of hair smacking Cassie in the face in the process, and reached for her beer. “So, Logan,” Delaney said after she’d drained her glass. “I hear you helped Cassie get her special souvenir.”
Now it was Cassie’s turn to choke. Delaney reached out and patted her back with reciprocal fervor. Cassie finished her cocktail and gestured to the waitress for a refill.
Delaney lifted her empty glass. “Another for me too.” She looked at Logan. “How about you? Ready for another round?”
He shook his head. Cassie noted his glass of lager was still more than three-quarters full. Taking it easy tonight, hmm? That did not bode well for his motives—which were what, anyway? “Are you here on business?” she asked, wondering if that business included her. Cassie highly doubted he’d chased her from Edinburgh to London for a booty call, because chase her he had, she wasn’t buying his convenient story of visiting a friend.
“Oh, that’s right, you make videos,” Delaney said, polishing off the other half of her roll. “Tell me, how does one get in to the business of running a sketch comedy show?”
Logan finished his own roll and reached for a second. “Like most things, I suppose. By accident.”
“Ha! Tell that to the Queen of Lists.” Delaney waved her butter knife at Cassie. “Nothing happens by chance with this girl. She plans everything.”
“Really?” Logan considered Cassie from across the table. “What about meeting me? She couldn’t have planned that.”
“Actually,” Delaney said, leaning across the table and whispering to Logan, “she kinda did.”
Cassie flushed. She much preferred it when they’d been talking about Logan. He was looking at her again, devil brows quirked into a shape she hadn’t seen on him before. He looked … perplexed. Before Delaney could elaborate on Cassie’s grand scheme to score a one-night stand with a foreign stranger, Cassie grabbed the reins of the conversation. “Tell us more about this accident. How did Shenanigans get started?”
Another waitress came around and set plates of salad in front of each of them. “Honestly? I was bored. It was market day, the streets packed with shoppers and tourists and the like.” Logan stabbed a tomato with his fork. “I decided to go for a stroll. Bare-arsed.” He popped the tomato in his mouth
“You went streaking?” A burst of laughter escaped Delaney.
“Oh, this wasna streaking,” Logan assured her. “There was no running involved. I took my time. I had shopping to do, you ken. Spent quite a while at a cart of fresh vegetables, asked a few people for their opinion on the cucumbers.”
Delaney snorted into her beer. “Good Lord.”
Even Cassie had to suppress a smile at the thought of a naked Logan rambling through downtown Edinburgh, perusing phallic produce. “And you filmed all of this?”
“I didna film it, but plenty of other people did, aye? Camera phones going off like popcorn.”
“I believe it,” Delaney snickered.
Cassie elbowed her, staring open-mouthed at Logan. “I’m surprised you weren’t arrested.”
“Oh, I was,” he assured her. “My wee escapade bought me my first stint in an Edinburgh holding cell, as well as my first taste of fame.”
“Fame?”
“Mm-hmm.” Logan poked at the bits of lettuce left on his plate. “After springing me from jail, my sister, Janet—you remember Janet? Well, she and her mates took me out for a pint to celebrate my freedom. The nightly news was on the pub’s telly, and a segment featuring a clip of my stunt made an appearance.”
“That had to be interesting.” Delaney pushed her salad plate aside, mostly untouched except for the candied nuts that had been sprinkled on top.
“One of Janet’s mates slapped me on the back and said he could watch shenanigans like that all day.” Logan shook his head, grinning at the memory.
“And thus, the show was born,” Cassie surmised.
“Exactly,” Logan confirmed. “But we’re not all pranks, you ken.”
“That’s right,” Delaney said as the salad plates were cleared. “You do karaoke in an elevator.”
“‘Live in a Lift,’ aye. And some other bits. Interviews. Sketch comedy, that sort o’ thing.” Logan paused while the main course was served.
Cassie glanced down to the other end of the table. Ana was grilling the waitress about the salmon, wanting to know what spices had been used. Sadie was holding court with Theo, but Cassie was pleased to note Bonnie finally seemed to be taking part in the conversation as well.
Bonnie wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. Cassie wasn’t surprised her friend’s annoyance about the Little Mermaid cracks faded quickly. Though to be honest, Bonnie had reacted to the teasing with more irritation than usual. What had set Bon off?
Catching Cassie’s eye, Bonnie smiled. “We’re telling Theo about our trip.”
Cassie didn’t miss the blush staining her best friend’s cheeks when she mentioned Prince Eric’s name. Well, well, well. Good for her. Cassie had always felt Bonnie’s devotion to Gabe, her boyfriend-since-forever, bordered on unhealthy. How could you know what meal you liked best if you always ordered the same thing from the menu?
Unlike Bonnie, Cassie had lived on the sampler platter and had never had a serious boyfriend. She dabbled in dating, but her career, and its often hectic schedule, came first. With the changes she hoped to make to her role on ChiChat when she got home, Cassie wondered if perhaps it wasn’t time she moved on from the appetizers and considered something else on the menu too. Something more substantial.
Cassie took a bite of the salmon. Cooked to perfection, the flaky fish all but melted on her tongue. She could understand why Ana, who owned a catering company on Chicago’s North Shore, wanted the recipe. Maybe that was what Cassie needed to find—a hearty meal to sustain her, one with enough spice to keep things interesting. A relationship with a man she could look to build a life with, not a fling with a sexy Scot who had the potential to screw up her plans before she even got the chance to execute them.
Logan wasn’t an appetizer—he was dessert—sweet and sinful and totally bad for her. She set her fork down and observed him making short work of the rest of his meal, her gaze tracing the path of his fork from plate to mouth. She remembered the feel of his hands, the taste of his mouth. Yes, Logan Reid was certainly delicious. But tempted as she was to have a second helping, Cassie knew he was an indulgence best not repeated.
CHAPTER 9
THEO HAD DONE an excellent job juggling three of Cassie’s friends all through dinner. Over on Logan’s side of the table, Delaney was more than willing to let him talk to Cassie uninterrupted while she polished off her own dessert as well as most of Cassie’s, and even some of his—the lass must have a hollow leg in addition to her obvious sweet tooth.
Stretching, Delaney stood up. “I feel like an overstuffed Thanksgiving turkey. I could use some air. Anyone want to join me?”
Cassie scooted out of her chair. If she thought she could escape him, she was wrong. Logan got to his feet too, casting a glance at Theo, still deep in conversation with the blonde and the redhead. Good man. The dark-haired lass, Ana, had left soon after dessert was served. At the first bite she’d let out a groan of intense pleasure, pushed back from the table, and announced she absolutely must speak to the chef.
Logan followed Delaney and Cassie out of the dining room. Stepping up onto the observation deck, he offered an arm to each of them. “Shall we go for a stroll?”
“Thanks, babe.” Delaney patted his hand. “But I’m more of a speed walker. You two enjoy.” Delaney waved goodbye, winking at Cassie over her shoulder. In seconds, her long legs had carried her out of sight around the bow of the ship.
“I guess it’s just the two of us, then.” He held his arm out to Cassie again, who stood glaring after her fri
end with the dagger-stare he recognized from their first meeting. After a moment, she sighed and looped her arm through his, resting her hand on his biceps. Logan resisted the urge to flex. Tight as the suit was, he might bust a seam. Instead, he covered her hand with his own, warming it against the slight chill in the air. The August night was warm, but the breeze off the Thames had a bite to it—a promise that fall wasn’t far away.
The thought reminded him of his conversation with Second Studios. With the sudden break in their fall lineup, the producers were antsy. They wanted to move on a new show soon, but were still hesitant to make a deal until Logan proved he could improve the ratings in his weakest demographic.
Logan swore he could feel that damn release form searing his skin. Before heading to the boat, he’d slipped the paper into the inside pocket of his jacket. If the opportunity presented itself, he wanted to be ready.
Now was a perfect time. They were alone. The other couples walking on the deck and admiring the glittering skyline paid them no mind. He should talk to Cassie, explain the bind he was in—make her understand why he needed her to sign the bloody release form. But try as he might, the words wouldn’t come. He was enjoying his stroll with her too much.
They wound around the aft of the ship and made their way up the port side, the quiet darkness punctuated by the sound of her sexy heels striking the wooden deck, her stride matching his. He’d set a casual pace. Delaney had already lapped them once, the lass hadn’t been kidding about the speed walking.
As they passed the entrance to the dining room a second time, Ana exploded up the steps, bursting with excitement. “I got it!” she crowed, grabbing Cassie’s arm. “The toffee parfait, I had to find out what was in the filling. I knew the chef had used some kind of tea as a spice. I was right; it was Earl Grey. I thought the fruit might be fig, but do you know what it was?”
Both Cassie and Logan shook their heads.
“Prune!” Ana declared. “Who’d have thought?” She examined a scrap of paper in her hands, reviewing the recipe she’d hastily scrawled on it. “This is going to be a hit at the next octogenarian’s birthday I cater.”
Delaney joined them, catching the last part of the conversation. “Hold up.” She grabbed the piece of paper from Ana. “Did you say prune?” She wrinkled her nose, her light dusting of freckles bunching together. “I ate prunes?”
“Aye. A lot of them,” Logan murmured.
Delaney gave him the stink eye but then bust out laughing. “Well, they were delicious.” She glanced at the paper again and then up at Ana. “Do you think my preschoolers would eat this? Their parents would adore me if I could sneak healthier crap into the snacks.”
Ana took the recipe back, considering. “We’d have to modify it, remove the tea, maybe replace it with nutmeg, hmm … come to the galley with me. We can ask the chef what he thinks.”
“And we can see if any of those tiny cakes are left,” Delaney added.
“The petit fours?” Ana grabbed Delaney’s arm. “Sure. Unless you already ate them all,” she said, pulling Delaney back toward the dining room.
Logan shook his head. “Where does the lass put all that food?”
“Delaney? We’ve all wondered the same thing. You should have seen her in college. Half a dozen donuts for breakfast every morning and still skinny as a rail. Drove Sadie batty.” Cassie shrugged. “Genetics.”
“Then you’ve all known each other since university?” Logan asked, taking Cassie’s arm again for another turn around the deck. He was pleased she didn’t protest, but instead snuggled against him.
“Bonnie and I have been friends forever. Since the first day of first grade when the teacher lined us up alphabetically. Bonnie Blythe and Cassie Crow.” She smiled, her face alight with the memory. “B.B. and C.C.—Bonnie declared it was destiny.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Even at six years old Bonnie used words like that. I swear she was reading Shakespeare in the cradle. In third grade she discovered Anne of Green Gables, and from then on she was Anne, I was her bosom friend Diana Barry, and Gabe was, of course, her Gilbert.”
“Who’s Gabe?” They’d reached the bow of the ship again, and this time Logan paused. He leaned on the rail and looked out at London Bridge stretched before them, its reflection on the water’s surface blurred like an artist’s canvas.
“Bonnie’s fiancé.” She joined him at the rail. “They got engaged last Christmas, but haven’t set a date yet.”
Logan recalled the look on Theo’s face when he’d first met Bonnie and felt a pang of sympathy for his mate. “Someone have cold feet?”
“I’m not sure.” Cassie glanced up at the night sky, as if seeking answers from the heavens. “She and Gabe truly are like Gilbert and Anne. He teased her mercilessly in grade school, but then they started dating in junior high and have been together ever since. She’s never had another boyfriend.”
“What about you?” Logan asked, shifting so his side brushed against hers. “How many boyfriends have you had?”
“Oh, we’re not playing this game again.” Her voice held a note of warning, but Logan caught how she didn’t move away from him, didn’t break the contact of their bodies.
Over the smells of city and river, he caught the scent of lavender and vanilla and recalled all those bottles of soaps and lotions he’d seen in her loo at the Caldy. “Fine.” He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “What game would you like to play?”
A yip of surprised laughter escaped her, and she turned, leaning her back against the rail to face him. “You are shameless.”
“Completely,” he agreed, moving to stand in front of her, bracing his hands on the rail on either side of her. “Remember, you’re talking to the man who once shopped for produce in the buff.”
“How could I forget?” She tilted her chin to meet his eyes. “Cucumbers? Really?”
“Aye, and it put me in quite the pickle.”
Her mouth twitched at his lame pun. “I don’t know … Things seemed to have worked out pretty well for you, popular website and all that.”
“I suppose, but it’s not what I really want.”
“Oh?” She cocked her head. “What do you want?”
Christ, how to answer that question. The paper in his jacket pocket was a hot stone, a weight burning a hole in his chest. Now. He should tell her about the telly deal now. He ran his hands up her back, the green silk of her dress sliding across his fingers and palms in an erotic caress.
Yes, he wanted her to sign that bloody waiver. He wanted to move past Shenanigans and do something more with his joke of a life. Logan traced the line of silk up over her shoulders and down past her collarbone, his fingers following the dress’s neckline until they joined above her heart. She sucked in a breath at his touch, her breasts rising, a mere whisper away from filling his hands. He ached to cup her. To feel her.
Holding his gaze with her own, she stepped closer, brushing all that lush round softness against him. When her lips touched his, he couldn’t help but smile at how good it felt—how right. He wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the crackle of paper as he tightened his hold. His future was in his pocket, but his future could wait a little longer.
He wanted her to sign the waiver. But in this moment, he wanted her more.
* * *
Cassie cuddled closer to Logan, the warmth of his body eased the chill blowing in off the water, while the scent of clove and mint she’d already come to know as him melted her resolve. Walking along the deck, tucked against his side, sharing stories … the romance of the evening had chipped away at her willpower. Temptation shadowed her footsteps, and nipping at her heels was temptation’s insidious twin—rationalization. They’d already slept together, what could spending time with him now hurt? It was just a little walk, a little talk. Some flirting, some touching … some kissing.
Same as that impetuous moment in the castle when she’d chucked caution to the wind, pulled him to her, and kissed him, Cassie onc
e again surrendered to impulse. His hands, which had been featherlight as they’d trailed over her shoulders and across the tops of her breasts, were almost rough as he gripped her waist and urged her closer. His fingers were warm and firm when they slipped around her and traced the line of her back down, down, until his palms rested in the dip at the base of her spine. He kneaded her with his knuckles, loosening the knot of tension trapped there.
Cassie arched her back, wanting more. He bent his head and responded to her demand with an increase of pressure, mouth hot and wicked on her neck as he moved his hands in tight circles that sent waves of pleasure rippling through her body. She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, groaning. Her hips had begun to move, swiveling, matching the pace of his fingers against her back, the stroke of his tongue on her throat.
She had wondered if their night together in Scotland had been a fluke. A magical combination of time and place that could never be replicated. But now, with his hands on her, she knew the magic was still there. She needed his hands on other parts of her, wanted him to work those strong, talented fingers lower. Deeper. She pressed kisses along his rough jaw, licking and sucking the smooth skin above his collar, relishing the contrast, inhaling his scent. Then she returned her mouth to his, nipping his bottom lip and tugging it between her teeth.
He growled when she bit him and cupped her ass, pressing into her. Yes, that was what she wanted. Her hips circled faster and she ground against him.
“Whoa, check that out!”
The shout was a direct hit, smacking the bull’s-eye and plunging Cassie into the dunk tank of reality. She pulled back and stared up at Logan, trying to collect the scattered thoughts of her rum-and-kiss-addled brain. Logan was no help. His ginger locks were wilder than ever, green-gold eyes hooded—hazed with lust. The man was a walking advertisement for Dude-About-To-Get-Some. Cassie glanced over his shoulder. Delaney was headed their way, Ana in tow. She sighed, reaching up to swipe her thumb across Logan’s lower lip.
He leaned toward her as he wiped his own thumb across his mouth. “What was that for?”
Getting Hot with the Scot--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 10
