Simply Scandalous

by Carly Phillips

  “Both are my business and as much as I appreciate your concern, I can handle my life without help.”

  As if on cue, a large hand slapped Logan on the shoulder. “Good to see you, son. I knew you wouldn’t miss a chance to mingle with your supporters.”

  In a move she’d perfected over the years, his grandmother raised an eyebrow and nodded her head, as if to say, I told you so.

  He met his father’s gaze. “Of course not. These people are very important.” To Emma, Logan added silently, which was the only reason he’d chosen to attend.

  His father puffed out his chest and beamed, obviously misconstruing Logan’s agreement. Logan didn’t bother to explain. The judge would never listen.

  “I’m glad you agree. Now you’ve got to learn the art of working a room,” Edgar said.

  “What room?” Logan asked, deliberately playing dumb. He glanced at the sky and the clouds that had been steadily rolling in. “I thought this was an outdoor garden party, not a political fund-raiser.”

  “I like your sense of humor, son.”

  Behind the judge’s back, Emma caught Logan’s attention with a wave. She rolled her eyes and they shared a silent laugh at the judge’s single-mindedness.

  “Glad you’re amused,” Logan muttered.

  “Yes, but you know as well as I do that behind every event there is a purpose,” the older man said. “The fact that you showed up for this is telling.” He adjusted the lapels of his jacket.

  Logan waited a beat before walking around and placing an arm around his grandmother’s shoulder. “The only thing my appearance should tell you is I wouldn’t miss one of Emma’s extravaganzas. Beyond that, I have no purpose or hidden agenda.”

  He gave the older woman a loving squeeze. Her frailty stunned him a moment before he reassured himself. Behind the aging body lay an agile mind and a generous spirit.

  “I promised him a good time, something you’ve never learned how to have.” An irreverent gleam sparkled in the older woman’s gaze.

  The judge shot his mother a warning look then faced Logan once more. “We need to talk.”

  Logan studied his father. With his dark double-breasted suit and air of authority, Judge Montgomery appeared every inch the man in control of his domain. Too bad for him Logan no longer lived within that realm, nor could he be manipulated. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  The judge shook his head. “I want what’s best for you, son, and that means putting you in public office.”

  “Placing me in office is what’s best for you. You want me to carry on the political tradition. I want to live my own life.”

  “You’re young.” He clapped Logan on the shoulder. “You’ll come around.”

  Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re probably right. After all, I bought my house even after you put a down payment on a penthouse apartment in Boston. I took the P.D.’s job even after you pulled strings at Fitch and Fitzwater, the leading firm downtown.” He shrugged. “I suppose if you hold your breath long enough, I might come around after all.”

  Edgar narrowed his eyes. “This is your influence,” the judge said to his mother.

  “If so, I’m proud of him. And you should be, too,” Emma said. “Shame on you, Edgar. I raised you better than this.”

  “Logan, see to it your grandmother gets some rest. She’s cranky. We’ll talk more later.” He issued his commands and, without awaiting a response, he turned and strode toward his guests.

  “He’s determined,” Emma said.

  “I’m more determined.” But Logan was also tired of the battle. A part of him wished he didn’t have to fight his father for every step he took in his own life.

  “Still think you don’t need my help?” Emma asked.

  “I love you for your concern but I can handle the judge alone.”

  “But her kind of help would be so much more fun,” his grandmother said, her gaze shifting from him.

  Logan followed her glance at the woman standing on a chair, adjusting a speaker, and he had to agree. Still, no matter how tempting, he wouldn’t use an innocent woman as a pawn in his family’s game.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t pursue this attraction and get to know her for his own reasons. As Emma had probably predicted, she fascinated him in a way few women did and he wanted to know why. He placed the champagne glass down on a passing server’s tray.

  “I’m here if you need backup,” Emma said.

  He kissed the older woman’s weathered cheek. “I’m sure I can handle it,” he said wryly. He glanced across the lawn to where Catherine had settled back into bartender mode.

  She handled the bottles and glasses with ease. Logan grinned at the sight. One of the cocktail waitresses paused and whispered something in her ear. Catherine bolted from behind the bar and headed toward the house. Without her presence, the bar loomed as empty and boring as the party had minutes earlier.

  Logan sighed, seeing opportunity vanish at least for the moment.

  “She’s got the goodies,” Emma said. “She’ll be back.”

  “I believe drinks or liquor is the politically correct term these days.” He couldn’t help but needle his grandmother.

  His gaze followed Catherine’s retreating form. The well-shaped bottom and trim waist were a sight to behold before she disappeared inside the open French doors.

  Emma cleared her throat. “From your perspective I’d say she’s got the goodies,” she said with a laugh.

  He chuckled. “I’d say you were right.”

  A SEXY MAN HAD been watching Catherine for the last fifteen minutes. He had dark hair, model-like looks, and a penetrating stare that made her muscles weak and her heart flutter. She couldn’t imagine what sparked his interest when there were dozens of other women at the party. Female guests dressed in silky dresses and flowing chiffon skirts, beautiful women with perfectly manicured nails and hair straight from the beauty salon.

  Catherine’s sneakers—comfortable shoes for a day of working on her feet—squeaked as she crossed the gleaming marble floors. She cringed and kept going. Years had passed since she had felt this…inadequate, she thought, coming up with the right word. She glanced down at her working outfit, the same one she wore to any party her company catered. Instead of feeling comfortable in her own skin, she felt out of place and transported back in time, to when she and her sister had been the Luck girls from the wrong side of the tracks.

  Catherine shook her head and raised her chin a notch. There was no sense denying it. The rich were different. But Catherine had worked too hard and come too far to let insecurities hit her now. She’d survive this party. As long as the threatening rain held off…and her chef didn’t bail out.

  She and her company Pot Luck couldn’t afford the disaster. With Kayla, her business partner and sister, pregnant and under doctor’s orders to stay in bed, Catherine was handling more than usual. Between doing the food prep work for today, substituting as bartender, overseeing along with her manager and planning upcoming bookings, Catherine was overworked and stressed. As soon as the temperature warmed, people clamored to organize outdoor events and Pot Luck was booked solid.

  She couldn’t complain about being busy, but she did long for future days when all they would have to cater was full-scale parties like this one. But for now Pot Luck accommodated any request—from complete party packages, to hors d’oeuvres only, to simple decorations and party favors. Some day, once their reputation was more firmly established and the bank account posted a hefty surplus, they could be more discriminating—and Catherine could make more use of her culinary background as well. After this event, someday could arrive faster than she’d ever imagined.

  The Montgomery party had been a coup and Catherine had no problem with rearranging her schedule to accommodate Emma Montgomery. Success here would mean referrals to the wealthiest people and most prestigious companies in Hampshire. She wouldn’t allow anything to ruin this chance, especially not a temperamental chef who was her oldest friend.
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  She entered the state-of-the-art kitchen where stainless steel and chrome gleamed from every corner of the room. “Nick, you’re a hit!” Catherine made her way around a long center island and placed a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek.

  “The duck isn’t cold,” he denied, whacking at a large chunk of meat with a knife.

  “I never said it was. The guests love the hors d’oeuvres. They’re going to spread your name from here to downtown Boston.”

  Another loud whack sounded against the cutting board. “I’m already famous in Boston. I don’t need to take abuse because your help can’t get in here fast enough to serve hot food.” Beneath his anger and frustration, she recognized the concern and warning. Someone had been complaining about the temperature of the food. She cringed. She’d take care of her lazy help, but first she had to calm the chef.

  Catherine glanced at his exaggerated pout. She’d grown up with Nick. She knew when to worry and when a word or two would smooth things over. She snuck a peek inside the large oven and inhaled an enticing aroma. “This smells heavenly. I don’t know another chef who can create the way you do.” She returned to his side. “The food is almost as good-looking as you are.”

  The knife slammed into the wooden board again and he glanced up, dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to flatter me, Cat. It won’t work.” His gaze settled on her for the first time and he touched her cheek with one hand. “You’re red.”

  “The day is so overcast I forgot the sun-screen.” Catherine shrugged. “Besides we can’t all bronze like you.”

  “You’re fair. You ought to be more careful.”

  She rolled her eyes. For as far back as she could remember, Nick had looked out for her. He had classic Mediterranean looks and most women would have snatched him up at the slightest chance. Not Catherine. Lovers came and went; best friends were for life. “If you’re so worried about me, stop yelling at the help.”

  “They’re incompetent.”

  “I’ll talk to them. I promise.”

  “It’s a start. What’s going on out there? Is Mr. Right mingling among the guests?”

  “Back off, Nick. Just because you’re engaged doesn’t mean everyone else wants the brass ring.” Catherine had no desire to have this conversation with Nick yet again. “Look, the bartender never showed. I’m already pulling double duty and I can’t afford to have the help leave in tears. Now will you lay off the girls?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “If you promise to use this party as an opportunity. There are men out there, Cat. All types of men. Tall and thin, fat and balding, rich and richer. Take your pick.”

  A sexy stranger with dark hair and compelling eyes filled her mind. She pushed the thought aside. Before she’d entered this immense house filled with elegant women, she’d believed herself over the painful memories associated with her lower-class upbringing. Just working this party, being surrounded by delicate perfection, brought the painful memories back full force.

  Sexual attraction from across a crowded room meant nothing when she and the stranger were obviously worlds apart. “You know the guests here are way out of my league,” she told her friend.

  “Only because you think so, not because it’s true. You spend too much time alone.”

  Catherine shrugged. “At least the company’s good.”

  Nick groaned.

  “Is it my fault every guy I’ve dated isn’t the one?” Catherine had yet to meet a man worth risking her heart for. Despite what Nick thought, she certainly wouldn’t find him here.

  “You walk away before any guy can prove himself. Take me, for instance.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I turned you down when we were sixteen and you survived.” She glanced at her watch. “I promise nothing else will leave this kitchen cold. Back off the help?”

  “Consider opening your eyes to the men out there,” he countered.

  “I’ll consider it,” she lied. “You’re a prince,” she called over her shoulder, adjusting her bow tie as she ran out of the kitchen.

  She darted back outside, dismayed to find the clouds darker and heavier than five minutes before. The storm was rolling in faster than predicted. Winded from her sprint out of the kitchen, she rested her hands on the bar and closed her eyes. She inhaled deep, then exhaled, searching for calm. Too much hinged on getting through the rest of the afternoon without mishap.

  A deep masculine drawl captured her attention. “So tell me what put the frown on that beautiful face.” She’d never heard that voice before but her body reacted instantly. She knew who it belonged to. She just didn’t know how in the world to handle him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  CATHERINE OPENED HER EYES and found herself staring into brown eyes the color of her morning coffee, after she’d added the cream. She forced a confident smile. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

  “The specialty of the house. What’s yours?” A sexy near-perfect grin blindsided her and her breath caught in a hitch.

  Heavy awareness pulsed through her veins, a delicious accompaniment to the steady beat of the music in the background. Catherine wondered just how many women this man charmed with his good looks alone. Enough to make him dangerous, she thought.

  He wore an Italian-cut suit as if he were to the manor born, and when those eyes captured hers, they didn’t let go. Not even loud laughter from across the expanse of the outdoors caused his gaze to slide from hers.

  She narrowed her eyes to gauge his preference but she wasn’t a bartender by trade. She was merely substituting for her absent employee. Glancing at this man, she couldn’t begin to guess his drink of choice. And though she could offer an interesting mix of cocktails, the general requests here had been for champagne or Mimosas and, somehow, she couldn’t see him as a delicate-drink kind of guy. “Why don’t you tell me what you had in mind?”

  He leaned closer, elbows propped on the edge of the bar. His cologne smelled masculine and expensive, a sensual combination that reminded her of spice, temptation and trouble. “Something to cool me down and take the edge off the heat,” he said.

  The clouds had darkened to a stormy gray and a heavy breeze had already begun blowing off the nearby ocean, cutting back on the mugginess and heat. Catherine recognized his words for the come-on they were. Though she wanted to be flattered, she couldn’t help but be disappointed as well.

  “A splash of cold water would work just fine,” she muttered. His eyes darkened subtly and she was appalled to realize she’d spoken the words out loud.

  He grinned. “I could think of plenty of things that would work better.”

  He was too confident…too sexy. For all her bravado, Catherine wasn’t as secure in herself as she liked the world to believe. Life’s harsh realities had taught her not to trust in much—especially a tempting man who had charm and knew how to use it.

  She glanced at him warily, deciding not to play. “Then how about a cold beer instead?”

  His smile widened. “Now you’re talking.” He walked around the corner of the bar, seating himself on a stool—too close to Catherine’s small work space. The width of a bar top separated them, but it wasn’t much and certainly not enough. And with waitresses walking around passing out champagne off serving trays, the line for drinks had dwindled. She hadn’t had a stray passerby in at least half an hour. They were alone.

  She reached for one of the eclectic brews handpicked by Judge Montgomery for the occasion and poured the man his drink. Placing the glass on a cocktail napkin, she slid the beer toward him.

  “Join me?”

  “I’m working,” she said, as she wiped down the already shiny Lucite bar with a damp rag.

  “I’ll clear it with the management.”

  “I’m the management and I don’t mix business and pleasure.” Especially not when the risk would be greater than the pleasure…and if her tingling nerves and rising anticipation were any indication, she could just imagine how great the pleasure would be.

  “Miss…Scotch and soda, if I may interru
pt.” The voice came from the opposite end of the bar.

  Catherine grabbed on to the excuse and headed for the waiting guest. While she worked, she felt his heavy gaze burn right through her. Then, noticing a problem across the lawn, Catherine ran to avert disaster between her waitress and an intoxicated guest. She was used to the role of overseer and referee. But between the impending rain and the need for things to go well, this party had her completely stressed out.

  To make matters worse, Judge Montgomery waylaid her on her way back to the bar. Though Emma led Catherine to believe she was in charge, her son left no doubt he was paying the bills. And he insisted that the waitresses needed to circulate more and that she shouldn’t be fraternizing with the guests. Catherine had to swallow her pride as well as her comeback.

  She saw no point in informing the man who would pay for this event that his guest had come on to her. He wouldn’t believe her if she had. Instead she bowed, escaped and got hold of her assistant to warn her to have a quick talk with all the help. Then she ran toward the bar. One thing she knew, she’d be happy when this day was over.

  When she returned, her visitor sat in his same spot, arms folded across his broad chest. “You need a break,” he informed her, a scowl on his face. Unfortunately it didn’t do a thing to detract from his good looks.

  “A break doesn’t fit into my schedule.”

  “You’ve had an overwhelming day.” He darted a glance to where she’d had her discussion with the host of the party. Emma might have employed her services, but Catherine had little doubt it was Judge Montgomery who held court over the world around him.

  Her companion then patted a bar stool beside him. “Take a seat and pour your heart out,” he said. “I’m a good listener.” What looked like genuine concern etched his handsome features.

  If she let him, he could seduce her with that concern. No doubt that was his goal, yet her body temperature inched higher despite his calculated manners. Or was it his warmth and seductive voice that heated her inside and out? “I think you have our roles reversed. I’m the bartender who’s supposed to have the friendly ear.”