by Tamara Gill
“What do you mean?” Catherine asked breathlessly. Being this close to Logan, hearing the eagerness in her voice, she felt her noble resolve waver. “I have seen the mall, and television—”
He held up a hand. “You ain't seen nothing yet, kid. Trust me. I'll have to get a few business details ironed out, and then I plan to take a real vacation. And you're taking it with me.”
Guiltily promising herself she would tell him about the clock later, Catherine agreed.
***
The next morning, to her parents' evident surprise, Catherine suggested that they all attend church. She was relieved to find that the Episcopal service had not changed out of recognition since her time—nor had Trinity Church, for that matter. It had apparently escaped the Civil War fires that destroyed so many of the buildings she remembered.
During the quiet before the service, she prayed fervently that her exchange with Kathryn was God's will—and that she might be allowed to stay in this time, with Logan. Also that Kathryn, in the past, would find a rich and fulfilling life. Afterward, she felt somewhat calmer, ready to face whatever Logan—and the future—held in store for her.
To her surprise, there was no opposition to his plan from either of the Monroes. “I think it's a marvelous idea,” Mrs. Sykes-Monroe gushed when Logan mentioned his plans at dinner Sunday evening. “It will give you and Kathy a wonderful chance to get back on your old, familiar footing.”
Catherine winced, strongly reminded of her real mother's matchmaking attempts with Ryan James—though she would never have suggested going off alone with him overnight before the wedding!
“I think a little vacation will do you both good,” Mr. Monroe agreed. “You have a reputation for working yourself too hard, Logan, and I'm sure Kathy could use a change of scene. Why don't you take her to the country? That should be a relief after two years in D.C.”
“We might work that in,” said Logan noncommittally. Catherine could see that he was suppressing a smile at her shock at her parents' wholehearted approval of what seemed a scandalously immoral idea to her.
“The timing is great,” Annette chimed in. “Dave called just this afternoon to say he's flying home next weekend, and he wants me to come back with him to Kansas for a week or two.”
“A week or two is just what we had in mind, too,” said Logan, looking at Catherine as if for confirmation.
Though she knew she should feel trapped by their evident collaboration, she could not manage to feel anything but happy and excited. She had been used to having her life ordered by others for as long as she could remember, but never to such good effect as this.
“Yes, that is just what we had discussed,” she said firmly, earning a look of surprise from both Logan and Annette. On sudden inspiration, she added, “I have a few things to take care of in Washington, so we will probably spend a day or two there, though certainly not the entire time.” She had wanted to see that city ever since discovering that Kathryn had lived there for the past two years. She hoped her desire would not conflict too badly with Logan's plans.
As it turned out, Logan had already intended to take Catherine to Washington as part of his “grand tour,” she discovered later that evening as she, Logan and Annette met to discuss strategy in Annette's room.
“You were great at dinner, Catherine,” exclaimed Annette. “For a minute I thought you and Kathy had switched back! 'I have a few things to take care of,' “ she mimicked, her nose in the air.
“Before you announce any other plans to your parents, though, maybe I should share our itinerary with you,” said Logan. “I thought we'd start with the beach—Hilton Head Island should be warm enough for swimming by now. And before you ask,” he continued, “I plan to book us separate rooms everywhere we go. I don't want to shock you too badly . . . at least not right away.”
Catherine blushed, predictably, and Logan grinned. She was glad, though, to have that question answered without the embarrassment of asking.
“It's nice to find a girl these days with old-fashioned values,” he said with a wink.
“And we're talking old-fashioned,” interjected Annette, plainly relieved to have Logan in on the unsettling secret.
“I see the world has lost its morals since my time,” quipped Catherine, entering into the spirit of the conversation. “I'll simply have to put them back.”
“Good luck!” exclaimed Logan and Annette together, and the three of them dissolved into laughter.
***
The next three days passed in a whirl of shopping and packing, with Annette offering plenty of guidance. During one trip to the mall, as they passed one of the larger department stores, Catherine's eye was caught by a display composed of three nearly naked mannequins arranged around brightly colored towels and sand.
“What on earth can they be selling in there?” she asked, shocked.
Annette followed her gaze and began to chuckle. “I'm sorry, Catherine, I'm sure it's not funny to you. You're perfectly right, today's swimsuits are indecent—there's no other word for them—but everyone wears them, anyway. Even women who don't have the figures for them. Come to think of it, we should get you one, since you'll need it for Hilton Head.”
“Not like those, surely!” Embarrassed, Catherine averted her eyes to avoid staring at the models before them.
“No, I'm sure they'll have some one-pieces, too. Let's go look.”
Catherine trailed after her doubtfully, wondering again if she would ever really fit in here. So much of the future was beautiful, even luxurious, but as she'd said the other night, morals seemed to have all but evaporated. She had been anything but a prude in her own time, constantly being taken to task by her parents for her disregard of convention, but here . . .
They reached the racks of swimsuits, and Annette held one of the more modest designs up for Catherine's inspection. It had a very low back, but the front was not too revealing. The stretchy black fabric was covered with bright pink roses. It was quite striking, really, and eminently more suited to its purpose than anything worn for bathing in 1825. Catherine picked up two others of similar style to try on, and then, in a spirit of fun, seized one of the ridiculously skimpy bikinis, as well. Annette gave her an encouraging thumbs-up as she went into the dressing room.
Once alone, she first tried on the outrageous bikini, her spirits still high, and turned to examine herself critically in the mirror. She was startled to see how well it looked, even though she blushed at the very thought of anyone seeing her in it. Every curve of breast and hip was outlined, even those that weren't exposed.
She was even more startled to notice that the white, untanned portions of her body conformed very closely to the lines of the indecent garment. Kathryn must have spent a great deal of time outdoors in a similar suit. Logan and Annette had implied that she was rather wild, but really—!
After that first suit, the others seemed positively modest by comparison, and she finally settled on the black-and-rose one Annette had first held up. It still outlined every curve, but at least the curves were covered, for the most part.
“I might as well wear a coat of paint, for all the concealment this offers, but I suppose it is practical,” she commented to Annette after paying for the suit.
“Don't worry, you're hardly alone in your opinion of modern swimwear. Even I can't imagine anyone wearing some of these things. Look at this one, for instance!” She held up a metallic gold bikini with star-shaped cutouts on the seat.
Catherine stared for a moment, then gasped with laughter. “Oh, no! That one must be a jest. And look at this!” She picked up a lime-green suit that seemed to be constructed entirely of strings—and very few strings, at that—and both girls dissolved into giggles. She turned to put the green suit back, still grinning, and found Logan standing beside her.
Catherine flushed scarlet to have been caught holding such an obscene garment by anyone, especially Logan. She desperately tried to think of something—anything—to say, but Annette rescued her long be
fore inspiration struck.
“Why, Logan! Fancy meeting you here. Shopping for ladies' lingerie, are you?” Her eyes still twinkled with fun.
“No, as a matter of fact I was hoping to find you two before you'd eaten lunch. I've been combing the mall for nearly an hour and was drawn by the sound of familiar laughter. Are you planning to buy that?”
His expression was suggestive, causing Catherine to redden even further. “I . . . no. That is, I was just putting it back. I bought this one.” She held up the black-and-rose, feeling that even that suit should not properly be seen by male eyes.
“Very nice,” he remarked. “And it will undoubtedly suit you better, though few men would agree with me, I'm sure.” To her relief, he turned back to Annette and she quickly stuffed the suit back into its bag. “Lunch, ladies?”
***
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Finally, suddenly, it was time to leave. Catherine had seen little of Logan since their lunch at the mall, as he had been working long hours to tie up his business obligations for the next two weeks. As a result, she now found herself unexpectedly shy of him. She could scarcely believe that she was actually doing this—going off alone with a man for two whole weeks. But nothing could have made her back out now.
The reassuring smiles Logan shot her way as they packed his sports car only made her heart beat faster, and it was with considerable nervousness that she got in the car and waved goodbye to Annette and her parents.
“So tell me, Catherine,” said Logan conversationally after the Monroe house was left behind. “How long did it take to travel to, say, Charleston in 1825?” He'd noticed her nervousness and wanted to put her at ease. He also wanted to impress her thoroughly with the wonders of the future, so that she would want to stay, though he hardly admitted it to himself. Guiltily, he pushed thoughts of Kathryn from his mind.
“Charleston?” Catherine appeared to relax somewhat, as Logan had intended. “One full day on horseback, pressing hard, if the roads were dry and one could change horses. By carriage, it generally took two. Of course, if the roads were mud, it could take much longer. How long does it take now?”
“A little less than two hours.” She looked at him doubtfully. “Well, just think how much faster we're going. Once we're out of the city, we'll be able to go sixty-five, which is better than a mile a minute.”
She blinked, working it out. “So how long will it take to reach Hilton Head Island?”
“A little longer, about three hours. I've reserved rooms for five nights there, then one in Charleston, and the next few in Washington, D.C.”
“Are we going to be able to drive all the way to Washington in one day?” she sounded incredulous.
“We could, but I have other plans.”
“What?”
But he only smiled enigmatically and said, “You'll see.” He savored the surprise he had in store for her. This was going to be fun.
“I haven't seen any fields planted with cotton,” she commented some time later.
She seemed much more comfortable in his presence now, he noticed with relief. For his part, he had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road with her so near. “No, South Carolina is mostly a tobacco state these days,” he replied. “I think cotton is mainly grown in the southwest now, in Oklahoma, Arkansas and Texas.”
“I remember those states from a map in one of the books Annette got for me, but none of them were part of the Union in 1825. There are fifty states now, correct?”
“I keep forgetting how much you have to learn. Right, there are fifty states. I'd like to show you every one of them someday.” Despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep a certain warmth from his voice.
She pinkened slightly, but only asked, “Which is the most recent?”
“Hawaii. It was added in the late fifties, I think. The 1950s, that is. Now that's a state I do plan to take you to, if all works out according to plan.”
“On this trip, you mean?”
“Uh, no. But hopefully not too far in the future.” He mustn't push her too fast, he reminded himself. Catherine was from another time, with different customs. If he frightened her, she might decide she was better off back there.
They pulled into the resort hotel on Hilton Head Island just after midday. Catherine was astonished at the size of the complex—it was as large as the mall, and much, much, taller! “We're going to stay here?” she gasped.
“That's right,” said Logan, plainly enjoying her reaction. “Come on, let's go check in.”
Catherine had thought that London society had reached the ultimate in luxury, but she found she was wrong. The lobby of the huge hotel was a marvel in marble and glass. A porter carried their luggage and showed them to their rooms, as he might have done in a grand hotel in the London Catherine remembered. Except for the elevator, of course. This one was not glassed-in, but the feeling of moving rapidly upward still caused a strange sensation in her stomach.
Logan took a few minutes to show her the various amenities of her room, which was the epitome of understated elegance with rich blue carpeting and matching drapes that opened onto a balcony with a view of the Atlantic Ocean.
“The ocean looks so much calmer from up here than from the deck of a ship,” she commented when he proudly displayed the vista.
“You've sailed?” he asked in surprise.
“To England and back. I told Annette, but I had forgotten that you wouldn't know. Are ships much faster now, as well?”
“Probably, though I'm not sure. I've never been on one.” She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “There are other ways to travel now that have made ships almost obsolete, except for pleasure cruises. But that's part of my surprise, so don't ask for details, yet.”
She grimaced at him and he laughed. “Get into your suit and we'll hit the beach. I'll meet you in the hallway in five minutes.” He put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.
The sensation that flowed through Catherine at his touch was electric and made her aware of his body and her own in a way she had not been before. When the door closed behind him, she took out the swimsuit that had looked comparatively modest in the store, but which now looked scandalously indecent. Her courage nearly failed her. Could she really bring herself to wear it in front of Logan?
Taking a deep breath, she put it on quickly and surveyed herself doubtfully in the large mirror over the vanity. It covered far less than the underthings she had worn in 1825. Snatching the beach cover-up she had bought to match the suit, she wrapped it around her. That was better. Nervously, she stepped into the hall.
Logan was already waiting for her, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks and a towel draped over his shoulders. Catherine tried to avert her eyes from his marvelous body. Who would have guessed he would have all that golden curling hair on his chest?
“I, ah, I don't know how to swim,” she said lamely as he extended his arm to her. She placed her hand on his arm, acutely conscious of the feel of his bare skin beneath her fingers.
“I'll teach you,” he said, a flicker behind his eyes telling her that he guessed her thoughts.
As it turned out, the water was too cold to do more than splash around in the little breakers on the sand. A beach was a new experience for Catherine, since her only previous contact with the ocean had been on ships leaving from large, crowded ports. Logan alluded to the beautiful beaches of Hawaii, with another half promise to take her there, and her heart soared. Had the world been as beautiful in 1825? Somehow, she didn't think so—not without Logan.
Looking around, she saw that her suit was indeed one of the most modest on the beach. Why, just look at that blond girl in that tiny little suit! she thought, appalled. She's hanging out of it in every conceivable place! She looked quickly at Logan to see if he was watching the obscene spectacle, but he appeared not to have noticed.
“Why don't you let me put some sunscreen on your back,” he suggested, catching her eye and giving her a slow, warm smile that made her tingle all ov
er. The sun picked out highlights in his golden hair, making him look more handsome than ever.
“Sunscreen?”
He held up a small brown bottle. “It screens out the sun so you don't get burned. You're so pale, I think you need it.”
“Pale? You should have seen me in 1825.” She laughed, turning her shoulders to him so that he could apply the magical lotion.
“This sunscreen would certainly have sold well in my time,” she said to distract herself from the pleasure of his large, warm hands spreading the cool lotion over her back and arms. “White skin was all the rage then.” What would it be like to have those hands massaging the rest of her body? She cut off that line of thought hastily.
“Shall I put some on your back?” she asked boldly when he had finished, hoping he would not see through her feeble ruse to touch his body.
“Yes, thanks” was all he said, handing her the bottle as if there was nothing in the least improper about it. She was sure he could feel her hand trembling as she smoothed the sunscreen across his broad back and shoulders. Every time she touched him she felt the pull of a bond between them, more and more powerful. Could he feel it?
As she finished applying the lotion, Logan wondered what had happened to him. Where was his devil-may-care attitude, the humor he tried to bring to every situation? Something about this girl robbed him of his detachment, drawing him in tightly to an emotional intensity he knew was out of all proportion to the short time he had known her.
He had desired other women before, even loved them, lightly and briefly, but this was different. It was as though Catherine were a part of him. The thought of losing her was more than he could bear. In fact, he'd deliberately ignored what might be happening to Kathryn, his childhood friend and surrogate sister, rather than risk that loss.
Striving to project a casual lightness that he didn't feel, he rolled over to face her, asking, “What would you like to do while we're here? The twenty-first century and I are at your service.”
She put her head to one side, considering. Though her features were Kathryn's, there was an animation, an openness about her expression that made her a completely different person. Looking at her now, Logan couldn't imagine how he'd ever been fooled.
