Simply Scandalous Read online

  Living off his salary as a public defender hadn’t been a problem until he’d decided to buy and renovate his new home—make that his old home that needed extensive work. The solitude and view of the ocean made living on a shoestring budget worthwhile. No way he’d sacrifice his independence by living off the trust set up for him as a child.

  He glanced at his passenger. “I’d like to get you home dry and in one piece, Cat.”

  She sighed, but the beginnings of an unexpected smile fought its way to her lips. “What’s so amusing?” he asked.

  “You make it extremely hard to dislike you.”

  He reached out and stroked his hand down her soft cheek. “That wasn’t my point…but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

  Catherine curled her knees onto the seat as she studied the man beside her. She’d thought him charming, but that was an understatement. Appealing might be a better word. He knew how to turn a situation to his advantage without making her feel as if she’d been manipulated. Just when she’d gathered her defenses against his polished charm and good looks, he struck with deadly accuracy. He acted out of respect for her well-being and concern for her wishes. She still wasn’t sure she could trust him. Worse, she wasn’t sure she could trust herself.

  He eased the car back onto the wet road. “So where do you live anyway?” he asked.

  “Downtown Boston.”

  He groaned. “That’s nearly an hour from here.”

  “That’s why I’d planned on staying at my sister’s tonight.”

  The car ahead of them made a sudden stop and he swerved to avoid hitting the vehicle. The Jeep hydroplaned across the slick roads, nearly sending them into a skid. She gripped the dashboard with both hands. He swore under his breath, then maneuvered them back with more skill than she would have possessed. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine.” She let out a shaky breath. No way they’d make it as far as her sister’s house—a good half hour from here, Catherine thought. Not in this weather.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. Why was fate conspiring to keep her with a man who was so obviously wrong for her? Though he’d breached her reserve, she had lived long enough to understand there were still social classes that couldn’t be crossed into.

  “My place is ten minutes from here. How far is your sister’s?” Logan asked.

  “Too far,” she muttered.

  He raised an eyebrow while keeping his gaze on the road. “My place it is.”

  Catherine remained silent. There wasn’t much to say. She’d take a look at his expensive house and valuable accessories and know for certain they had nothing in common besides lust. He’d realize the same thing.

  “Where are we headed, exactly?” she asked.

  “A small cottage on the beach. Another couple of minutes tops.”

  “Small cottage?” She laughed aloud. “I can’t wait to see it.” Catherine eased back in her seat, anticipation warring with apprehension. As much as she couldn’t help but look forward to the few more hours they’d share, she knew one glimpse at his small cottage would cement the truth in her mind. They didn’t stand a chance.

  They made the rest of the trip in silence. Catherine didn’t want to risk another near accident by distracting Logan and he seemed engrossed in his driving. He pulled onto a private driveway that ran parallel to the beach. At the far end stood a true beachfront home.

  A Cape-styled cottage, it boasted typical New England charm with a single peak and ample windows, but was smaller than Catherine had imagined. Much smaller, especially when compared with the Montgomery Estate.

  He slowed the car to a stop and shut the ignition. Without the sound of the engine, the rain pelted loud and clear against the windshield.

  “It’s humble but it’s home.”

  A traditional cape home right on the ocean, it was cozy and comforting, tempting and alluring. Like the man himself. She barely knew him but she sensed she was in deep. She let out a long breath. Catherine Ann, you are probably in big trouble.

  “Like it?” he asked.

  “It’s incredible,” she murmured.

  Logan glanced up toward the black sky and torrential sheets of rain. “I hope you mean it…” His potent gaze strayed to hers. “Because if the rain keeps up at this pace, we could be stranded. Beach roads flood pretty quickly around here.”

  “I could think of worse things,” she said, her voice unusually thick. She bit down on her lower lip. Temptation to turn the radio back on warred with the desire to close off the outside world for as long as she could. Even if she did hear the weather report again, nothing would change whether they’d be stranded together or not.

  Fate had just handed over her heart’s secret desire. A night alone with Logan Montgomery, if she was brave enough to take it. She shut her eyes and listened to the heavy sound of the rain beating against the windshield, in cadence to the rapid pounding of her heart. In time to the building crescendo of need inside her.

  A crash of thunder startled her and she jumped in her seat. From their parked position, far from the house, Catherine had a good view of the ocean and the waves crashing fast and furious against the shore. Having grown up in the city and with little time for trips to the beach, the notion of the undertow had always both frightened and intrigued her.

  The angry waves rolled forward onto the sand, then retreated without warning. Sort of like the ebb and flow of desire between a man and a woman, she thought and a violent tremor shook her body.

  He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “You okay?” he asked.

  He obviously meant to reassure, but his touch had the opposite effect and sent her senses soaring. She needed to get out of this car and make a grab for sanity. “Can you pull a little closer?” she asked.

  “I wish.” He slung one arm over the back of her seat. “Here we’re on paved road. Beyond us is mud.”

  She followed his gaze and stared out the window. Although visibility was awful, she realized he was right. “Okay. I’m a good sport. They say rainwater’s good for the skin and fresh air is even better for the soul. And besides, I’m wearing sneakers.”

  He grinned. “That’s the spirit. I’d offer to race you but the terrain can get pretty slippery when wet.” He got out of the car and came around her side to help her out. She held on to his hand. “Ready?” he asked.

  Another crash of thunder broke the monotony of the rain, and was followed by an unexpected flash of lightning. Her heart leaped in her chest. “I’m ready.”

  The run for the house wasn’t easy. She sloshed through puddles, slipped on mud and held on to Logan’s hand, nearly taking him down more than once. The rain poured on them hard and left them soaked. But by the time they reached the house, Catherine wasn’t miserable, she was laughing.

  Just before Logan put the key into the lock, he paused and met her gaze. An unexpected, electrical connection sizzled between them and, in that moment, Catherine knew.

  Trouble waited just inside the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE STORM RAGING OUTSIDE was nothing compared to the one wreaking havoc inside of Catherine. She stepped inside the house and found both a haven from the rain and a look into Logan’s soul.

  “Hang on a second. I’ll be right back.” He left Catherine standing in a warm and cozy den.

  The room, like the house, offered a reflection of the man. The scarred, wood-paneled walls were as masculine as Logan, as welcoming as his personality. A beat-up brown leather sofa and old wood furniture lent a comfortable charm to the rustic interior of the house.

  Although she lived in a one-bedroom apartment, she and Logan obviously shared a deep longing for hearth and home because the warm brown tones and coziness in many ways matched her personal taste and style. In fact, any one of her animal-print area rugs, throw blankets or pillows would add spice and a bit of life to the already near perfect atmosphere.

  No formal entryways, marble floors or crystal chandeliers in this home. And judging from the relaxed atmosphe
re, that’s what it was—a home lacking in the luxury known and loved by the rest of the Montgomery clan. What kind of statement did Logan think he was making living in a place like this? Was he being deliberately contrary toward his family or did he genuinely love the smell of the ocean and the cabin’s earthy appeal?

  She couldn’t help but wonder what his family thought of his place of residence. She’d bet very few family dinners were held here and the thought made her sad. Though she hadn’t had a traditional upbringing, either, she’d sensed Logan longed for one the same way she did.

  “Towel?” He reappeared with two in his hand.

  “Thanks.” He tossed one her way. Catherine peeled off her slicker and glanced around for a closet or someplace to put her jacket.

  “I’ll take it,” he said, then hung her coat on a wooden coat stand already laden with more jackets than it could probably handle. “Easier than tossing them on the couch,” he said with a grin.

  A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re a man. I’m amazed they make it as far as a coat hook.”

  “You shouldn’t stereotype someone before you get to know them,” he said, warm humor in his voice. “They might just end up surprising you.”

  “Are you saying you’re not a typical male?”

  “I’m saying you’re about to find out.”

  Was he throwing out a challenge, waiting for her to back away? If so, he’d be disappointed. She’d come this far and Catherine intended to see things through, wherever they led. She wasn’t sure when her decision had been made but a rush of excitement flooded her veins.

  She licked her dry lips. “So you’re a neat man. I’m impressed,” she murmured.

  “I should hope so,” he said in a deep voice. “Besides, some things just weren’t permitted while I was growing up. Leaving a trail of clothes behind me was one of them.” He shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t have help to pick up after you.”

  “Of course I did. But one hit upside the head by Emma and I was cured of that nasty habit for life.”

  The vision was absurd, yet Catherine believed him. Emma spoke her mind and got what she wanted. A tremor rippled through her as she realized the implications—Logan had been raised by his grandmother. He, too, spoke his mind. And she sensed he also got what he wanted.

  “Besides,” he said, “Emma was right.” The light and laughter in his eyes spoke of his love for his grandmother and Catherine’s respect for Logan grew. How could she not like a man with the ability to laugh at himself? A man who humored an old woman and wasn’t ashamed to let his love for her shine through.

  “The help had their hands full catering to my parents. They didn’t need two spoiled kids added to the mix.”

  “So you’re also a man who isn’t afraid to admit when he’s wrong.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I told you I’m unique,” he said with a grin. “And about me being wrong? It doesn’t happen all that often.”

  “Arrogance is a typical masculine quality,” she warned him.

  “I said I was unique but I never denied being male.”

  As if she needed any reminders of his potent masculinity. Catherine gripped the soft towel tightly in her hand. “Emma kept you grounded, didn’t she?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  “You bet she did,” he said, drying his hair as he spoke. When he finished, he draped the towel over his broad shoulders.

  That simple gesture was all it took to bring his masculinity and her reaction to it flooding back. His tie hung loosely around his neck and he’d opened the restricting collar of his shirt. His hair, damp and disheveled, created a rumpled appearance, making him look even sexier than he had earlier. Catherine hadn’t thought he could get any better. She’d been wrong.

  Her gaze locked with his. Those dark, compelling eyes lingered on her in what felt like a heated caress. Yet he hadn’t lifted a hand, hadn’t touched any part of her body. It was only a matter of time.

  Silence grew thick around them, but she couldn’t bring herself to glance away. Just looking at Logan caused a fluttering sensation in her stomach and a delicious throbbing need between her legs. He stepped closer and her pulse kicked into high gear. Her heart rate soared. His steady gaze never veered from hers as he eased the towel out of her shaking hands and walked around until he stood behind her.

  She could no longer see him but she couldn’t mistake his presence. His body heat melded with hers and his breathing became a sexy, seductive hum in her ears. Without warning, the warm towel draped over her head and his strong hands began a rhythmic motion as he dried her hair and kneaded her scalp. Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and leaned back into the hard planes of his chest.

  No sooner did she shut her eyes, than her other senses took over. The sound of the rain beating against the house in torrential windswept sheets sounded loud in her ears. Or was it her heartbeat she heard so strongly? The need she felt was stronger than anything she’d experienced before.

  Sensation took over. The light tugging at her scalp found an answering pull in other areas of her body. His arms rested on her shoulders, his hands worked at her hair—and her breasts grew heavy as an erotic pull began deep in her stomach, sending shock waves deeper, lower…

  A purring noise startled her out of her sensual daydream and Catherine was shocked to realize the sound had come from her. An unexpected crack of thunder followed, and she jumped back, out of his reach.

  Her heart beat fast and furious. It wasn’t fear of the storm driving her now but unbounded desire. She shook with unrestrained need. A need so strong it both consumed and unnerved her. “I can take it from here,” she said.

  “Suit yourself, but first…” He reached for the end of the towel. His trembling hands and ragged breathing gave her a sense of comfort. The desire wasn’t one-sided. He wiped down her face with gentle pats that shouldn’t have felt sexy but did.

  “Mascara,” he explained, revealing black stains on the pale towel.

  “Oh.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” As his darkened gaze met hers, Catherine knew exactly what he meant.

  “Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes?” he asked.

  She tipped her head to one side. “Don’t you think you’re rushing things?”

  He laughed. “I didn’t say I’d get you out of those clothes, though I could be persuaded.”

  “You’re bad,” she said, unable to hold back the laughter.

  “Care to find out just how bad?” Before she could formulate a comeback, he reached for her hand. “Come on. Those clothes are wet and you must be freezing. I’m sure I can scrounge up a pair of drawstring sweats for you.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Five minutes later, she found herself alone in a small bathroom with an old-fashioned tub and an even older shower. Dry clothes sat on the vanity. Logan’s clothes.

  She picked up the soft sweats and held them to her face. She breathed in deeply. The clothes smelled clean and fresh but they also held the slightest hint of Logan’s scent. Catherine didn’t know if the masculine scent was real or existed only in her imagination but it didn’t matter. The sensual aura of spicy aftershave affected her either way. A tremor shook her that had nothing to do with being wet or cold, but had everything to do with Logan Montgomery.

  She was in his home, wearing his clothes, and allowing herself to be emotionally seduced—as much by his contradictions as by the man himself. Nothing was as it should be.

  Logan wasn’t as artificial and stuffy as the Montgomery name and tradition dictated he ought to be. He shouldn’t be interested in a woman outside his world, yet after seeing his home, Catherine wasn’t sure what world Logan inhabited. Which meant she wasn’t sure what kind of allure she held for him. At this point, she could almost believe in impossible dreams.

  Dangerous, she thought. But so very tempting.

  She flipped on the shower
faucets. Time for grounding herself. He might live here, but given the luxury with which he’d grown up, and the people with whom he was raised, he had to have an ulterior motive, one that might just include her as well. And even if he was sincere, the novelty of a woman like Catherine would wear off fast for a man with the name Montgomery.

  THE SHOWER WATER SOUNDED unnaturally loud in the small cottage. Logan should have been surprised he could distinguish the shower noise over the pounding wind and rain outside. He wasn’t. Not when Catherine was in the next room, water running down her supple curves. He braced his hands against the kitchen counter, lowered his head and let out a slow groan.

  He’d had his hands in her hair and she’d sighed like he was inside her body. She was so responsive to the simplest touch, it was enough to drive him mad. She was also losing her inhibitions around him. But he had to take it slow to avoid losing any headway he’d made.

  The shower water stopped, leaving him in silence. He had the whole night ahead of him to win her trust…and maybe more. A lot more, he hoped. But her trust was more important than getting her into bed. And that in itself was a warning he knew he’d better heed.

  “Hi,” Catherine said.

  “Hi, yourself.” Logan turned from where he’d been scrounging through the refrigerator and his breath caught in his throat.

  Blond hair that had been tied up in a knot above her head now curled in damp strands around her makeup-free face. Her skin was nearly flawless, fair and translucent, touched by an endearing pink flush on her cheeks. The curves that had been so obvious earlier were now hidden by soft cotton. She’d had to roll the sleeves more than a few times and the elastic bottom of each pant leg. The effect was a startling blend of sweetness and vulnerability, two words he hadn’t associated with this woman before now.

  He’d seen her dressed for work. He’d seen her wet and disheveled from a run in the rain. And though he’d found her more desirable with each transformation, this one left him speechless. Because the soft and approachable woman wearing his clothes, standing in his kitchen touched his heart.