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  “Yum.” She opened her eyes to find Logan still staring. His intensity had her shaking with need and anticipation all over again. She licked her lips, tasting the chocolate again. “Jell-O brand?” she asked, searching for ordinary conversation to calm down her body.

  He placed a hand over his heart. “Would I serve such an extraordinary woman such an ordinary dessert? You wound me. Hell, you don’t give me enough credit, Cat.” He hesitated only an instant before caving. “It’s Jell-O,” he muttered.

  She grinned. “It’s my absolute favorite dessert, too. When I was in culinary school they used to tease me all the time that for someone with the ability to whip up the most intricate desserts, I had the taste of a peasant.”

  “Did you just say culinary school?”

  She grinned. “Yup.”

  “I made Jell-O instant pudding for an expert?”

  “Yup. But don’t worry. I know this was last minute and nothing’s easier than milk and mix from a box. I don’t expect anything like tiramisu until the second date, at least.” She glanced over. “What’s the matter? You look green.”

  “Wounded is more like it. A man’s ego is a fragile thing.”

  She laughed and finished off her pudding in a couple of healthy spoonfuls. “That was the best pudding I’ve ever eaten. I don’t think even chocolate mousse can compare.” Giggling, Catherine continued. “Your talent in the kitchen is unsurpassed. I—”

  He cut her off by swiping a finger across her lips. His touch was electric and her laughter came to a sudden halt.

  “You had pudding on your lips. See?” He held up his chocolate-smeared finger.

  She nodded, unable to speak, somehow knowing what would happen next. He met her gaze. His brown eyes, the color of the rich pudding, glittered with desire.

  “Want to finish it off?” he asked.

  Drawn by his compelling gaze, lured by the depth of his voice and the sizzling desire burning between them, Catherine leaned forward. She never wavered, never let her gaze veer from his, as her lips closed over his finger. Chocolate mixed with the salty taste of his skin as she licked and finished off the last of the pudding.

  Long after he should have pulled back, his finger remained, and he traced the outline of her lips. “Better than licking the bowl, huh?” he asked.

  “Much,” she whispered. He’d removed his hand, but she didn’t know if she could say any more. Her lips tingled. So did her body. Even her breasts had pulled into tight peaks that longed for Logan’s touch.

  She wondered if he could read her mind. If he knew how much she wanted him. If he reached out and cupped her breasts in his hand, she wouldn’t mind. Right now she’d welcome any touch he offered, anything to soothe the raging need he’d inspired.

  She drew a deep breath. “I really should clean up.”

  “Running away?” he asked, his breathing as ragged as hers.

  “Taking a time-out.”

  He leaned back, resting against his palms. His gaze never wavered. “Just don’t take too long.”

  CATHERINE ENTERED the family room in time to see Logan wadding up balls of newspaper and feeding them into the fireplace. He’d begun a small fire that was rapidly growing. He fed the flames, much the same way the desire raged between them, begging to be fueled with more than just a caress.

  Since he’d cooked, the least she could do was clean up. He hadn’t liked it, but she’d insisted because it was the polite thing to do and because she’d needed distance from his magnetic appeal. The mindless work of washing dishes should have helped. After all, she understood the grind of dishwashing better than most.

  When she was sixteen, she’d begun hanging out with the wrong crowd—an excuse to stay out of the empty, lonely apartment where they lived. Kayla did the same, but she’d been smart enough even then to choose the public library as a place to hide. Catherine hadn’t been as bright and, as a result, one night she and her so-called friends had gone out for dinner, to a restaurant not one of them could afford. Although Catherine hadn’t known it at the time the other kids had thought it would be a blast to sneak out without paying the bill. Thanks to Kayla’s well-meaning concern, that night Catherine was minus her wallet, since her sister thought it would keep her from going out and hanging with the wrong crowd. Kayla had been wrong.

  Catherine had gone anyway, then hesitated a second too long when it was time to get out of there. She’d been the only one with any sense of guilt—and the only one who’d gotten caught. A local cop had brought her home and she’d spent the rest of her summer washing dishes in the restaurant kitchen. She was lucky she hadn’t spent the night in jail.

  She’d always be grateful to the restaurant owner. Not because he hadn’t pressed charges but because he’d turned her life around. He was responsible for her interest in cooking and catering. He’d given her a job and the safe, welcoming haven she’d never had.

  Catherine smiled at the memory. She hadn’t thought of Otto and his wife in years. Obviously Logan’s closeness with his grandmother brought out the better memories of her childhood. They weren’t all bad as she sometimes thought. Even dishwashing had its good points. But apparently the mindless work hadn’t given her the distance or perspective she’d hoped for tonight, because her body was still wound tight.

  She glanced at Logan in silence. He’d showered and changed while she was in the kitchen. The intriguing muscles in his back rippled beneath a soft cotton T-shirt and his broad shoulders flexed with each reach for the newspaper by his side.

  She wanted to feel the ripple of those muscles beneath her fingertips, to pull his shirt off and plaster her body against his and let the heat of his skin brand her as his own. Catherine bit down on her lower lip. She was in deep.

  The thought gave her little comfort. “I’m back.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a second.”

  She walked toward the welcoming fire and took a seat on the floor in front of the couch. “Fire in the spring?” she asked.

  “Why not? If you want something, why not make it happen?”

  “Next thing I know you’ll tell me you can make it snow in summer,” she mused.

  He laughed. “You don’t make anything easy, do you?”

  “Would it be worth it if I did?”

  “Touché.” He groaned and shifted his attention back to the fire. “This is just one of the perks of living by the water.” He stood, hands on his thighs as he rose to his feet. “Since it’s always cooler here you can take advantage of the nighttime chill…or the daytime heat.”

  His darkened gaze met hers. There was no chill in the air now and the fire had nothing to do with the heat arcing between them.

  “Music?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Something quiet. Mellow.” Without thought she reached for her head and began a steady massaging of her temples.

  “Something wrong?” He came up beside her.

  “Just a slight headache. Postparty letdown,” she explained. “I get one after every big event.”

  “Release of the stress you claimed you didn’t have,” he said with a grin.

  “Exactly.”

  He walked over to a CD player, and after removing the one inside and replacing it with another, he hit play. Mellow jazz music surrounded them. Logan came up behind her and eased himself onto the floor.

  “Is the music okay?” he asked.

  “It’s wonderful.” The low strains of the music were soothing. Between the party today and the sexual tension throbbing inside her, she was wound tight. His choice in music was the perfect antidote for her stress and she felt the tension in her shoulders and back begin to ease.

  “And the head? How’s that?”

  “Hurts,” she admitted.

  He settled himself back against the couch and motioned for her to sit between his legs. “Lucky for you I have just the cure.” His darkened gaze met hers. “Come here, Cat.”

  She didn’t hesitate. How could she?

  Logan was
a man who inspired trust and she trusted him. It wasn’t like her to invest so much faith in a man she’d just met and the notion scared her spitless. The only way to get through this was to hang on to her heart—and she sensed that wouldn’t be as easy as she hoped.

  Catherine drew a deep breath and maneuvered herself until she sat in the V of his legs. His warm, solid strength surrounded her, and when his hands wrapped around her waist to better position her, a shot of fire sizzled through her veins.

  “Relax. Your headache won’t go away if you’re still tense.”

  “Keep your hands there and I can guarantee you relaxing’s the last thing I’ll do.”

  He chuckled, his warm breath fanning her neck. “Now hang on.” He released his hold on her waist, giving her a chance to breathe easy once more. Then he curled his legs beneath him until he sat cross-legged. “Lie back,” he instructed. “Head here.” He patted the welcoming space between his knees.

  She eyed him warily, but eased her body down until she lay back and propped her head in his lap.

  “Okay, now close your eyes.”

  The last glimpse she got before she shut her eyes was Logan staring down at her with a heart-stopping grin.

  “Now breathe deeply and listen to the sound of the fire.” As if on cue, the fire began to snap and crackle, sounding louder in the small room. The scent of burning wood filled her nose. And with every breath she took, another muscle in her body seemed to relax and the warmth of the fire seeped inside her. Or maybe it was Logan’s warmth and body heat she felt pulsing through her veins. He’d begun to massage her temples with his fingers in soft, gentle motions.

  “Now hear the rhythm of the rain.” She did. All night the storm outside had matched the one raging inside her.

  “Mmm. Don’t stop.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed and the sound reached straight down to her toes.

  “So tell me how you discovered this…cure,” she said, keeping her eyes shut.

  “Old childhood lesson.” His fingers still worked magic as he spoke. A gentle pressure on her temples, a soft tugging of her scalp. His touch felt wickedly good.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My sister suffers from migraines. She has since we were kids. She’d get through the weekends fine because my parents were never around, but weekdays were different.”

  “How so?”

  His fingertips moved from the sides to the front of her forehead as he continued to massage. “Weekends they traveled. During the week they were home. Or at least in the state. If they weren’t, they’d just come home late and wake us with the arguments they thought no one heard.”

  And to think, growing up she’d always had the misconception that money would make things better. She was older and wiser now, but it still hurt to hear that Logan hadn’t had an ideal childhood, either.

  “That must have been tough to hear.”

  “Harder for Grace, really. She’d sneak into my room and most times her head was killing her. Stress-induced,” he said, the edge in his tone unmistakable.

  His obvious love for his sibling was also unmistakable and that was something Catherine could relate to. He claimed to be unaffected by the fighting. She didn’t believe him.

  “How come they never separated?” she asked.

  “Family motto—Montgomerys don’t divorce, they endure.”

  “I thought the wealthy didn’t fight, they endured,” she said lightly, trying to lift the mood that had settled over him thanks to painful memories.

  “That motto holds true only in public. For all the money it cost to build the mansion, the walls are incredibly thin.”

  “So it was you and Grace who did the enduring.”

  “Yeah. I’d rub her forehead until she fell asleep,” he said softly.

  His actions toward his sister told Catherine what kind of man Logan Montgomery really was. “I hope she appreciated you,” she murmured.

  “She did, does.”

  “I know I do.” Another sigh escaped her lips as the gentle pressure of his fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot.

  Whatever magic Logan performed for his little sister was brotherly and done out of love. What he did to Catherine was more erotic than fraternal. It was sensual and intimate and she knew seduction was the goal. And she wanted to give in. She had until tomorrow before she had to walk out of this cabin and face the harsh light of day.

  Forcing her heavy eyelids open, she glanced up at Logan, wanting to know more about him. “Where is Grace now?”

  “Living in a loft in N.Y.C., taking pictures to her heart’s content and avoiding commitment for fear of ending up like her parents.” He laughed but there was no pleasure in the sound. “She’s living off her trust, figuring Mother and the judge owe her for all the misery she lived through.”

  “Is that how you feel?”

  He shook his head. “Actually I live off my salary and not a penny more. If I touch my trust, I give up control of my life, something I’m not willing to do. And I think Grace would be happier if she did the same.” He smiled then, a slow, easy grin that threw Catherine’s pulse into high gear and sent out warning signals to every part of her body that wanted to listen.

  Judging by her rapid heartbeat, uneven breathing and curling warmth in her belly, no part of her but her brain was paying attention. Even her more rational self wanted to give in to Logan’s easy charm and sex appeal, to his understanding nature and giving soul.

  “But Grace and her life is another issue for another day. This night belongs to us, Cat. If you want it to.” He paused a beat. “The choice is yours.”

  She sat up too fast and had to wait for the rush of dizziness to subside. When it did, she realized her headache had fled with it. The man definitely had magic hands. The thought caused a delicious curling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “Much.” She sat up on her knees and faced him. “But I suspect that was the point.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You can’t seduce a woman if she’s going to use a headache as an excuse.”

  His dark eyes met hers. “I see. And you just admitted yours was gone.”

  “Completely,” she said, the yearning inside her building to unbearable proportions.

  The fury of the fire and the driving rain had nothing on the flames burning inside her. But she couldn’t help but wonder…

  Would one night be enough?

  CHAPTER SIX

  CATHERINE RAISED HER HEAD and contemplated the importance of the next few moments. He was leaving it up to her to decide whether they would sleep together. Her body said yes, but her mind wasn’t sure.

  “Whatever you need to know, ask now, Cat.”

  She grinned. “So you’re a mind reader as well as an expert masseur?”

  “I already told you I’m a man of many talents. Now quit stalling.”

  Silence followed. Silence in which no sound but the rain came between them. “There is one thing I’d like to get clear first.”

  “I’m safe,” he assured her.

  She shook her head. “You’re the last thing from safe I can imagine. That storm and those cresting waves are safer than you are. But I understand, and thank you. I am, too, by the way, though that’s not what I wanted to know.”

  “I was afraid of that. What is it?” he asked, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

  “It’s not that I’m asking for promises or anything…”

  He stroked a rough hand down her cheek. The caress gave life to a swirling ribbon of need that pulled her in deeper.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “To know this means more to you than a one-night fling.” She met his gaze with a determined one of her own. She wouldn’t apologize for her needs.

  He treated her to a lazy smile. “Trust me,” he said in a husky voice. “It means more. I respect you too much to sleep with you and never call again.”

  “Now there’s a line if
I ever heard one.” Yet she couldn’t help but smile in return. “So what you’re saying is, when this is over, you’ll call me?” she asked, forcing lightness and humor into her voice.

  He nodded. “Soon.”

  A smile twitched at her lips. “Is that the typical guy version of soon?”

  His smile vanished, to be replaced by an intense but equally sexy look that set her nerve endings on fire. “It’s the Logan Montgomery version of soon.”

  In the silence that followed, Catherine realized she couldn’t ask for anything more. Either she trusted him or she didn’t. And she wouldn’t be here if her faith was lacking.

  Drawing a deep breath, she met his gaze. “You aren’t going to draw this out much longer are you?” she asked at last.

  Logan exhaled the breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. For a minute there, he’d thought she would bolt. I’m not asking for promises. Little did she know he’d have made them willingly. But she had more guts than he’d given her credit for since she hadn’t walked out on him just now.

  His heart beat rapidly against his chest. Without waiting another second, he swept her into his arms and walked over to the row of windows overlooking the ocean. His ocean, his beach, the scene that meant so much to him because it represented his life. All things he wanted to share with Catherine.

  She locked her arms around his neck.

  “Take a look,” he said.

  Turning her head, she glanced out the window. As he inhaled the scent of her hair, his body tightened even more.

  “This must be some view on a clear day.”

  “It’s the best.”

  “It’s not so bad now, either.” Her eyelids fluttered closed and she tightened her arms around his neck more securely. “You know, all night I’ve been listening to the sound of the rain.”

  So had he. The sound of the elements wreaking havoc outside matched the thundering yearning inside his soul. And against his chest, her heartbeat picked up speed, joining his in the same rapid rhythm.

  “I live in a one-bedroom apartment. Sometimes, if I’m really lucky, and listen extra hard, I’ll catch the sounds of the storm echoing in the night. Otherwise, it gets lost in the blare of car horns and noise.”