was when things were good.
Although she lived a world apart from her roots, Catherine wasn’t foolish enough to think a woman who once wore hand-me-downs and lived in the poorer sections of Boston had anything in common with this elegant and sexy man.
“Well, if you won’t unburden yourself, we can go back to you doing your job. Another drink?” he asked. “Mine’s gone flat.” His deep voice vibrated too close to her ear. An unexpected tremor of excitement shimmied throughout her body.
“So has your routine,” she said and grinned.
“Listen to the woman, sonny boy,” Emma Montgomery said in her cultured voice.
“Go away. You’re ruining my attempt at convincing the lady to give me a chance.”
“Sounded to me like you were failing miserably.”
Catherine laughed aloud.
“Eavesdroppers don’t get the whole story. She was on the verge of agreeing to go for a drink when the party ended.”
“I was?”
He stretched his arm over the back of the chair.
“You were.” His fingertips brushed her shoulder and she trembled. One drink. She met his heavy gaze and wondered, why not?
“I always knew my grandson had good taste.”
The older woman’s words provided the answer.
It was one thing to have a drink with a good-looking guy, another to form illusions about a man who belonged to a family as wealthy as the Montgomerys. They would never accept her. Not on a bet. Not even if Emma Montgomery demanded it…and Catherine couldn’t help doubting whether Emma would be as gracious toward Catherine regarding her grandson as she had been regarding business. She now under stood Judge Montgomery’s stern warning and obvious disdain. He didn’t want her anywhere near his son.
Emma patted her hand. “Lovely party, Catherine. You exceeded my expectations.”
A little while ago, Catherine would have agreed. After the last ten minutes, she had to wonder. And if there was anything Catherine hated, it was self-doubt and self-pity. She had to get away from these people before she lost the one thing she treasured: her faith in herself. Hardwon faith.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat and glanced at her watch. Almost over. “I have to get back to work.”
“You mean you don’t want my company after all?” His eyes clouded. A wounded little boy look graced his chiseled features. If she wasn’t careful, she’d believe she’d hurt his feelings. But the most she’d possibly offended was his pride. Protecting her heart was worth the sacrifice.
She watched Emma Montgomery’s retreating, regal form. His grandmother. Catherine shook her head, disappointed. She turned back to the privileged son. “I’m not sure what you’re after, but I can’t provide it.”
“Cut me some slack. Company’s all I’m looking for. Your company.”
She narrowed her eyes and she tried to gauge his sincerity. His gaze, once steady on her face, had slipped to her thigh. She glanced down. The hem of her miniskirt had bent up, exposing an expanse of skin hidden beneath the sheer black stockings. It wasn’t much, but she’d revealed more than she’d wanted Prince Charming to see.
Company, her Aunt Fanny. She looked like an easy mark. Regret surged through her—it wasn’t strong enough to douse the flame of desire he’d ignited, but she wasn’t about to get burned. Or let him see he’d flustered her.
She left the skirt hem alone. “Sorry, I have other plans.”
He shrugged and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Okay. But you can’t deny me another drink.”
Because she was being paid to do the honors. She didn’t appreciate the reminder. She shrugged. “I can’t discriminate. It’s my job.”
“You wound me.”
“You’ll live.” She sounded too breathless for her own liking. Yet he was right. She couldn’t turn him away. Worse, she didn’t want to.
But the sooner she gave him his drink, the sooner he’d be on his way. He wouldn’t hang around her the rest of the afternoon being shot down. No matter how much she wished otherwise. “Okay, hotshot, tell me what I can get you.”
LOGAN DOUBTED SHE WANTED to hear his real desire. Especially since it involved them both in a horizontal position with their naked bodies crushed together in a sweaty tangle beneath the sheets. Or in the pool cabana behind the bar.
“Hurry up. I need to refill the serving trays with champagne,” she whispered.
Her warm breath tickled his ear. Her scent, an intoxicating oriental blend of spices, heated the rest of his senses. The mix of perfumes emanating from the guests had grown heavy hours ago, hanging on the damp humid air. But Catherine’s stood out, sexy and unique, like the lady herself.
His gaze dropped to her thigh. When she’d bristled the first time, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t look again. But the hint of skin and the promise of what lay beneath was too much for a man to take.
She headed behind the bar, to obvious safety. Tapping her fingers impatiently against the top, she said, “I’m waiting.”
“Patience,” he murmured. “I want to make sure I get what I want.” He had one shot at capturing her interest, at making her want to get to know him as badly as he wanted to know her.
“More likely you want an excuse to linger. What I don’t know is why.” Her green eyes shimmered with curiosity.
Which, Logan decided, was better than disgust or disinterest. He wanted to linger, all right. To sit here and drink in her blond beauty and sassy mouth. Logan eyed her warily, then reminded himself she may be female, but she wasn’t a mind reader.
She might sense that he wanted more than her company—and she was right. But as much as he desired her, it was too soon for that to be an issue.
He’d have to take it slow. “What I want is something special,” he said thinking aloud. “More than a plain old beer.” He glanced down at her hands, noticing the blunt nails and clear polish for the first time. No fancy frills, colors or artifice to this woman, he thought and was more than pleased. He leaned over the edge of the bar. “I want you to create magic,” he said in a deep voice he barely recognized.
“You’re too old to believe in magic, buster.”
If the magic had left her life, he wanted to be the one to restore her faith. Bizarre how quickly she’d gotten to him, but after years of bland women and uninteresting relationships, Logan recognized a gem when he saw one.
“I’m old enough to know what I want, but not too old for you.”
“Want to bet?”
“I’m a gambling man.” He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. The tiny silver pendants hanging from her earlobe were intriguing. A delicate contrast to her sharp tongue and prickly exterior. He lowered his hand, letting his fingers trail down her soft cheek.
She sucked in a startled breath, then coughed into her hand. “Don’t read too much into that. I swallowed wrong.”
He laughed. “You’re hell on a man’s ego.” Not that he believed her professed disinterest. The rapid flutter of a pulse beating in her neck and the flush of pink that stained her neck and cheeks betrayed her.
“All in a day’s work.” She smiled.
The flash of white teeth revealed two dimples on either side of her luscious lips. He vowed to taste that smile before the night was out.
“Speak or scram,” Catherine said. “What do you want, Mr. Montgomery?”
Time was