“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.
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. 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.
“Can I help?” she asked. “I know my way around the kitchen.”
“I think you proved that at the party earlier,” he said, studying her. “You’re special, Cat. Or you wouldn’t be here.”
A blush rose to her cheeks. “Cut that out before you embarrass me.”
“A woman who doesn’t go looking for compliments. Now that’s unusual.”
She shrugged. “Sounds to me like you know the wrong women.”
“But at least I’ve found the right one. Now, I know catering is your business. How did you get the hands-on experience behind the scenes as well?”
She pushed up the rolled sleeves only to have them fall down again. “I have years of restaurant experience behind me, and I’m not talking just washing dishes.”
“We have all night for you to fill me in. Why don’t you sit and let me handle things?”
Catherine shrugged and headed for a chair by the kitchen table. “You can cook. I’m impressed.”
“I hate to disillusion you, but I have no choice.” He reached inside the refrigerator and came out with a covered casserole dish. “This lasagna is the best Emma’s chef can prepare,” he said with a laugh.
Catherine laid a hand over her heart. “You’re destroying my fantasies.”
He shook his head, then walked over to where she sat. Bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, he leaned so close he could taste her—if he chose. Sensing she was not yet ready, he refrained. “I’m not going to destroy your fantasies, Cat. I’m going to make them come true.”
Before she could blink, he rose and strode back to the lasagna on the counter. Distance gave him a chance to cool off before he acted against common sense and blew things for sure.
“At least you have Emma. She makes sure you don’t starve,” Catherine said.
“Embarrassing to admit, but yes. What do you know about the public defender’s office hours?” he asked as he took the foil wrap off the casserole dish.
“Not much.”
“Then let me fill you in.” Details of his own life might encourage her to reveal facts of her own, and Logan wanted to know everything about her. “I’m on call three nights a week and one weekend a month for courtroom duty. When I’m not there or at the office,
