Emma sniffed. “I know you’re there, Logan, and speakerphones are so rude. Have I taught you nothing about class and refinement?”
It was Logan’s turn to laugh. “Everything I learned, I learned from you. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to pry?”
“I was just having a nice conversation with Catherine, wasn’t I, dear?”
Catherine bit down on her lower lip. “Yes, ma’am. But you should know I stayed because of the storm. Nothing happened last night.” She crossed her fingers behind her back as she spoke.
Logan’s steamy gaze met hers. “Liar,” he mouthed as he lowered himself beside her on the bed.
The distinct masculine scent of spicy soap and aftershave aroused her in an instant. She pulled the sheet up around her, but the effort was too little too late. He’d already seen it all—and more.
“Well, of course, nothing happened. I raised my grandson to be a gentleman. And you’re every inch the perfect lady. For him,” Emma added. “Now, I’ve got to run. I’m hanging up now, bye.”
Logan hit end on Cat’s cell and they both laughed aloud.
“I wonder if she learned her lesson,” Catherine asked.
“Doubtful. You wouldn’t believe the last plan she had in mind for us.”
“Us?”
He nodded. “Emma had a plan before there even was an us. She was born to scheme.”
Catherine grinned. “Apparently so. But she also had a strong influence on your life and your character.”
“Tell me how you figured that out,” he said wryly.
“Well, aside from the obvious, I’m observant.” She glanced around her again at the room in which the Logan Montgomery, bachelor, lived.
“Almost everything here is your distinctive personality. The wood furniture is old but masculine, like the brown and tan color scheme. The wood’s not polished, it’s worn and comfortable. But there are items in here that you’d never have chosen on your own. Touches I’d bet Emma supplied.”
He grinned, obviously amused. “Such as?”
“Well, there are the little things. That throw rug by the bed? It adds warmth to the room. The tray with your keys on the nightstand? I bet you’d just toss your keys on the dresser. You’d never think of buying a pewter tray. And those antique books and the shiny marble bookends? A gift,” Catherine said, fairly certain she was correct.
At least, she hoped she was. She preferred to believe his grandmother had supplied the decorative touches than to think he made a habit of bringing women to his cottage on the water.
“You’re partially right. Emma bought the rug and the antique books.”
“And the rest?” she asked, holding her breath.
“A beautiful woman with too much money to spend supplied the bookends and the pewter tray.”
A twisting jealousy churned Catherine’s stomach and she didn’t like the feeling. “Well, she’s got good taste,” she admitted grudgingly.
“She should. Her feisty grandmother taught her everything about having a decorative eye. Grace was a fast learner,” he said, laughing.
“You’re a jerk.”
He eased himself beside her. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. Before she could think, he leaned forward and brushed a warm kiss over her lips. “But I’m a lovable one.”
He was right. “You’re an arrogant jerk,” she said, refusing to let his ego swell.
“So Grace says.”
“How often do you see her?” Catherine asked.
“Not enough. But we check in once a week, usually Sunday nights. I like to make sure she’s not getting into trouble, and she likes to keep up on life in Hampshire. Even if she won’t admit it out loud, she misses her friends here. She even misses certain members of the family.”
“You and Emma.” It wasn’t a difficult guess for Catherine.
“And Mother. Believe it or not, she and Grace have this bond. It’s Dad she can’t stand to be around.”
“Maybe she’ll come home one day.”
He shrugged. “A lot of things would have to change.” His gaze met hers, zeroing in and not letting go. “But you never know. Miracles do happen.”
A tingling sensation took hold, and Catherine breathed deeply. His potent scent made her stomach curl in response. “What time is it?” she asked.
“Ten.”
“Wow!”
“I take it you’re not used to sleeping in?”
“What can I say? You wore me out.”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Reaching behind her, she grabbed for her pillow and playfully hit him on the shoulder. “You would.”
“I also kept my first promise.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
“Since it’s morning, we’ve had more than one night.” His boyish grin disarmed her defenses.
For a woman who didn’t believe in much, he was awfully close to making her believe in the promises he made. We could have more than one night, Cat. The man believed in miracles. How could she discount that?
But her mother had trusted her father’s promise that he’d stick around—and he had, long enough to make two children as soon as biologically possible before disappearing for good. Logan wasn’t a man like her father. Thanks to his grandmother, he was grounded in reality. Any man willing to take on the commitment of a mortgage and a run-down house knew how to settle down and grow roots.
Not that she was foolish enough to expect anything long-term from Logan Montgomery. Or so she told herself. But Catherine feared if she spent much more time with him, she’d begin wanting just that.
“The sun’s out,” she said inanely. “I really do need to get to my sister’s.” Out of here. Back to reality. Where her practical sister and her know-it-all cop husband could give her a good mental shake and remind her why she could not believe in the fantasy she had begun to weave.
“I was thinking we’d go out for breakfast and I could drop you off after.”
Catherine bit down on her lower lip. She’d regret this later, but he deserved something kind from her. “Tell you what. Give me a few minutes to shower and I’ll fix you something here. Then you can take me to Kayla’s.”
“That sounds good.” He leaned closer. His lips were in kissing distance again and she waited. “But the cupboards are bare,” he
