* * *
When had she fallen asleep? Catherine blinked into the sunshine streaming through the open blinds. She stretched and felt the protest in muscles she’d overused last night. It felt decadent to wake up in Logan’s bed after the endless hours they’d passed here. It felt even better to be entangled in his arms. He’d tossed one leg over hers as if to lock her in place. She laughed. It wasn’t as if she was going anywhere, she thought. Not until noon when she had to head home and get ready for the party Pot Luck was supplying the decorations for tomorrow. As parties went, this one was simple because it just required setup.
“Something funny?” Logan asked.
“You’re up.”
He grasped her hand and edged it downward. “In more ways than one.”
His deep voice wrapped around her. “You’re bad,” she murmured.
“And you love it.” In one smooth motion, he rolled over her, bracing his weight on both hands.
She loved… Oh, no. No way. Not so soon. Not now. Not this man. She scrambled to get away, but his lower body held her fast. And the more she squirmed the more their bodies connected. The more his solid erection pressed tight against her. Hot, pulsing, liquid heat spread through her.
“Stop squirming, Cat.” His voice was deadly serious. “Now, before something happens you obviously don’t want, why don’t you tell me what has you spooked?”
She stopped, then shook her head. She may have bared her body to this man but no way would she bare her soul. She couldn’t give him that kind of power over her.
“Okay, how about I tell you what has me spooked. You can go next.”
“Sounds fair.” And it would give her time to regain her equilibrium and come up with something else to tell him. Anything was better than the truth.
What a joke. Catherine Luck, daughter of a supermarket clerk and a man she didn’t even remember, in love with Logan Montgomery, son of the most powerful judge and family in the state. If she wasn’t careful, the hysterical laughter she felt bubbling to the surface would turn into buckets of tears. And Catherine never cried. Not since the Christmas she’d realized Santa was a fraud and her father was never coming back.
“Look at me.”
She forced herself to gaze into his handsome face. The only way to conquer her fears was to overcome them. She’d done it before, she could do it now. The smile she faked was more difficult. “Okay, you go first.”
“You’re running from me. No matter how deep I dig, no matter how honest I am or how much of me I reveal, you run the other way.”
She couldn’t deny it. Not only did he open up verbally, but he didn’t hold back when they were in bed, either. Catherine had limited experience. But even if her sexual past was uneventful, she was smart enough not to think that an earth-shattering experience between the sheets had any meaning outside the bedroom. Her mother had done that. Head over heels in love with a man who wanted her in bed and no place else.
She shook her head. That wouldn’t be her fate.
“I’m not running from you, Logan. I’m…” She thought of everything she could say and opted for the truth. “I’m running from the result.”
He rolled to his side. “Back to that again, are we? The differences? The idea that we won’t last?”
She couldn’t deny that, either. “Yes.”
“Okay, we’ll play it your way. One day at a time. It works, it works. It doesn’t, it doesn’t. That make you feel any better?”
His compelling eyes stared into hers.
“No,” she admitted.
“Good.” He treated her to a heart-stopping grin. “That tells me you care.”
“I do,” she said softly.
His gaze softened. “There’s something to be said for that honesty of yours.”
“And any man who can send the gifts you did deserves at least that in return. You care about my dreams, Logan.” And it may not last forever, but it certainly touched her heart, Catherine thought.
His gaze darted away from hers. She couldn’t read his expression, but he was uncomfortable, and that wasn’t like him. “What is it?”
“I do care about your dreams. Don’t ever think I don’t. But…”
“But?”
He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Hell, do you think a guy would send you fairy dust?” he muttered.
“You didn’t?”
He shook his head, and she felt her heart squeeze tighter. “The globe—the snow in the summer?” she asked.
“That was me. So was the music. And the notes that came with both.”
The constricting pain in her chest loosened. “But the fairy dust?”
He rolled his eyes, then covered them with one arm. “Emma,” he muttered. “And if you have any sympathy for me, you won’t ask how she knew us so well.”
Catherine nodded. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know that herself. “So, she wants us together?” she asked.
“It would seem so.”
That was a piece of this puzzle that hadn’t made sense to her from the beginning. Why would Emma Montgomery, no matter how eccentric or outlandish, seek out a woman like Catherine for her beloved grandson?
Catherine had done well for herself. She didn’t deny that; in fact, she was proud of all she’d accomplished. But she knew good and well where she came from. And she certainly knew her family wasn’t the type to gain points with the illustrious Montgomerys. Forgetting that she came from the wrong side of the tracks, she knew only too well that the recent past hadn’t been kind to the Luck family, either.
Not only had her aunt married a man with mob ties, but he’d dabbled in prostitution. To make matters worse, they’d been killed and left their charm school—a front for her
