Simply Scandalous (Simply 2)

Another crash of thunder broke the monotony of the rain and was followed by an unexpected flash of lightning. Her heart leaped in her chest. “I’m ready.”

The run for the house wasn’t easy. She sloshed through puddles, slipped on mud, and held onto Logan’s hand, nearly taking him down more than once. The rain poured on them hard and left them soaked. But by the time they reached the house, Catherine wasn’t miserable—she was laughing.

Just before Logan put the key into the lock, he paused and met her gaze. An unexpected, electrical connection sizzled between them, and in that moment, Catherine knew.

Trouble waited just inside the door.

Chapter Four

The storm raging outside was nothing compared to the one wreaking havoc inside of Catherine. She stepped inside the house and found both a haven from the rain and a look into Logan’s soul.

“Hang on a second. I’ll be right back.” He left Catherine standing in a warm and cozy den.

The room, like the house, offered a reflection of the man. The scarred, wood-paneled walls were as masculine as Logan, as welcoming as his personality. A beat-up brown leather sofa and old wood furniture lent a comfortable charm to the rustic interior of the house.

Although she lived in a one-bedroom apartment, she and Logan obviously shared a deep longing for hearth and home because the warm brown tones and coziness in many ways matched her personal taste and style. In fact, any one of her animal-print area rugs, throw blankets, or pillows would add spice and a bit of life to the already near-perfect atmosphere.

No formal entryways, marble floors, or crystal chandeliers in this home. And judging from the relaxed atmosphere, that’s what it was—a home, lacking in the luxury known and loved by the rest of the Montgomery clan. What kind of statement did Logan think he was making living in a place like this? Was he being deliberately contrary toward his family, or did he genuinely love the smell of the ocean and the cabin’s earthy appeal?

She couldn’t help but wonder what his family thought of his place of residence. She’d bet very few family dinners were held here, and the thought made her sad. Though she hadn’t had a traditional upbringing either, she’d sensed Logan longed for one the same way she did.

“Towel?” He reappeared with two in his hand.

“Thanks.” He tossed one her way. Catherine peeled off her slicker and glanced around for a closet or someplace to put her jacket.

“I’ll take it,” he said, then hung her coat on a wooden coat stand already laden with more jackets than it could probably handle. “Easier than tossing them on the couch,” he said with a grin.

A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re a man. I’m amazed they make it as far as a coat hook.”

“You shouldn’t stereotype someone before you get to know them,” he said, warm humor in his voice. “They might just end up surprising you.”

Was he throwing out a challenge, waiting for her to back away? If so, he’d be disappointed. She’d come this far, and Catherine intended to see things through, wherever they led. She wasn’t

sure when her decision had been made, but a rush of excitement flooded her veins.

She licked her dry lips. “So, you’re neat. I’m impressed,” she murmured.

“I should hope so,” he said in a deep voice. “Besides, some things just weren’t permitted while I was growing up. Leaving a trail of clothes behind me was one of them.” He shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have help to pick up after you.”

“Of course, I did. But one hit upside the head by Emma and I was cured of that nasty habit for life.”

The vision was absurd, yet Catherine believed him. Emma spoke her mind and got what she wanted. A tremor rippled through her as she realized the implications—Logan had been raised by his grandmother. He, too, spoke his mind. And she sensed he also got what he wanted.

“Besides,” he said, “Emma was right.” The light and laughter in his eyes spoke of his love for his grandmother and Catherine’s respect for Logan grew. How could she not like a man with the ability to laugh at himself? A man who humored an old woman and wasn’t ashamed to let his love for her shine through.

“The help had their hands full catering to my parents. They didn’t need two spoiled kids added to the mix.”

“So, you also aren’t afraid to admit when you’re wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I told you, I’m unique,” he said with a grin. “And about me being wrong? It doesn’t happen all that often.”

“Arrogance is a male quality I’ve come across often.”

“I said I was unique, but I never denied being male.”

As if she needed any reminders. Catherine gripped the soft towel tightly in her hand. “Emma kept you grounded, didn’t she?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.