“You bet she did,” he said, drying his hair as he spoke. When he finished, he draped the towel over his broad shoulders.
That simple gesture was all it took to bring her reaction to him flooding back. His tie hung loosely around his neck and he’d opened the restricting collar of his shirt. His hair, damp and disheveled, created a rumpled appearance, making him look even sexier than he had earlier. Catherine hadn’t thought he could get any better. She’d been wrong.
Her gaze locked with his. Those dark, compelling eyes lingered on her in what felt like a heated caress. Yet he hadn’t lifted a hand, hadn’t touched any part of her body. It was only a matter of time.
Silence grew thick around them, but she couldn’t bring herself to glance away. Just looking at Logan caused a fluttering sensation in her stomach and a delicious throbbing need between her thighs. He stepped closer and her pulse kicked into high gear. Her heart rate soared. His steady gaze never veered from hers as he eased the towel out of her shaking hands and walked around until he stood behind her.
She could no longer see him, but she couldn’t mistake his presence. His body heat melded with hers and his breathing became a sexy, seductive hum in her ear. Without warning, the warm towel draped over her head and his strong hands began a rhythmic motion as he dried her hair and kneaded her scalp. Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and leaned back into the hard planes of his chest.
No sooner did she shut her eyes than her other senses took over. The sound of the rain beating against the house in torrential, windswept sheets sounded loud in her ears. Or was it her heartbeat she heard so strongly? The need she felt was stronger than anything she’d experienced before.
Sensation took over. The light tugging at her scalp found an answering pull in other areas of her body. His arms rested on her shoulders, his hands worked at her hair—and her breasts grew heavy as an erotic pull began deep in her stomach, sending shock waves deeper, lower…
A purring noise startled her out of her sensual daydream and Catherine was shocked to realize the sound had come from her. An unexpected crack of thunder followed, and she jumped back, out of his reach.
Her heart beat fast and furious. It wasn’t fear of the storm driving her now but unbounded desire. She shook with unrestrained need. A need so strong it both consumed and unnerved her. “I can take it from here,” she said.
“Suit yourself, but first…” He reached for the end of the towel. His ragged breathing gave her a sense of comfort. The desire wasn’t one-sided. He wiped down her face with gentle pats that shouldn’t have felt sexy but did.
“Mascara,” he explained, revealing black stains on the pale towel.
“Oh.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” As his darkened gaze met hers, Catherine knew exactly what he meant.
“Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes?” he asked.
She tipped her head to one side. “Don’t you think you’re rushing things?”
He grinned. “I didn’t say I’d get you out of those clothes, though I could be persuaded.”
“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.