Simply Scandalous (Simply 2)

“And if we didn’t hit it off?”

“I’d have backed off,” she said with the utmost sincerity.

Logan ran a hand through his hair. If the past two days of work hadn’t been enough, he now had this to contend with. “Then do it. Now.” He imposed as much authority into his tone as possible without being disrespectful to the woman he loved.

She patted his hand, much as she’d done when he was a child. Through the years, the gesture had been oddly comforting. But now it made him wary, and her next words proved his instincts were on target.

“There’s just one more tiny little thing.”

* * *

“It’s romantic, Cat.” Kayla beamed, and it wasn’t just the glow of pregnancy lighting her features.

Catherine knew her sister was thrilled by Logan’s daily gifts. No more than she was herself. She stared down at the three gifts laid out on the bed, finding herself at an uncustomary loss for words. Logan did that to her, she thought, warmth spreading through her.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You wanted sincerity. Looks like he’s given it to you.”

Catherine nodded. A different box had arrived every day. A box of fairy dust on Tuesday. The card read, “To Make Your Dreams Come True.”

On Wednesday, a snow globe. To an outside observer, the gift held little meaning. But the scene inside depicted canoeing on the Charles River—and a gentle shake showered the boats in falling snow. Snow in the summertime. And she remembered the words on the card: “Miracles Do Happen.”

He was her miracle, and she was enveloped by the aching desire to feel his arms around her. Oh, he was good. The right gifts, the right words. A subtle, mental seduction, she thought. Did a man go to those lengths for one more night of sex?

Making love, her heart said. And that’s where they were headed if she went with him tonight. The third gift that arrived this morning was proof of that. He’d sent a playlist to her phone. The jazz music from the night they’d spent in each other’s arms and a text: “Until We Can Be Together Again.”

She touched her music app and a different desire kicked in this time. The need to have this music, their music, filling her ears at the same time he filled her body. A shot of desire rocked her hard, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach to stop the trembling.

“Cat? Cat? Are you okay?”

“What?” Her sister came into focus. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Where did you disappear to?”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to think. These gifts are…”

“Sweet? Thoughtful? Stop trying to put a word on it and go with what you feel.”

Catherine laughed. “I remember telling you to do just that before your first date with Kane.”

Kayla grinned. “And look where it got me.” She spread her hands across her large stomach.

“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re doing a good job.” But Catherine couldn’t deny the thought of being Logan’s wife, having his babies, held a strange appeal considering the short time in which they’d known each other.

She shouldn’t rush things. He wanted another night. Never had the long-term future been mentioned.

“Oh, come on,” her sister said. “Tell me you don’t want this.” She spread her arms out in a broad sweep. “The husband, the love, the security… the house, the kids…”

“The dog and the white picket fence? Get real, Kayla. This is me we’re talking about, not you. I don’t inspire a man to thoughts of permanence.” Of course, she’d never considered a future with any of the men she’d met, either. Until now.

“Oh, and you think I did? Before Kane, what did I ever get out of a guy except it’s been fun, see you around sometime? Why don’t you believe that one person exists who was meant for you? That you deserve it all?” Kayla asked, pure frustration in her voice.

“Because I’m not an incurable romantic like you. And even if I was, we’re talking about Logan Montgomery here. You didn’t see that house. I’m sorry, that mansion. The coat closet was bigger than our room growing up.”

“So? You said his house was your dream cottage. And before you start in, I have an answer for every argument you can throw out.”

“Except this one. Can you see me as the mayor’s wife?” Catherine stood and gestured to her outfit, the clothes she’d picked up from her apartment the other day. With a white T-shirt, black jeans, and leopard-print sandals on her feet, she wasn’t exactly the demure type.