some slack. Company’s all I’m looking for. Your company.”
She narrowed her eyes and she tried to gauge his sincerity. His gaze, once steady on her face, had slipped to her thigh. She glanced down. The hem of her miniskirt had bent up, exposing an expanse of skin hidden beneath the sheer black stockings. It wasn’t much, but she’d revealed more than she’d wanted Prince Charming to see.
Company, her Aunt Fanny. She looked like an easy mark. Regret surged through her—it wasn’t strong enough to douse the flame of desire he’d ignited, but she wasn’t about to get burned. Or let him see he’d flustered her.
She left the skirt hem alone. “Sorry, I have other plans.”
He shrugged and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Okay. But you can’t deny me another drink.”
Because she was being paid to do the honors. She didn’t appreciate the reminder. She shrugged. “I can’t discriminate. It’s my job.”
“You wound me.”
“You’ll live.” She sounded too breathless for her own liking. Yet he was right. She couldn’t turn him away. Worse, she didn’t want to.
But the sooner she gave him his drink, the sooner he’d be on his way. He wouldn’t hang around her the rest of the afternoon being shot down. No matter how much she wished otherwise. “Okay, hotshot, tell me what I can get you.”
LOGAN DOUBTED SHE WANTED to hear his real desire. Especially since it involved them both in a horizontal position with their naked bodies crushed together in a sweaty tangle beneath the sheets. Or in the pool cabana behind the bar.
“Hurry up. I need to refill the serving trays with champagne,” she whispered.
Her warm breath tickled his ear. Her scent, an intoxicating oriental blend of spices, heated the rest of his senses. The mix of perfumes emanating from the guests had grown heavy hours ago, hanging on the damp humid air. But Catherine’s stood out, sexy and unique, like the lady herself.
His gaze dropped to her thigh. When she’d bristled the first time, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t look again. But the hint of skin and the promise of what lay beneath was too much for a man to take.
She headed behind the bar, to obvious safety. Tapping her fingers impatiently against the top, she said, “I’m waiting.”
“Patience,” he murmured. “I want to make sure I get what I want.” He had one shot at capturing her interest, at making her want to get to know him as badly as he wanted to know her.
“More likely you want an excuse to linger. What I don’t know is why.” Her green eyes shimmered with curiosity.
Which, Logan decided, was better than disgust or disinterest. He wanted to linger, all right. To sit here and drink in her blond beauty and sassy mouth. Logan eyed her warily, then reminded himself she may be female, but she wasn’t a mind reader.
She might sense that he wanted more than her company—and she was right. But as much as he desired her, it was too soon for that to be an issue.
He’d have to take it slow. “What I want is something special,” he said thinking aloud. “More than a plain old beer.” He glanced down at her hands, noticing the blunt nails and clear polish for the first time. No fancy frills, colors or artifice to this woman, he thought and was more than pleased. He leaned over the edge of the bar. “I want you to create magic,” he said in a deep voice he barely recognized.
“You’re too old to believe in magic, buster.”
If the magic had left her life, he wanted to be the one to restore her faith. Bizarre how quickly she’d gotten to him, but after years of bland women and uninteresting relationships, Logan recognized a gem when he saw one.
“I’m old enough to know what I want, but not too old for you.”
“Want to bet?”
“I’m a gambling man.” He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. The tiny silver pendants hanging from her earlobe were intriguing. A delicate contrast to her sharp tongue and prickly exterior. He lowered his hand, letting his fingers trail down her soft cheek.
She sucked in a startled breath, then coughed into her hand. “Don’t read too much into that. I swallowed wrong.”
He laughed. “You’re hell on a man’s ego.” Not that he believed her professed disinterest. The rapid flutter of a pulse beating in her neck and the flush of pink that stained her neck and cheeks betrayed her.
“All in a day’s work.” She smiled.
The flash of white teeth revealed two dimples on either side of her luscious lips. He vowed to taste that smile before the night was out.
“Speak or scram,” Catherine said. “What do you want, Mr. Montgomery?”
Time was running out. He glanced into her eyes before leaning close and whispering in her ear.
TO MAKE YOUR DREAMS come true. A thrill spun its way through her veins. At least fifty guests and party favors later, and she still couldn’t suppress the tremor of excitement Logan’s words brought. Thanks to his husky tone, she knew what he desired, but the sincerity in his eyes made her want to believe he meant more than a cheap fling. Yet after those heart-stealing words, he’d stood, reminded her she had other guests waiting and left, walking through the double doors and into the Montgomery mansion. He’d never looked back.
Her instincts had been right. He’d seen her as an interesting diversion. When she hadn’t proved easy, he couldn’t be bothered with the chase. She shrugged. No big deal. Hadn’t she already backed off herself?
So why was the disappointment so lingering?
She had no doubt Logan Montgomery was a man capable of fulfilling every fantasy she’d imagined and some she probably hadn’t. Just the thought of him made her body hum with a sexual awareness she couldn’t mistake. Oh, he’d be good and she’d enjoy herself, but this was a man capable of getting inside her soul.
They weren’t meant to happen. Not without someone getting hurt. She being the someone who came to mind. One reckless night wasn’t worth a sacrifice in self-worth.
And he obviously wasn’t interested in pursuing more.
Over the next hour, the clouds darkened and the guests began a slow trickling out of the estate. The budget on this party had enabled her to splurge on everything, including cleanup, and the crew was waiting to take over. The woman they’d hired as manager would supervise the next shift. By this evening, no remnants of the party would remain. Catherine had no reason to stay.
She edged past the few remaining guests and slipped into the wide entryway that led to the coatroom in the foyer. Yellow and white satin wrapped around the circular staircase in the corner and draped like border paper high on the walls. More than once, she cringed as her sneakered feet squeaked against the freshly waxed marble floor. She entered the closet that was larger than the room she’d shared with her sister growing up and hit the light switch on the wall.
Despite
