Simply Scandalous (Simply Series Book 2) by Carly Phillips (non fiction books to read .TXT) 📗

she could do was clean up. He hadn’t liked it, but she’d insisted because it was the polite thing to do and because she’d needed distance from his magnetic appeal. The mindless work of washing dishes should have helped. After all, she understood the grind of dishwashing better than most.

When she was sixteen, she’d begun hanging out with the wrong crowd—an excuse to stay out of the empty, lonely apartment where they lived. Kayla did the same, but she’d been smart enough even then to choose the public library as a place to hide. Catherine hadn’t, and as a result, one night she and her so-called friends had gone out for dinner to a restaurant not one of them could afford. Although Catherine hadn’t known it at the time, the other kids had thought it would be a blast to sneak out without paying the bill. Thanks to Kayla’s well-meaning concern, that night Catherine had been minus her wallet since her sister thought it would keep her from going out and hanging with the friends Kayla didn’t like. She’d been wrong.

Catherine had gone anyway, then hesitated a second too long when it was time to get out of there. She’d been the only one with any sense of guilt—and the only one who’d gotten caught. A local cop had brought her home, and she’d spent the rest of her summer washing dishes in the restaurant kitchen. She was lucky she hadn’t spent the night in jail.

She’d always be grateful to the restaurant owner. Not because he hadn’t pressed charges but because he’d turned her life around. He was responsible for her interest in cooking and catering. He’d given her a job and the safe, welcoming haven she’d never had.

Catherine smiled at the memory. She hadn’t thought of Otto and his wife in years. Obviously, Logan’s closeness with his grandmother brought out the better memories of her childhood. They weren’t all bad, as she sometimes thought. Even dishwashing had its good points. But, apparently, the mindless work hadn’t given her the distance or perspective she’d hoped for tonight because her body was still wound tight.

She glanced at Logan in silence. He’d showered and changed while she was in the kitchen. The intriguing muscles in his back rippled beneath a soft cotton T-shirt and his broad shoulders flexed with each poke of the fire.

She wanted to feel the ripple of those muscles beneath her fingertips, to pull his shirt off and plaster her body against his and let the heat of his skin brand her as his own. Catherine bit down on her lower lip. She was in deep.

The thought gave her little comfort. “I’m back.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a second.”

She walked toward the welcoming fire and took a seat on the floor in front of the couch. “Fire in the spring?” she asked.

“Why not? If you want something, why not make it happen?”

“Next thing I know you’ll tell me you can make it snow in summer,” she mused.

He laughed. “You don’t make anything easy, do you?”

“Would it be worth it if I did?”

“Touché.” He groaned and shifted his attention to the fire. “This is just one of the perks of living by the water.” He stood, hands on his thighs as he rose to his feet. “Since it’s always cooler here you can take advantage of the nighttime chill… or the daytime heat.”

His darkened gaze met hers. There was no chill in the air now and the fire had nothing to do with the heat arcing between them.

“Music?” he asked.

She nodded. “Something quiet. Mellow.” Without thought, she reached for her head and began a steady massaging of her temples.

“Something wrong?” He came up beside her.

“Just a slight headache. Postparty letdown,” she explained. “I get one after every big event.”

“Release of the stress you claimed you didn’t have,” he said with a grin.

“Exactly.”

He picked up his cell and fiddled with the music app until mellow jazz music surrounded them.

Logan came up behind her and eased himself onto the floor. “Is the music okay?” he asked.

“It’s wonderful.” The low strains were soothing. Between the party today and the sexual tension throbbing inside her, she was wound tight. His choice in music was the perfect antidote for her stress and she felt the tension in her shoulders and back begin to ease.

“And the head? How’s that?”

“Hurts,” she admitted.

He settled himself back against the couch and motioned for her to sit between his legs. “Lucky for you I have just the cure.” His darkened gaze met hers. “Come here, Cat.”

She didn’t hesitate. How could she?

Logan was a man who inspired trust and she trusted him. It wasn’t like her to invest so much faith in a man she’d just met, and the notion scared her. The only way to get through this was to hang on to her heart—and she sensed that wouldn’t be as easy as she hoped.

Catherine drew a deep breath and maneuvered herself until she sat in the V of his legs. His warm, solid strength surrounded her, and when his hands wrapped around her waist to better position her, a shot of fire sizzled through her veins.

“Relax. Your headache won’t go away if you’re still tense.”

“Keep your hands there and I can guarantee you relaxing’s the last thing I’ll do.”

He chuckled, his warm breath fanning her neck. “Now, hang on.” He released his hold on her waist, giving her a chance to breathe easy once more. Then he curled his legs beneath him until he sat cross-legged. “Lie back,” he instructed. “Head here.” He patted the welcoming space between his knees.

She eyed him warily but eased her body down until she lay back and propped her head in his lap.

“Okay, now close your eyes.”

The last glimpse she got before she shut her eyes was Logan staring down at her with a heart-stopping grin.

“Now, breathe deeply and listen to the sound of the fire.” As if on cue, the fire began to snap and crackle, sounding louder