"Aw, the French. C'est magnifique." To her shock, he drew their clasped hands to his mouth and pressed his lips firmly to the first knuckle of her index finger. Heat sizzled through her and she couldn't believe she was actually here, in his arms.
Though Peter Logan had a reputation as a man who enjoyed the company of beautiful women, Katie never would have suspected him capable of this playful, single-minded pursuit. She knew him as a hard businessman, ruthless and aggressive about increasing his company's market share, no matter what it took.
She didn't know how to resist him like this. She couldn't think straight when he looked at her out of those deep brown eyes. Maybe if she had a clearer head, she could summon some kind of defense, but she had never had much tolerance for alcohol and she suddenly feared she'd had one too many glasses of champagne.
"I hope this isn't unforgivably rude but have we met before? You seem familiar."
A knot formed in her stomach as she waited for him to recognize her, but he only continued gazing at her features intently. How could she answer that? She finally decided on the truth, or at least part of it. "Many years ago we danced together at another one of these society functions. I'm sure you wouldn't remember."
"I'm sorry. I should."
"Don't apologize. I've changed a great deal since then." The understatement of the century, she thought.
He twirled her around, his arms strong and commanding. He was a wonderful dancer, but she already knew that from the first time they had danced. And though she would never be graceful, she had to hope she had improved a little in thirteen years.
"Are you bidding tonight?" Peter asked. "If you are, let me give you a little advice. Stay away from my brother Eric. He's not worth what he'll end up costing you and will only end up breaking your heart."
She arched an eyebrow. "And I suppose you're going to tell me you would be the better bargain."
"I'm not up for bid this year. Eric is the only Logan on the auction block. I did my duty last year and ended up being purchased by Dorothea Aldridge. The woman in the purple turban over there."
Katie laughed. She didn't have to follow his gaze to know the woman in question. Dorothea's late husband left her a twelve-state restaurant chain. She had a passion for bridge, and she was old enough to be his great-grandmother. "What's the matter? Was she too much woman for you?"
He made a face. "I had to spend an entire Saturday playing cards and admiring photos of her grandchildren."
He paused, then added with a rueful smile. "You know, the really sad thing is, that Saturday with Dorothea was the most enjoyable date I've had in a long time."
She wasn't sure how to respond to that honest admission. She certainly couldn't tell him she hadn't been on a date in far longer than she wanted to think about.
"I'm not bidding," she finally said. "I'm only here as moral support to—" My brother, she started to say, but knew that would only raise questions she didn't want to answer. "A friend," she amended.
"A good friend?"
"Yes. Very good."
"Will this good friend—or anyone else, for that matter—mind that you're dancing with me?"
Trent would not be at all thrilled to see her dancing with Peter Logan. She was grateful they had moved to a darkened corner of the ballroom where they were out of the public eye. Maybe her brother would be too busy at the dais to notice them together. One could only hope.
"I can always tell him you kidnapped me before I knew what was happening," she murmured somewhat breathlessly when the last sultry notes of the jazz combo faded away.
"When a beautiful woman crosses my path, I'm not stupid enough to give her any chance to slip away."
Beautiful? Her? Awkward, pathetic Katie Crosby? Her heart did a little joyful dance in her chest and Katie decided if a typhoon swept through the Portland Hilton at exactly that moment, she would at least die a happy woman.
"I'm afraid that's just what I'm going to do. Slip away, I mean. I have to go find my…friend."
She had to admit, some small corner of her heart found his disappointed expression extremely gratifying. Maybe this idea to glam up for once wasn't so dumb after all, not if she could have this memory of dancing with him again after she faded once more into the background.
"I'd like to see you again somewhere a little less formal." He grabbed her hand before she could leave. "How can I reach you?"
She studied him as the crowd began gathering near the dais, trying to figure out how to answer that. She couldn't lie and tell him she wasn't interested in seeing him again. This was Peter Logan. No woman with a pulse would be able to honestly say she didn't want to see him again!
When she was younger, all the girls she knew had swooned over him, with his dark, slightly dangerous good looks and that intensity in his brown eyes. She had treasured the memory of that long-ago dance as one of the highlights of her adolescence.
What girl wouldn't have been thrilled to have him ride to her rescue like some gorgeous knight in shining armor, vanquishing all the dragons in his path—or in her case, Angelina Mitchell, now Larson, and some of her friends, who had cornered Katie during a benefit like this one and were mocking her relentlessly.
No, she couldn't tell him she didn't want to see him but she had to think of some evasion. Before she could, someone jostled her hard from behind. She would have fallen if Peter's arms hadn't come around her.
"Excuse me, dear," she heard a quavering voice say. "I'm terribly sorry. Are you all right?"
Katie turned to see who had bumped into her and found Dorothea Aldridge, purple turban and all.
"Dorothea?" Peter said. "Are you all right? You're looking a little pale."
She squinted at him. "Is that you, Peter Logan?"
"Yes. Is everything all right?"
"I'm just a little warm, dear. I was looking for a place to sit down and lost my balance. Too many people pushing and shoving for someone with a bad hip."
Katie realized everyone was heading toward the podium and she assumed the bachelor auction was about to begin.
"Let's find you a chair," Peter said. He offered his arm to Mrs. Aldridge and without prompting, Katie moved to the elderly woman's other side.
"Have we met, dear?" Dorothea asked as they made their way through the crowd to a row of chairs along the edge of the ballroom.
Only about a hundred times at various functions. Katie's stomach plummeted and she knew the game was up. She would have to identify herself and watch that exhilarating attraction in Peter's eyes fade to something else entirely.
"I—" She started to speak but Peter cut her off.
"This is Celeste," he said as he settled Mrs. Aldridge into a chair with a gentleness that did funny things to Katie's insides.
"How lovely to meet you," Dorothea said with a bleary-eyed smile. "And may I say, that's a lovely mink hat you're wearing. I have one just like it myself. My dear husband, Victor, gave it to me a few years before he passed. A little stuffy in here for fur, though, don't you think?"
Katie raised her eyebrows and fought the urge to run a hand over the head she knew perfectly well was bare.
"Where are your glasses, Dorothea?" Peter asked, laughter in his voice.
"Oh, I'm a silly old thing and left them up in my room."
"You're staying here?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. I do every year for the Children's Connection auction. I make a whole weekend out of it. It's the highlight of my year. Drat. I can't see who I'm bidding on. Since I heard you're not available this year, I had my eye on that brother of yours. Eric. He's quite the hottie, as my granddaughters would say. Peter, would you be a love and fetch my glasses for me? I think I left them on the bedside table."
"Of course."
"Oh, thank you! You're such a sweet boy. You always have been."
She said this with such sincerity that Katie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Peter Logan, sweet? She didn't hear that term bandied about much when it came to Peter. The man was a shark in t
he boardroom and everybody knew it.
He might have occasional bouts of kindness but otherwise he was hard and driven, completely focused on expanding the Logan empire.
"Now here's my room key," Mrs. Aldridge said. "I'm in suite 1460 and my glasses should be on the bedside table. Hurry now, before Eric and all the other good-looking fellows are gone."
"My feet are wings," Peter assured her with the smile that had fluttered the heart of more than one society matron, then headed out of the ballroom, tugging Katie along with him.
He was holding so tightly to her arm, she had no choice but to follow him. "I don't believe it takes both of us to fetch one pair of glasses," she exclaimed.
"I decided I'm not letting you go."
Ever? she wondered as a thrill shot through her. This was all pretend, she reminded herself. If he knew who she was, he would drop her arm so fast her head would spin.
"You're very used to getting your own way, aren't you?" she asked in the elevator.
His laugh was heartfelt and slid down her spine. "Do you have brothers or sisters, Celeste?"
"I…yes. Both."
"Then you'll understand when I say that with two brothers and two sisters, I learned early to hang on tightly to anything I didn't particularly want to share."
"Should I be flattered that I'm apparently in the same category as a favorite toy, Mr. Logan?"
"No, you're not." He grinned. "You're much better than G.I. Joe and Stretch Armstrong combined."
She laughed. "I'm sure you wouldn't have thought so when you were ten."
"I don't know. I was a pretty smart kid."
He was, she knew. He had earned top grades at prep school and went on to graduate from Harvard with honors.
The elevator slid smoothly to a stop on the fourteenth floor before she could respond, and Peter led the way to room 1460.
The glasses weren't where Dorothea had claimed. All they found on the bedside table was a box of tissues and a pill keeper marked with the days of the week.
"Any ideas where to look?" Peter asked.
"The bathroom, maybe?"
He left her in the bedroom of the suite but returned a moment later. "No luck. We'd better hurry and find them or Dorothea might end up missing out on the bidding altogether."
"We certainly wouldn't want that."
Though she felt a little uncomfortable poking through someone else's hotel suite, she remembered what a dear Mrs. Aldridge was. If she enjoyed being in the company of younger men—and gave generously to the Children's Connection in the process—Katie didn't want to disappoint her.
After a few moments of fruitless searching, she glanced through the sliding doors toward the glittering city lights just beyond the small covered terrace.
It had been a lovely day, unusually mild for December. Perhaps Dorothea had decided to enjoy it while she awaited the big night. She slid open the doors and immediately saw a folded newspaper on the small table—along with a pair of glasses on a jeweled chain.
"I've got them," she called out, then was surprised when he answered her from the doorway.
"Good sleuthing. I never would have thought to look out here. Who's crazy enough to spend any time on the balcony of a hotel during a Portland December?"
"We're here, aren't we?" she said with a smile.
"That's different. We're doing a favor for a friend."
"And enjoying the view," she pointed out, gesturing to the glittering city lights below them. "I love looking at the city lights, especially with everything decorated for the holidays. It's gorgeous up here."
"Yes, it is," he said, his voice low, and Katie felt heat flood her face when she realized he wasn't looking at the view but at her.
"Um, we should be getting back, I suppose. Dorothea, er, Mrs. Aldridge, will be looking for these."
"I warned you I was an opportunist. When I find myself alone on a starlit balcony with a beautiful woman, I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it."
Before she realized what he intended, he leaned closer, then lowered his mouth to hers.
Peter Logan was kissing her! She could hardly believe it. It was an easy kiss, almost casual, the kind a man would give to a good friend. Later she thought maybe he only intended a quick buss but the moment their mouths collided, heat burned between them, like brilliant sunlight glimmering on the ocean, and they both lost control.
She wasn't aware of sliding her arms around his neck but she must have because somehow her fingers were in his thick hair, her achy breasts pressed tightly against him.
He groaned and deepened the kiss and she was vaguely aware of his hands, hot and firm, sliding down the bare skin of her back to press her closer to him. She could feel his arousal through the silk of his trousers and couldn't believe it. Peter Logan wanted her!
"You taste incredible," he murmured against her mouth. "I'll never drink champagne again without thinking of this moment."
She was afraid she wouldn't be able to ever breathe again without remembering this magical night. It would be forever burned into her consciousness.
She tightened her hold around his neck and kissed him fiercely with all the passion inside her.
She would have stayed there all night—Mrs. Aldridge's glasses be damned—but suddenly something odd registered in her dazed awareness, a bright flash of light.
She drew back slightly. "Did you see that?"
"What?" His voice sounded dazed and when he opened his eyes, they were dark and aroused and didn't stray from her face.
"Was that lightning?"
"It couldn't be. The sky is clear."
Katie realized now that must have been the moment the Portland Weekly photographer caught them kissing. He must have followed them from the ballroom and slipped out onto the public terrace next to them. At the time, she thought it must have been just a product of her overactive imagination—or the result of too little oxygen to her brain from Peter's kiss.
Whatever it was, the distraction reminded her of where they were, what she was doing—kissing a man who would hate her if he ever learned her name. "I…Mrs. Aldridge will be looking for her eyeglasses."
"Why don't we forget about the glasses and stay here for the rest of the night?"
"We can't do that. You promised you'd take them right back."
With a heavy sigh, he dropped his arms and stepped away from her. For the first time since coming out on the balcony, Katie felt chilled in the cold December air. She rubbed her bare arms.
"I'm a selfish bastard to keep you out here so long in that thin dress. Come on, let's go find Dorothea."
He held her hand on the elevator but they were joined by another couple and he didn't try to kiss her again.
She didn't want to go back inside the ballroom, Katie realized on the way back to the main floor.
For one thing, when Peter gave Mrs. Aldridge back her glasses, Katie knew the woman would recognize her immediately, makeover or not, and then Peter would know he had just spent several very heated moments with a Crosby in his arms.
For another, she wanted to remember this night just as it was. She didn't want to go inside the ballroom and have to make polite conversation when all she wanted to do was go home and hug her arms around herself and remember what it had been like to have Peter Logan want her!
Outside the ballroom, she scrambled to come up with an excuse for not accompanying him to Dorothea's side. "I need to find the ladies' room and repair my lipstick."
He looked reluctant to have her leave his side. "Will you meet me right back here, then, after I deliver these to Dorothea?"
She couldn't think of an excuse not to meet him so she simply nodded, fighting the urge to cross her fingers at the lie.
As soon as he went inside the ballroom, she hurried to the hotel's porte cochere, feeling again like Cinderella escaping the ball.
Unfortunately her pumpkin wasn't waiting for her. She couldn't see the Crosby driver Trent had sent for her in the row of limousines lined up outside and was
forced to wait while the doorman paged him.
She wasn't able to escape so easily. Five moments later, her ride still hadn't appeared and her heart sank when she spied Peter hurrying through the lobby.
"You're leaving?" he asked when he reached her, disbelief and something else that sounded suspiciously like hurt in his voice.
She cleared her throat. "I was, ah, feeling a little under the weather. I think I had a little too much champagne." That was at least true enough.
To her relief, he didn't question her claim. "Are you waiting for a taxi? My driver is right there. I'll drop you off."
"You can't want to leave the gala so early."
"Can't I?"
That sizzling heat was back in his eyes and she couldn't help feeling tremendously flattered. He would rather drive her home than stay at a benefit for his family's pet charity.
"I can't let you take me home. You have obligations here."
"No, I don't. I told you this year was my brother's turn. The only obligation I made was to show up and I did that. Now I'm free to leave."
She opened her mouth to argue with him just as she spied her driver pulling into the entrance in one of the Crosby Systems's limousines, complete with the discreet company logo on the side. When Peter saw her climb inside, he would figure out immediately who she was.
"Okay," she said quickly and headed toward the Logan limousine he'd gestured to earlier. "Let's go, then."
He followed her, looking a little disconcerted at her rapid about-face. He opened the door for her and she slid inside.
And sealed her fate.
Four
What time was it? Katie had no idea since she had unplugged her alarm clock to conserve power and her watch was somewhere jammed into her suitcase, but she assumed it was long after midnight.
The storm still raged outside, hurling snow at the windows and moaning under the eaves. The room was cool and she realized while she'd been lost in the past, she had let the fire burn down to embers.
She rose from the bed and threw another log on the glowing cinders, then stood in front of the fireplace watching the flames leap to consume new fuel with fierce, enthusiastic crackles.
Intimate Surrender Page 5