Wicked in a Kilt (Hot Scots Book 2)

by Anna Durand

  The puppies settled down at either side of me and we all fell asleep. What they dreamed of, I had no idea. But I dreamed of a man in a kilt whose smile melted the shell I'd constructed around myself.

  I could enjoy his company, then send him on his way. One day of pretending. Nothing more. One day with Aidan MacTaggart.

  Then goodbye.

  *****

  I stood before the full-length mirror affixed to the back of the bedroom door, considering my outfit — the tenth one I'd tried this morning. Aidan had texted me two hours ago to report he would arrive by eleven o'clock. Since it was a quarter past ten, I had only fifteen more minutes to decide on my wardrobe before heading to the beach.

  Mandy and Misty sat nearby watching me with intense interest.

  Spinning in a circle, I asked them, "What do you think? Appropriate for a date — a meeting with a stranger I met in a night club?"

  Misty chuffed. I took that as agreement.

  I kept assuring myself I didn't care what Aidan thought of my outfit or if he liked my looks. Why, then, had I spent the better part of an hour scouring my closet for the right outfit?

  I faced the mirror, studying my ensemble. Tan shorts that stopped a third of the way down my thighs. A tank top in bright pink, with sparkly red flowers over my chest. A loose, partially transparent shirt with short sleeves. Tennies and white ankle socks completed my outfit.

  My gaze dropped to the neckline of my tank top. It dipped rather low, but not so low I'd feel like a slut. Just enough to hint at my cleavage.

  Not that I cared if Aidan noticed my cleavage. My clothes were comfortable and appropriate for the warm, late-spring day. His approval meant zilch to me.

  I winced. This was probably what they called protesting too much.

  The two canines seated to my right thumped their tails.

  I glanced at Mandy and Misty. "How do I look, girls?"

  Misty panted and thumped her tail some more. Mandy eyed me with her head canted.

  "Don't look at me like that," I said, wagging a finger at her. "I'm going to a public place, which means I have to look respectable. But I can still wear something attractive."

  Like the bikini I'd put on under my clothes, in lieu of lingerie, just in case I wanted to go for a swim. With Aidan. I imagined him in swim trunks, rising out of the lake, water sluicing down his chiseled chest.

  "Tell me, puppy babies," I said. "Have I turned into a raging slut? I mean, I practically begged a total stranger to visit me. Not to mention the way I made out with him twice. Sheesh, this could be a huge mistake." I glanced at the dogs. "What do you think?"

  Misty sneezed. Mandy swished her tail, swaying her whole back end.

  Oh jeez. I was discussing my love life with puppies. Maybe I had spent too much time sequestered in the woods.

  I stopped, reflecting on my own thoughts. Love life? No, this had nothing to do with love or even dating. Pure lust. An indulgence that would go no further than flirtation. And maybe some kissing. Possibly a swim.

  Groaning, rolling my eyes at my reflection in the mirror, I snagged my purse from the dresser and hurried down the hallway with the puppies nipping at my heels — literally. Well, Mandy nipped at the heels of my tennies. Misty preferred to jam her nose into the backs of my knees.

  I shooed her away and she hopped up, all four feet in the air.

  My phone rang. I dug it out of my purse, answering with a hiccuping hello as Mandy shoved her snout into my butt.

  "Calli, how are you this morning?"

  Sighing, I laid a palm on my forehead. "Rade, why are you calling me?"

  "To check on my wife. I worry about you, all alone there in the forest." He paused for a second, then added, "And to ask when your server might come by."

  I'd called the process server this morning, so at least I had an answer for him. "Tomorrow. At your house, around two o'clock."

  "I will make sure I'm at home." He paused again, his breathing audible. "Though I would still prefer to forget the divorce."

  "What's going on with you?" I asked. "You promised after you got your citizenship, we'd wait six months and then get divorced. You swore you'd initiate the proceedings but you never did. I'm paying for all of this and you damn well better accept the papers this time."

  "I will. You have my word."

  "Keep your word this time. You got what you wanted, now give me what you owe me."

  Except I owed him far more than I could ever repay and we both knew it. Tens of thousands of dollars, in fact.

  "I don't have everything I wanted," he said, sighing wistfully. "I don't have you."

  "You never did have me."

  "Give me a chance to show you we can have a good marriage."

  I shoved a hand into my hair, scraping my nails on my scalp. "It's time to move on with your life, Rade."

  When I punched the button to disconnect the call, the clock appeared on the phone's screen. Unless I left right this minute, I'd be late for my meeting with Aidan at the beach. A picnic with a stranger. With another man from a foreign country. Aidan seemed to have a lot in common with my husband. Sweet, attentive, empathetic. Today, I would tell him the truth — the parts I could tell him, without possibly involving him in my crime — and he would lose interest. He had to.

  Yes, that was a good plan. Scare him away with the truth.

  I dashed to the kitchen retrieve the plastic cooler I'd packed with supplies for a picnic lunch. Then I patted the puppies on their heads and hurried out the door.

  "Sorry, puppy babies," I told the mutts as I shut the door. "You have to stay home. This is grown-up time."

  Chapter Seven

  Wispy white clouds slid across the blue sky as gentle waves lapped at the golden sand on the beach, the water shimmering a pale aqua blue. The four-foot cliff behind us jutted out at our right, sequestering us from the beachgoers frolicking on the long, straight stretch beyond. Sitting cross-legged on a beach towel, I tried to concentrate on the gorgeous view of Lake Superior, but my focus kept drifting back to the gorgeous Scotsman reclining on the beach towel adjacent to mine.

  Aidan rested on his side, propped up on one elbow. His tight jeans and T-shirt showed off his muscular physique while leaving enough to the imagination that any hapless females passing by — and okay, me — couldn't resist gawking.

  "You like me," he said in a casual tone, as if it were an obvious truth. His chestnut hair glistened in the sunshine and a delicate breeze ruffled the locks.

  I had the overwhelming urge to thrust my fingers into that hair, to find out if it was as silky and soft as I imagined. Maybe the truth was obvious, but I couldn't help saying, "You have no idea what I think about you. And vice versa."

  He gazed at me, his bright eyes locked on mine, his lips quirked with secret amusement. His voice flowed over my senses, as smooth and decadent as melted milk chocolate. "If ye donnae like me, why would you bring me to a private place?"

  Why indeed. I'd met Aidan in the parking lot, where he'd been chatting with an elderly couple, the three of them smiling and laughing like old friends. Damn, he really had a knack for ingratiating himself. Maybe I was a little envious of social aptitude, but that did not explain why I led us down the beach, past the groupings of people scattered along the main stretch of shoreline, around a bend to a spot where trees shrouded us and only the occasional passersby wandered past us. Mostly teenage girls. Who drooled. At Aidan. I swore I'd seen actual saliva dribbling from their hanging tongues.

  Not jealous.

  "I'm starting to think," Aidan said, "you have lascivious intentions."

  Yeah, it sure was a mystery why he'd think that. I'd only shoved my tongue down his throat back at Dance Ardor. Still, I aimed for nonchalance when I said, "I like the shade. Too much sun makes me feel sweaty and icky."

  "I like a sweaty lass. Watching the drops of perspiration run down between a woman's breasts makes me want to lick it away."

  A quick glance reassured me I did not have sweat trickling b
etween my breasts or anywhere else. The day was warm but not too warm, and the breeze kept things temperate. The shade of the trees ensured I would not get hot, at least not from the weather.

  I fiddled with the lid of the plastic cooler I'd stocked with provisions for a picnic. "Do you want to eat yet?"

  "In a bit." He settled a palm on the sand between us, moving his fingers in a petting motion. "First, I'd like us to get to know each other better."

  "Okay, but we need to be perfectly clear on a few things before we share our life stories or whatever."

  "Such as?"

  Wriggling my butt on the towel, I adjusted my position so I was turned partway toward him and looked straight into his eyes. "You need to understand the rules I live by."

  He pushed up into a semi-erect sitting position, still on his side, held up by one hand flat on his towel. "Tell me your rules, then."

  I bit my upper lip, reminding myself that no man would appreciate my rules, and since I couldn't tell him why I lived this way, I couldn't expect him to understand. Inhaling a deep breath to fortify my nerves, I plunged ahead. "These are my rules. No sex, no love, no marriage."

  His brows crinkled, cinching together over his nose. His smile turned bemused. "I don't understand. Not wanting marriage, that's not too unusual. But no love? Giving up sex is one thing but — "

  "I haven't given up sex."

  Those luscious lips parted and his knit brows lifted. "You just said — "

  Holding up one finger, I silenced him. "I said exactly what I meant. Don't make assumptions about what you think it means, take it at face value." When he still looked baffled, I sighed and my shoulders crumpled. Time to clarify and accept the consequences. "I've never had sex, therefore I can't give it up. I am a twenty-five-year-old virgin."

  He shrugged. "Are you thinking I'll be shocked? I'm not."

  I folded my arms atop my knees. "No one in this day and age believes a person over the age of eighteen could be a virgin unless there's something terribly wrong with them."

  He leaned forward to touch my arm. "I've been with virgins older than you."

  "They must've been nuns, right?"

  "No. Each had her reasons for staying innocent and I'm sure you have yours."

  "I'm not innocent."

  He stared at me for several seconds. "You are a confusing woman. How are you not innocent, if you're a virgin?"

  "You're making assumptions again." I tried to ignore the way his fingers caressed my skin, but it sent a continuous, tingling current through me. Sidling away from him, beyond his reach, I faced the lake again and stretched my legs out, leaning back to brace my hands on the towel behind me. "I've never had sexual intercourse with anyone, but that doesn't mean I'm ignorant of all sexual knowledge."

  His gaze roved up and down my body, from my sandal-clad feet and bare legs exposed by my shorts to my low-cut T-shirt, and finally, to my face. "You're very comfortable with your body, aren't you? Not embarrassed to show it off."

  "I don't usually dress this way. Sweats and baggy T-shirts are my M.O." Though the trees still shaded us, I grew hot from head to toe. "What does my clothing have to do with the topic at hand?"

  "You say you're not innocent and I'm noticing how you're at ease with your sensuality. But I could use a wee bit of help connecting the dots here."

  "Tell me," I said, evading his gaze even as he sat up to look at me, "what do you think being a virgin means? In terms of sexual experience?"

  The endearing little crinkle between his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, returned. "Means no experience, of course."

  "Not for me." My stomach had begun to roil, the closer I got to confessing the truth. I'd never told anyone about it before. Shutting my eyes, I made myself utter the words. "Just because I've never been touched by a man doesn't mean I have no idea what pleasure feels like. There are other ways to, um… have orgasms."

  I winced, eyes still firmly shut, and awaited his reaction.

  He chuckled, low and soft and sexy as hell. "You masturbate."

  Opening one eye only, I peeked at him.

  He was grinning, his body still quivering with contained laughter.

  Both eyes open now, I made a face at him. "You think it's funny?"

  "No." He brushed the back of his fingertips down my cheek, his laughter dying and his grin morphing into a sweet smile. "I think it's charming."

  Now my brows snapped together. "Charming? I intend to stay a virgin for the foreseeable future, but meanwhile I — do naughty things to myself in the privacy of my bedroom. How can you not think I'm demented?"

  He shrugged one strapping shoulder, his eyes alight. "I knew you were a passionate woman the night we met. And I was right."

  "It's not passion when you're alone."

  "Of course it is." He leaned in close to murmur in my ear. "I plan to take full advantage of your secret passion."

  "Remember the rules, Aidan. No sex, no love, no marriage."

  Lingering too close, his breaths fanning over my ear and cheek, he murmured, "Ye cannae stop from falling in love."

  "Yes I can." I sat forward, clasping my hands on my lap. "I can control my feelings, the same way I control my behavior."

  He shook his head. "Emotions are uncontrollable. You can't keep from feeling."

  "I disagree."

  "Maybe you are daft," he said with a teasing smile. "But since you can't control your behavior, that doesn't bode well for your no-love plans."

  "What do you mean I can't control my behavior?"

  "The other night. At the club." One corner of his mouth lifted. "You molested me."

  "I did not — Well, maybe I did. But you started it, begging to kiss me like that."

  "Guilty. I wasn't begging, though." He moved back enough to see my face — and so I could see his. "You've been honest with me about your rules. I should be honest with you about what I want."

  "Okay," I said slowly, unsure if I wanted to hear this.

  "I came to America to find a wife."

  "Don't they have women in Scotland?"

  "Been dating in Scotland since I was fifteen, but I've never met the right kind of girl."

  I drew my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. "Doesn't explain why you came all the way to America."

  "Ah…" He bowed his head briefly, then gave me a tight-lipped smile. "My brother Lachlan found an American wife. Met her at Dance Ardor. If it worked for him, why not for me?"

  "Let me get this straight." I tapped my fingers on my crossed arms. "Your brother, the one who told you every Friday is kilt night at the club, met his wife in that very same club."

  "Aye."

  "Was he, by any chance, wearing a kilt at the time?"

  Clearing his throat, head still down, Aidan peeked up at me through his long lashes. "Yes. It was kilt night then, which is why I believed him when he said every Friday was for kilts."

  "I see. And what will you do with this American wife once you find her? Do you plan on kidnapping her back to Scotland?"

  "Not kidnapping anyone." He made a scoffing face. "And I don't know. Haven't thought that far ahead. Find a wife first, talk about living arrangements later."

  "Uh-huh. A good, specific plan."

  "Everything can be worked out when I find the right woman." He slanted toward me again, his mouth temptingly close to mine. "I knew the moment I saw you, Calli, you could be the right one for me. Give me four weeks to convince you, and if I can't, I'll go away and never pester you again."

  My suspicious side decided to speak up. "Why four weeks? That's an awfully specific timeframe. Most people would say a month."

  He scratched behind his ear, his expression pinched. "Lachlan spent four weeks with Erica."

  I threw my head back, groaning at the heavens, before I returned my attention to Aidan. "I don't want to participate in a reenactment of the epic love affair between the Amazing Lachlan and Erica the American Wonder-Wife."

  "Ahmno trying to — " He scrunched up one side of his m
outh, then exhaled a long breath and his features relaxed. "Forget about Lachlan and Erica. Please, Calli, give me four weeks."

  "To do what precisely? You'll never convince me we belong together."

  A sly smile crept across his face. "I mean to seduce you. If I can tempt you to break your first rule, the rest will follow."

  "The rest meaning love and marriage." My stomach churned once more, the sour taste of bile rising in my throat. I might have confessed my naughty little secret to him, but I dreaded sharing the reasons behind my eschewing of romance. "You can't make me fall in love with you."

  With total seriousness, he said, "I can and I will."

  I snorted.

  He slid a fingertip along my jaw, down my throat, over my collarbone. When his finger teased the upper curve of one breast, I sucked in a breath.

  "You like me," he said, "otherwise you wouldn't have invited me to visit you or brought me to a secluded beach. You want me, otherwise you wouldn't have kissed me twice — with breathtaking passion and sensuality." He coasted his fingertip down the valley between my breasts until it collided with the neckline of my T-shirt. "Those facts give me hope you will fall for me. Ye willnae be able to stop it."

  "Because you're so irresistible."

  "That's not the main reason." He withdrew his hand, but kept his mouth near mine, our gazes glued to each other. "It's because I'm lovable."

  Laughter bubbled out of me — the light, girlie kind that made me feel silly, even though I'd never been labeled silly in my life. Weird, yes. Serious, for sure. Never silly.

  "You are bonnie all the time," he said, "but when you laugh, you're the bonniest of the bonnie."

  "Thanks."

  He studied me for a moment, as if entranced by my bonnie silliness. Then he glanced over at the water, squinting at the sunlight glancing off it. "What is Calli short for?"

  "Nothing. It's my name. Calli Bethany Douglas."

  "A good Scottish name, Douglas."