“Wouldn’t you rather spend the afternoon in the mansion?”
“No.”
“We could spend some time in the studio. I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to pose naked for me.”
“Good to know.”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
He sat in silence until the town came into view. “I thought you had a problem saying no.”
“Seems you’ve become an exception to the rule.”
If he looked smug before, now he seemed ready to take a bow and accept an award. “Guess that makes me special then.”
She pressed her lips together to stop herself from describing all the many ways he was truly special—from his antisocial attitude to his penchant for firing staff. He had to be the most annoying man in Scotland. Which begged the question, was she really in love with him, or just sad, lonely and deluded?
“Not a-bloody-gain.” The car screeched to a halt beside the drystane wall that circled the old Church of Scotland building.
Donna watched as he stalked over to stand under the boy who was halfway to the top of the wall, clinging on to the stones for dear life.
“What did I tell you about this?” he snapped up at the child.
“Sorry, Mr Stewart,” little Cameron said.
Duncan shook his head, held out his arms and gave the order, “Jump.”
Without even a second’s hesitation, the wee boy launched himself off the wall and into Duncan’s waiting arms. He put him down on the grass and held his shoulders as he looked him in the eye.
“Stop climbing that damn wall. If I catch you at it again, I’m taking you to the police and they can deal with you.”
The five-year-old nodded solemnly. “I won’t.” And then he ran off down the road to his house.
Duncan climbed back into the car. “He’ll break his neck one day. That’s the fourth time I’ve got him off that wall this year. It’s his pure luck that I’m here whenever he gets stuck.”
“Or,” Donna said as he drove back onto the road, “it could be that from his house he can see your car as it comes into town, and he runs for the wall.”
He slammed on the brakes and looked between Cameron’s house and the road. The wee boy had a good view of oncoming cars for miles, and Duncan’s silver SUV was distinctive.
“I’m going to wring his neck.” He started the car again. “Next time I’m no’ stopping. He can bloody well fall, for all I care.”
It was a wasted threat. They both knew he’d stop.
“Maybe you should try talking to his mother?” Donna said.
“Ah cannae.” Duncan’s face turned a deep shade of red. “She flirts with me.”
Donna covered her mouth in an attempt to smother her laughter. It didn’t work. Duncan glared at her as he rounded the pub building and parked behind it.
“I feel I should warn you,” he said as they walked into the pub. “I’m very good at pool.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is that your way of telling me you don’t plan on letting me win?”
“I’m also very competitive.”
“And short-tempered.”
He frowned at her as he held the door to the Highland Pub open for her. “Are you sure you want to prod the bear? He’s very horny, and it’s making him grumpy. Unlike some people, the bear’s no’ had any relief today.”
It was Donna’s turn to blush. “Talking about yourself in third person, and as a bear, is weird—even for you.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home than play pool? I have other games in mind that would keep us occupied this afternoon.”
The promise in his eyes made her want to rub herself all over again.
She tore her gaze from his. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Don’t go crying to me when you lose.”
Men and their fragile little egos. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
It was midweek, which meant the bar wasn’t as busy as it could have been. There were fifteen or so regulars dotted around the place, having a quiet afternoon. Until they walked in.
“No,” Ewan McKenzie called out from behind the bar as soon as he spotted her. “No. Just no.”
Duncan looked at her askance, and she shrugged like she didn’t have a clue what he was going on about. When Duncan turned back to the bar, Donna made a slicing gesture across her throat to tell Ewan to stop talking. He didn’t read it right because he glared and pointed at her.
“Don’t even think about threatening me! I’ll take you outside and skelp your arse.”
“No, you bloody well won’t.” Duncan’s chest puffed up as he confronted Ewan. “Nobody touches her arse but me.”
Donna groaned, and she felt her face burn. She scanned the room to see that everyone had heard Duncan’s declaration.
“He isn’t touching my backside either,” she announced to them, but could tell from the smiles that no one believed her.
Ewan pointed at her again. “If you go anywhere near the karaoke machine, you’re barred for life.”
That got Duncan’s attention. “This is about karaoke?”
“Pathetic, right?” She gave Ewan a look of disgust, but he stood his ground.
“You sing?” Duncan’s look of shock was becoming offensive.
“No, she doesn’t,” Ewan snapped, “and that’s the problem. We had two bloody hours straight of her wailing like a banshee to Madonna. She doesn’t go near that machine ever again.” He looked around the pub. “We took a vote. Nobody wants her near it.”
There were nods of agreement.
“Bunch of drama llamas,” she muttered. “It’s not like I come in here all the time. I haven’t been to a karaoke night for months.”
“And we’re still suffering,” Ewan said.
“You sing?” Duncan said again, obviously stuck on that nugget of information.
“Let it go,” Donna told him before grinning. She should have sung her answer.
He gave her a confused look before he turned to Ewan. “We’re playing pool. No singing, I promise. Now”—he turned back to her—“what do you want to drink?”
She would have answered, but Ewan wasn’t listening anyway, he was too busy laughing.
“You’re playing pool?” He slapped the bar. “With her?”
Some of the regulars joined in the laughter, and Donna gave them her dirtiest look. It had no impact. Agnes would have shut that crap down already.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Duncan said. “I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of everyone like you did with your singing.”
“Hey.” She poked him in the ribs, coming up against a solid wall of muscle that left her strangely fascinated and a little breathless. “I can sing. I’m just underappreciated. And I can play pool too.”
“Then what’s up with your pool game that has Ewan in stitches?”
“Nothing.”
He turned to the pub owner, who held up his hands. “There are some things a man needs to experience for himself. I’ll bring your drinks over.”
“We haven’t ordered them yet.” Duncan was losing his limited patience.
“You both get Coke.” Ewan reached for the glasses. “Agnes told me you don’t drink anymore, and Donna’s only allowed soft drinks.”
Duncan gave her a bewildered look, which made her think that coming to the pub wasn’t the best idea the Sinclair sisters had ever come up with.
“It’s a family thing. Ewan thinks we fight if we drink too much.” She glared at the pub owner. “Which. I. Don’t.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Ewan was unrepentant. “If your sisters are anything to go by, we’d better not risk it.”
“I’m telling Agnes you said that.”
Ewan paled. “Do you want a wine? You can have one if you really want it.”
“I don’t…now.” And she was still telling Aggie.
It seemed Duncan had reached the limit of his tolerance for socia
l interaction, because he tugged on her hand. “Let’s go,” he said.
And then he dragged her behind him again, making her wonder if he’d remember her wee legs if she kicked his ankles a time or two.
***
As Duncan racked up the balls, he tried to get his head around Donna being banned from singing. The fact she’d gotten up in front of people to sing in the first place stunned him enough without thinking about how bad she had to be to deserve Ewan’s reaction.
“Will you sing for me when we get home?” he asked, even though he expected her to refuse.
“Yes.” She examined the cues. “But you have to buy me a microphone first. I saw one in town that has a built-in speaker and Bluetooth, so you can send your music to it.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“I know what Bluetooth is. I’m not that old.”
“It’s pink and sparkly,” she said solemnly.
“Bluetooth?” There was a ripple of laughter, and he looked over to find that most of the pub regulars had moved their chairs closer to the pool table.
“No,” Donna said. “The microphone.”
He wasn’t looking at her when she spoke, but he would still have sworn she’d rolled her eyes at him. “Why do we have an audience?” Was Donna that bad they’d come to watch?
“There’s nothing else to do in Campbeltown,” she said. “Now, can we get started? I want to talk about some stuff as soon as we’re finished this game.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Let’s just play,” she snapped.
He smiled at her, hoping she was terrible at pool. He had visions of him leaning over her and sensually coaching her on how to play the game. Oh, aye, this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“You can break first,” he offered, being a gentleman.
There were loud groans from the peanut gallery.
“Don’t do that!” an old man shouted.
Donna ignored their audience and gave him a sweet smile. “Are you sure? I don’t mind if you want to break.”
“Aye, Angel, you go ahead. Don’t worry about anybody watching you—they’ll keep their opinions to themselves.” He glared at their audience, making it clear what would happen if they didn’t.
It was cute that Donna had invited him to play pool. Clearly, she’d put some time into thinking of an activity they could do that would give them something to talk about. And after last night’s disastrous date, he was very grateful. Even to the point that he planned to only win by a few points so as not to dent her spirits.
“Okay then, if you’re sure.” She smiled before she placed her hand on his shoulder, rose on tiptoe and kissed his jaw. He felt the heat from her palm rush through his veins, making his blood boil. Her sweet, soft lips made him want to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer.
He felt her tremble as she moved away from him and felt a deep satisfaction in knowing he wasn’t the only one affected by the touch. Although, it bothered him that she’d given the same chaste kiss to the restaurant owner the night before. It made him want to go back there and punch him all over again. Those kisses belonged to him, and no one else.
She glanced at him as she headed around the table to line up her shot. “One game and then we talk, right?”
“Aye.”
“Uh-oh,” one of their watchers said, “when a woman says she wants to talk, it’s time to run.”
There was laughter, but Duncan ignored it, keeping his eyes glued to Donna. She bent over the table, giving him a perfect view right down her top. His mouth watered at the sight of all that soft, creamy skin encased in violet lace. His hand tingled at the memory of how her breast had felt in his hold, and he shifted uncomfortably as he wondered again why they were playing pool instead of spending their time in bed.
“Duncan? Are you looking down my top?”
“Aye,” he said hoarsely. There was no point denying it.
Her position didn’t change as she looked up at him. “Did I give you permission?”
It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. He threw his hands in the air as he moved to the side of the table. “Damn it to hell! I hate dating.”
“Trust me,” Donna said. “It’s no fun for me either.”
He heard more laughter at her dry comment and was about to deal with their onlookers when Donna took her shot. His jaw dropped, and he stilled. His woman was no novice at the game. She flashed a knowing smile at him as she sashayed around the table in those jeans that made him want to beg for mercy. She didn’t miss one shot after that, and all he could do was stand there gaping while she wiped the floor with him. He never even got a chance to play. Ten minutes after the game had started, Donna had cleared the table and finished her Coke.
She placed her cue on the rack and nodded at Ewan. “Can I have another Coke? Is that allowed?”
“Smart arse,” the man muttered as he reached for a glass.
Duncan was still staring at the table, wondering what had happened, when she took his arm. “Let’s go sit down.”
“But.” He pointed at the table. “But.”
All around him, people whooped with delight. He glared at Ewan. “You knew she was a pool shark. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“And miss out on all the fun?”
He didn’t get a chance to argue back because Donna was dragging him for a change—right towards a high-backed booth at the rear of the room. Obviously, she needed privacy for their ‘talk.’
Lord help him.
Chapter 21
She probably should have told him she could play pool. In her experience, men didn’t like it when they were humiliated in public, especially when it came to sport. But to be honest, it had been too much fun to ruin with a confession.
“Where did you learn to play like that?” Duncan said as he—thankfully—slid into the booth facing her instead of beside her. She needed whatever distance she could get for their conversation.
“Church youth group.” She smiled at his shocked expression. “They had a pool table, and I discovered I had a knack for the game. I used my skill to make some extra cash for us when we needed it.” She didn’t tell him about the many hair-raising times she’d had to run from Glasgow pubs after fleecing the customers. She’d been lucky to escape with her life.
Of course, Duncan heard the things she didn’t say. As he was wont to do. “Who was watching your back in the pubs?”
“Aggie.” Mairi had been too young and Isobel had the kids.
He shook his head. “It’s a miracle the four of you are still in one piece.”
“Or, you could say it’s wonderful the way we have each other’s backs.”
“That too.” His lips quirked, and when he looked over at her, his eyes were sparkling. “Next time we play, I want you to teach me that trick shot of yours.”
“The one that bounces behind the other balls?”
“That’s the one. It was a thing of beauty.”
She blushed at the compliment as Ewan came over and placed her drink in front of her. “Don’t get any ideas that I’m your waitress for the night. Next time get your arse to the bar.”
“You know,” Donna said. “I think people would be hard-pressed to decide who was the most bad-tempered between the two of you.”
“Him,” both men said at the same time as they pointed at each other.
Donna laughed at the looks of horror on their faces. With a huff of irritation, Ewan stomped back behind his bar.
“What is it you want to talk to me about?” Duncan’s eyes were on hers as he sipped his Coke.
His hair was tousled from running his hand through it, his shirt was a tad too tight across his wide shoulders, and his jeans were moulded to thighs that made her mouth water. This was part of the problem. If Duncan had looked like Danny DeVito, they wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Sure, she would have cared for him, and worried about him, but she wouldn’t be lusting after him with every cell in her body.
“Well, then?” He lean
ed back in his seat, folded his arms and gave her a look that practically dared her to say something he didn’t like.
There was no getting around it. Things had to be stopped between them before they both got hurt. She rubbed her temples. Who was she kidding? They had to be stopped before she got hurt.
Donna stared down at the table, knowing she couldn’t say what she had to while looking at him. “I don’t think we should do this.”
“Play pool? Drink Coke?”
She frowned at him, knowing full well he was being deliberately obtuse. “This.” She motioned between them. “The physical stuff.”
Relaxed, he reached out to pick up his drink. Of course, he wasn’t bothered. She meant nothing to him.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Hermione appeared beside Duncan to admonish her. You knew he was still in love with his wife before you ever touched him. You have only yourself to blame for this mess. She stuck her nose in the air. You should have listened to me in the first place.
“Go away,” Donna hissed.
Her eyes shot to Duncan, and she turned red. There was just no end to her humiliation.
“Who was it this time?” Duncan asked as though they were talking about the weather.
Donna drew patterns in the condensation her glass had left on the tabletop. “Hermione. She’s a know-it-all who constantly sticks her nose in where it isn’t wanted.”
“In other words, she thinks you’re an idiot for breaking up with me too.”
“What?” She sat up straight. “I’m not breaking up with you. We don’t have a relationship. We have one kiss and…what happened earlier, between us. That doesn’t constitute a relationship.”
“The words you’re looking for are screaming orgasm.”
Ewan walked past their table as Duncan spoke. “Neither one of you is getting anything with alcohol in it, so you can put those fancy cocktails right out of your heads.”
He carried on, leaving Donna’s face burning as she looked into Duncan’s amused eyes.
Duncan leaned forwards, resting his forearms on the table. “You seemed to enjoy your orgasm, Angel. Is there a reason you want to stop at one? Because I have a hankering to see how many I can wring out of you before you pass out from exhaustion.”
Can't Stop the Feeling: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 2) Page 18
