by Anna Durand
His eyes snared my focus, his gaze intent on mine. "You've enchanted me, Erica."
Why oh why did he have to speak my name that way? All steamy and alluring. I linked my fingers over my belly and locked my knees together. My toes tapped on the rug.
He strode around the table, lowered his massive body onto the sofa beside me, and captured my hands in his. Lachlan's rough skin warmed mine. I hadn't realized my hands were cold, what with an inferno raging through the rest of me. His touch set off a deep ache between my thighs and a longing to taste him one more time. Twice at most. I moistened my lips. Five was my limit, for sure.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet yet intense. He raised a hand to my cheek and angled my face up to him. "You are the loveliest thing I've ever laid eyes on. You're sexy without even trying to be. You made me laugh and you kiss with all your heart and soul. You've got a passionate heart."
"I shouldn't have kissed you."
"Why not?" His thumb coasted over my bottom lip. "We want each other. No harm in it. We both went there for a fling."
Look away. But I couldn't. His eyes pulled me deeper and deeper into a kind of trance. Oh, how my body ached for his. "I couldn't go through with it."
"Not in those circumstances." The proximity of his body proved headier than the booze I'd downed last night. His other hand came up to my cheek. My face bracketed by his hands, I couldn't stop myself from leaning toward him the slightest bit. He exhaled a ragged breath. "I still want you. And the circumstances are very different today."
"Yes. Different." My words emerged in a dreamy murmur. He smelled delicious, and I yearned to wind myself around his hard body, just to experience him once.
"I've tried relationships. Not interested in them anymore." His nose skirted across mine while his fingers fanned out across my cheek and glided down my throat. "I'm here for four weeks. I've nothing more to give. But I do want you, even more today than last night."
"Mmm." My body came alive at his declaration, my pulse a frantic drumming in my ears. I bent my head back, straining to find his lips. Our mouths passed a breath away from each other. The hunger from last night erupted again, explosive, out of control, undeniable. I sneaked my tongue out to skim his lips. Rewarded by his sharp intake of air, I did it again.
"Tonight," he hissed. "Be mine tonight."
My eyelids fluttered closed and then parted slightly, granting me a hazy view of his smoldering eyes. "What are you suggesting?"
"Spend the night with me."
"What?" My brain, soaked in the liquor of his scent and flavor, fought to make sense of his words.
He raked his lips over mine. "I want you in my bed, for the month. When I leave, we never see each other again."
The fog lifted with the suddenness of a gust of wind. I blinked rapidly, a cold lump in my gut.
Lachlan dazzled me with his signature smile. "Be my American fling."
Chapter Six
Thoughts whirled in my head, dizzying in their speed, but I couldn't latch onto any single one of them. Be his American fling? He had to be playing a sick joke on me. I angled backward a smidgen and scrunched my lips. My gaze seemed bound to Lachlan's by a magic spell, except I didn't believe in magic any more than I believed in instant attraction. Yeah, that wasn't a good argument against the supernatural. I had experienced instant attraction, of the soul-stirring, breath-stealing variety.
Lust, nothing more. Hormones gone wild. I should see a doctor about it.
Casey bounded off the sofa. He nuzzled Lachlan's hand, gave it a quick slurp, then beseeched me with doggie eyes. No one could refuse the puppy stare. Casey slathered his tongue over Lachlan's hand again and the Scotsman patted the dog's head. Man's best friend glanced at me one more time. I swore Casey was playing matchmaker, urging me to kiss and make up with Lachlan.
Kiss. Yes. I'd love another of those. Like an addict in an opium den, I was. So much for restraint.
His voice was soft and tender. "Think about it, please. We could have an incredible month."
"Then you leave."
"Yes."
I aimed my hardest look at him, the one I usually reserved for clients who fudged their books. "Let me get this straight. I dash over here every night for a quick roll in the hay? Then I skedaddle back to my place, so we don't accidentally develop a relationship."
He opened his mouth, but I silenced him with one raised finger. Casey plopped down in front of Lachlan. Traitor.
I scrubbed my palms on my thighs. "Look, I realize my behavior last night might've given you the wrong impression of me. I'm sorry. I had no intention of leading you on. But I am not a casual sex kind of girl."
Lachlan scooted closer. Confronted with his chest, I refused to grant him the pleasure of making me look up at him. Besides, if I glimpsed those eyes again I just might cave.
His words almost purred. "You are a good woman. I can tell, and Gil told me anyhow. Can only imagine what drove you to the club, but it's probably to do with the erse who attacked you earlier."
I decided erse meant ass. Maybe I was getting the hang of this alien tongue of his. The mere thought of the word tongue assailed me with vivid fantasies. Rats. So much for setting things straight between us.
He crooked a finger under my chin to ease my head back. I considered closing my eyes, but I'd still feel him near me. "I'm not asking for one night. What I want from you is four weeks of sex and companionship."
"Would this involve conversation? Or strictly wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am?"
He placed a kiss on my cheek near the corner of my mouth. "No wham or bam. Aye, conversation — so long as it doesn't get too personal."
"I see."
One of his hands found my arm, skating up and down my skin with a delicacy that made heat blossom over my skin and delve underneath to suffuse me. His lips moved against my cheek. "What do ye say, neighbor?"
The old warning siren wailed inside me, though muted by a need too strong to deny. Yes, I hungered for him. Yes, a month of sex with this man enticed me like no other offer in my entire life. No one ever offered me a fling before. "I don't know."
Lachlan drew a hand up my arm and over my shoulder to the apex of my neck, cradling it. With a finger crooked under my chin, he slanted my head up until our eyes locked and our lips almost touched. His eyes blazed with a passion so intense it ripped through me too. I fought for breath, for thought, for sanity, but the need erased everything else. His eyes searched mine with sizzling intent. I seized his shirt, the only anchor I could find. His breaths grew heavy. I tugged him closer.
He crushed his lips to mine.
A blast of pure ecstasy shot through my veins, more powerful than any drug, arousing every scandalous desire buried inside me. His mouth was pure pleasure, his body a sinful temptation. When his tongue breached my mouth, I opened to him without hesitation and plunged into his mouth, my senses overpowered by the smoky flavor and silken texture of him. I released his shirt, my hands falling to my sides, and swayed on the molten current of our passion. We possessed and stimulated each other, our tongues tangling, slick and hot and starved for more. His hands groped my back and dragged me into him, our bodies mashed together, my swollen breasts pinned to his chest. I sagged into him.
He broke the kiss, his hands stroking my arms. His lips quivered as if he itched to smile but was too overwhelmed by our lip-lock to manage it. I trembled on the inside, my brain a pool of gray slush in my skull. On the outside, though, I managed a surprising composure. Even my voice was calm. "That was nice."
Both his brows shot up. "Nice?"
He uttered the word as if no woman had ever dared call his kisses nice before. I struggled not to smile at his masculine indignation. "It's a compliment, Lachlan. Accept it graciously."
"Thank you." He enunciated each syllable with care, his tone still stamped with irritation. He screwed up his lips and shook his head at me. "Aye, ye truly are a difficult one."
"You said you liked
a challenge." I waved my hands to indicate myself. "Can you handle this?"
"I can."
"Sheesh." I sighed. "You are awfully sensitive for a man who threatened to skelp my ex with a caber."
"Maybe I ought to give ye another kiss, full body this time." He gathered me into his arms, both hands flat on my back. "See if ye think that's nice."
Full body kiss? My sex pulsed at the very thought of it. Even though I had no idea what he meant by the term, I could imagine. Man oh man, could I imagine.
He roved his hands over my back. "I need your answer. Please."
Chapter Seven
Warning sirens, shut the hell up. Caution, go take a hike. For once in my life, I wanted something I could have. With four weeks of freedom left to sow my wild oats, before I lost everything, Lachlan's offer satisfied the need I'd fought since the moment it overtook me a few days ago. Maybe I'd regret this later, but for now, for a few steamy weeks, I wanted this. I wanted him.
I curled my fingers in his hair. "Yes."
He released me and bent forward to snatch up my bag. "To the kitchen for a piece."
"A piece of what?"
"Your brownies." He closed his hand around mine, raising it to his mouth. His lips flitted over my knuckles. "But I'm open to suggestions."
"Later." I bit the inside of my cheek. "Okay?"
He nodded and rose to help me up. "No rush, lass. No rush at all."
I trailed him up the steps out of the living room, down the short hallway into the kitchen. Gil's photographs decorated the walls — scenic images of landmarks, like the Sears Tower, along with portraits of people on the street. Gil was talented with a camera. I understood why customers paid big bucks for his prints.
Lachlan halted. He stared at the wall, head tipped to one side, lips parted and curved with a surprised little smile. He pointed at a framed photo on the wall. "The loveliest of all Gil's works."
I bowed my head and fiddled with my shirt's hem. I knew which photo he was looking at because I'd seen it every time I visited Gil's house. He'd taken the snapshot a few months ago, back when I was happy and oblivious to the calamity ahead.
"Why don't you look at it?" Lachlan asked. "Don't strike me as the shy sort."
He didn't realize he'd lain a gauntlet at my feet. I shuffled closer, sucking in a breath as I lifted my head to gaze at the photo of me. I was laughing, mouth open in a broad smile. Sunlight shimmered on my hair, thrown wild by the wind. My cheeks were pink, my eyes alight with a euphoria I recalled all too well. Bile rose in my throat. In the image, a masculine arm draped around my shoulders. Presley's arm.
"I hate that picture." Pushing past Lachlan, I hurried into the kitchen.
He strode in behind me and Casey gamboled in last. We took seats on opposite sides of the small kitchen table. Lachlan deposited my bag on the tabletop, reaching inside. He withdrew the glass cake dish and set the dish on the table. The still-warm brownies, decadently dark in color, had steamed up the plastic wrap covering them. The tempting aroma seeped out through the wrap, making my mouth water and my stomach grumble.
Lachlan's fingers deftly stripped off the plastic wrap. I imagined him stripping off my clothes in the same manner, with efficient and precise movements, those fingers brushing my skin at every opportunity. Much as the idea excited my body, I wondered if I could go through with our agreement. Sex with no attachments? I'm not a casual sex kind of girl, I'd told him, and then I promptly signed on for a month of hot sex, no strings.
I rested my hands on the tabletop, my thumbs twiddling away. "Lachlan, I know I agreed to the sex thing but, um…"
He froze, the plastic wrap in his hand. Without glancing up, he said, "You've changed your mind?"
Was that disappointment in his voice? I spread my hands over the wood surface and zeroed in on the lines of the grain. "I haven't changed my mind. But I don't think I'm ready to get started tonight."
His shoulders flagged. He crumpled the plastic wrap and gave me a closed-mouth smile. "I understand. We could spend time together, so you'll be comfortable with me before we have a poke."
I decided to ignore the poke remark. The context cleared up its meaning, but I didn't appreciate the offhanded nature of the phrase. I was a girl to be poked. Hmm. "Doesn't spending time together count as a relationship?"
"Not if we don't discuss anything too personal."
Tapping my nails on the wood, I watched him snag two plates from a cupboard and then ease open a drawer full of silverware. "May I ask what you do for a living? Or is that too personal?"
He grabbed two forks and a knife, then pushed the drawer shut with his hip. "Financial consulting."
Another numbers guy. Why me? He couldn't be a sword-maker or, hell, even a general contractor. Anything but numbers.
Lachlan set the plates and silverware on the table. He studied me for a heartbeat. "Not exciting enough?"
"I'm an accountant. No judgment here." Scratch that. I had been an accountant, and I'd receive my judgment sooner than I wanted. "Gil said you have an apartment in Edinburgh. Is that where you've always lived?"
"No, I'm a Highland lad by birth and in my heart." In one long stride, he crossed to the refrigerator. "Spent four years in London after university, working at the stock exchange. Hated it. The traffic, the crime, the frantic pace of everything." He pulled the fridge door open and surveyed the contents. "I quit my job and moved to Inverness to start my own business."
"Wow, I'm impressed. Starting a business is scary."
He shrugged, focused on the fridge's interior, blocked from my view by the door. "Starting it up was the easy part. Fought tooth and nail to win clients, but after a few years things, got rolling. Now I earn enough to live quite comfortably. I've got fifty employees and three offices — Inverness, Glasgow, and Edinburgh."
I gaped at his back. Holy cow. He was rich. So is Presley. Doesn't mean he's a good guy. Okay, I'd suffered a momentary lapse, thanks to the innate instinct every human seemed to have that compelled us to be impressed by mountainous piles of dough.
"Alas," Lachlan said, "all I can offer you to drink is water or whisky. Haven't got the messages yet."
What did phone messages have to do with beverages? Deciding not to ask, I changed the subject. "Are you from Inverness?"
"No, I was born and raised in a little village way up in the Highlands called Ballachulish."
"Is that where Gil and Jayne are going? He said you have a place in the Highlands."
"Aye, they'll be staying at my castle." I suspect my chin hit the floor and my eyes bulged wide enough to pop out at the slightest bump. He laughed — a hearty, manly sound. "I'm joking. My house is modest. I don't care for the trappings of wealth and my needs are simple."
"Does that go for sex too?" Oh crap. The question zipped out of my mouth without going through my mental filter. It was him. He turned me into a babbling moron.
He peeked at me over one massive shoulder. "You'll find out soon enough."
Since I'd blundered into this topic, may as well keep going. "I'm not interested in kinky stuff. No whips or chains or anything like that."
"Don't crave excitement?"
"Not that much, no. My needs are simple too."
"Have you tried it? The kinky stuff."
"Ick." I did a fake shudder. "Absolutely not."
Lachlan studied me sideways. "Then how can you be certain —"
"How many times do I have to say it?" Emphasizing each word with a slap of my hands on the table, I said, "I do not want kink."
His lips pursed a little as if he were suppressing a smile, amused by my insistence. "Sorry. We'll drop the subject."
"At last." I looked heavenward and sighed. "Give me brownies now."
Lachlan shut the fridge door and stooped over to haul out the freezer drawer. "Yes, milady. Any other commands for your humble servant?"
"No. Thank you."
"Here to serve." He shifted items in the freeze
r. "Ah-ha! We may not have much in the way of messages, but we do have one essential item."
He brought out a carton of ice cream and tossed it onto the table. It landed square on its bottom, then slid smack into the brownie dish.
"Perfect." I rubbed my hands together, but then I peeked up at him. "I have to ask. What are messages?"
"Groceries." Lachlan kicked the freezer drawer shut. "Did you decide on whisky or water?"
I chewed the inside of my lip. The old Erica would say water. The new, future-felon Erica had a bagful of wild oats in need of sowing. What the hell. "I'll have whisky."
A slow, sensual grin heated his expression. "My kind of woman."
From a cupboard, he retrieved two glasses and a bottle of what looked to be expensive booze. He clacked it down on the table between us, settled onto his chair, and turned the bottle so I could see the label. I ran a finger down the bottle, from neck to bottom. A cream-colored label curled around its girth, and amber liquid glowed golden in the sunshine filtering into the room. "Scotch?"
"Talisker single malt Scotch whisky." Leaning forward, he spoke in the sultry voice that did wicked things to me. "Distilled on the Isle of Skye, a mysterious place inhabited by the spirits of the ancestors, forever haunting the cairns and standing stones they left behind. It's said the isle has the darkest skies you'll ever find, filled with stars so bright and ancient they might be the spirits themselves. And from this enchanting land is born a single malt as unique as its birthplace." He trailed a finger over the back of my hand. "Talisker is a smoky, seductive whisky."
Why was I breathing hard? I crossed my legs. "You sound like an advertisement."
"Setting you up for the tasting is all." He opened the bottle and poured us both a measure of whisky. His fingers nudged mine when he handed me a glass and a charge arced through me.
I cleared my throat. "Is there a certain way to drink it?"
"For a whisky virgin, I don't recommend guzzling it like you did last night."
"Good advice." I rolled the glass between my hands, admiring the rich, caramel tones revealed by the sunlight glimmering through the whisky. I raised the glass to sniff it. Oh my lord. Smoky, sweet, with a hint of earthiness. I shut my eyes and inhaled a longer draft.
