I'll See You Again: A Scottish rock star, standalone opposites-attract romance (Reigning Hearts Book 4)

by K. G. Fletcher

  “Someday…” he started to sing the classic Frank Sinatra tune, “The Way You Look Tonight.”

  Nicky raked her top teeth over her bottom lip while shaking her head, a noticeable pink staining her cheeks as he crooned. A surge of pleasure shot straight to his groin, knowing she was delighted. Hopping off the stage, he ambled toward her, serenading her, never taking his eyes off hers.

  With just the guitar between the two of them, he finished the song in a breath of pining before bringing a hand up to hold her creamy cheek. Tilting her head, she leaned into him, her gaze full of longing. He swore he could feel the earth move beneath his feet.

  “That was amazing,” she softly gushed. “I appreciate the private serenade.”

  Shifting his guitar around to hang off his back, he brought his other hand up and held her face with tenderness. “Ye're a fine bonny lass, Nicky. I’d like to kiss ye if I may?” He’d never asked a girl in his entire life for permission to kiss them. They usually threw themselves at him, showering him with starstruck slobbering ick. The primal instinct to meld his lips with the gorgeous woman whose face he held in his hands would only fan the flames of want in his belly.

  Nodding in his grasp, her emerald eyes turned darker, and he watched as her tongue slowly moistened her lower lip. When he pressed his mouth against hers, he was gentle and patient, waiting for her to open up to him. He could feel her arms wrap around his middle as she inched closer, filling the gap between them. Raking his fingers through her thick hair, he was rewarded with his patience when her luscious tongue crept in. The flood gates suddenly opened, and his hard composition pressed into her thigh as their kiss became open-mouthed in a frenzy. With each heave of breath, their chests brushed – and when he finally pulled back from her, desperate for oxygen, he swore he could hear the call of the Scottish selkie in his arms lulling him into submission.

  “I’m either thoroughly blootered, or ye’ve cast a spell on me, Nicky,” he mumbled. Entranced by her swollen lips glistening in the light, he tried to keep his wits about him and waited for her to make the next move.

  “You’re the one who is casting spells.”

  Chapter Five

  That kiss…it was like something out of a fairy tale — romantic and full of passion, coming at the perfect time in her single status world. Nicky knew she was on borrowed time with the famous Reid Macpherson and did her best to savor every second with him.

  “Come on. Let me show you my living quarters.”

  “Aye.”

  She watched him unhook his guitar strap and hurriedly place the instrument back in the case, efficiently zipping it up. Hoisting it over his shoulder, he looked at her with a grin. “Lead the way.”

  Nicky offered her dimpled smile and started toward the kitchen at the back of the building. The stainless steel countertops and industrial appliances gleamed in the fluorescent lighting among a lingering smell of cleaning products. Thankful for her small staff and their meticulous attention to detail, especially when it came to cleaning, she was filled with pride.

  “Hold on a sec,” she paused, stopping to open the sizeable sub-zero refrigerator. Peering inside, she squealed with glee. “Aha! I knew it!”

  “What is it?” Mac curiously asked, peeking his head around her shoulder to see.

  Grasping a square plate covered in plastic, she beamed. “Wedding cake. I hate to admit it, but I have a real problem with sweets. I’m addicted to them.”

  “Are ye now?” he chuckled.

  Setting the plate on the counter, she opened a nearby drawer and pulled out two forks. “I am. Fortunately, my staff is totally aware of my addiction— that’s why they always leave me a piece in the fridge, sometimes an entire tier of any leftover wedding cake after a long weekend—one of the many perks of running a wedding business. Care to join me? I was told earlier this is a traditional wedding cake with raspberry filling. It’s my favorite.”

  “Well, if it’s yer favorite, I suppose I must give it a go.”

  Giggling, Nicky grabbed the plate and motioned with her head for him to follow her. In the corner of the room was another door with a keypad. With a quick press of some buttons, the door unlocked, and she started up a lighted stairwell. Flicking on a panel of lights at the top of the stairs, the open concept space was illuminated in soft radiance. She watched Mac’s brow rise and his mouth gape in astonishment as he stepped up the last stair and looked around the enormous loft that held exposed beams.

  “Set your guitar in the corner. I’ll grab us something to drink to go with our cake.” Quickly, she darted into a small galley kitchen and rummaged in her refrigerator for some bottled water. When she noticed a full bottle of champagne, she shrugged and grabbed it too. With her heart racing, she set everything on a bamboo tray she swiped from the top of the fridge.

  When she reentered the living space, Mac was standing with his back turned, looking out the giant cathedral window that replaced the old loft opening in the renovation. His hands were on his hips as he seemed to take in the nighttime view of the expansive farm and the night sky. When he heard her rustling their portions on top of the coffee table in front of the overstuffed sofa, he turned around.

  “Ye’ve got a mighty fine home here. It’s so quiet and peaceful. I’d love to see it in the light of day.”

  Blushing, Nicky peeled the plastic back from the large piece of plated cake. “I can arrange that,” she dared to utter. Seriously, where was this sudden moxie coming from? With purpose, she stood tall and pressed on the champagne cork with a dishtowel. There was a definitive ‘pop’ before she quickly poured two glasses and handed one to Mac. Raising her flute, he did the same.

  “Slàinte,” she confidently toasted.

  Mac’s eyes twinkled with glee as if delighted she remembered the Scottish toast. “Slàinte,” he repeated with his sexy, Scottish brogue. Her imagination ran wild with thoughts of him standing before her dressed in a kilt.

  They touched glasses in a clink of crystal, and each took a sip before Nicky motioned for him to sit.

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Setting her flute on the coffee table and picking up the piece of cake, she boldly sat next to him. Raking a moist bite with a fork, she held it up to his mouth. “Wedding cake and champagne are the ultimate pairing.” She watched him hesitate and lick his lips before he leaned forward and opened up his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. As he chewed and swallowed, she pressed her lips together, anxious for his reaction to the confectionary wonder.

  “Mmmmm,” he moaned, closing his eyes briefly. “It is good. A great combination indeed.” He took a quick sip of his champagne before placing it next to hers on the table. “Now it’s yer turn.”

  Taking the plate and fork from her hands, he slowly brought a bite to her lips. “Open up.” The rumbling of his husky voice made her insides quiver as she opened up for him, the sweetness immediately hitting her taste buds with pleasure.

  Closing her eyes, she sighed, thankful for the decadence. “Isn’t that the most delicious thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?” She mumbled. The hint of raspberry and vanilla, along with the buttercream frosting was thick and rich on her tongue. When she opened her eyes, Mac stared right at her, the cornflower blue of his eyes eclipsed by dark pupils. Sitting up a little straighter and smacking her lips, she reached for her champagne. “What?”

  “Nae.”

  “Excuse me?” With a furrowed brow, she took a sip of bubbly.

  “Ye asked me if the cake was the most delicious thing I’d ever put in my mouth. I would have to say, nae.”

  Feeling her heart pulsing through her shirt, Nicky tried to remain unruffled. “Oh? Then tell me, Mac. What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.” A surge of heat crossed her cheeks as they continued their flirtatious banter.

  Taking the flute from her hands, he set it back on the coffee table. When he pressed his palm against her bare thigh, she shivered. “To be honest with ye, I would have to say, yer tong
ue is the most delicious thing I’ve had in my mouth in a very long time.”

  Swallowing, Nicky could feel her insides clench, her reply coming out in a shallow breath. “Is that so?”

  Mac tried to stifle a grin as he moved forward, gripping her thigh a little firmer in his hand. He held the prowess of a lion about to pounce. “Aye.” Lifting one hand to her face, he ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek, causing her chest to rise in a deep sigh. When he leaned his forehead against hers, she licked her lips in anticipation of another kiss. Reaching around her neck to hold the back of her head with his hand, his sugary breath skated across her face in a pant.

  “Kiss me,” she dared to utter, aware of a tingling sensation erupting between her thighs.

  His lips curled up to one side in a smirk as he slowly edged closer. As he was about to press his mouth against hers, the distinct sound of a grandfather clock dinged midnight, startling them both.

  “Oh!” she squealed, pulling back and remembering to breathe.

  “Shite! Feckin clock scared the crivvens out of me. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  Biting her lower lip, she avoided his gaze, the last straining chimes of the antique clock countdown echoing in the room, reminding her she was on borrowed time. “Do you need to get back to your hotel?” she fretted. Her heart was pounding, pumping hot blood rapidly through her veins.

  Running his hand down his bearded jawline, he leaned back against the sofa. “I don’t want ye to have to drive me back, especially after all the drinkin’. I could call the Uber…”

  Her heart sank. “Umm, unfortunately, we don’t have Uber in these parts,” she explained. Concern etched her face as she tried to come up with a plan to get him back to the hotel. It was apparent he was ready to leave, and he was right about the drinking—she’d had way too much and was in no condition to drive.

  “You could always sleep here for the night. And if you stayed, I could show you the farm tomorrow in the daylight…” What in the world was she doing? Her loft apartment only had one bedroom.

  “If it would please ye, I’d like to stay.” His blue eyes looked tired as he relaxed against the cushions but still held a flirty gaze as they discussed their sleepover. Nicky couldn’t help it and raised her hand to touch his bearded face, running her fingers across his lips. His broad chest rose and fell in a deep breath as he mumbled with intensity, “I would like that very much.”

  Her lips ached to press against his again, but she knew what it would inevitably lead to. Swallowing hard, she stiffened and retracted her hand, aware of a wave of shyness taking over.

  “You’re my guest. You can stay in my room. I can sleep on the couch.”

  His brow furrowed for a moment before a rugged smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Nicky, I may be yer guest, but I’m a gentleman. I’ll be the one bunking on the couch. Just show me to the loo, and I won’t be any trouble for ye at all.”

  “Are you sure?” Bringing her wrist to her mouth, she stifled an unexpected yawn.

  “Aye.” He started to stroke her hair. “We’re both tired and need a few winks. We can pick up where we left off in the morning.” He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck again and pulled her forward, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I want to thank ye for the cake and the champagne. Ye were right – it’s the perfect combination. I’m hoping yer dreams will be full of sweetness tonight.” His comment caused tender warmth to travel up her spine.

  After they cleaned up their little cake party, Mac insisted Nicky get ready for bed first. With her face scrubbed clean and her hair plaited to the side, she lay in her queen-sized bed in a t-shirt and panties, listening to the water running in the en suite bathroom—the only bathroom in her loft space. She’d been bold with Mac all evening, taking shots and making out with him. But she wasn’t brave enough to ask him to share her bed. Even though she was grateful for his chivalry, she felt a tinge of disappointment for not being audacious enough to close the deal. There was a freaking rock star in her house, and he was spending the night on her sofa. What kind of small-town girl would blow a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity like this? Amber and Fiona would scold her for sure. And what was Mac thinking? God, he was probably rolling his eyes while in the bathroom, conjuring up a way to get a car service to come to pick him up and take him far away from the prudish wedding planner.

  The door creaked, and Nicky popped her eyes open to see Mac’s silhouette standing in the bathroom entrance threshold. He was barefoot and shirtless with only his jeans on, the dark images of his tattoos noticeable on his pale skin.

  “Nicky?” he whispered, flicking off the light.

  “Yes? Do you need anything?” Her heart pounded in her chest as she brought the covers up to her chin. It would only take a quick flick of her wrist to throw the sheets back and offer him the vacant side of her bed. But for some reason, she couldn’t muster the courage to do so.

  Taking a few steps across the hickory plank floor to her bedside, he eased his sturdy frame to sit on the edge of the mattress. His features were nothing but soft edges in the darkness, and a whiff of his scent caused her toes to curl. Stroking the backs of his fingers across her face, he leaned lower and pressed his lips to her cheek, his voice rumbling in the quiet. “Good night.”

  Heat radiated from his exposed chest, and she was tempted to run her hands across his skin. But she was frozen in place with the bedding still clutched in her hands at her chin. “Good night,” she whispered, her voice nearly faltering. Mac paused for a moment more before he stood and made his way to the bedroom door. The man was offering himself to her on a silver platter. What was wrong with her?

  “Mac?” her voice groveled, panic rising in her throat. It was now or never.

  His turn was swift, his response full of hope. “Lass?”

  “I’m…cold.” Holding her breath, her hands trembled as she lowered the covers from her chest. Shifting her body to the side, she scooted over to make room for Scottish rock star, Reid Macpherson—and waited. Her heart raced in her chest as her inner goddess jumped up and down with anticipation. She’d never acted so impulsively in her entire life.

  Mac’s belt buckle clanked, and she could hear the unzip of his jeans. For a moment, she randomly wondered if he were a boxer or a brief man. Well, she was about to find out. With her eyes tightly pressed together, she finally exhaled when she felt his weight on the mattress from behind. Palming her hands at her cheek, she trembled when she felt the solid planes of his chest press against her back. And then her earlier question was undoubtedly answered when the naked skin of his hard cock grazed her upper thigh, causing her breath to hitch as they spooned in silence. She lay rigid in his arms with eyes open wide and felt him sigh into her hair.

  “I’ll warm ye. Relax,” he reassured. “Close yer eyes, and get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

  Nodding against her pillow, their fingers weaved together, and he pressed against her. Mac was a true gentleman in the finest form, even if that form was commando. Wide awake, she found it entirely too hard to relax, the awkwardness of his nakedness making her wonder if stepping outside her comfort zone was a good idea after all. It had been a long time since she shared her bed with a man. She lay stiff in his arms, not daring to move until she finally heard the soft exhaling of his gentle snore. It was only then, cocooned in his strong embrace that she allowed herself to settle down and drift off into the sweetest of dreams.

  Chapter Six

  Nicky could hear her mother’s voice. Was she dreaming? Rousing from the deepest sleep of her life, she sat up in the bed and forced her eyes open, blinking against the intense rays of sunshine filtering in through the shutters. And then she heard another voice—a voice with a definitive Scottish accent. Her eyes widened, and she took in a swift breath, untangling herself from the sheets. From the small clock on her bedside table, she was shocked to see it was almost eight o’clock in the morning. Grabbing the frayed shorts she’d deposited on a ch
air in the corner from the night before, she yanked them on and hurried to the bathroom. As she vigorously brushed her teeth, she pinched her cheeks to give them some color. She then did quick work with her hands unbraiding and finger-combing her hair gathered over one shoulder. Pausing in front of the bedroom door, she took several deep breaths before opening it, the immediate aroma of coffee and cinnamon hitting her senses.

  “Aye! There she is. Good morning.” Mac got up from his chair at the quaint kitchen table where her mother, Marjorie, sat across from him. Before she could utter a greeting of her own, he quickly kissed her cheek and pulled her by the hand to join them. “Come. Join us.”

  “Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?” Her mom’s eyes glinted in the morning light as if she were pleased by Mac’s presence. Marjorie Sinclair was a classic beauty, dressed in her usual jeans, boots and a faded t-shirt. Her worn cowboy hat sat on the kitchen counter, her dark hair peppered with silver and pulled back into a French braid trailing down to her mid-back. People often said her mother belonged on a Ralph Lauren billboard. The woman exemplified clean living at its finest with her organic food and yoga, and her skin glowed as a result of her healthy lifestyle. In addition to the organic vegetables, herbs, and berries they grew on the land, the farm was also home to several goats, a brood of chickens, a territorial rooster, and two horses. As usual, Marjorie was up at the butt-crack of dawn every morning tending to the animals. Nicky was thankful for her mother’s good genes and influence, the whole town often remarking they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

  As Mac pulled out a chair for her, Nicky noticed his bare feet peeking out from under his dark denim. His shirt was on, but his hair appeared windblown, or perhaps he was experiencing a severe case of bed-head. In the light of the day, his sleeves of tattoos were impressive, and she was anxious to learn the stories behind some of the Celtic designs.