“That’s not fair,” James protested. “Ian and Serena got up to their fair share of trouble. They just always blamed it on me.”
“We did not!” Serena laughed and reflexively moved a milk glass out of the way of Emmy’s elbow. “You didn’t need any help from us. Do you remember the time you wrapped the parish minister’s car in cling film?”
“You didn’t!” Andrea said.
James rubbed his forehead ruefully. He’d forgotten about that one. “To my everlasting shame, I did. Now, to be truthful, it was a dare, and I never could resist a dare. I’m fairly certain Reverend Stewart told me I was going straight to hell for my wickedness. He still hasn’t forgiven me.”
“No,” Serena said reprovingly. “He hasn’t forgiven you for spiking the communion chalice with hot sauce.”
James smiled sheepishly. That one he remembered clearly. Not his proudest moment. It really was a miracle he’d not grown up to be a delinquent after all. “Another dare. Let’s say I had an uneasy relationship with organized religion as a boy. Auntie thinks I’m a heathen.”
“Nonsense.” Muriel caught Andrea’s eye. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s a good Christian man, no matter what he says. He and the parish church just clashed a bit over his high-spiritedness when he was a child.”
“As he did with every headmaster he ever had,” Serena said, snickering.
Ian glanced at Andrea, then quickly lowered his gaze back to his plate.
What was that all about? James wondered. Trying to judge her reaction to his youthful indiscretions? Or trying to convey his disapproval over the fact Muriel still made excuses for him?
Andrea delicately lowered her fork to her plate. “What about you, Ian? Serena says you attended school in London. And James mentioned you were a lawyer?”
“Yes. I practiced as a solicitor for several years before I took the job with Jamie.”
“What kind of law?”
“Corporate, mostly contract law.”
Serena rolled her eyes. “Ian earned first honors at Cambridge, quite an accomplishment considering he spent most of his time on the river, rowing. Not that he’d ever mention it.”
Ian didn’t need to. Their mother liked to spread the news of her favored son far and wide. Not a single one of their family members or acquaintances had lacked the details of Ian’s academic and athletic accomplishments.
“You row?” Andrea’s gaze swept over Ian, as if she were trying to reconcile the information with what she saw before her. Or maybe she was just admiring him. It wouldn’t be the first time. It wasn’t as if his brother needed any help with women, when he chose to pay them attention.
“I do,” he said with a shrug. “Or I did. I retired almost ten years ago.”
“Ian was on the GB team for eleven years,” Serena said. “He won, what, four gold medals in the world championships?”
Ian didn’t look up. “Five.”
“Wow,” Andrea said. “That’s … very impressive.”
James pushed down a twinge of something that, this time, he couldn’t pass off as anything but jealousy. Amazing how being in the same room with Ian could make him feel fifteen again, afraid to bring a girl home to meet his family in case she decided she fancied his accomplished, athletic older brother instead. It had happened, though admittedly not in recent years.
The silence stretched, but before it could become any more uncomfortable, Muriel asked, “What about you, Andrea? Where are you from, originally?”
“A very small town in Ohio.”
“With a movie house and no signal lights.” James glanced at her and was rewarded with a tiny smile before she answered his aunt.
“I did my undergrad work at NYU and then my MBA at Cornell. I’ve lived in some part of New York ever since. Right now, I live in Manhattan.”
“Are you married?” Muriel asked bluntly. “Engaged? Seeing someone?”
Andrea made a choked sound and brought her napkin to her lips. James patted her on the back, and she took a swift drink from her water glass. Finally, she said, “I’m single.”
“Why is that? You’re a lovely woman. What, twenty-nine?”
“Thirty-one.”
“It’s long past time for you to settle down, don’t you think?”
Andrea shot a wide-eyed look at James, obviously pleading with him to intervene. She was looking to the wrong quarter for help in this area. “Yes, Andrea, why is it you haven’t settled down?”
She looked at Ian, who didn’t seem inclined to intervene either. She met James’s eyes again, a dangerous glint in her own. “Well, I travel so much for work, the only men I meet are clients. And most of them are self-serving egomaniacs, so you can imagine it puts a cramp in my social life.”
A laugh burst out of him and quickly turned to a cough. He reached for his own water glass. That was the second time she’d surprised him tonight. Not that it should have. He’d already gotten a glimpse of her wickedly sharp tongue in the pub.
Muriel nodded, her expression satisfied. “I like a woman who speaks her piece. Mind yourself with this one, Jamie. She’s not one to be trifled with.”
“Yes, I’m beginning to see that.” James shot her a sideways glance, and she just smiled sweetly. Touché. If she thought she’d put him off, though, she was sorely mistaken. She might try to deny she had any interest in him, but she couldn’t hide the fact she held her breath whenever he got within a foot of her. He couldn’t help but take the words as an open challenge.
At the end of the meal, Andrea brushed off Aunt Muriel’s protests and collected the dishes to take to the kitchen. Ian rose to assist, but James gave him a terse shake of his head and gathered the empty wine glasses. For once, his brother actually obeyed and lowered himself back to his chair.
When James entered, Andrea was rinsing the dishes and stacking them neatly in the sink.
“Do I need to apologize for my family yet?”
Andrea threw a glance at him over her shoulder. “They’re great.”
“Are we speaking about the same family?” He laughed at her reproving look. “No, they are. I always forget how much I miss them until I come home.” Most of them, at least.
He leaned past her to place the wine glasses in the sink, purposely brushing her arm. She shifted away from him and scrubbed the dish with renewed vigor.
No. Definitely not immune to him.
When she finished washing the last plate, she shut off the water and turned to him. “Can I help with anything else?”
James poured hot water from the electric kettle into the cafetière, which he’d already filled with ground coffee. “You can take this and the cups to the table. I’ll be out with dessert in a moment.”
He took out the containers of gelato from the freezer and began scooping globes of the dessert into glass dishes while Andrea took the cafetière to the dining room. When she returned for the coffee cups, the stack tilted precariously, and he automatically reached out to steady them. She froze when his hands closed over hers.
“Got them now?” He let his fingers brush over the back of her hands before he released them. She swallowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. He smiled.
A flush instantly spread up her neck to her cheeks, and she turned quickly with a rattle of china. His grin widened. She might be determined to put him in his place, but he was definitely going to get the last laugh.
When he brought their dessert out a few minutes later—perfect globes of gelato, garnished with lacy, anise-flavored cookies and sprigs of mint—Andrea was talking to his sister about Emmy’s piano lessons. She barely acknowledged his presence, her body turned slightly toward Serena so she didn’t have to look at him when he reclaimed his seat beside her.
After dessert, Aunt Muriel waved off Andrea’s second attempt to clear the table. “Serena and I can manage these. It was lovely meeting yo
u, dear.” The older woman kissed her on the cheek. “You’ll be joining us for breakfast, won’t you?”
Andrea shot a questioning glance at James. When he nodded, she said, “I’d love to.”
Emmy popped out of her chair and gave Andrea a quick hug around the waist. A startled expression, then something deeper, more painful, surfaced on her face.
“Will you teach me to play something new tomorrow, Andrea?”
“Emmy, she doesn’t want to spend all her time at the piano,” James said.
Emmy’s lip quivered. Andrea gently disentangled herself. “Of course I will. Let me think about what to teach you, all right?”
Serena smiled over Emmy’s head, jiggling Max on her hip. “Thank you, Andrea. It was nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
James retrieved Andrea’s coat and held it for her while she slipped it on.
“I’ve asked Andrea to have lunch with me tomorrow to discuss her proposal,” Ian said. “Will you be done by one o’clock?”
James tensed, but he nodded. “I’ll drive her. Broadford Hotel?”
Ian looked like he wanted to argue, but he just reached into the pocket of his trousers. He extended a business card to Andrea with two fingers. “My mobile number is at the bottom if you need to reach me tomorrow.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you then.” She gave him a slight smile and then extended it to the rest of the family. “Good night, everyone.”
James ushered her out the door and down the gravel path to the car. Already, the temperature had dropped, and their breath puffed out in white clouds around them. He breathed the damp air deeply, welcoming the freedom from the tension inside. He opened the car door for her, waited for her to settle herself into the seat, and then shut it firmly behind her.
“Dinner was wonderful,” she said when he climbed into the driver’s seat. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a meal so much.”
“Thank you.” He studied her face, cast alternately in shadow and light, trying to decide if she meant it or was merely being polite. Her vague smile gave away nothing. He put the car in reverse and backed down the drive.
They didn’t talk on the short ride back to the hotel, but at least now it was a comfortable silence. She’d apparently decided to forgive him for his earlier teasing, and as much as he liked to see that spark of annoyance, he was glad to be on level terms again.
He delivered her to the door of her cottage and unlocked it, then leaned past her to flip on the light switch inside. He slid a key off his key ring and pressed it into her hand. “Good night, Andrea. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night.” She stepped inside, but she didn’t close the door immediately. He felt her eyes on him as he walked away. He didn’t turn. He just slipped his hands into his pockets and listened until he heard the soft click of the door close behind her.
He exhaled his held breath, then retrieved his suitcase from the back of the car and crossed the lot to his own cottage. He let himself in and flipped on the light switch. It was as sparsely decorated as Andrea’s, but a basket of fruit sat on the table, and a quick glance at the refrigerator showed it had been stocked with the basics: milk, bread, cold cuts. Bless Muriel. Even now, she was looking out for him.
He turned on the television while he unpacked his carry-on bag. Since the hotel was still under construction and he was the only one to occupy the space, he always left the essentials in the wardrobe: jeans, a heavy coat, casual shirts, workout wear. It saved him the trouble of checking baggage, especially when he flew up at the last minute.
As he hung up his suit jacket, his mind wandered back to Andrea. She’d let her guard down tonight with his family, and he’d gotten a glimpse of the warm and witty woman that lay beneath the consummate professional. He couldn’t deny their mutual attraction, but he was surprised to realize he truly liked her.
That was unexpected.
As was the look that had passed over her face when Emmy hugged her. It had not simply been surprise. It was deeper and more painful than that. She’d recovered quickly, but he knew he hadn’t imagined it. What had happened in her past to cause that sort of reaction to a girl’s innocent excitement?
The question dampened James’s enthusiasm for his teasing. Regardless of what Andrea might believe, he wasn’t after someone to take to bed. If that were his goal, he had more than a few willing participants in London.
No, he’d been down that road in his youth. Casual sex only satisfied the momentary need, leaving him emptier and more restless than he’d been before. Of course, his twenty-year-old self had spent plenty of time denying it, ignoring that in large part what he had actually felt was guilt. That was not how his God-fearing father and aunt had raised him. It had just taken time to see he was only hurting himself with his actions.
Whatever others might believe, he hadn’t returned to his reckless ways after Cassie’s departure. He simply wasn’t inclined to deny himself the enjoyment of flirting with a beautiful woman. He’d thought Andrea was just the sort to enjoy the interaction—tough, capable, smart. And she undoubtedly was. He just hadn’t counted on the flash of vulnerability he’d seen tonight, nor the niggling suspicion she wasn’t quite what she portrayed herself to be.
Given all the other conflict in his life right now, it was a complication he didn’t need.
Chapter Nine
Andrea slept only a few hours despite her exhaustion, and she awoke while the sky was still dark, her heart thudding a staccato rhythm against her ribs. It took her only a few seconds to remember she was on the Isle of Skye, but by then, the damage had been done. She was already ticking off her mental to-do list. Sleep would not be returning anytime soon.
She swung her legs from beneath the heavy down comforter and danced across the cold floor to retrieve her laptop. She flicked on the light at the desk and booted up the computer, yawning while it cycled through its start-up sequence.
“Focus,” she said aloud. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be on your way back home and away from Skye forever.”
With a few hours distance from her last encounter with James, she could look at the situation more objectively. Of course she was attracted to the man. What woman wouldn’t find him appealing in some way? She had probably just spent too much time dating serious, solid businessmen in New York if a little banter and a smile could make her heart skip a beat. Heaven knew most of the others hadn’t even made it to the expected second-date kiss. She didn’t even bother to find a date for work functions anymore. She’d overheard the speculations about her personal preferences, but she wasn’t about to change her life to prove she was interested in the opposite sex.
I like men. I just don’t particularly trust them. James MacDonald was a perfect case in point.
“And that is enough time spent on that subject.” She retrieved a folder from her bag and began to put together the materials for her meeting with Ian later that day. James wouldn’t be impressed with marketing collateral, but Ian seemed like he’d expect it. Details on company history, their capabilities, and a sheet of recommendations from past and current clients went into the foil-embossed folio with a copy of her business card neatly inserted into the front slot.
Andrea was contemplating what else to include when a light knock came at the door. She padded across the room and cracked it open.
James stood there, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I saw the light.”
“No, I was just getting ready for the meeting later.” She opened the door wider, letting in a rush of cold air. Her tissue-thin T-shirt gave her little barrier against the chill, and she hugged her arms to herself. “What’s up?”
“I want you to see something. Put on a coat and come outside?”
“Okay. Give me a minute.” She shut the door, then pulled on her coat and buttoned it over her pajamas. She thrust her feet into her single
pair of practical footwear—light-weight running shoes—and put her hand on the door before she thought better of it and dashed back to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She caught her reflection in the mirror and made a face at her sleep-tousled hair.
“Too bad,” she muttered. “Anyone who comes to my door this early in the morning will have to take what they get.”
Outside, mist hung in the air, and the overnight drizzle had left a film of moisture over everything. She inhaled the cold, instantly energized by the bite in her lungs and the chill on her skin. James waited several steps away, holding two steaming travel mugs.
She gratefully took the mug he held out and sipped the rich, strong coffee while she studied him over its rim. Unlike her, he looked ready to start the day, wearing a button-down chambray shirt and a pair of comfortably faded jeans. He had thrown a weathered barn coat on against the cold, but it was unzipped, despite the fact she was already freezing. It was unfair that he could manage to make such a casual outfit look so good. He was like some annoyingly perfect J.Crew model.
But that was a dangerous line of thought. “What did you want me to see?”
“Come with me.” James gestured with his head toward the deck behind her cottage.
She followed him and then stopped abruptly at the edge of the deck. The dim morning light cast the rippling clouds in shades of white and gray and silver, reflecting them back on the glassy surface of the sound. Fragile shreds of mist hung suspended in the air. Rocky mountains rose sharply in front of them, setting off the slim white column of the old Ornsay lighthouse. For a moment, Andrea forgot how to breathe, the incredible beauty of the scenery striking her in the chest.
James watched her silently, and she thought she glimpsed a smile from the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. The sun was rising rapidly now, the colors changing from silver-gray to gold and streaking pink through the clouds, and she stared in rapt amazement at the fast-shifting landscape.
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