“Going somewhere?”
“I was just …”
He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. Wordlessly, he moved to her side, pulled her against him, and gave her a lingering kiss that erased all doubts about his feelings. “I’ve been waiting all morning to do that.”
Me, too, she thought, but she was still feeling too shaky to say it aloud. “I should go pack.”
He dipped his head and trailed light kisses along her cheek and jaw, raising a shiver on her skin. “Pack later.”
She groaned at the effort of extricating herself from his grasp. “Pack now. I want to say good-bye to Serena and Muriel.”
James let her pull out of his arms, but the way he watched her put a glow of giddiness into her chest. It faded when she stepped inside the cottage and remembered this was her last morning at the water’s edge.
No, she couldn’t think about it. She quickly zipped her suits into her garment bag, folding it over the single pair of jeans she could fit into her suitcase. She looked sadly at her gray quilted coat. Leaving the clothes behind felt like abandoning her memories of Skye, but she hadn’t spent enough on them to justify buying another suitcase to bring them home.
She shook off her pensive mood, shoved her laptop into its case, and turned her attention to straightening her room. She removed the sheets from the bed and folded them loosely, then added her used towels to the pile. When she came across her scarf still hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she ran her fingers across the fringe and tucked it into the pocket of her wool coat.
James was waiting for her when she finally emerged from the cottage. He wordlessly took her bag and put it in the trunk of the sedan. Andrea worked the cottage’s key from her key ring and handed it to him.
His fingers lingered on hers as he took it, her conflict reflected in his expression. It felt like an ending of something they had never defined, and neither of them knew what to do next.
“Shall we go up to the house and say good-bye?” he said finally, dropping her hand. She nodded and climbed into the car.
Serena and the kids were taking advantage of the sunny weather when they arrived. Emmy ran circles around the yard, flapping her arms and pretending to be some sort of flying creature, while Max sat contentedly on a blanket, munching cereal from a small bowl.
Serena waved as James parked a safe distance away. “Off to Inverness?” she asked when they climbed out.
James threw another conflicted glance at Andrea. “Just came to say good-bye.”
“Auntie’s in the house.”
James took the hint and headed up the front steps. Serena linked her arm with Andrea’s. “So, what now?”
“We’re going to see a band tonight. A friend of the family’s? Davy something.”
Serena lifted her eyebrows. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know it wasn’t.”
Serena nodded slowly. “I think by now you’ve figured out my brother is not exactly what he makes himself out to be.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“Then maybe you should ask yourself why he’s never with the same woman twice, if it’s not for the reason he leads everyone to believe.” She squeezed Andrea’s arm and abruptly let go as the front door opened again. James emerged with Muriel.
“Andrea, darling.” Muriel approached her with open arms and pressed her into a warm embrace. “It was lovely to have met you. I hope you’ll consider coming back to visit us.”
“Thank you, Muriel. I appreciate your hospitality.”
“Emmy, come say good-bye to Andrea!” Serena called.
The little girl changed course immediately and flung herself at Andrea, almost knocking her off her feet. “Don’t go! I want to show you how good I’ve gotten!”
Andrea swallowed hard and bent down so she could look the little girl in the eye. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I have to go home. Keep practicing, though. I’m sure your uncle will tell me all about your progress.”
Emmy twisted her T-shirt between her fingers fitfully. “Are you coming back?”
Andrea’s throat tightened. “I don’t know. But if I do, you will be one of the first to know, okay?”
“Okay.” Emmy’s lower lip quivered as she threw her arms around her neck. Andrea struggled to breathe as she pressed the little girl to her. Finally, she disentangled herself and straightened.
James watched her, holding Max with one arm. He nuzzled the baby and asked, “You want to say good-bye to Andrea, Maxie?”
She ran her hand over Max’s downy head with a lurch of her heart, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “’Bye, little one. Be good for mama. Let her sleep one of these nights, all right?”
Serena laughed, took Max from her brother, and accepted James’s quick kiss on the cheek. “If I only thought he would listen to you. Have fun, you two. It was good meeting you, Andrea.” She looked at James and then back at Andrea significantly, as if reminding her of their brief conversation.
Andrea’s stomach jerked nervously as they climbed back into the car. James turned back down the drive and onto the main road before he asked, “What was that all about?”
“I’m not entirely sure.” Had the words come from Ian, Andrea would have thought it was a warning that James would move on from her as quickly as he had with other women. But Serena almost sounded afraid James would be the one to get hurt in this scenario.
James leaned forward and turned on the stereo. Soft jazz spilled from the speakers, filling the silence. Andrea watched the scenery rush by as they headed back to the mainland, the vise around her chest tightening with each passing mile. When they reached the Skye Bridge, she closed her eyes against tears and leaned her head back against the seat.
“I’ve been thinking of taking some time off to travel,” James said.
Andrea opened her eyes and looked at him. “You don’t travel enough for work?”
“I’ve been to Los Angeles and Chicago, but would you believe I’ve never been to New York?”
Her pulse quickened at the implication. “That’s a shame. New York has lots to offer.”
“It’s just too bad I don’t know anyone who lives there. It would be nice to have someone show me around.”
“I might know a few people.” A slow smile crept over Andrea’s face. “I wouldn’t recommend going in the summer, though. Fall is much more pleasant.”
“I was thinking more like spring.” He glanced at her before quickly returning his eyes to the road. “April is already pretty booked, but I’m sure I can find some time in May. It only makes sense if my tour guide is free, though.”
“I’ll have her check her schedule.”
He grinned. “I hope you’re joking. Do I need to be more direct?”
“No, I think you got your point across just fine.” She sighed, the glow fading a little. “You do realize I have to work. I can’t just take off at a moment’s notice like you can.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t own my own business. I’m subject to the whims of a very demanding boss, and after the whole London debacle …”
“Let me ask you this. What do you want out of life?”
His serious tone took her aback. “I don’t know. I want to be successful. I want to achieve my goals. I want to feel like I accomplished something when I go home at night. I guess … I guess I’m happy where I am.”
“So there isn’t any room for change? No room for someone to share your life with?” James stared straight out the windshield, his muscles tensed, as if he dreaded the answer to his question.
Andrea couldn’t breathe against the sudden swell of fear. She wanted to throw caution to the wind, ask him to speak plainly, but the words stuck in her throat. “I don’t know. I’d like to believe that someday …”
“It’s okay. Never mind.”
“Is that what
you’re looking for?”
He shrugged, but it didn’t seem like a casual gesture. “I’m content with what I’ve achieved. But yes. I had hoped for other things by this point in my life.” She saw his throat work as he swallowed down the rest of his words. “Forget it.”
Andrea stared out the window, an ache building in her chest. His unspoken question made her at once giddy, terrified, and desperately sad. He wanted to know if there was a future for them, and she honestly didn’t know how to answer.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
James tried not to let Andrea’s reticence pierce him too deeply. It had nothing to do with him. This was probably the first relationship in which she’d been involved since Logan, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle the idea.
So this is a relationship now?
He didn’t know exactly what this was. Certainly not what he’d intended when this all began. Somewhere he’d gone from wanting to tease her from her professional demeanor to needing to learn everything about her. To make her smile. To soothe her fears. To help her forget the things that made her gaze go distant with regret and pain.
He had glimpsed the woman behind the executive, the one who could play the piano with extraordinary beauty and make a baby squeal with delight. The one who was afraid of heights but wouldn’t let it stop her from enjoying a view. The one who was strong enough to pick up the pieces of her broken life and build a new one for herself.
He knew what that all added up to. He tasted the words on his tongue. And he could say nothing, because she wasn’t ready to hear it. She wasn’t yet willing to believe a relationship could end in anything but heartache.
James felt her retreating from him, and he reached for her hand, trying to draw her back. She flinched, but she interlaced her fingers with his. That was something, at least.
“How much time do I need in order to see New York properly?”
“It all depends on what you want to do. Do you like the theater? Musicals?”
“Sure. I’ve been to some West End plays. I’d like to see Broadway. I’ll even go to an opera if you like.”
She made a face. “I can’t stand the opera. I didn’t mind playing in the orchestra; I just don’t like sitting in the audience.”
“Okay, we can scratch opera off the list. How about the ballet?”
“You don’t have to impress me. This is your vacation, remember?”
“Well, in that case, how about Madison Square Garden?”
“Basketball or boxing?”
He quirked a glance at her. “Now you’re trying to impress me.”
“I like both,” she said with a shrug.
“Aren’t you full of surprises? What else don’t I know about you?”
She thought for a moment. “I belonged to the chess club in junior high school.”
“Wow. I’d never have thought you’d be a chess whiz.”
“Why, because I’m a girl?”
“Because you’re … pretty.”
That elicited a hearty laugh from her. “You’re terrible. I take it you don’t play then?”
“Oh no. I’m quite good.” James had spent half his childhood trying to beat his father, who had been an expert tactician. “I’ll prove it to you sometime.”
Neither of them wondered aloud when that might be.
They passed the rest of the three-hour drive trading tidbits of their likes and dislikes as any couple would early in their relationship. He learned Andrea liked all foods but Mexican, had tried and given up the violin before she started playing the piano, and read spy novels on the beach in the summer. He told her he hadn’t been joking about wanting to be a race-car driver as a child, but his mother hadn’t considered it a worthwhile pursuit.
“You’ve mentioned your mother a few times. What exactly does she do?”
“She doesn’t exactly do anything,” he said. “She’s a Pierce.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Heiress to the Pierce fortune. You know, shipping, banking, commercial development. Anything that makes money.”
“Oh. That Pierce family.” Andrea nodded thoughtfully. “I bet it really irritates her you’ve made a good living doing something as undignified as cooking.”
He grinned. “That it does. An unexpected benefit to the whole venture.” Another reason to like Andrea. Many women would want to know if he would inherit the family fortune, but she seemed to give it no more thought beyond what it meant about his relationship with his mother.
He didn’t say anything about their destination, wanting to see her unguarded reaction. He turned off the A96 onto a well-marked side road as they moved past Inverness proper and followed a long drive.
“Where are we going?” Andrea asked, frowning at the open land around them.
“Our hotel.” James threw her a smile. “Don’t spoil my surprise.”
A sprawling Georgian mansion loomed up before them, its manicured lawns lush and green even this early in the season. A tasteful sign identified it as the Culloden Manor Hotel.
“Jamie, my company would never approve—”
“This isn’t business. I thought your last night in Scotland required something special.” She started to protest again, but James cut her off. “Please. Let me do something nice for you. You’re a hospitality consultant, surely you’ve heard of the place.”
“I have. And I also know the tariffs. It’s too much.”
“Andrea, don’t make me convince you. You know full well a night here is not a hardship to me.”
“I don’t suppose I can convince you to let me pay my own way? My shoes cost more than a night here. It’s not as if it would completely ruin my budget.”
“Not a chance, my dear.” He could tell she didn’t like the idea of him footing the bill, though from the admiring glance she threw at the country house’s exterior, a fierce battle raged inside her. “If you want to go somewhere else, we can. Let me just make a few calls.”
She put a hand out and touched his arm. “No. This is lovely. Thank you.”
James parked on the side of the circular drive. No sooner had they stepped out of the car than a uniformed staff member emerged from the mansion’s massive entry to greet them and carry their bags inside. Andrea followed the man up the red-carpeted front steps into the hotel’s stunning front hall.
James smiled as Andrea took in the details of the manor. He’d stayed here dozens of times, and he still couldn’t help but be impressed. Archways with original plaster detailing spanned the space, and elaborate cornices decorated the soaring ceiling. Marble fireplaces and crystal chandeliers added a luxurious touch to the reception area.
“Lovely,” Andrea said, but she wasn’t gaping as an uninitiated visitor might. He’d bet she was cataloging the architectural details, mentally dating them in her mind as if learning the mansion’s history from the layers of renovations and restorations.
“Mr. MacDonald!” Henry Black, the hotel’s manager, strode across the room, his smile bright and his hand extended. “It’s good to have you back with us.”
Black was a portly man, bald as a billiard ball but impeccably dressed in suit and tie, gold cufflinks winking at his wrists. James shook his hand warmly. “It’s always a pleasure. Mr. Black, this is my colleague, Andrea Sullivan.”
Andrea smiled and shook his hand as well. “Quite a lovely hotel, Mr. Black. I was just admiring the plasterwork. Original to the current structure, I’d think. Mid- to late-eighteenth century?”
“Indeed. You have a good eye, Ms. Sullivan.”
“Andrea’s a hospitality consultant,” James said. “She’s an expert in British architecture.”
“Hardly an expert.” Andrea threw him a glance, but the fact she didn’t color at the compliment made him think she was just being humble.
“Let me get your keys, and Donovan can sh
ow you to your rooms.” Mr. Black gave them what almost looked like a bow, then disappeared behind the reception desk half-hidden by columns in the corner.
Andrea looked at James with raised eyebrows. “Your colleague?”
“I thought you’d be more comfortable with that introduction.” And he couldn’t properly explain their relationship to someone else when he couldn’t define it himself. “I made your reservation under your name.”
“Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
Mr. Black returned with their keys, mechanical ones with old-fashioned brass key tags that bore the hotel’s thistle logo. “I’ve put you in room eleven, and Mr. MacDonald, you are down the hall in fourteen.”
They took their keys, said their farewells to the hotel manager, and followed the young bellhop, Donovan, up the sweeping staircase to the first floor. As grand as the structure appeared, James had always enjoyed the comfortable atmosphere of the hotel—much more like staying with friends at a country house than checking into a sterile, anonymous hotel with well-trained but impersonal staff. It was the kind of feeling he imagined for the hotel on Skye, though their place was not nearly so luxurious.
“Your mother’s family has a Georgian estate in England, if I’m not mistaken,” Andrea said.
“In Yorkshire, yes.” He shouldn’t be surprised she knew that, given her architectural background. “Designed by Robert Adam as well.”
“No wonder you like this hotel. It must remind you of it.”
“Actually, I spent very little time there. My mother favored London, and of course, I preferred Scotland.”
“Your room, Ms. Sullivan.” Donovan stopped before a polished wooden door with a brass number placard and took the key from Andrea’s hand. James waited as the young man placed her suitcase inside on the folding rack and orientated her to the room’s features. She tipped him discreetly and paused in the doorway.
“We have dinner reservations downstairs at half past six,” James said. “Shall I come by for you a few minutes before?”
Five Days in Skye: A Novel Page 22
