Five Days in Skye

by Carla Laureano

  “The area to the right will be a lounge for guests. To the left will be the dining room. There’s just enough room for nine or ten tables, which is more than enough. The hotel guests normally trickle down in the mornings, and dinner will be by reservation only.”

  Andrea ducked through the opening and walked into the sweeping space. “I’d expose the original stone,” she said immediately, gesturing to the exterior walls. “And this fireplace . . . you’re keeping it, right?”

  “I’d thought to. The contractor’s trying to convince me it’s not worth the cost to rebuild the chimney.”

  “It would be worth every penny,” Andrea said. “I can just imagine this room in the winter, with a fire going and the snow coming down outside. I think you need some more windows on the west side of the building to catch the sunset, though. I know it’s not traditional to the croft-house style, but you’ll be glad for it when winter comes and it gets dark early.”

  “That’s a good idea,” James said, surprise in his tone. “How is it you know so much about this?”

  “My undergraduate degree is in architecture. Most of my clients are in the UK, so I’ve studied traditional British construction in depth.”

  James led her up the creaky wood staircase to the first floor where the hotel’s guest rooms were located, including an addition currently being framed over the kitchen on the back of the house. He pointed out the sites of the water damage and gave her an overview of the current plans for each room. Andrea scribbled notes in her pocket notepad and took photos of both the rooms and the views from the windows.

  She paused in front of a window that looked out onto the sound, over the roofs of the cottages. Mist still hung over the mountains in the background, but morning light glimmered on the water. It was a view worthy of a postcard. These front rooms would never be empty. “It’s going to be lovely. I can feel it. Some places have a real sense of history. A solidity. I see why you’re so enthusiastic about the project.”

  “And here I pegged you for a marble-and-glass, big-city-hotel type of girl.”

  Andrea laughed and trailed a finger down the solid wood casement. “I love these old croft houses. Just don’t tell anyone. It would completely destroy my image.” She turned away from the window and saw James was watching her with an oddly searching expression. “What?”

  “You’re not at all what I expected, Andrea Sullivan.” He cleared his throat as if he’d said too much and rushed on. “It was my father’s dream to renovate this place. He always talked about updating it and having me open a restaurant here. I regret we didn’t get a chance to do it before he died.”

  “I think he would be pleased with the direction it’s going,” Andrea said. “Some people would be tempted to renovate all the original character out of the place, but I like what you’re doing here. Modern amenities don’t have to mean losing what makes it special.”

  “Do you want to see the blueprints?” James asked. “They’re back in my cottage.”

  Andrea hesitated.

  “I’m just showing you blueprints. I promise, I’ve nothing untoward in mind.” That mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. “At least not right this minute.”

  He was teasing her again, having trod dangerously close to a personal topic. “Very funny. Let’s see the drawings.”

  Andrea led the way from the room and back down the stairs, her shoes rapping hollowly on the plywood subfloor. James locked the front door behind them, and she struggled across the gravel lot in her heels to his cottage.

  As soon as they stepped inside, James asked, “Tea?”

  “Sure.” Andrea rubbed her arms through her jacket for a second. She’d forgotten about the cold in her enthusiasm over the hotel, but goose bumps still pricked her skin. “I understand why the British are so big on tea now. It’s always cold.”

  James filled the electric teakettle that sat on the counter of the kitchenette and flicked the switch on the side.

  “Let me get the prints for you.” He moved to his desk, identical to the one in Andrea’s room but outfitted with a printer and a laptop computer, and retrieved several rolls of paper from the galvanized steel bucket beside it. He spread them across the kitchen table.

  “This is the exterior elevation, including the addition.” He pointed out the extension that jutted off the back and curved around the side. “The facade is going to have to be adjusted to match the original stone, but I’ve already found a stonemason who assures me it can be done.”

  “Good.” Andrea nodded her approval. She turned a page and braced her hands against the table as she bent over to survey the next sheet of blueprints. “You’re putting showers in the en suite baths?”

  “Small ones. I wanted to stick to the original footprint of the rooms, but Americans especially expect showers.”

  “True, but if you can only have one, you should choose the bathtub. An old-fashioned claw-foot tub goes a long way to establishing ambience.” She carefully folded back the page and moved on.

  In the back, past the floor plans and multiview drawings, Andrea found the more detailed material takeoffs. She frowned as her eye landed on the dimensions for the beams in the main dining room. She tapped her finger against the drawing. “Double-check these dimensions. I don’t think this is going to be adequate for the span.”

  “You really are quite surprising.”

  Andrea glanced up at James, unsure from his tone whether he was teasing, but he regarded her with undisguised admiration.

  “I’ve been in this business for a while. You tend to pick things up.”

  “Tell me, then. What am I missing?”

  She glanced back at the blueprints and considered. “A bar.”

  “A bar?”

  Andrea pulled out a chair and sat, crossing her legs and tugging her skirt down automatically. “You yourself said there’s nothing within walking distance, and the roads on Skye aren’t great in winter. You could always serve cocktails in the reception room, but I really think you’d be better off with an attached bar.” She flipped back to the exterior elevation drawings. “You already have this extension here being framed out. It wouldn’t be much more trouble to extend it on the other side, maybe with a breezeway to the new kitchen so you could serve food at the bar as well. Do you have some paper?”

  James retrieved a pencil and pad of grid paper from the desk and set them down in front of her. She quickly sketched a small rendering of the hotel, adding on a matching extension in rough strokes.

  “It wouldn’t be better to have a freestanding building?”

  “This is more cost-effective, and it will take less to heat. Plus it shouldn’t require separate permits. I think you’ll find the bar will help offset your lower winter occupancy rates. Sleat residents will be more likely to come here rather than Broadford or Armadale to socialize, especially if you have good, inexpensive food.”

  James nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll send the drawings over to Ian and see what he thinks.”

  “I can mention it today, if you like.”

  “Maybe I should come along and discuss it with him myself.”

  “I hardly think that’s a good idea after last night.” Andrea wondered if she was imagining the possessiveness in James’s tone. She wasn’t sure whether to be amused, pleased, or irritated. Maybe all three. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know what we discuss. I’ll take this with me.” Andrea tore the drawing off the pad and set it aside, then began to roll up the stacks of drawings, group by group.

  The teakettle chose that moment to begin spewing steam. James flipped the switch to warm and pulled out two mugs. “One sugar or two?”

  “Two, please. Should I put these back?”

  “If you don’t mind. What do you think? Too early for biscuits?”

  Andrea returned the drawings to the galvanized tub and tucked the pad and pencil back into the desk drawer. “It’s never too early for biscuits.”

  “You’re my kind of woman.” He retrieved a package of cookies from
the cupboard, placed a few on a plate, and set them on the table before her. He finished making up their tea and took the chair next to her. “What now?”

  “I’d like to see your business and marketing plans, if you have them handy.”

  “I don’t. Besides, I meant what do we do now? It’s only half past ten. You’re not supposed to meet Ian until one. I think hospitality demands I give you a tour of Sleat.”

  “I should probably get started on my proposal.”

  “You should, but you won’t.”

  She took a sip of her tea, trying to hide her smile behind the cup. “Why won’t I?”

  “Because you can’t resist the chance to spend a few hours with me seeing the sights. I assure you, I am an excellent guide.”

  Two or three hours in the car with him, doing something strictly recreational? He might have behaved himself this morning, but she didn’t expect that to last long. Now that he knew which buttons to push, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. Over and over.

  The thought reminded her of his comment in the bar about her clothing. The attraction was not one-sided. She just had absolutely no intention of giving in to it. He, on the other hand . . .

  No, he wasn’t the kind of man to force himself on her. She already knew that much with certainty. This was all just some game, a battle of the sexes, and he wanted to make her break first. Which, of course, she wouldn’t do. If she kept refusing to be alone with him, he’d just keep trying.

  “All right,” she said finally. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You have to deliver me to the meeting with Ian on time. Not a minute late.”

  “If you insist.”

  “Good. Let’s go, then.” Andrea stood and straightened her skirt. “I’ll get my bag.”

  James beat her to the door with his long-legged stride and opened it for her, deliberately crowding her so they stood face-to-face, only inches apart.

  “Thank you.” She met his gaze levelly, even though her heartbeat was already accelerating. She lowered her eyes and moved quickly past him.

  No two ways about it. This was a very bad idea.

  Chapter Eleven

  The woman was a complete mystery.

  One minute, she’d give as good as she got with that sharp tongue and equally sharp mind. The next she’d withdraw behind a shell of cold professionalism. It was like seeing two different people, and James was never sure which one would surface.

  Then there was the Andrea who would sit on the floor with Emmy or improvise on the piano with such a joyous expression it made his heart flip. Why was she so determined to hide that part of herself?

  James cursed himself for a fool. For a short moment, he’d thought he and Andrea had been building some sort of rapport, then he had to ruin it by pushing matters too far. Now, fifteen minutes into their drive down the Sleat peninsula, she still hadn’t said a word. She just sat stiffly in the seat, hands folded in her lap, staring into the distance. He’d wager she wasn’t seeing a bit of the glorious scenery flying by the window.

  Why do you even care?

  He didn’t. Or, he hadn’t, until he saw the look on her face as she watched the sunrise, as if years of worries had fallen from her shoulders. If he hadn’t witnessed the wistfulness in her expression as she talked about the restoration, he would have written it off to his imagination. But he knew that feeling well. It was too easy to let the demands of life suffocate him and drown out God’s still, small voice, until the days became just an endless list. Something inside him recognized she needed a breath as much as he did.

  He left her to her musings as he took the two-lane road through a forested section of Sleat and followed the River Ord until it emptied out near the shore. When they reached an overlook where Ord Bay and Loch Eishort met, he pulled off onto the side of the road.

  “Why are we stopping?”

  “Because it’s worth a moment to appreciate. Come.”

  Andrea climbed out of the car, and James circled to meet her on the other side. Immediately she pulled out her mobile phone and began to snap pictures of the view.

  “Beautiful,” she said. “These will definitely help creative when they formulate their marketing plan.”

  James gently pried her phone from her fingers and dropped it into the front pocket of his shirt. “I’m going to hold on to this for you.”

  Andrea stared at him. “Give me my phone back.”

  “It’s mine for now. You can have it back for your meeting.”

  “How dare you!” Anger flashed in those gorgeous eyes, a sign she was going to launch into a tirade on his ungentlemanly behavior. Before she could try, he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face the view again. She went still, muscles tensed beneath his fingers.

  “Relax,” he murmured into her ear. “Breathe. When you view it on a screen, you can’t really see.”

  She threw a puzzled look over her shoulder, for a moment bringing her face close to his. If he just shifted forward a degree, he could capture her mouth with his own. She must have read the thought in his expression, because alarm flashed over her face. He quickly straightened and gave a little nod toward the scenery.

  What was he thinking?

  He took a deep breath and looked out at the loch, settling his own tumultuous thoughts. Rocks jutted from the choppy water, a stark brown contrast against the deep blue. Long shore grasses waved in the stiff sea wind, edging the sweep of sand in the distance. Just at the limits of their sight, boxy white cottages nestled in spring-green hills. He breathed in the salt air, listening to the soft lap of waves and the distant calls of seabirds. Beside him, Andrea closed her eyes, breathing deeply while the wind ruffled her hair, a slight smile stretching her lips.

  She was beautiful. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from her. When was the last time a woman had pulled him this strongly?

  Dangerous thoughts. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the car, forcing his gaze away from her. It was one thing to flirt and tease, to steal a kiss. The sudden squeeze in his chest was quite another. He recognized that feeling. It meant nothing good.

  When she finally opened her eyes, he had his thoughts mostly under control.

  “You’re right,” she murmured. “It’s amazing. Sort of desolate and yet . . . peaceful.”

  He said nothing, but when she turned to him, he held out her phone.

  “Keep it,” she said. “For now.”

  He smiled. Maybe he was getting through to her after all. “On to our next stop, then?”

  James stayed quiet in the car, not wanting to jar her from her peaceful frame of mind. She took in the landscape with a new light in her eye, smiling when he pointed out patches of wildflowers on the hillside or laughing at the spring lambs frolicking in the meadows. He didn’t question why it was so important she see his home through his eyes. She needed a few minutes away from her life as much as he did from his own.

  His enjoyment dwindled as the time edged toward one o’clock, since he knew he would shortly hand her over to Ian. He put on the canned enthusiasm of a tour guide and said, “And that’s the end of our guided tour today. We should head back to Broadford. I did promise to deliver you on time.”

  She nodded. He sensed her struggling for words, but in the end, she only said, “Thank you.”

  Her husky tone did things to his gut he didn’t particularly appreciate. “For getting you there on time?”

  “No, for this. For making me really see.”

  It couldn’t be an easy admission for her. He barely kept himself from reaching for her hand, instead forcing his attention onto the road. “You’re welcome.”

  The drive back to Broadford passed too quickly, even in companionable silence. He pulled into the hotel’s car park, noting Ian’s car in front of the tan stucco building with its dormered, shingled roof.

  “How should I contact you when I’m finished?” Andrea asked, reaching for her bag, the professional once again in place.

>   James drew her mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “I programmed my number in. Just call me when you’re finished. I have to go to market and pick up some things for dinner.”

  Annoyance flashed across her face. “You could have asked.”

  “I didn’t think you’d mind.” Actually, he’d known it would probably irritate her, but he hadn’t been able to resist. He rather liked the way she looked angry. And she was far easier to deal with irritated than when she looked at him with that searching, vulnerable expression.

  Coward.

  “Fine. I’ll call you when I’m done.” Andrea tucked the phone into her bag and slid out of the car without saying good-bye.

  He watched her disappear into the front doors of the hotel and then dropped his head onto the steering wheel, banging it a few times for good measure. Idiot. Annoy her, then send her to lunch with his good-looking, personable brother. Brilliant planning.

  He jerked the gear stick into reverse and backed out of the parking space, then pulled onto Broadford’s main road. It shouldn’t matter to him what she did or what she thought. He and Ian would sign the contract, and she would be on her way back to New York. Maybe she’d check in with him by phone once a month to make sure he was happy with the progress on the hotel, but other than that, he’d have no further contact with the beautiful American consultant.

  But when he drove straight past the co-op grocery, he was forced to admit that whatever feelings she brought out, he wasn’t ready for it to be over.

  Chapter Twelve

  Only a few tables in the hotel restaurant were filled, and Andrea immediately spotted Ian at one near the window. She put on a warm smile and made her way toward him.

  He rose as she approached. Whatever business he’d had this morning, on the water or otherwise, his beautifully tailored navy suit and maroon tie gave no hint of it now. Seeing Ian look so proper and professional in his business clothing made her realize James wore his own with a sense of irony.