The Great Scot

by Donna Kauffman

  Erin didn’t bother to point out that it was no “little” inn. Tommy had seen the exterior shots she’d taken. “Actually, he accepted our initial lease offer.”

  Tommy paused, then started looking around for someone to start moving his mound of baggage. “Good. Where’s Tanya?” he demanded, already distracted. He snagged the arm of the nearest person he could reach. “Find Tanya for me. She was supposed to meet me in the lobby at one.”

  Erin could have mentioned that he’d just barked orders at a hotel employee, not a staffer, but there was no point in it. Besides, the hotel was small enough that she assumed the bellman probably knew where Tommy’s number one assistant was anyway. Especially given that she’d probably been the one barking orders at them until now.

  “This place better be worth the hassle, MacGregor, or your ass is the first one I’m selling down the river to the suits.” His satellite phone chirped to life. He ignored it. “I want to hear about these concessions. The isolation of this location from any major city support puts a major cramp on our already constrained budget. And I don’t need to remind you how far behind schedule we are.”

  “Glenshire can easily house the cast and site crew. And I’ve worked out an agreement with the hotel in Glenbuie to accommodate the rest.

  “Fine, fine.” Once Tommy agreed to something, he didn’t want any additional info. In typical fashion, he moved directly to his next point. “I need at least two trailers on set, in addition to the production trailers. Did you work that out?”

  Erin mentally scrambled to figure out how to meet that demand. “It will be a bit cramped for space, but there is a rear utility entrance and courtyard. It means having production trucks a little closer to the house, but there isn’t any other space. You’ll have to be creative with camera angles in terms of shooting around them, but there isn’t much back there that you’d likely want to use on camera anyway.”

  Tommy nodded, satisfied. For now. His phone went off again and he ignored it again. “Concessions. What did we give in on?”

  Erin forced herself to stay relaxed, calm, as if this were no big deal. Hard to do when she knew damn well he was likely to pop an artery. “Mr. Chisholm is going to stay on property.” She lifted a fast hand. “I did everything in my power to get him to agree to move off site. And it isn’t to say that we won’t get him to change his mind once he sees what it’s like living with the chaos.” Though, privately, she doubted anything would budge him. She was a tough negotiator, but he’d been tougher. “He didn’t ask for more money, so we banked there. But he stood firm on this. I fought him on it, but it was clear this was a deal breaker. He’s protecting four hundred years of his heritage and there is no way he’s—”

  “You know I hate having to contend with the owner, Erin. It wastes considerable time and money. We can’t be babysitting him and still—”

  “Well, see, you won’t have to.” Where was Tanya when she needed a good interruption anyway?

  “Meaning?”

  “He doesn’t want to be directly involved in the actual process any more than you want him to be. He just wants a clear line of communication.”

  “He certainly doesn’t need to be on site for that. Everything is outlined in the standard agreement and the rest can be handled via phone, fax, or e-mail. If they have such a thing in this godforsaken outback.”

  “He won’t budge on this, but I’ve worked out a line of communication with him that will relieve you and the immediate crew from any contact—”

  “You gave him an assistant, didn’t you?” Tommy slapped his thigh, then barked at another assistant to find Tanya. “Do you know what that’s going to cost me?” he shouted, turning his attention back to her. “Fine, then. We’ll just give him yours.”

  “Actually—”

  “You think you can just freely disperse my already overextended manpower? You’ll have to make the sacrifice. Dana will have to handle it.”

  “It’s me,” she said. “He’ll only work with me.”

  “What?” It was amazing how much emotion a small man like Tommy could pack into a single word.

  “I’m going to be on site for at least the next two weeks anyway,” she hurriedly said, before he completely imploded. “I’ll have time to get him used to the process, build his trust. Hopefully by then he’ll be so sick of dealing with everything we can get him moved off site completely.”

  “You’re killing me here, MacGregor.”

  “If worse comes to worse, I’ll leave Dana here to handle him, but I really don’t think it will come to that.” Privately, Erin knew her assistant would be thrilled with that little assignment if it came to pass. But Erin had far too much to do, and needed Dana’s assistance too much to let that happen. She pasted on a big, confident grin. “I’ll make it all work. I’ve never let you down so far, have I?”

  Tanya chose that moment to come rushing out of the hotel. “So sorry, I’ve been tied up—”

  “See that you do make it work,” Tommy instructed Erin, then took Tanya by the arm and hustled her into the hotel.

  Erin waited until Tommy was out of sight before heaving a deep sigh of relief and heading inside. Well. That hadn’t been too bad. She stepped over piles of luggage and scooted over to an unoccupied corner before pulling out her binder and scanning her notes. She had a meeting at three with Daisy to go over date location ideas. Dana wouldn’t be coming in for another couple of days, as Erin had assigned her to scout the final weekend excursion site in Paris. Erin had been looking forward to scoping out that particular location, but thanks to Dylan’s demands, she couldn’t risk leaving before Tommy arrived and was brought up to speed. Dana was ready to take on more responsibility anyway, and this date event was a good, hands-on place for her to start. Still, Erin couldn’t help but think that she could be wandering the Champs Élysées at the moment, and not dealing with the insane accelerated schedule Tanya had just thrust on them in their first team meeting earlier this morning.

  “Oh thank god, there you are!” Another of Tommy’s personal assistants pushed his way through the cluster trying to check in, waving a stack of little pink slips. “Will you please talk to him already?”

  “Talk to who? Tommy? I just spoke to—”

  He looked both bedraggled and bewildered. Not unusual when you worked for Tommy. He shoved the stack of slips into Erin’s hand. “Make this go away,” was all he said, then disappeared into the clamoring throng once again.

  Erin fanned through the crumpled stash, her attention immediately snagging on the one common thread in each note. The name in the “From” box at the top of each slip. Dylan Chisholm. She’d sent word to him yesterday, along with the bare outlines of the new production schedule, and told him she’d be in touch sometime today to go over details and personally answer any questions he had, as they’d agreed. Apparently Dylan hadn’t been patiently waiting for her to find time to call. She flipped quickly through the rest of the pile, but the message was the same on each. “Have Erin MacGregor contact me a.s.a.p.”

  “Great.” She sighed, checked her watch, before glancing longingly at the lobby stairs that led to the upper floors…and her room. Her nice, quiet room, away from the mob, away from the madness. Where she’d hoped to spend a whole forty-five minutes in peace before tackling the new pile of work Tanya had just thrust in her lap. She hadn’t liked two of the four date locations, or either of Erin’s backup sites, which meant working overtime to come up with alternate locales. Hence her meeting with Daisy.

  She gave a final longing look at the stair case and the nice warm bath she wasn’t going to get—again—then resolutely pushed her way through the crowd and out the back of the hotel to the tiny car lot where her rental was parked. She’d wanted to set the damn show in Brigadoon, she could hardly complain now that she’d gotten her way. Shoving her pink slips into her satchel, she tossed it on the passenger seat, and pointed her car in the direction of Glenshire.

  Halfway there, she had a little brainstorm. If Dylan
were going to make himself a general pain in her ass, which, clearly, he was going to, then she might as well find a way to make it work for her, right? He wanted to stick his nose in? Well, she was about to let him.

  By the time she pulled into Glenshire’s rear service entrance, which was already clogged with a stream of vans and crew trucks, she had a plan firmly in place. She absently nodded and waved at the guys who were presently streaming in and out of the house, running miles of cable, toting lighting fixtures, barking orders. It all looked completely normal to her, but she knew it was quite the opposite for Dylan. She pretended not to see the men’s aggrieved expressions as she ducked past on her way through the central part of the house.

  It didn’t take long to find him. In fact, she heard him seconds after hitting the second floor landing.

  “I dinnae much care what the contract stipulates. There’s no need to go stringing lights and mounting cameras in every bloody corner!” Dylan’s bark echoed through the halls. “That plaster isn’t going to hold those brackets. One good tap and the whole face will crumble down upon your Charming Prince’s pretty head. I’m savin’ ye from a certain lawsuit.”

  “Erin!” The poor crewman who was the target of Dylan’s current tirade all but leaped upon her the second she turned the corner into one of the two main upstairs hallways where four men were mounting cameras and installing lighting. “Thank god, you’re here.” His fingertips dug into Erin’s arm as he all but dragged her to his side. Jaw clenched into a sorry facsimile of a smile, he said, “Mr. Chisholm has been expressing some doubt regarding the installation process. Perhaps you could discuss this with him privately while I get back to directing the crew?”

  She wasn’t given any time to answer, but was instead all but thrust directly in front of Dylan. “Um, sure,” she said, pasting on her own bright smile. “In fact, I need to talk to Mr. Chisholm anyway.” The relief on the faces of the workers was so complete, she was surprised they didn’t do the wave. She turned to Dylan. His jaw was set, his legs braced apart, arms folded across his chest, every bit the Great Scot. “We need to talk.” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “In private, if you don’t mind.”

  He shifted his intent gaze from her, to the crew who had paused in their banging and drilling, then back to her again. His jaw flexed and a vein pulsed along his temple. It was only when, after what felt like an eternity, he finally gave her a curt nod, that she realized she’d been holding her breath.

  Trying not to release it so fast that she became light-headed, she cautiously motioned for him to lead them both out of the hallway.

  “I want nothing more done in this hall until I’ve had a chance to discuss things with Ms. MacGregor,” he ordered, sounding exactly like the clan chief that he was. He stepped over power cords and shifted around the ladders and dollies with surprising grace for someone his size.

  Something she had no business noticing at the moment. It was bad enough he still snuck into her dreams at night.

  “Erin,” the crew leader pleaded.

  She tore her gaze off Dylan’s muscled backside and shot the young man a quick, placating smile. “Just give me a few minutes,” she said, loudly enough for Dylan to hear, but as she hurried to keep up with his long-legged strides, she made a hand motion behind her back for the crew to continue on after she and Dylan were gone.

  From the looks of things, they were well behind the new pre-production schedule. Somehow she suspected Dylan was likely at least partially responsible for that. If word got back to Tommy, her ass would be chewed into tiny little leprechaun bits. It was exactly what she’d promised him wouldn’t happen. What Dylan had also promised her he wouldn’t let happen. Which was the first thing she planned on reminding him about. Just as soon as she got him away from the house.

  She caught up to him at the top of the central staircase. “Would it be okay if we took a short drive?”

  “A drive?” He stopped and looked back at her. “Why? Where?”

  She managed a light laugh and placed her hand on his arm. Big mistake. It was like touching a live wire with a wet hand. It took considerable control not to jump at the jolt it delivered straight to her libido. “Don’t worry, I’m not kidnapping you.” Although the images that scenario sent springing to mind didn’t help matters any.

  “I dinnae feel comfortable leaving here just now.” His tone was tight, his voice deeper even than usual, his accent more pronounced.

  “You signed the agreement,” she reminded him as gently as possible. “You’re not even supposed to be in this part of the house.”

  “Something I’m regretting with every passing second.”

  “We agreed to return everything to its original state or better. Why can’t you trust me on that?”

  “Agreeing is one thing. Seeing with my own eyes the havoc they’re wreaking is making me less than confident of yer claims.”

  “I can assure you your fears are unfounded. And you’ll be far less stressed out about it if you’d just stay in your part of the house like you agreed to. You know, it’s not too late to let us put you up in town. The hotel is booked and frankly overrun with crew anyway, but we have a few private homes lined up for overflow—or maybe you could stay with one of your brothers.”

  Another worker banged up the stairs just then, a ladder balanced on his back, forcing Dylan to pull Erin closer as he backed up to allow the man to pass. “Come on,” he commanded. “We’ll discuss this downstairs. I have an office, we’ll talk there.”

  Erin was momentarily incapable of speech. Dylan’s hands were on her again, his chest was brushing up against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. If she tipped her head back and lifted up on her tiptoes, her lips would brush across his chin, so close to his mouth, so close to—“I—I need you to show me something,” she blurted, self-preservation mercifully kicking in. She quickly untangled herself from his grasp. “My car is just out back. It won’t take long, I promise.”

  He cocked one brow and didn’t budge one inch. “What could I possibly have to show you? I’m no’ a fool, Ms. MacGregor. You’re wanting me off my property so your crews can finish their systematic demolition of my home.”

  “Partly,” she said, thinking that, where Dylan was concerned, she might get farther by just being frank. “But I do really need your help. We can go over exactly what they’re doing and why, and what kind of processes we use to restore things on the drive. And please, by now, it’s Erin.” He’d only used her first name once before. Two days ago, standing on a paint-spattered drop cloth. She remembered it quite clearly, the sound of her name on his lips. Foolish really. But if they were going to get through this, it was silly to continue to stand on business formalities.

  And if he was at all swayed by her polished little speech, his autocratic features didn’t reveal it.

  “We won’t be gone long,” she promised. “Come on. Give me an hour. You’ll be back bullying the crew and disrupting everything in no time, promise.”

  “This isn’t a joke to me, Erin.”

  She wasn’t sure which thing got to her most. The implacable tone, or the way he said her name. Even spoken so sharply, just like last time, it did something funny to her insides. Maybe strictly business-like wasn’t such a bad idea. It was that damned accent. Made everything sound sexy. “It’s not a joke to me, either,” she told him, as serious now as he was. “And I know this isn’t easy to watch. It never is. I tried to get you to bunk elsewhere. Now you know why. There’s nothing else I can say that I haven’t already. But Glenshire has weathered far worse battles than this, I’d wager.”

  “Except, in the past she’s typically been attacked from without. Not from within. Some of the walls they are so handily drilling and hammering were last restored over a hundred years ago. It’s no’ always a matter of putting up a new bit of plaster, ye ken?”

  “I understand, I do.” Just as she understood that no amount of arguing or haranguing on his part was going to alter the crew
’s course of action. There was no turning back now. She had a legally binding agreement backing her up, and Dylan was quite well educated enough to realize that, too. He was just trying to bully his way past it. And her.

  It wasn’t going to work. This season’s cast was due to arrive in seventy-two hours, with filming slated to start the following Monday. From what little she’d witnessed, it looked as if they’d need twice that long to get the place into shape. “We have a contract,” she said quietly. “You can’t stop things now, Dylan.”

  She’d used his given name intentionally, hoping to create a sense of camaraderie, remind him he supposedly trusted her. The result was that his gaze settled exclusively and quite intently on her. If she wasn’t completely mistaken, he seemed as caught offguard hearing her speak his name as she’d been in hearing him speak her own. Of course that was complete and utter nonsense, but still…when he looked at her like that, well, it made utter nonsense seem a lot less…nonsensical.

  But the way he was looking at her made her skin heat up and muscles tighten in the most interesting places. “In addition to being your communication director, I still have a job to do.” His pupils expanded and she swore she could feel heat emanating from him, too. “I—I really could use your help.” She paused to clear her suddenly dry throat. “Could you spare me a few hours of your time?”

  “Hours?” That got both of those dark eyebrows arching.

  She didn’t dare tug his arm and forcibly try and move him down the stairs. She didn’t dare touch him at all. She was straddling a dangerous line between frankness…and awareness. So she started moving down the stairs on her own and prayed he followed her. “One or two is all I need, promise.”

  “You’re quite free with your promises.”

  She knew from the proximity of his voice that he was right behind her. It was as alarming as it was relieving. She didn’t even want to think about trying to control her reaction to him in the confines of her tiny rental car. “I don’t make them if I can’t keep them,” she tossed over her shoulder, wishing she felt as casual as she sounded.