by MacKay, Cali
There’d be no stemming the flow of gossip now that Lara was in the mix. At least she was young enough to not know of Rowan’s mother—not that there weren’t other issues to deal with. “Lara, this is Rowan Campbell. Rowan, Lara Graham, the keeper of this fine establishment.”
“A pleasure. Campbell, eh? And how do ye know our dear Angus?” Lara wasn’t exactly warm and inviting, but she was always a bit harsh whenever Angus came in with any woman other than his Ma or sister.
“He’s a good friend.” It became clear that Rowan had picked up on Lara’s tone. With a smile she reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Been truly indispensable. I couldn’t have made the move here without his help.”
“So ye’re staying then? At the Campbell cottage?”
“I am. It’s a lovely area and town.” Rowan gave Lara a wide smile. “And everyone’s been so friendly. I know it’ll feel like home in no time at all.”
Angus had to bite back a laugh. Rowan had played Lara perfectly, putting an end to any escalation and diffusing the situation by calling to Lara’s obligation to be hospitable. He loved that she already felt at ease. Might make it easier for her if things got difficult.
“Aye. I’m sure it will. I’ll put yer order in, then.” And with that, Lara was off.
Rowan was now staring at him with amusement. “Ex-girlfriend of yours?”
He barked out a laugh. “Aye, but we were just kids—still in secondary school, and it didn’t last more than a few months.”
Her tone was teasing, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you certainly made a lasting impression. Did you leave all the girls heartbroken?”
“Me?” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he closed the distance between them. “Nae, love. I was always the one nursing a broken heart.”
She didn’t pull away, but rather held her ground, despite the energy that seemed to spark and crackle between them, leaving the air charged. “I don’t believe it, Angus Macleod.”
Freckles, porcelain skin, deep red curls, and full kissable lips. By the gods, he was a goner. “Nothing but the truth, though it’s all for the best.”
Her eyes narrowed with curiosity. “And why’s that?”
“Cause it leaves me single for when the right lass comes along.” So incredibly close. He could see the flecks of brown in her green eyes, and the intelligence there. Could breathe in her scent. She smelled like the forest, like peonies and wood fires, cedar and jasmine. It left him wanting to bury his head against the curve of her shoulder.
“Is that so?” A smile tugged at her lips, but he saw her quickly get it under control.
“Aye, it is.”
She sat back and picked up her napkin, folding it absent-mindedly, her eyes on what she was doing, even when she spoke. “And what if you get your heart broken again?”
“It’s the chance we all take, is it not?” With her mood turning towards the serious, Angus figured a change in subject was probably best. “Ye said ye hadn’t seen the stones yet. Is that correct?”
“I’m afraid I went the other way when I took my walk this morning.” Her eyes then drifted past him to the crowd beyond. “Speak of the devil; there’s Conall.”
And no seat to be had in the entire place. Angus hoped Conall would turn around and walk away, but he knew he’d not be that lucky. His worst fears came true as Conall wandered over in their direction, looking for a table.
When Conall spotted them, Rowan gave a quick wave in response to his head nod. With a look of apology at Angus, Rowan shifted over in the booth and addressed Conall. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I doubt there are any available seats.”
“I appreciate it.” Conall slid in next to Rowan. “Angus. How ye been?”
Angus tried to swallow his annoyance, knowing full well that if not for Rowan’s company, Conall would rather sit on the floor than with him. And what of the bad blood between their families? He guessed Conall was willing to put it on hold in the presence of a pretty face. At least that was something.
Angus decided he’d try his best to be civil—for Rowan’s sake. “Been well. And you? Heard ye have a new dog.”
“Aye. My sister left the pup with me when she took the job in Paris—though I half-suspect she left just to get away from the crazy mutt. She sends her regards, by the way.” Conall stared at him as if to judge his reaction. Or was it purely to annoy him?
“I’m sure she’ll enjoy Paris. It suits her.” It’d been at least a year or two since he’d last seen Moira, and a good five years since their relationship ended. “As for the dog, make sure ye bring her by if she’s not up to date with her vaccinations.”
“She’s up to date.” His tone was clipped, his eyes hard.
Before they could say another word, Lara showed up at their table. “Well, I ne’er thought I’d see the day. Look at the two of ye sitting together and not killing each other. The only thing marring the vision is that ye look like two hungry dogs fighting over the same bone, despite there being plenty of others to choose from. Typical.”
End of Sample
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Excerpt From
The Teacher's Billionaire
Book 1 in The Sherbrookes of Newport Series
By Christina Tetreault
Three days had passed since Dylan jumped on the family's private jet and headed back to New York City. During those three days, he'd thought of not only Callie but his damn agreement with Phillips. If he'd honestly felt Callie was any kind of threat, he wouldn't feel at all uncomfortable with keeping an eye on her or better yet having someone do it. But he didn't feel it was necessary. Nevertheless late Wednesday afternoon Dylan found himself in front of her apartment door again. Earlier that morning he'd flown into Boston. After a long and tedious business meeting he'd checked into his hotel suite before driving to Slatersville.
Running his excuse for being there through his head one more time, Dylan knocked on the door. Immediately, he heard barking followed by Callie's voice telling the dog to calm down.
As usual she pulled the door open without asking who it was first. “Oh! Hey,” Callie greeted, her eyes wide. It wasn't hard to tell she was surprised to see him. “Come on in,” she continued, pushing open the screen door.
“I hope this isn't a bad time.” He followed her into the kitchen. Today all kinds of papers and a laptop computer covered the table.
Reaching for some papers she quickly started to stack things up. “No, no. I was just about done with this.”
Dylan watched as she started to open her mouth to speak again, but then stopped and chewed her bottom lip instead. Automatically he envisioned himself nibbling on her lips.
Back to reality. Stay focused. This is Warren's daughter.
“I have some business meetings in Boston this week. Today's ended a little early, so I thought I would stop in and see you,” he explained using the story he'd settled on earlier. And it wasn't a complete lie. Since he'd known he was coming to the area to check up on her, he had his executive assistant reschedule some meetings that he planned to attend in Boston next month to this week.
“Sunday I had to leave suddenly and I didn't get a chance to see how things were going for you.” While it had sounded like a plausible excuse in his mind, now that he'd spoken it aloud it sounded weak. Pathetic.
Callie didn't immediately respond. Instead her intense blue eyes held his gaze as if searching for something. Worried that she might learn something he didn't want to share, he looked away.
“Good... okay, I guess. A little surreal but I'm glad I went.”
Dylan watched as she spoke and continued to remove papers from the table. Although she was trying to appear calm, he could tell from her rapid movements and haphazard manner that she was flust
ered.
“Do you want something to drink? A coffee or some lemonade? Or something to eat? I was just about to start cooking dinner.” The words rapidly tumbled out of her mouth, and she clutched her papers and books tightly against her chest like a shield.
Am I really making her nervous?
Though she hadn't actually asked him to stay, he pulled out one of the colorfully painted chairs and sat down. It felt like the right thing to do. “Whatever you're having. I was going to see if you wanted to go out, but home cooked is even better.” He'd originally planned to take her somewhere for dinner as an excuse to spend time with her. Staying here would work even better.
“Let me put this stuff away, and I'll start cooking.”
Dylan let his eyes follow her as she walked down to one of two doors off the short hall to what he guessed was her bedroom. Without intending to, he thought how shapely and tanned her legs appeared that afternoon on the beach. Much to his disappointment today her legs were completely hidden by a loose pair of gray yoga pants.
Thoughts of their day on the beach immediately brought back memories of how soft her skin had felt when he'd rubbed sunscreen on her back. It had felt like satin under his hands. He wondered if the skin on the rest of her body was just as smooth and soft. Images of him peeling off her clothes to find out overtook him. Immediately he felt his body respond.
Don't. She's not for you. Untucking his t-shirt to hide the evidence of his arousal, he hoped she didn't notice the change when she came back. If she did, would she guess what prompted it? Talk about embarrassing. It wasn't like he was a teenager who'd never been around a beautiful woman before. Hell, he'd dated Victoria’s Secret models in the past.
Was this really happening? Was she really going to cook dinner for Dylan? It was just too bizarre. Thankfully she already planned to make an actual meal tonight. Some nights she just threw together a sandwich for herself. Cooking for one could be a pain in the butt. However, earlier that morning she'd taken the tomato sauce and meatballs she'd made the week before out of the freezer so she could make lasagna tonight. Lasagna with a side of meatballs was one of her favorite meals. And one that usually lasted for a few nights.
Setting her papers and laptop down on her bed she wondered why he was really here. He'd said he was in Boston on business. Callie didn't doubt that could be true, but Boston wasn't exactly next-door. It took about forty minutes to get to her apartment from there.
Don't look for lies. He has no reason to lie to me. He's probably just being a gentleman again and checking to see how I am for Warren. Although if that was the case, why hadn't her father just called. Warren had her phone numbers. It just didn't make a lot of sense. Could he be interested in her? The sudden crazy thought popped into her head. It would explain his unexpected visit. Was it possible?
In your dreams maybe. Now, just go back out there, cook dinner, and enjoy another few hours in Dylan's company. Taking a deep breath she slowly exhaled. Just pretend you're cooking for you and Lauren.
“What can I help with?” he asked when she returned.
“Do you know how to cook?” Callie immediately regretted asking the question. At least to her ears it sounded crass. It didn't seem to faze Dylan though. He just shrugged and gave her a boyish smile that made him look more like a college student rather than the CEO of a major corporation.
“Only a little,” he acknowledged. “Basic stuff. Enough to survive without either eating out or getting takeout every night.”
She didn't need any help. She could throw together lasagna in her sleep. However if he had something to do then maybe she wouldn't feel he was so focused on her. Since his arrival her body had been on high alert and having him just sitting there watching wouldn't help.
“Umm, there is some stuff in the refrigerator for a salad.” Normally, Callie didn't have anything but the meatballs with her lasagna. She didn't need to. But if it kept him busy she was all for it.
“Even I can handle that,” he teased in his English accent that she loved. She could sit and listen to it all day in fact.
Has the kitchen always been this small? It seemed like every time she moved she bumped into Dylan. He'd gathered the vegetables from the refrigerator and spread them out farther down the counter. Pausing in her own preparations, she watched him struggle to peel a cucumber. In addition to removing the skin he was hacking the vegetable to death.
“You can leave the skin on you know.” She reached for more pasta, so she could start another layer of the lasagna.
Pausing he looked over at her. “I hate the skin. Can't eat cucumbers if they have skin on them.”
“Do you want some help then? By the time you get done there isn't going to be anything left to eat.”
His hand was warm when he handed her the cucumber. The brief contact brought back memories of the brotherly kiss he'd given her. Though it had been innocent, she felt herself blushing.
“It's all yours,” he said starting to cut up a tomato.
Placing a steaming pan on the table, Callie went back to the counter to grab the meatballs. “It's not a five star meal, but I hope it is okay. Sorry I don't have any wine to go with it. I've been meaning to pick some up but haven't gotten around to it.” Callie knew she was a fairly good cook, but compared to the meals Dylan usually ate she feared something would be lacking.
“It smells great,” Dylan assured her pulling out a chair for her.
Just as surprised tonight as she had been the first time he did it, Callie sat without replying. Having anyone pull a chair out for her was such a foreign event; she didn't know what to make of it. Leaning back, her bare shoulder brushed against his hand and tiny jolts of electricity danced across her skin. Moving away from him she asked the first thing that came to mind. “Are you in Boston for long?”
“Don't know for sure,” he replied picking up the salad bowl and offering it to her first. “It'll depend on how things go. Might only be a couple of days.”
Accepting the bowl, Callie was careful not to let her skin come in contact with his again. Her nerve endings just couldn't handle it. Another reaction like the one she just had and she might short out some of the synapses in her brain.
Neither said anything else for several minutes as they focused on their meal.
“Warren mentioned you might visit his ranch this summer,” Dylan said breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you ever been to Texas?”
“No, the only place outside of New England I've been in is Florida.” She hated admitting that to someone like Dylan who'd traveled the world but there was no point in lying.
Dylan helped himself to more salad. “I think you'll like it. Warren is glad you're thinking about visiting.”
Callie shrugged. She didn't have the heart to tell him she wasn't sure she would ever make the trip.
“I'm glad your visit went well last weekend. What did you end up doing with your dog while you were gone?”
It seemed like an odd question. Why did he care what she'd done with Lucky? Perhaps he was just making conversation. “My friend Lauren came by to feed and walk him.” Without elaborating further she continued eating.
“Did she know why you were going away?” Dylan stopped eating. “Does she know Warren's your father?”
“Yeah. Lauren's like a sister to me. There isn't much we keep from each other.” For the first time Callie noticed that Dylan had stopped eating. “Everything taste okay? You're not eating anymore.”
“Delicious. Just going to get more lemonade. Do you want more?” he replied pushing back his chair. Dylan didn't wait for an answer. Instead he simply refilled her glass. “Have you told anyone else?”
Callie shook her head. “No. Just Lauren. I'm not sure I'm ready for all my friends to know.” For a brief second Callie thought she saw a look of relief pass across Dylan's face. I'm imaging things again.
Dylan sat back down. “That makes sense. No need to rush things.” With that comment, Dylan changed the subject entirely by asking her about her
students and what they were learning.
With the simple switch in topics, she was again able to forget who Dylan actually was. Instead of seeing the rich, powerful CEO on the other side of the table, she saw someone she liked spending time with, and who seemed to like spending time with her. Someone who under normal circumstances she could see having a relationship with.
Stop. Right. There. We're from two different worlds. He dates A-listers that dress in Gucci and Armani, not school teachers that shop at JC Penney.
Thanks to her mind's jolt back to the real world, Callie felt the need to put some extra distance between Dylan and herself. So even though she wasn't finished eating, Callie stood. “Keep eating. I'm just going to start cleaning up this mess.” Turning to face the counter she busied herself with putting things away and wiping down the already clean counter.
“Why don't you let me do that?”
Callie froze in place. She hadn't heard him get up. Yet Dylan now stood directly behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Without waiting for a reply he removed the parsley from her hand and placed it on the shelf she'd been struggling to reach.
Slowly she dropped her arm back down and turned around expecting Dylan to step back. He didn't move. Rather he reached out to brush a stray piece of hair off her face.
As if on autopilot Callie closed her eyes as his fingers skimmed down her check and neck to her shoulder. With the weight of his hand resting on her shoulder, she waited not sure what to expect. And then she felt just the slightest bit of pressure as his lips settled over hers. Everything seemed to stop. The only things she was aware of were his callused hand on her shoulder and his lips on hers. The kiss was gentle. Tender.
This shouldn't be happening. Not with this man.
Even as her brain protested, Callie's body responded. She wanted to feel his hard-muscled body pressed up against hers. Even though she knew she should break contact, she took a step closer and rested her hands on his wide shoulders.
