"Well, let's see how my search goes. I may not have a choice except to meet with your aunt. I'm rapidly running out of options."
Once they finished eating, Greg excused himself and returned to work. Fiona cleaned up the kitchen and tried to think of something she could do that wouldn't involve following him into the living room.
She was being silly, she admonished herself. What she was experiencing was merely a delayed adolescent infatuation. She'd missed that part of growing up and she needed to learn to deal with it.
There was no time like the present.
With that in mind, Fiona went to the living room and curled up in her chair with her book. From time to time she glanced at Greg, who was using her desk to sort through files. From the way the boxes were arranged, he must have gone through six of them today, with two more waiting to be opened.
Once she began to read, the magic of the written word swept her into the story and she no longer noticed her surroundings.
McTavish was in his favorite place, on the rug in front of the fireplace. Tiger sat on the arm of her chair, dozing. When she glanced up, she realized that sleet was pinging against the windows.
She glanced at Greg and discovered that he was relaxed back in the chair at her desk watching her. From his comfortable position, it looked as though he'd been doing so for a while.
Her cheeks immediately heated up.
"Why do you do that?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Blush every time you find me looking at you?"
She swallowed, wishing she could think of some lighthearted reply. The truth was, she didn't have much experience in that field … which she finally decided was the only answer she could offer.
"I'm not used to being watched," she admitted, rubbing her cheek in a vain attempt to hide her discomfort.
"Are all the men around here blind?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Hasn't anyone ever told you what a beautiful woman you are, Fiona? What's more important is that your beauty comes from inside, as well."
She closed her eyes, too flustered to attempt a reply of any sort.
"I'm not trying to embarrass you, you know," he said softly from his position across the room from her.
"You don't have to try, it seems. You said you aren't used to talking about yourself. Well, I'm not used to having attention on me, either. I find it uncomfortable."
"I'm not a very interesting subject."
"There's no reason for us to become better acquainted." Fiona picked up her book and resumed reading, although she had no idea what the words meant. She was too aware of the man across the room. She was concentrating so hard on ignoring him that when he spoke she jumped.
"I used to work for the New York Police Department until three years ago when I resigned and opened my own investigation agency. That pretty much sums up my life."
She thought about his wife, Jill, who he felt died because of him, and his daughter, whom he obviously loved very much.
Fiona nodded. "I apologize for pushing to learn more about you," she said once again. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for bed." What she needed was to get away from this man. Whether he mentioned them or not, she was aware of the strong emotions he held firmly in check. At the moment, all she wanted to do was to draw him into her arms and assure him that he was all right.
He would never believe it, of course. She had no reason to believe that what she felt was true. All she knew was that this man affected her as no other had.
She walked past him on her way to the door and he stopped her by touching her arm. When she looked up at him inquiringly, he said, "There is something about me that you need to know, though."
Fiona stepped away from his touch. "And that is?"
"I'm very attracted to you, which is unusual for me. I guess the reason I'm telling you is that I want to reassure you that I would never take advantage of this situation. You have nothing to fear from me."
His eyes reflected what he said with such clarity that she hadn't needed to hear the words. Except that she did.
"My confession has obviously struck you speechless, which makes me feel more of a fool than ever," Greg said with a hint of irritation. "I shouldn't have mentioned it."
"It isn't that, Greg," she whispered. "What unnerves me is the fact that I'm attracted to you, as well."
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
His eyes darkened with a surge of what Fiona guessed was lust, which was understandable given the circumstances. She felt the same thing at the moment and wondered if her expression mirrored her feelings. For the first time in her life, Fiona wanted to become intimate with a man—with this man. She wanted to touch and explore him without interruption. She wanted to feel his heart beat beneath her palm. She wanted to become one with him.
Her mouth went dry at the thought.
He closed his eyes briefly before saying, "I wish you hadn't said that." His voice reflected pained amusement. "On that note, I think I'd better say good-night, as well."
She could see his bedroom door through the archway and watched as he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at her. "Of course I wouldn't be taking advantage of the situation if you decided to kiss me, would I?"
Fiona heard the words and her body immediately responded. She felt disconnected from her body, confused by all that she was feeling, while her body knew exactly what she wanted. As though she'd lost her will to resist, she walked toward him, stopping inches away from his chest.
He cupped her face in his palms. "This isn't a good idea and we both know it. I don't want to hurt you in any way."
Several thoughts swirled in her head at his words. She knew that although he wanted her on a physical level, he was irritated by the attraction. Common sense told her that she was foolish to linger there in the hall with him, and yet all she wanted to do was wrap herself around his warmth.
"I'm fairly sturdy, you know," she managed to say over the lump in her throat.
His eyes filled with amusement before his mouth curved into a smile. "Sturdy isn't the first word that comes to mind whenever I think of you … or when I dream of you, which seems to be happening with alarming frequency."
The lump in her throat blocked anything else she might have said. It was just as well that he didn't wait for a response. Instead, he leaned down and, with a gentleness she would never have expected from this man, brushed his lips lightly across her mouth as though to accustom her to his touch.
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she allowed herself just to feel. All thoughts were released into the ether as she gave in to sensation. He brushed the tip of his tongue along the line of her mouth, as though he wanted something from her.
She sighed, her lips opening slightly. He oh-so-delicately skimmed his mouth over hers, settling against her until she felt the bold ridge of his erection.
She didn't pull away, although he was in no way restraining her. Instead, she moved into him, silently signaling that she didn't want the kiss to end. Not just yet, please.
He shifted his hands slightly, carefully, until he touched both her shoulders. She went up on tiptoe, wanting something more without knowing what it was, until he slipped his tongue inside. She knew now she was in deep trouble because she wanted more, so much more, and knew it would be beyond foolish for her to continue.
With all the strength she could muster, Fiona stepped back, breathing hard, her hands clenched at her sides. Only then did she realize that she hadn't touched him at all—at least not with her hands. Then again, she felt as though through their shared kiss, she had somehow touched his soul … as he had hers.
"I—uh—have to let McTavish outside now," she said breathlessly.
Greg nodded solemnly, only his eyes betraying his amusement. "Of course you do," he agreed in a soothing voice. "Good night, Fiona. Sleep well." He turned and went into his room, quietly closing the door behind him.
McTavish, having heard h
is name, joined her in the hallway. She rested her hand on his shoulder and relied on his strength to aid her in navigating the hall. They walked together to the back door, which she opened. McTavish leaped out as though he'd been caged for most of the day. She knew better because he'd had a nice long run after he ate earlier.
Fiona stepped outside with him, allowing the cold night air to cool her blood. The sleet had turned into a heavy mist. She walked to the bench that overlooked her herb garden and sat, staring blindly into the distance.
She felt as though she were a speeding train out of control and nearing a washed-out bridge. She needed to put on her brakes but wasn't at all certain they would hold if she spent much more time with Greg.
She'd never met anyone like him, which wasn't saying much, really. Her choice to distance herself from others had kept her more isolated than she'd realized until Greg arrived. Instead of feeling hemmed in by having to share her home, she'd discovered that she enjoyed his company.
Would she be able to return to her usual routine once he left, without feeling as though there was something lacking in her life?
McTavish appeared out of the night and placed his head on her thigh. "Hi, fellow," she said. "Are you ready to go to bed?"
She'd used the magic word and he immediately trotted to the back door. It wasn't that he cared one way or the other about bed, since he slept whenever he felt like it. However, he knew that at bedtime he received a special doggie treat.
As soon as she opened the door, he charged in ahead of her and slid to a stop in front of the pantry door. She shook her head at how easy it was to please a dog. Much easier than pleasing a person … a man. She had no experience in that area and wouldn't know how to begin.
Why was she thinking about it? There could be no relationship with Greg. He had a family and a job in the States and he was eager to return home. At most, he might find her an amusing distraction while he was in Scotland. As for Fiona, she wasn't at all certain she could be a distraction of any kind, amusing or not.
She gave McTavish his treat, made certain everything was locked up and the fire tended for the night and went upstairs. She sincerely hoped she could sleep. If she didn't want a repeat of these confusing feelings every time she was around Greg, she had better plan her schedule for the next couple of days so that she was away from home most of the time.
Surely he would have ended his search by then and moved on.
She could only hope.
* * *
"Good morning," Greg said, walking into the kitchen the next day.
He looked rested. Well, bully for him, she thought, silently pouring his coffee. She had tossed and turned all night, unable to relax. The little sleep she managed was filled with dreams of Greg. Of course her dreams were a little vague as to what actually happened, but she had definitely felt the heightened emotions he provoked within her, exactly what she hadn't wanted to experience.
"Did you sleep all right?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of concern. He'd probably noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes … another mark against her fair skin.
She gave him a quick glance. "Just fine." She set a plate piled high with food in front of him before returning to the sink where she washed up the utensils she'd used.
"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked.
"I've already eaten, thank you," she said without turning around. "I need to be in town early this morning, I don't know when I'll be back."
"Before you leave, there's something I need to ask you."
She closed her eyes, stifled a sigh and carefully dried her hands before she turned and faced him.
Oh, my, yes, he looked exceedingly virile this morning; there was no getting around it. The silver gray of his heavy knit sweater matched his eyes … as though he needed anything to call attention to them.
"Yes?"
"Ever since you mentioned your aunt, I've been thinking. Rather than continue going through the files you have, I believe I might save time by discussing my search with her. Who knows? Maybe she knows something about Moira and Douglas. If so, she could very well be the answer to my search." He picked up his fork and began to eat.
Fiona thought about it. He was right. That would be a workable plan. Plus it had the added bonus of removing him from her home. The trick would be to get Aunt Minnie to cooperate. She didn't leave her house much. More than that, she didn't care for strangers. Fiona had a hunch that Greg would be quite a shock to Aunt Minnie's system.
"What do you think?"
She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. "Aunt Minnie knows everybody. If your client was born in Craigmor, I'm sure that Aunt Minnie would know her parents. The trick will be to get her to discuss them with you."
He nodded as he finished a piece of toast. "I know. I ran into the same lack of response when I was in Craigmor asking questions. You Scots are a suspicious group, all right," he said lightly.
She could not resist returning his smile. "If you think the townspeople are suspicious, they're chatterboxes compared to Aunt Minnie. She's the keeper of many secrets and is known for being very closemouthed."
"Do you think she might talk to me if you go with me?"
She felt a sinking feeling deep in her stomach. "Me?"
"Yes. You mentioned earlier that you would be willing to introduce us and let her know that I'm harmless so that she'll be willing to cooperate."
She'd forgotten she'd made the suggestion. What had she been thinking? "I did, didn't I?" she replied with dismay.
"Then you'll go with me?" he asked.
After a moment, she said, "I don't think it's a good idea for me to go. I have so much to do and I…" She stopped, hearing herself blather. She frowned and picked up his plate, turning toward the sink.
Greg stood. "You certainly got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, didn't you? Why the attitude change? What's wrong with my suggestion?"
She stood convicted but refused to give him the pleasure of admitting it. "After giving the matter more thought, I don't think my going with you is necessary. A phone call telling her about you would serve the same purpose. I can call and explain that you want to meet with her. After that, you're on your own."
"You don't like her?" he guessed.
"I adore her."
"Then what's the problem?"
I'll be cooped up in an automobile with you for four hours if I go with you. She couldn't tell him that, of course. But what other excuse did she have? She'd taken a few days off from time to time and the people around Glen Cairn had managed to survive just fine without her.
She turned away from the sink and looked at him. How honest did she want to be with him? She gazed into his mesmerizing eyes.
Not very.
In a conscious effort to sound offhand, she said, "You just caught me unprepared, that's all. If you think I will be of help in your investigation, of course I'll go with you."
"Good," he said, stepping away from the table. She hoped he didn't intend to come any closer. Right now the table was between them. She wasn't sure whom the table was protecting at the moment, but she didn't want to delve into that particular subject, either. "When can you leave?" he asked.
"Not before noon or thereabouts. I have several people to see today."
He nodded. "All right. While you're gone I'll continue looking through files. Who knows? I may find just what I'm looking for and I won't have to drag you away from your duties."
Was he making fun of her? she wondered. She stared at him but all she saw was an awareness … of her. The prospect of spending several hours in the car with her didn't appear to trouble him, while all she wanted to do was to stay as far away from him as possible.
"Well," she said briskly, "I must go. I'll be back as quickly as possible. We don't want to be on the road after dark, if we can avoid it." She went out and closed the door.
Greg placed his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels, staring at the door. McTavish walked over to the door and sni
ffed, then turned to look at Greg.
"Wonder what put me on her snit list? You have any idea?"
McTavish wagged his tail in a sympathetic gesture and walked over to Greg. Greg scratched his ears. "I'll bring in some more boxes. Who knows? Maybe I'll find something and be out of her hair by nightfall. From her attitude, that would please her the most."
He stopped midmorning and made more coffee. He glanced at his watch. Tina would be home from school by now.
He called and chatted with Tina and Helen, gave them an update on his plans. When he was ready to end the conversation, he said to Helen, "If this trip back to Craigmor doesn't turn up new information, I'm going to head home. I've checked out every lead I could find. I have a hunch the people in the village know something and could help, but no one will talk to me. I'm hoping that Fiona will convince her aunt to cooperate with me."
"Who is Fiona?" Helen asked.
"My landlady at the moment. I thought I told you. She's the daughter of the doctor who delivered the triplets twenty-five years ago."
"Do you like her?" Helen asked.
"Maybe I do. I don't know. She's different from other women I've known."
"You mean she's different from Jill."
He didn't answer right away. When he did, he said, "You're right. She couldn't be more different."
"How old is she?"
He laughed. "Helen? What are you doing? What difference does it make?"
"I just wondered, that's all."
"Around twenty-five. She looks younger than that."
"I didn't realize you were staying in her home."
"Don't read anything into it, okay?"
Helen's chuckle sounded in his ear. "You're certainly becoming defensive, Greg. I wonder why?"
"Look, I've got to go. I'll give you a call tomorrow, okay?"
"Enjoy yourself," was Helen's parting shot.
Oh, great. Now he had his mother-in-law interested in his social life. She knew better than that. He had no social life.
He remembered the kiss from the night before. He'd felt weird being stirred up over a woman who was nothing like the women he'd dated before he married Jill.
MAN IN THE MIST Page 8
