Hot for the Scot

by Janice Maynard

  “Hayley. What is it? Tell me, my little love.”

  I shook my head, smiling up at him through my tears. “I can’t believe you’re real. I’ve imagined you, dreamed about you, wondered if this would ever happen for me. And now you’re here in my bed. I’d dance a Highland jig if I could.”

  He kissed me on the nose. “I’d be ever so much obliged if you wouldn’t. I’m working on a big finish, lass.”

  When he shifted and lifted my leg over his hip, my mood changed. Suddenly, I was on the edge of a cliff I hadn’t even known I was climbing. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, straining to bind myself to him irrevocably.

  “Show me, Angus,” I whispered. “Show me.”

  In this position I felt painfully vulnerable, my body his to command. With every powerful surge, he went deeper. I clung to him, panting, until a sharp stab of pleasure sent me over the edge and I cried out.

  Angus groaned and hammered into me, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing harsh and labored. When he shouted my name and came in me, I clung to him, awash in feelings that were impossible to describe.

  The room was quiet for a long time. We had weathered the first real storm in our relationship, but what happened now?

  Angus rolled onto his back and slung an arm over his eyes. “Stop it,” he said.

  “Stop what?” I wasn’t doing anything. I hadn’t budged an inch.

  “Stop thinking so much. Women make things harder than they have to be.”

  I wanted to dispute his claim, but he was probably right. Still, I had to cover a couple more points that nagged at the edges of my happiness. “May I ask you something?” I said, petting his chest as if to placate him.

  “You can ask me anything, little peach. I’m no’ likely to deny you at this point.”

  I hesitated, not sure how to phrase my question, but also not sure I wanted his honest answer. “It’s about earlier today,” I said. “When I met you at four o’clock.”

  “Aye. What is it?”

  “You were distracted and distant. We made the trip home almost like strangers. I wondered if seeing your friends had made you realize how much you missed soccer…football, I mean. Or was it that you were very worried about your mother?”

  He sat up on one elbow and looked at me, shaking his head. A lock of his hair tumbled over his forehead. “For such a smart lass, ye can be daft at times. I did have an epiphany of sorts. But it was all about you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He traced my collarbone with his fingertip, sending ripples of shivers all over my body. “I was having drinks with the lads, and it should have been natural and easy. But it wasn’t. For a year and a half I’ve wondered if I did the right thing by retiring. I came home to find something I was missing, but I had not stumbled upon it yet. And then I plucked you from the loch and everything began to make sense.”

  “So you didn’t enjoy seeing your friends?”

  “It was fun to see them, but the whole time I wanted to be back with you. Not just in bed, though that was certainly on my mind. But anywhere. Anyhow. I love you, Hayley Smith. I do.”

  I lifted a hand and cupped it behind his head, pulling him down for a kiss. I didn’t know quite what to say. I was stunned by his honesty and ashamed that I still had doubts when he seemed so sure.

  Angus tugged me into a sitting position. We both leaned back against the headboard with his arms around me. “You’re not saying anything,” he muttered. “Makes me nervous. How do you feel about weddings? Ye’ll want the whole nine yards, I suppose. White tulle. Balloons and doves.”

  I laughed softly, resting my head on his shoulder. “We can skip the balloons and doves, but yes, I’d love a big wedding. If we flew my parents over here, I could have the white tulle and the kilts and swords.”

  “Swords? I don’ know about that, my love. But I’ll see what I can do. And I’d be happy to fly all your friends and relatives over for the big event. What’s the use of having money if not to make my little Georgia lass happy?”

  “Oh, Angus. That would be wonderful.”

  It would be far too easy to rest in his embrace and let nature take its course. I loved him. He loved me. So far everything was working out beautifully. But I knew there was one more thing I had to address.

  I scooted away and turned to face him, sitting with my legs pretzel style. This next was so very important. I needed to be able to see the expression his face. I wanted to know he was giving me the whole truth and nothing but.…

  He propped one hand behind his neck and scratched his chest with the other. His gaze was wry. “I can hear the wheels in your head turning. Go ahead and say whatever it is that has your stomach in a knot. Let’s clear the air once and for all, Hayley. What’s bothering you?”

  “Children,” I said.

  He blanched. “You don’t want any?”

  “Of course, I do. I told you that before. But I don’t want us to rush into anything. What if you decide you want to coach football? It would be exciting to travel the world with you. With a child in tow? Not so much. And I’m a teacher, so I know how important stability is in a child’s life. If you want to coach, we need to figure that out before we start talking about babies.”

  He took my chin in his hand and kissed me slow and deep. No part of my body was touching his except for my lips, but I felt myself floating away on a haze of arousal.

  I tried to focus. “Angus!”

  His shoulders lifted and fell in a mighty sigh. “Okay. Okay. Ye’re like a dog with a bone. I do not have any desire to coach, now or ever. If ye must know, I’ve been dabbling with the idea of building a football complex in Drumnadrochit…and hosting camps there throughout the year. We could provide scholarships for the lads who need it. I’d like to have a world-class facility so the young pups in the region would have a place to train and still be with their families.”

  “Girls, too?”

  “Aye. Girls, too. I thought you could help me run it, if you like. You’ve plenty of experience with children.”

  “That’s an amazing idea.” I launched myself at him, smothering his face with kisses. “You are an exceptional man, Angus Munro.”

  He held me at arms’ length. “Naught but a bastard lad who tried to make good.” There were shadows in his eyes.

  I resolved then and there to make it my mission that the men he knew, the ones he had grown up with, would learn to treat him like anyone else. If his fame had kept them at a distance, I would bridge the gap. Angus needed his boyhood friends, and they needed him.

  Angus palmed my breast, testing its weight. “If ye’re done talking now, lass, I’ve a few more things on my mind.”

  “By all means. Good relationships are based on good communication.”

  He tumbled me backward onto the mattress, his face alight with laughter, his eyes loving and warm. “Sometimes a man and a woman can communicate without saying anything at all.”

  I closed my eyes, sighing as he entered me slowly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He was mine, all mine. This big sexy Scot was mine.

  Epilogue

  “Hurry,” I said. “We can’t be late.” My official vacation was over. In a few minutes, I would be reunited with my two best friends. Prior to splitting up for our individual adventures in Scotland, we had agreed on a time and a place to rendezvous in Inverness before heading back across the ocean.

  Today was the day, and the little teashop was just around the corner.

  Angus still lingered in front of a shop window. “I want to buy that for you,” he said, pointing.

  I peeked over his shoulder. The necklace was silver, set with amethysts. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “But we can look at it later.” I reached up to straighten his tie. He had insisted on wearing a suit to meet my friends. I’d never imagined he could look any sexier or more handsome than he usually did, but I was wrong. In black-and-white dress clothes, he was stunning.r />
  The sun picked out glints of red in his hair. His jaw was clean-shaven, his shoulders broad and square.

  Angus cocked his head. “Are ye afraid they won’t like me, lass?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why the nerves?”

  I leaned against him, closing my eyes as his arms came around me to hold me tight. “I’m so happy, it scares me.”

  He lifted me off my feet and swung me in a circle, laughing out loud. “Ye’re a daft wee lass, but I love you, Hayley from Georgia. Take me to meet your friends. And let the rest of our life begin, mo chridhe.”

  Be sure not to miss the next book in Janice Maynard’s Kilted Heroes series

  Scot of My Dreams

  Read on for a special sneak peek!

  A Lyrical Shine e-book on sale May 2016.

  Chapter One

  On the East Coast train…somewhere north of Edinburgh…

  I had done a lot of crazy things in my thirty-two years. But borrowing money against my business to make a month-long trip to Scotland was possibly the most reckless. It annoyed me that neither of my companions seemed half as frazzled as I was, not that I would ever let them guess I was flipping out.

  Hayley, love her heart, was in her element with maps and guidebooks and half a dozen lists, her mood beyond excited. Once a teacher, always a teacher. McKenzie on the other hand, was the picture of calm. Her manicure was perfect, her blonde hair swung in a soft platinum-blonde curve at her shoulders, and the expression on her face was dreamy.

  It frustrated me that neither of my friends was taking my warnings seriously. I knew they were in for a big disappointment. They had both built this Outlander obsession to such a fever pitch that no trip to Scotland in real life would ever measure up. “Jamie Fraser is a fictional character,” I said. “Like Harry Potter or Jason Bourne. You’re not going to find him wandering around the Scottish Highlands waiting to sweep you off your feet.”

  Hayley looked at me with hurt, puppy dog eyes, but McKenzie only smiled. “I know that. I’m not delusional. But at least I have a whimsical soul. You wouldn’t know a romantic moment if it smacked you in the face.”

  I blinked, not expecting the insult. McKenzie gave the impression that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But she could bite when backed into a corner. McKenzie and I were about as different as two women could be. But we had begun our lives at the same daycare in suburban Atlanta, the one run by Hayley’s endlessly patient mother.

  Hayley intervened. “You’re both jet-lagged,” she said. “If you’re not going to enjoy the trip, at least get some sleep so you won’t be grumpy when we get to Inverness. I’m tired of listening to both of you.”

  I slumped back into my seat and sulked. We wouldn’t be so tired if McKenzie hadn’t dragged us out of bed far too early. She’d wanted to make it to King’s Cross train station in time to get her picture taken with all the Harry Potter stuff. I was a fan of the kid wizard, too, but it wouldn’t have killed us to sleep in for another hour.

  We were sitting in the first class compartment thanks to McKenzie’s generosity. She’d grown up with money…lots of it. But a recent bequest from her late grandmother’s estate had prompted this bucket list trip. We were all three madly enamored with the Outlander TV series. McKenzie decided we should travel to Scotland and seek out our own adventures, preferably with a kilt-clad hero involved.

  I was skeptical about the hero business. Guys like the fictional Jamie Fraser, even if they existed in real life, were about as rare as honest politicians. Since romance wasn’t a priority for me, my goal for this trip was to see if I had it in me to relax. I’d been working pretty much nonstop since I was fourteen, and the habit was ingrained. Hayley and McKenzie might have their own private agendas, but they hadn’t shared them with me at this point. Like Claire Randall, the gutsy heroine of Outlander, we were supposed to find our own gorgeous, chivalrous modern-day Highlander.

  Hayley and McKenzie really believed it might happen. As far as I was concerned, it was a harmless fantasy.

  I tried to sleep, but I was too buzzed. Though my seat was plush, first class on the train meant little more than free Wi-Fi and free food. The Internet was decent, the meals and snacks unimaginative. On the other hand, I had flown from Georgia to Heathrow on a jumbo jet, with a bed that reclined and an honest-to-God feather pillow and comforter, so I had no complaints. McKenzie’s generosity was legend. All I had to cover for the next four weeks was lodging and meals.

  I yawned. “Tell me again why we didn’t fly straight to Inverness?”

  “You know why,” Hayley said. She opened her notebook. “We agreed that since we can’t actually go back in time like Claire does, this train journey will be symbolic of our desire to go off the grid for a month. No cell phones. No Internet. No Facebook. No Twitter. You agreed, Willow.”

  “Under duress,” I muttered.

  McKenzie snickered. “You’re bitchy when you’re tired.”

  “And you’re even more annoying than usual,” I drawled. Even though we’d all known each other as toddlers and children, McKenzie’s parents had pulled her out of public school when we were nine and enrolled her in an elite private academy. My own situation had taken a nosedive about that time. Fortunately, even though we were separated by circumstance, Hayley’s mother had insisted we all keep in touch at least occasionally. Then about seven years ago, McKenzie and Hayley and I reconnected via Facebook and managed to resurrect a friendship that was as solid today as it had been when we were learning cursive and how to multiply six times eight.

  I would walk through fire for either of my two companions. But I was not at my best at the moment. All I could think about while a headache jackhammered its way through my skull was that I had abandoned my finally-breaking-even hair salon to fly across the ocean and pursue an idea that was unrealistic at best.

  Our plan was to stay together tonight at the hotel adjacent to the train station in Inverness. Then tomorrow morning we would all go our separate ways. I’d feel better after that, because there would be no witnesses if I decided to have a tiny little meltdown.

  Hayley tapped the notebook where she had underlined the final piece of our plan. “And remember, every night at nine o’clock, or as close as we can make it, we’ll turn on our phones and check for any emergency messages from each other.”

  I nodded. “I won’t forget.” I could see that McKenzie was worried about Hayley. McKenzie knew I had street smarts, but our schoolteacher friend had a naïve streak a mile wide.

  McKenzie was Hayley’s opposite in almost every way. She was sophisticated and extremely well-traveled and always willing to try something new. Fashion and adventure came easily to those with plenty of money in the bank. Truthfully though, even if I won the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes, under the skin I’d still a blue-collar girl from Georgia, and not a fraction as exciting as McKenzie.

  With all that cash, it wouldn’t be surprising if McKenzie were a pampered diva. But she wasn’t. The truth was, I adored her. She probably didn’t know how much. I tended to keep my deepest emotions under wraps. Life was safer that way.

  I loved Hayley, too. At the moment, though, I was panicky and wishing I had never agreed to this mad scheme. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, eyeing the passing scenery surreptitiously through lashes that were tipped in sapphire mascara.

  Inverness couldn’t get here soon enough…

  Meet the Author

  Photo by Jamie Pearson Photography

  USA Today bestselling author Janice Maynard knew she loved books and writing by the time she was eight years old. But it took multiple rejections and many years of trying before she sold her first three novels. After teaching kindergarten and second grade for a number of years, Janice took a leap of faith and quit her day job. Since then she has written and sold over thirty-five books and novellas.

  During a recent trip to Scotland, Janice enjoyed getting to know the “motherland”.
Her grandfather’s parents emigrated from the home of bagpipes, heather, and kilts. Janice lives in east Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, traveling, and spending time with family.

  Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job!

  You can connect with Janice at http://www.twitter.com/JaniceMaynard, www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReaderPage, http://www.wattpad.com/user/JaniceMaynard, and http://www.instagram.com/JaniceMaynard.