Under His Kilt

by Melissa Blue

  It was hard for him to breathe so he answered without thinking. “Do you now?”

  She made a sound between a yell and a growl. The noise brought him up short and then Ian’s gaze went back to the shirt she’d worn under the jumper and his heart tripped in his chest. Irritated to see him on her doorstep was one thing, but now he could hear it all. She sounded as pissed as he felt. Spitting mad. The kind where if you raised your voice above a certain decibel it would just turn into screaming, so you kept it low and calm. Joce was livid.

  Lexxie had been sitting at the door, watching them but trotted over to him. He scooped her up. She wiggled in his arms and tried to lick his face. He pulled back, laughing softly and scratched under her neck.

  “You missed me girl? I missed you. They don’t make socks as warm as you.” He glanced up and Jocelyn swallowed, looked away and then moved over to a box near the kitchen.

  Ian frowned though he wanted to grin like a sodding idiot. “What’s in the box?”

  “Your things.” Her words were clipped. “Was about to call you and ask you where I could send them.”

  “So nice of you.”

  She laughed. “I am, aren’t I? My first urge was to burn them on the barbeque outside, but that screamed a little too much like She-Devil and I didn’t want to come across crazy. Even though you drive me nuts sometimes.”

  He smiled, the fight not draining out of him because they were going to fight, but the ache loosened from around his heart. “And then what did you decide to do?”

  “Cut them up into little pieces.”

  “Everything?” he asked.

  “Everything you left. Including your tooth brush. Do you want to know why? Do you want to talk?”

  Since her voice was raising above the raspy calm, he put Lexxie down. The dog plopped right on his foot. “Let me have it then.”

  “You left, you goddamn bastard. Yes, bastard. We were dating and not in a way. You lived with me. We had fantastic sex. I wasn’t just some lay to you. Don’t lie to me. Don’t you dare. You may know meaningless, but I know what more is like.”

  “You do know that.” He kept his voice calm and knew how much madder it’d make her.

  “I do,” she threw at him. “And when you have it and things break, you don’t just leave a note. You don’t act like you can’t see me when I’m across the room. You look at me with longing, goddammit.”

  “True.”

  She huffed and paced faster. “Stop agreeing with me. I want to fight. An ugly, knock-down-drag-out fight. I want to fight like we fuck. Dirty and both of us need some bruises when we walk away from this. That’s who we are.”

  He shrugged, watching her get more riled up. After days of believing, weeks really, that Joce didn’t care enough to fight with him, this was a beautiful sight. “Except when you’re cooking for me.”

  She waved her hand. “Yeah, that’s beside the point, because I am never cooking for you again. You left me. You bastard.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pocket. She wasn’t done. Was just getting started if the flush on her face was any sign. He gave her extra fodder. “Aye. I am a dobber, but you stood in your bedroom after we did something incredible. Something that meant something out of bed and you fucking knew it. When I think on it now, I could see it as plain as day on your face, but I couldn’t understand what it was before. And then—and then you gave me nothing but a cold shoulder. How dare you?”

  She practically snarled at him, and he grinned. “What the hell are you smiling about? Yes, I—we—you were leaving me. How—why would I just rip my heart out and hand it to you just so you could stomp on it? Why?”

  “Because when you love someone, you don’t be daft. You let them know. Who gives a shite if they throw it back at you or walk away from you? You tell them. As fucking loudly as you can. Just so they know. That’s living, Joce. Bucket list material. You walked away first and it hurt like a son of a bitch. My first. My real first. You’re my bastard, Jocelyn.”

  He let out a breath because his heart was galloping in his chest, and she’d gone silent. “I’m not here for my clothes. I don’t give a shite about them. I could buy more, but I left them with you, hoping you’d call me a bugger. Do anything. Say anything to me, but you didn’t. Why?

  “Ach,” he said, the temper not feigned now. “Doesn’t matter, because still you stand there not saying anything when you’re wearing my fucking shirt.”

  “What?” She stopped pacing and looked down. Cambridge stretched across her high and tight breasts. She gasped and covered the words with her hands as though that would do any good.

  His heart softened even more. “Did you miss me? Is that why you’re wearing it?”

  She sighed and met his gaze, letting her arms drop down to her sides. “It still smelled like you.”

  “And?” he pushed for her to question him.

  She swallowed, licked her lips and finally asked, “Do you love me?”

  “Aye.” She ducked her head and bit her lip.

  Fucking Joce. “Did I go and make you cry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I kiss you now?”

  She sniffed. “My dog won’t let you move.”

  “Food,” he said to Lexxie and she jumped up and toddled to the kitchen. He stepped forward and Jocelyn met him halfway.

  God, he’d missed her. He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her first before anything else could be said. Or before words even bothered to show up in his head. Her fingers curled into his shirt and she kissed him back just as hard.

  He pulled away only enough to look at her for what felt like the first time. “No way can I be away this long again. I’d worked myself into a good temper. And I made you wait to hear me say I love you. That puts me in the wrong.”

  “Ian?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  He grinned at her. “I knew the moment I saw the shirt.”

  She huffed again. “Well, pretend like you didn’t and the words—”

  He kissed her, hard. Again. And again. “I knew.”

  And then he saw when she got it. “I get wallet space.”

  “I get a tweed jacket. Got any single friends we can torture? I think that’ll be our weekend fun.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I think we can come up with better ways to entertain ourselves. Never went out for drunken Karaoke. A tat. Was kind of busy. If you don’t mind doing it all again. With me.”

  “I like that sound of that.”

  “Aye?”

  “No ’r’, my bonnie lass.”

  She grinned. “Still don’t know what that means, but I love the sound it.”

  “We’ve got time.” She frowned and worried her lip. “Ask,” he said.

  “But your business?”

  “The whole goal was to get the contacts, get bigger and make a home base. Being the boss, I’m saying home is here. Because I can’t be without you. If you don’t want me, let me know now. I’m not the guy with words or flowers, but I will love you. If I have to leave, it’s you I’m always going to come back to. And if I have to wait, I’ll do it. For you.”

  She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “You don’t have to wait. There’s no end date for me. Not with you.”

  “Aye?”

  “If you miss me or I miss you, either of us can hop on a plane. Have phone sex, too. Never done that, by the way.”

  “No?” he asked with interest.

  She shook her head again and smiled. “Couples do anything and everything to make it work because it matters.” Her voice broke. “You matter to me, so much.”

  At that, Ian kissed her again, deeply, because he could and he needed to. She was sweet and right. Perfection. And without a doubt, he knew she loved him. Smartly, and with his heart somewhere between his throat and chest, Ian considered himself one lucky bastard.

  Bio

  Melissa Blue’s writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. Thi
s would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. Eventually she upgraded to a computer. She’s still typing away on the same computer, making imaginary people fall in love.

  Where to find me online or places to sign up for my newsletter to get the latest news:

  My Blog

  My Website

  Special Thanks

  Like all my books it’s taken a village to make it presentable. So in no particular I will like to thank Suzan Butler, Sasha Delvin and Holley Trent. Aimee Duffy took the brunt of the first draft so she gets a huge, huge thanks. She also checked to make sure he sounded like a truly Dirty Scot. Last but not least, Jennifer Leeland who not only read the second draft, but listened to me whine for months about this book. I can’t thank any of you enough.

  Shawna Guzman, the editor of many of my books, gets her own paragraph in this thanks. She knows why.

  Anything wonky in this story falls squarely on my shoulders. They tried. They really did try.

  Other Titles by Melissa Blue

  Everything He Dreamed, Palmer Island Series

  Phoenix Taylor takes one look at Tony Creed and knows she’s in trouble. Everything inside her screams run. If she didn’t need the finishing bonus from Everything You Need, she’d listen to her gut. The company has hired her as project manager to build cabins on Palmer Island and work with Creed Construction. Tony’s the general contractor and there’s no way to avoid him. Just when she has a plan to move on and close the door on a very dark chapter in her life…there he is. Falling for the contractor with the wicked smile and infectious charm doesn’t fit into her plan. She’s not ready for that captivating emerald gaze or the trouble Tony can surely cause her heart.

  Tony Creed has forced his father to draw up a contract that explicitly states this will be his very last job before going on a much needed vacation from the family business. The pressure’s getting to him, and he feels himself turning into his father, a hard and heartless man. He just needs a break, period. He doesn’t have the time or energy to give this simmering attraction between him and the new project manager. All he wants to do is focus on building the cabins for the next six months and be a free man. After all, he’s not looking for anything, but her vivacious personality has his mind wandering back to her much more than he wants to admit.

  They just have to keep things light, which is hard at first, and then just impossible when something just a little supernatural intervenes on their well-laid plans.

  Weekend Lover, Down With Cupid Shorts series

  The weekend that started it all…

  Sebastian Clark’s intentions are simply to buy Nicole, a beautiful stranger, a drink, make her laugh and disappear before dawn. As a publicist for Snapshot, his days are long and his moral code is to always keep things light. Until he touches her and lust fades any lasting hold on common sense. His questionable motives pave a road to unbelievable pleasure.

  Nicole Harrison is on the fast track for a promotion at Limelight, a PR boutique. She’s given up dating, especially handsome men. They tend to suck up time and sometimes common sense. Sebastian has the ability to do both. One single night won’t break her own rules and Nicole gives in to temptation.

  The boundaries are clear—no last names, no shared details. She has only to walk away to end the affair. One night turns into three, and her naughty little weekend becomes more than just sex.

  One night of consenting pleasure sets Sebastian Clark and Nicole Harrison on a course that could ultimately destroy them both, or bring them a love for all time…

  Down With Cupid, Down With Cupid Shorts series

  Two months after a weekend of forbidden pleasure should have been more than enough time for Nicole Harrison to forget Sebastian’s charming smiles and wicked kisses. During those nights together, Nicole temporarily left behind her driven lifestyle as a publicist and took what she wanted, experiencing freedom and the wild abandon of their reckless agreement. And that’s the hardest part to erase from her memory.

  Unfortunately, one detail was tantamount—Sebastian Clark is a publicist and now he’s gunning for her job.

  Sebastian never allows himself to get tangled in knots by a woman, and, yet, he can’t stop dreaming about Nicole’s silky thighs and ripe lips, how she’d shuddered under his touch. He doesn’t need a woman who is more of a shark than he when it comes to PR, except he’s seen every, single soft inch of her. Now they’ll have to work side by side and somehow ignore what feels like unfinished business.

  Will the weekend they spent together turn out to be more than they could have ever imagined, or will past hurts and career ambitions stand in their way? Only Cupid knows…

  Excerpt from Everything He Dreamed

  Chapter One

  Adrenaline flooded into Phoenix Taylor’s veins. Heady with anticipation, she had to force herself to stay still, stay hidden and not move just yet. The convention’s hallway was empty, but the line leading up to the glass doors wrapped around the building. Her gaze cataloged every restless twitch, every cell phone call received or made.

  She had the best vantage point in a corner, looking like any other employee, bored and ready to get this over with. None of her subordinates gave her any attention, exactly as she’d instructed. There was a method to her madness. Her plan was working like a well-oiled machine, except for Angie.

  “What are we waiting for?” the other woman asked.

  Her boss and contact for Everything You Need had the patience of a toddler who’d been given permission to land head first into a sheet of cake. Phoenix’s gaze zeroed in on a man, not quite the first to arrive for the open construction bidding but close enough to let her know he put thought into arriving on time.

  “See the man about twenty back, gray slacks, black shirt and no tie?”

  “Yeah, what about him?”

  A frown creased Phoenix’s brows until she chided herself. Not everyone could see what she saw. Most people, lucky ducks, didn’t have to hone their observation skills. They’d lived their life unaware of everything but the obvious. Efficiently, she tucked away the thoughts and focused on the man again.

  “His phone’s rung at least thirty times in the past ten minutes. Text messages. And each time he’s smiled. Not once has he double-checked the plans he’ll show us. Either he’s prepared or he’s going to fumble his way through from nerves, but you’d best believe he’s not turning that phone down to vibrate. We’re not taking his bid.”

  Angie’s eyes narrowed on the man and something flashed behind her golden-eyed gaze. “You’re right. He’s not the one.”

  The way the woman said the words sent a chill down Phoenix’s spine. Something was off about her boss, and the rudeness and impatience wasn’t a factor. Phoenix could handle that and more. She usually had to deal with men who took one look at her petite frame, heels, hair, and, of course, breast size, and tried to send her back to the agency who referred her. A woman who looked like her couldn’t know a damn thing about what made a successful construction project. Maybe she knew about keeping a shoe budget and that was all.

  So abrasive wasn’t the problem. And yet Phoenix couldn’t put her finger on what was odd about Angie. The woman left her long black hair loose and had an obsession with wearing a solid color—today it was white—and the stark color offset her eyes.

  Phoenix didn’t need to have long conversations over drinks with her boss. Didn’t need comfort or to be wooed. But…the woman lacked regular, bottom-of-the-barrel people skills, and that was a problem. A down-the-line kind of problem, but not today, thankfully. She rolled her shoulders, pushed off the wall, and handed the clipboard to Angie. It included a list of people who had pre-registered and already sent in their plans for the bidding. Anyone not on the list wasn’t getting in.

  She faced her boss. “I’m ready.”

  “You’re going to start interviewing now?”

  Phoenix laughed. “Something like that.”

  She made her way over to the registeri
ng center that faced the glass doors. Angie huffed but plodded along. Phoenix situated herself behind a laptop, checking to make sure the baskets were in the middle of the table next to each data entry tech. They were.

  “Didn’t we hire people to do this?” Angie huffed out a breath.

  “One way to root out the good from the bad is to see how they treat the people who can do absolutely nothing for them.” Phoenix pulled up the registration screen. A simple form that would detail the companies basic information. A monitor would face out and they’d be able to see any screw-ups in typing. The companies would know, in a very personal way, how long it took to fill out the simple form.

  She smiled. It was the easiest way to find out how much of an asshole the potential company could be. Most people could look great on paper. Most people could even hold it together long enough for a meeting, but when things got down to the nitty-gritty details that took patience and simple kindness…yeah, certain people could be complete douche nozzles. This was part of the screening process. She looked down at the row of other hires for the day and nodded to them.

  Sparing a glance to Angie, she said, “I don’t want to look like the boss.”

  And as usual Angie looked disgruntled. Phoenix widened her smile and the woman didn’t get the subtle message. “Angie, would you like to help me?”

  “No! I’ll go stand over there.”

  All that charm. What was Phoenix to do with it for the next couple of months? But finally the moment she needed had come. She gestured to security. The floodgates opened to a deluge of eager potentials who easily weeded themselves out.

  Phoenix enjoyed being knee deep in the fray. She did what appeared to be her job and badly. She kept up a personable attitude and made mistakes typing. She forgot, purposely, to ask for business cards and had to call people back for them. If she’d seen this kind of dismal behavior, she definitely would have had a nice talk with the employee and put them on something else. But she kept her ears open and noted everything.