Unwrapped Bundle with You Don't Know Jack & Bad Boys in Kilts

by Erin McCarthy

  She’d tried to chalk her reaction to him up to nerves. He was out of bounds, anyway. After all, she had been quite honest with him about what taking him on as a client would do for her fledgling business idea. She was serious about making a success of herself here, and though she knew it might be difficult to convert the staid thinking of some of the longtime shopkeepers in the village, she very definitely wanted to contain her business to Glenbuie if possible. If she’d wanted her old life, complete with the frenetic pace, traffic jams, and endless work hours, she’d have sold her inheritance here and opened up shop in Edinburgh or Glasgow. But she hadn’t left her stressed-out city life just to trade it for another.

  “Going in or just considerin’ it?”

  Daisy jumped, belatedly realizing she must look like an idiot, standing there staring vaguely into the pub window. She turned to find Alastair Henderson standing behind her. “Working up my courage,” she said with a rueful smile. “How’s the hand?”

  The old Scot ran the auto-repair shop on the opposite corner of the village square. He’d cut his hand a few weeks earlier while working on a car, and Daisy had happened to be nearby at the time and had offered assistance.

  “Och, good as new it is.” He flashed his palm at her, showing her the healing wound. “Tried to tell you all it was hardly more than a scratch.”

  Daisy happened to know it had taken seven stitches to heal the gash, but she nodded politely.

  “So, I understand I have you to thank for the lovely smile my only daughter is sportin’ of late.” His tone was a teasing one. “Tried to tell her myself she should have made a play for that lad long ago, but oh no, she doesna listen to me, her dear father.”

  Daisy flushed. “Kat would have managed fine on her own without my nudge.” In Daisy’s efforts to make new friends, she’d sort of helped encourage his daughter into doing something about her more-than-best-friends feelings for Brodie Chisholm. “I’m just glad to see the two of them figured things out.”

  Alastair reached past her to open the pub door. “I’ll spot you an ale just the same.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile grew wider. “Kat mentioned you’ve quite a knack for matching up folks back in the States.” He opened the door and gestured for her to go in before him. “Makes a bloke wonder why a pretty young thing such as yourself isn’t likewise attached.”

  Daisy laughed, even as her flush deepened. Where she had scheduled similarly minded, commitment-free men into her life with unerring precision, she’d also occasionally matched up coworkers. She had an eye for what worked…and what didn’t. Marketing, after all, wasn’t confined to mere products. Now if she could just figure out how to reach her new target audience…“You’re very kind. Let’s just say I tended to have a better eye for matching other people than myself.”

  “I see,” he said, as he ushered her into the dimly lit interior. “Well, perhaps the lads on this side of the pond will treat your puir heart more gently.”

  His kindly spoken words took her by surprise. “I, uh—thank you.” She smiled. “And…I hope so, too. But for now, I’m just focusing on getting my business off the ground and settling in here.”

  “A thrivin’ business is all well and good, lass,” he said close to her ear. “But it willnae keep you warm at night. This I know, all too well.”

  As did she, she thought ruefully, as did she. Daisy knew that Alastair had been a widower for the past ten years. The door shut behind them and she had to blink her eyes to adjust to the suddenly dimmer light. As he steered her through a small cluster of tables, a small, somewhat plump, older woman began waving at him. Miss Eleanor ran the small café off the square, and it was the worst kept secret in Glenbuie that she and Alastair had eyes for one another. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled up in her usual soft bun, her skin was smoother than that of most women half her age, but what drew the eye was the way her own sparkled at the sight of Alastair.

  Daisy smiled at him and nudged his arm. “Maybe you should be taking your own advice.”

  He surprised her by winking back. “I plan on doing just that. Seeing my own daughter’s happiness has spurred an auld man on to new and better things. Perhaps I owe ye an ale for that, too.”

  Happily surprised by the news that he was finally going to bring their budding romance into the light of day…or the dim of the pub, as it were, Daisy patted his arm. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt your date. Besides, I’m meeting someone myself. Just business.”

  “Of course,” Alastair added drolly, then leaned in close again so she could hear him over the din of clacking pool balls and shouts of encouragement coming from the dartboard area. “Dinnae make the mistake of believin’ that old myth about mixing business with pleasure. I met Kat’s mum when she came into the motor-repair shop as a young lass, looking to be hired on by my father.” He sighed in remembered pride. “Woman could rebuild a transmission like nobody’s business.”

  Daisy laughed. Alastair was quite the character. And in a village filled with them, that said something. But she had a soft spot for both Kat and her father. Gauging from the look on Miss Eleanor’s face, she wasn’t the only one. “I’ll keep that in mind. Better not keep your date waiting.”

  She scanned the interior of the pub now that her eyes had adjusted. No sign of Reese. He’d better not be standing her up. She made a mental note to choose a table out of the direct line of Alastair and Eleanor’s vision. She was nervous enough as it was, without their well-meaning glances. “Enjoy your evening,” she told him.

  “I havena forgotten the ale. We’ll share one soon enough, aye?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well, well. There’s your date now.” Alastair nodded toward the stool at the end of the bar. There sat Reese, listening to Brodie as he went on about something in his typically animated way.

  “How did you know I was meeting—?”

  He winked. “Small village. Big ears.”

  “And it’s not a date,” she reiterated, but Alastair was already heading over toward Eleanor. Huffing out a small sigh, she resisted the urge to smooth her dress. When she’d been standing in front of her armoire earlier, agonizing over what to wear, the light summer-print sundress had seemed to strike the right balance between professional and casual. After all, they were meeting in a pub, not a four-star power restaurant. Now, however, it felt cute and flirty and that was absolutely the very last image she wanted to project. Wasn’t it?

  She found herself watching Reese’s every move as she wound her way through the cluster of small pub tables. His belted khakis showed off his lean hips. But today he was wearing a pale blue cotton shirt with a button-down collar, still crisp even after a long day at work. The cut showed off the breadth of his shoulders. Had she noticed them before? And the way he’d rolled up the cuffs served to draw her attention to his forearms and hands. Big hands, she noted, as he downed a sip of ale.

  Thanks, Alastair. The last thing she needed was to be thinking of Reese Chisholm as anything but a business prospect. Granted, he wasn’t quite the aggressive corporate shark she’d found herself drawn to back in the States, but he was certainly Glenbuie’s version of the same. She hadn’t crossed an ocean to get tangled up with that sort again, no matter the variation. From now on, business was business. And only business.

  “Well, there’s the lovely lass now.” Brodie lifted a hand and beckoned her to the bar.

  Now that was the kind of man she should go for. He was a big, lovable hunk of a guy, fun and playful, easygoing and relaxed, everything she was supposed to be looking for. Of course, he was Kat’s man now, and they were well suited. But surely there had to be more like him about. She’d heard about the youngest Chisholm brother, Tristan, sheep farmer and land manager. Low key to the point of being completely off the radar. Maybe she should wangle an introduction there. Talk about slowing down the pace. Just not Reese. The only corporate man within a hundred kilometers. And a prospective client, to boot.

  Brodie pulled an ale for he
r and topped off Reese’s before lifting them both in his wide hands. “Why don’t you two take a table there around back and I’ll have Marta bring you out some of her stew. She’s made a buttermilk loaf to go with it that will suit you just right.”

  Reese finally turned as Daisy stepped up to the stool next to him. He didn’t say anything, allowing her to decide. His steady gaze did that wobbly-knee thing to her. So she purposely glanced over to where Brodie had pointed.

  “It would probably be easier to discuss this at a table,” she said, “if you don’t mind.”

  Since Brodie was already carrying their glasses of ale out from behind the bar, Reese merely nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

  Don’t be nervous, she schooled herself. But she could feel him right behind her, like some sort of heat-seeking missile or something. It’s a business meeting. Focus on the bottom line.

  And not his bottom line, either, she thought, fighting a sudden urge to snicker. It was nerves, that was all. She always got fidgety, talked faster, laughed too much, when she was nervous. This meeting was important and she couldn’t afford to get distracted like this.

  “Here you go,” Brodie said, arranging their glasses on the small, round table. “Stew will be out shortly. Make yourselves comfortable.” Brodie winked at her, then cast a quick look at his brother. “You’re having a drink and a bite with one of the prettiest lasses in town, the envy of all around you. Least you can do is smile.”

  Daisy flushed a little, wishing now that Brodie would go back to the bar. When Reese only managed a tight smile in response to his brother’s teasing, she worried that he might just get up and leave before she’d even had the chance to discuss the Web site proposal with him. She quickly pulled out her chair before either Chisholm brother could reach for it, sitting down right away to encourage Reese to do the same.

  “Loosen him up a little, Daisy, okay? The man doesn’t understand the meaning of the word relax.”

  “I’m not sure you’re talking to the right person,” she said, with a quick laugh. She fussed with the zipper on the leather binder she’d brought with her, then, feeling Reese’s attention shift to her, she tapped her palm on the cover. “Shall we get down to business?” she asked brightly.

  “Would you like me to wait on the stew until you’ve had a chance to talk shop?” Brodie was still hovering.

  “That sounds good,” she said, then hazarded a glance at Reese. He was sitting casually enough, but there was something about his gaze that made her feel pinned. Her knees knocked together under the table, and she pressed her thighs together for good measure. Damn, but the man had presence in spades, and he wasn’t even doing anything. Hadn’t said a word yet, in fact. “Is that okay with you? Or would you rather eat first?”

  His gaze narrowed there a bit, or maybe she’d just imagined it. Either way, she’d gone from feeling pinned, to feeling a little like…prey. Dear Lord, this was going to be a long meeting. Because it was a meeting. Not a date. Something she’d do really well to remember. To cover her reaction to him, and because she needed the fortitude, she picked up her ale and took a sip.

  Reese finally shifted his gaze back to his brother. “Give us a few minutes, will you?”

  Brodie grinned. “I’ll give ye all the time you need.” There was a definite undercurrent going on between the two, making Daisy wonder what they’d been discussing before she came in. “Just give me a signal when you’re ready,” Brodie added, then finally, mercifully, went back to tend the bar.

  Which left her completely alone with his reserved, enigmatic older brother. Maybe she’d been too hasty in wishing Brodie gone. A buffer, even one as intrusive as Brodie, suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She took another quick sip of ale, then put the glass back down and nudged it to the center of the table. After all but badgering his secretary to get him to agree to this, she’d been too nervous about meeting him to eat much today. She propped her binder in front of her instead. The last thing she needed was fuzzy thinking.

  Pulling the zipper open, she resisted the urge to fidget in her seat. But she could feel Reese’s stare drilling right into her, and it was disconcerting to say the least. He wasn’t sipping his drink or looking around the pub. No, his attention was completely on her.

  Sure, nothing to be nervous about.

  It wasn’t unusual in her former line of work for her to stand in front of a conference table filled with corporate bigwigs, all eyes on her, and give a solo presentation as smoothly and comfortably as if she was standing in her own living room, surrounded by friends. So why was she hyper-aware of being the focal point of his attention? He was just another prospective client. Yes, her first and hopefully biggest client, but the nervousness didn’t feel all that business-related. Or she wouldn’t have to keep pressing her thighs together, would she? Or worry that he was going to notice the fact that her nipples were standing at attention.

  “I’ve given your proposal some thought,” he said, rather abruptly.

  His sudden comment after such complete silence startled her, and her half-open binder slid off the table into her lap. The contents came cascading out and slid across the polished hardwood floor. Both she and Reese moved to get them at the same time. For a tall man with such long legs, he moved quickly, crouching down beside the table as he reached for the scattered pages. Daisy had leaned down from her seat to reach what she could, then lost her balance a little. She overcorrected, grabbing for the table when her chair wobbled, and managed to pull the whole thing over with her as she slid from her seat…and landed right on top of Reese. Followed by the contents of both of their glasses of ale.

  Other than the television over the bar, loudly broadcasting a soccer match, and the random clacking of a few pool balls, the rest of the noise in the pub came to an instant halt. Daisy could feel all eyes on them as she tried to scramble off of Reese. Her back was completely soaked, but at least she’d borne the brunt of the ale. Other than being knocked on his ass and having her sprawled all over him, Reese had come through it all relatively unscathed.

  He grabbed at her arms, stilling her movements when her knee came dangerously close to changing that fact. “Hold on,” he instructed her, then carefully shifted both of them so she could get her feet under her. “There you go.”

  Several other patrons had jumped up to help, one righting the table, another picking up their glasses where they’d rolled across the floor, and yet another helping Daisy to her feet.

  She immediately reached a hand to Reese. “I’m so sorry. I—”

  “Now, now, what is all this? I let ye come into my place of business to do a little courtin’ and the next thing I know, you’re tossing her to the floor.” Brodie tugged his brother easily to a stand, then watched him with a broad grin as he brushed off his trousers. “Come now, Reese, I thought you had more polish than that. I know it’s been a while—”

  Reese’s glare cut him right off, but not before laughter skittered through the avidly watching crowd.

  Brodie turned to Daisy. “Can’t take a joke, never could.” He ran his gaze over her. “Och, look at you. A bit of a mess there. You want to go upstairs and—”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Reese said, startling both of them, and a goodly number of the other customers as well if the looks on their faces were anything to judge by.

  “I can take care of myself, thanks,” Daisy said, clearly hearing the undercurrent suddenly flowing between the brothers and figuring it best to put a swift end to it. “I just need to—” she broke off when she looked down to find her notes and presentation information all stuck to the hardwood floor, sodden through with ale “—gather my notes,” she finished lamely. “Bollocks.”

  Her very Scottish swearing in her very American accent made those around her laugh good-naturedly. And, most surprisingly, got a tiny crook of the mouth from Reese as well.

  “I’ll take care of your papers and such,” Brodie said. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, then come back for som
e stew and we’ll see what we can salvage from this date.”

  “It’s not a date,” Daisy muttered, but no one was listening to her.

  Brodie was looking at Reese, but before he could say anything else, Reese was turning to her and taking her elbow in a gentle but determined grasp. “Let me walk you out,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  At the moment, he wasn’t going to get one from her. Even if his touch was warm, and his hand did feel big and wide and strong propping her up. And all those reactions she’d forgotten about for a moment came rushing back in, double time and double strength. She’d worry about that just as soon as they got out of the pub and done with being a public spectacle. She’d quite probably already ruined any chance she had to get Reese to take her seriously, but that didn’t mean she wanted the entire village to think her a laughingstock. Not if she planned on doing business in Glenbuie, anyway.

  As soon as the pub door closed behind them, leaving them both blinking a bit in the sudden brightness of the late spring day, she extricated herself from his hold and stepped back. “I appreciate the assistance. And I’m so sorry I’ve made such a mess of this.” She gave him a small smile. “I promise I usually manage to conduct business quite professionally and with very little spillage.”

  Reese’s mouth quirked at the corner again and she found herself staring. He really was arrestingly attractive, and with all that intensity, too…even if he wasn’t her type. Well, not anymore, anyway.

  “Accidents happen,” he said, his deep voice so smooth, almost melodic. “Let me walk you to your shop.”

  “I can manage. If you’d like to go back inside and talk to your brother, or—”

  “No, I think I’ve given Brodie enough openings for one day. I’m certain they’re all having a spot of fun at our expense and I’d be loath to interrupt.”