The trip back was uneventful and when the afternoon clouds pulled in, the glorious vistas of the morning seemed a bit like a dream. They pulled into the resort’s jetty, and Bevan helped her up onto it. Before they left, though, he turned to the driver and slapped him on the back before giving him another couple of notes. Her head snapped up and she realized she’d spilled her guts to the guy as well as spilling her drink on him, but she knew nothing about him except that he was practically sex on a Scottish stick. What would that be called, a Scotick? She shook her head at herself and just about died when she discovered Bevan had caught her doing it.
“You don’t approve?” He nodded at the boat driver who was practically dancing up the beach, no doubt to show his wife what her cooking had netted them for lunch.
“No, I don’t really have an opinion on giving out cash either way, having never done it. I was just thinking.” She bit her lip. “I know nothing about you. Are you loaded as well as lovely? And why are you here alone?”
He stiffened, but then straightened and started walking back toward the resort. She followed. “I work for the…the Scottish tourism board,” he said. “I have to report on the good, bad, and ugly of tourism over here. But I get to enjoy myself, too. And I have a little bit of money, now. I’m not loaded. I have a little brother who likes to use my resources more than he should.”
“And you ended up at a couples resort why?”
“Oh, I have no idea how that happened. It was a last-minute thing, might have been all that was available. Let’s just mark it down to fate, shall we?”
Fate. Janie checked him, but he was looking ahead now and didn’t seem to be making fun. Was she really going to start believing in fate all of a sudden? Although if fate were handing her Bevan MacGreggor in a piña colada, she would take it. Hell, she’d take back everything she’d ever said about the evils of fate landing her in Little Acre and giving her ovaries instead of testicles.
Bevan stopped, and looking around, Janie realized they’d headed to her room and that the darkness of evening was starting to creep across the sky. “I’d say join me for dinner,” he said. “But I think we missed it, and anyway, I’m sure you’ve had more than enough of me.”
“Oh no, I haven’t. Had enough of you, I mean.”
He smiled, and she felt the blush race past her hairline and take over her skin in one giant hot flush.
“I have to admit I’m still full from that noodle thing and the not-potato bread. Best I go and write some of today’s adventure up, or at least pretend to. It’s what the tourism board pays me for after all,” he said.
“Oh, right, of course.”
But he still didn’t turn to leave. Would he? Would she? Janie’s blood started making a speedy track around her body, heading toward Miss Muffin’s long-neglected sweet spot. She took a deep breath and put a hand on his chest. His heart was beating. Fast. And hers sped up to match his rhythm. Dear Lord of Tartan, she needed to grow a pair and make sure he didn’t get away till she kissed him. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
He smiled. “Same goes, lass. You’re a burst of fresh air compared to the women I’m usually out with.”
“Well then,” she said and reached up to steal every inch of delicious from those lips with her own.
“Jaaaaanie? Are you hoooome!” Tina’s voice came from around the corner. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realized you had company.”
Bevan took a step back. “Thanks for today. Have a lovely evening.”
The last slice of the golden sunshine day fell away as he left, replaced with a dark glimmer of what life would be like when he really left, but Janie shook herself. Enough of that. That almost-kiss had been definitely 100 percent interested. This was good. This was great!
Tina waited till he was out of earshot then dragged Janie into her room, practically jumping from foot to foot while she waited for the door to open. When they were inside, she pulled Janie down onto the small couch. “Oh. My. God. Nice work, girlfriend. I had you all wrong.”
Janie closed her eyes a moment, but the smile stayed on her lips. “Nothing happened.”
“But it almost did. You dirty dog.” Tina narrowed her eyes. “I totally didn’t pick you for that type of girl. I thought I might get bored without Mark here, but I’m not gonna, am I? You’re going to keep me in gossip for days.”
“What do you mean? We didn’t do anything. Well, not yet.” Janie’s skin broke out in goose bumps. If it didn’t seem crazy, she could have sworn she smelled trouble.
Tina looked her dead in the eye. “So he hasn’t told you?”
“Told me what? Come on, if you’ve got something to say, say it. How is me meeting a stranger going to keep you in gossip?”
“His name’s not Bevan.”
The pause was long enough that Janie felt the air-conditioning fan cycle through three hiccuping rotations. She shivered. “Yes, it is. It’s Bevan. Bevan MacGreggor.”
Tina typed something into her phone, then turned her phone around and held it up for Janie to see. “So this isn’t him then?”
On Tina’s screen was a picture of Bevan filling out a dinner suit perfectly. Way too perfectly to be decent. The air in the room seemed to drop another degree. “I guess it might be,” she said. “So what?”
Tina checked her phone. “Blaine Galloway steps out at a gala dinner looking like he really might have the cure for everything that ails us,” she read.
“What does that even mean?” The shivering intensified and the goose bumps turned into fully fledged goose welts on Janie’s arms.
“Blaine Galloway, up-and-coming Scottish TV personality, star of The Highlander’s Cure, and mega flirt.”
Janie’s heart stuttered, threatened to stop a moment, then flickered back into its ordinary rhythm.
“Sorry, babes.”
“Are you sure?”
Tina held up her phone again and scrolled through a selection of photos, all taken of McDashing looking gorgeous, and many with a runway-ready woman on his arm.
“Shit.”
“’Fraid so.” Tina patted Janie on the shoulder.
The shivering stopped, and Janie felt numb a moment. This was Two-Minute Tom all over again. Then a bird chirped outside and Janie shook herself. No, it wasn’t. McDashing hadn’t promised to marry her, and he sure hadn’t cheated on her with her best friend. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed yet. “Maybe he always gives a fake name when he’s on holiday. So he can relax.”
“Maybe,” Tina said. “You’d think he’d come clean before he tried to kiss you though.”
“He didn’t try to kiss me,” Janie said. “I tried to kiss him.”
“Still. Seems a bit shit.”
Janie shrugged. “That’s one way of putting it.” She grabbed at the phone again and scrolled through Google images, feeling the sparks that had ignited in her stomach slowly flaming out and turning to ash.
“Hey, maybe this is what you need,” Tina said. “A chance to get a story that will put your blog on the map.” Her eyes flashed with the possibility.
“That’s not really my style. And it’s not exactly a science story, is it?” Janie said and bit her lip. “Although we did see a snake together.”
“You could make it work.”
Janie straightened. “Could I?”
Tina’s eyes widened. “Go girl. Just pretend you don’t know who he is. That’s not a big ask, is it?”
The idea of trying to write a piece about Bevan, no wait, Blaine, made her intestines want to shrivel, but not seeing him ever again made her insides want to self-immolate. Then she realized there was a middle ground. The smile felt good on Janie’s face. “I could do that, couldn’t I? Pretend I never had this conversation with you. Enjoy myself and then see what happens.”
“And then write it up and watch the shit fly.” Tina rubbed her hands.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I meant just be with him, on holiday. Tick off some things on my bucket list. It’s not really fair to write so
me random piece on him when he doesn’t have any warning that I’m doing it.”
“And you’ve had fair warning of who he is?”
“I guess not. But still.”
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world right? You should go for it.”
“How about I try to get him to kiss me back first,” said Janie, and Tina’s face brightened.
“Sure, and while you’re doing it you can milk him for info and decide later if you’re going to use it. Just to see how it feels,” Tina said with a smirk.
“Okay. I’ll think about it, but don’t expect much more.” But for the first time in a long time, Janie felt like she was going to have her cake, eat it, and have room for another piece.
Chapter Five
Blaine picked up the call from the unlisted number on his cell the next morning. “Hello?”
“Blaine? Mr. Galloway?”
Turning around to check that no one close by was listening in, Blaine shook his head at himself. No one was going to hear the other voice on the end of a telephone. “I think you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Nice try. I’d recognize your voice anywhere. Half of Scotland would.”
His voice lowered, Blaine gave it a slight Texan twang that his accent and voice coach would have been proud of and tried again. “No, pretty sure it’s the wrong number.”
“Oh. Right. When you see Mr. Galloway, tell him the London Times would appreciate a comment on why he’s run away from his fiancée.”
“What?” Blaine caught himself before he ruined what semblance of faux-anonymity he’d managed to create.
“Unconfirmed, obviously. Just like the rumors that Blaine’s holed up somewhere in Thailand… You seen him over there?”
“I haven’t seen anyone here. Think you might need to do some better research.”
The reporter chuckled. “Sure, sure. Although, I think you’ve just saved me a bunch of extra research. So, do pass my message to Blaine. But like I say, only when you see him. In Thailand. In that couples resort you’re staying in. Have a good day.”
Not so much with anonymity of any type then. Blaine spun around, glaring at the holidaymakers around him. The sparkling pool was full of young couples floating, diving, or generally frolicking. No danger there. But through the palm trees behind the pool he saw someone in dark glasses and a suit. Who wore a suit on holiday? He started over to the guy, then caught himself and spun on his heel. What the hell was he doing? Might as well wear a sign with Blaine Galloway: Media Idiot around his neck.
He stole another look, and a woman dressed all in white approached the guy in a suit. Oh, right, probably a wedding. You twat. He stood there, wringing his hands for a moment then pulled out his phone. “Hamish. Me.”
“I can tell. I thought you were supposed to be relaxing, letting Stephanie do her thing? You should see her by the way. She’s in her element. Her lips have never been bigger.”
Blaine felt his shoulders rising at the mention of Stephanie. “A reporter just called me.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “A British one?”
“Of course a British one. I might be famous by Stephanie’s standards, but I’m hardly one of the Hemsworth brothers, am I?”
“You think we should give it a try? I could be the young upstart.”
“You are the young upstart.” Despite his gruff voice, Blaine smiled. His brother might be crap with money, and women, and cars, and gambling, and, well, most everything, but he had a good heart and he always knew which button to push to pull Blaine away from the edge.
“Did he ask you anything awkward? The reporter?”
“I’m not sure.” Blaine went through the conversation. “Maybe not. It was a bit vague.”
“Good. Then leave it to your agent. Good guy that Chris.”
“Only ’cause he got you out of the shite as much as me.”
The laugh from the other end of the phone was full and easy, and Blaine’s smile broadened. “You’re in Thailand. Like you say, you’re not a Hemsworth. Don’t worry about it going to shite until it actually goes to shite.”
Blaine looked out at the pool and for once he had to agree with his brother. He hung up and immediately punched in his agent’s number and started back toward his suite to grab his board shorts.
“Hi Bevan.” A small, soft hand took hold of his elbow and he almost shook it off before he registered the Texan twang. Bevan. That’s you, Romeo.
“Morning.” He was rewarded with a grin that was part teenage innocence, part man-hungry vixen. His shoulders relaxed even further. Here at least was something uncomplicated, someone so far from the media vultures back home it wasn’t funny. It was so refreshing, so…nice. And he needed some nice in his life. If the tabloid terriers had the scent, it wouldn’t be long before he’d be back to being Blaine Galloway. His brother was right. Best to enjoy this little slice of normal while he had the chance, and best to get somewhere as far away from internet reception as possible just in case.
“You okay? Look like someone slipped a fish into your cornflakes.”
The laugh came from a place he’d almost forgotten about. “They probably would have if I’d had breakfast with you. I saw what you ate yesterday, remember, and I still say it wasn’t porridge.”
Her laugh was a bright dancing thing, not unlike the brilliant light bouncing off the pool. “I solemnly swear to never call that stuff porridge again. And I won’t be eating it again either. Gross.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Most sensible thing anyone’s said to me all day.”
Janie brightened. “Glad to oblige.”
That was it—she was happy to be happy Blaine realized. No pretense, no agenda, and it was refreshing. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had hung out with him for no other reason than they could. Janie wasn’t after anything, didn’t have a secret plan. Hell, she didn’t even know who he was. It was amazing. He cut off the call to his agent before it connected. He’d call him in five. Taking a day trip with Janie was the perfect excuse to hide out for the day, and it would guarantee no one would see them together if anyone was looking. “I was thinking of exploring inland today. Any plans?”
“Not eating porridge?”
The laugh burst through the remainder of the tension stiffening his shoulders. The call from the reporter was just that, a call; it wasn’t like the media had actually found him. The guy was just fishing.
“Actually…” She pulled out her to-do list. “I wanted to go to a local village to see if I could get someone to show me how to cook pad thai. It’s not in the guidebook, but the forums say that it’s doable.”
He smirked. “I love a woman who knows what she wants. I see you’ve packed for any emergency again.”
She looked down at her enormous beach bag. “I don’t know why. I don’t need half this stuff. It’s just, back home, I dunno, must be the Girl Scout in me.”
“Well, you’re in Thailand now, having your adventure. So let’s ditch the survival kit and go.”
“But I—what if we need it?”
Blaine put out a hand. “Gimme that.” She tightened her grip on the bag, and he put his hands on his hips. “Seriously?”
“A gentleman never looks in a woman’s purse.”
He chuckled. “Depends what she keeps in there. Sometimes a gentleman has no option but to gently”—he pried first one finger, then another, off the strap of her bag—“but firmly”—he pried another finger off—“investigate a woman’s purse. In my experience, everyone enjoys it.”
The blush stole up her throat, and she lowered her eyes. Then she shrugged and held it out to him. “It’s not like I have anything to hide.”
“You sure? I was joking. I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to.”
She pushed it toward him, but when he took it, Blaine flinched at its weight. “What have you got in here? Rocks?” He peered inside. “Swimming costume, fair enough, ten gallons of sunscreen.” He looked up at her. “You already got some o
n?” She nodded. “Right then, won’t need that for a while. And you’re not going to need these guidebooks. No wonder this thing is so heavy.” He dug a bit deeper. Then, bloody hell. He looked her up and down. “Dear God, lass, where do you think we are? Brooklyn? You going to season your attacker to death?” He held up a rape whistle, a personal alarm, and an oversize shaker of ground white pepper.
“I couldn’t bring pepper spray, so I figured that was the next best thing.”
“Well, thank Christ for that. But still, you know this is Thailand, right? Tourist mecca of the world? You might get pickpocketed, but you pull that pepper out and all you’ll do is cause a culinary emergency.”
“My brother made me pack them. Girl by herself, foreign country, unsavory strangers, untold dangers.”
“Has your brother ever left Texas?”
Janie shook her head. “Hunter has, but Tony and Dave haven’t left Little Acre. Hardly anyone I know has.”
Blaine shook his head. “Let’s not waste your trip carrying this lot around. This is not Texas. Forget Little Acre for a while and forget this bag. Let’s go.”
He tucked her hand into his elbow and propelled her to her room to drop off her bag, and then they headed for the resort reception to catch a cab.
…
Janie stole a look at McDashing as she sat in the back of the cab and would have pinched herself if it wouldn’t have made her feel like a damn fool. Was she really doing this? Janie Milan, trying to bait a tabloid-worthy demigod into kissing her, and maybe spilling his secrets, or both? Tina would do it. Sure. But she wasn’t Tina. Janie’s future success in the blogosphere might be improved by digging around in Bevan—no, Blaine’s past, but her conscience wouldn’t be. And your conscience has been soooo helpful in life so far? True. Look where being conscionable had got her with Two-Minute Tom.
Her conscience didn’t have any problems lapping up his attention, though, not when he gave it so freely. Watch and listen and decide about the blog later. She needed to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything else, anyway. Something that might literally bite her on the ass. Making sure she listened properly to everything he said from now on was one piece of Tina’s advice she was definitely going to take.
Her Scottish Mistake (A Perfect Escape) Page 5
