A Kilted Christmas Wish (4 page)

“My lady,” he said with a low bow
, balancing himself on his skates. “Would you do me the honors of skating with me?”

Darla laughed, slapping a gloved hand over her mouth
and wobbling at the sudden movement. Her heart pounded a staccato beat, and she concentrated on keeping her hands from trembling. “Yes. I would love to.”

Aaron flashed her that killer smile,
and once again her heart was leaping into her throat. He held out her hand, and she took it, allowing him to lead her out onto the ice. They were both a bit shaky on their feet, gliding over the ice, hand in hand. Crisp, cool air whipped against her cheeks and in her hair. She couldn’t help the excited smile plastered to her face. The scraping sound of blades on ice, laughter and music made it a magical moment she’d burn into her memory forever.

Whirling in front of her, Aaron skated backwar
d, both his hands clasping hers as he led her around ring.

“You’ve skated before,” she said, a little surprised at his skill.
“But inside you were wobbling!”

He
shrugged, a shy smile on his lips. “Once or twice on a frozen loch. It’s been awhile. You?”

“Not enough.” She
swayed, shifting her feet. “And never on a frozen loch. Sounds magical.”

“You’re doing a great job,” he said
, glancing around before turning back to her. “Most beautiful skater here.”

She raised a brow.
“You are a charming one.”

Aaron tugged
her closer to him, so like a dream. His scent was intoxicating and she was so close to just giving up all her inhibitions and pressing her lips to his.

“I prefer honest.” He
flashed a devilish grin and she nearly lost her balance.

“Thank you,” she ducked her head, feeling the heat of a blush flame her cheeks.

He pulled her even closer, just barely flush against him, making her worry the points of their skates would tangle. Wrapping an arm around the small of her back, his heat seeping into her, he leaned down and whispered, “You’re welcome,” in her ear.

Just two simple words, but they still sent a shiver of delight careening over her senses. She lost her footing, clutching at his chest. Aaron chuckled, and steadied her on her feet.

“Careful, else we spend dinner at the hospital instead of 48.”

“Forty-eight?”
Her mind whirled. “Like
the
48?” Only one of the swankiest places at the Center, regularly visited by celebrities.

“You don’t like it?” He looked concerned.

“I…” How could she say she wouldn’t know, she’d never been? She glanced down at her jeans. “I’m not dressed appropriately.”

He looked relieved, followed by utterly sexy as his grin returned.
“We’ve got time.”

Chapter Four

W
as he making a mistake?

Aaron ran a hand through his hair, and stared at the buzzer outside of Darla’s apartment. They’d separated
after the rink, each of them going home to change.

He was probably coming on too strong. One sort-of date at the cocoa shop, then he whisks her away from work to ice skate and now he was taking her to 48 where paparazzi stormed like ants at a picnic?

Yeah, this was a mistake. He turned away from the buzzer, prepared to call her and tell her something came up. But he didn’t have her number. He could probably get it from her café—but were they open at eight o’clock on a Monday night?

He always did this.
Rushed head-long into every situation good or bad. Darla was good. Real good. But he was supposed to be mourning—
was
mourning. And yet, he knew a good thing when he saw it, and he couldn’t let her go. Not yet.

“Damn.” Her whirled back to the buzzer and stabbed it with his finger.

A moment later, Darla’s breathy, “Hello,” made him extremely glad he’d gone ahead with it.

To hell with paparazzi, he wanted to take her out, show her a good time.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said.

“You might not think so in a minute,” she said with a little laugh. “
The life of a café owner doesn’t really require a 48-style dress.”

“I’m certain you’ll be beautiful.”

There was a long pause, then, “Thank you. I’ll be down in a second.”

Aaron smoothed his flawless black wool jacket and waited. Not too many minutes later, the door opened and out stepped Darla, looking more amazing than he could have imagined.

She wore a long red dress, a slit up one side, and shiny, black stilettos. Her long dark, glossy hair was down, the ends shifting with the slight breeze. She’d always worn it up in a knot of some sort, and now he could see it was nearly halfway down her back. Her jacket was a dark wool like his. “Left over from a Christmas party,” she said staring down at her ankles and pinching the dress.

Aaron stepped closer, swallowed and held out his hand. “You look
…amazing.” And like sex in stilettos. God, it took every ounce of his will-power not to pull her in for a steaming-hot kiss, and then press her up against the brick of her building, just to let go in her arms.

The way she looked up at him, she was having similar thoughts.
“You do, too.”

“Hungry?”

“Famished.”

He led her toward the cab he’d asked to
wait for them. He’d thought about using a driver, they had plenty of them with his production company, but he didn’t want to completely freak her out. As it was, tonight was already a little over the top.

“Your chariot, my lady,” he said with a smile, and a wave of his arm.

“Why, thank you, sir.” She slipped inside the cab, the slit of her dress giving him a jaw-dropping flash of creamy, lithe leg. Leg he could imagine wrapped around his waist. Bloody hell.

“My pleasure,” he murmured, sliding beside her.

The cabbie took off through the busy streets, drivers honking and pedestrians running out into traffic.

“How long are you
in the States for?” she asked.

“The foreseeable future,” he
answered. The slit of her gown revealed the point of her knee and he had to keep his hands fisted in his lap to keep from sliding his palm over it. Like putting a cookie on the counter and telling a child not to eat it. “I came back to the States for personal reasons, but also because my dad will be retiring soon.”

“Family business?”

“Yes. I’m a Sutherland.”

She laughed. “I just realized
, I never did get your last name.”

“And I don’t know yours. We’ve kind of been on a whirlwind since we met.”

“Yeah, but it’s been fun.” The woman had the most amazing smile, one that disarmed him at the same time he filled with tension.

“Are you going to keep it a secret?”
he asked, turning slightly in his chair, his hand brushing hers on the seat. Damn it, he needed to keep them in his lap.

“
Strider.”

“Darla
Strider.” Sounded like a movie star. Only she was different than every other star he’d ever met—including Megan.

“I like the way you say my name. Well, I like the way you talk in general.”
She ducked her head, again showing a shy side that made him want to kiss her all the more.

When she glanced back up at him, he said,
“Let me guess, you’re a Gerard Butler fan.”

She pinched he
r thumb and forefinger together, a wicked grin on her lips. “Little bit.”

Aaron laughed. “Maybe I’ll arrange for the two of you to meet one day, as long as you promise not to sail off into the sunset with him.”

“Would you rather I sail off with you?”

Caught off guard, he was struck speechless for a moment.

She swatted his arm playfully. “I’m teasing!”

He laughed, touched the tip of his finger to her nose. “You’re
a funny lass, Darla Strider.”

Aaron stroked his finger over her cheek to her chin. His gaze was captivated by her lips and he was seriously contemplating kissing her.
Hell, he’d been fantasizing about it since the moment they first me. Just a taste to tide them over through dinner. He leaned forward just as the cab came to a stop.

The
cab driver interrupted a perfect opportunity by asking for his fare.

“Ready?”
Aaron asked.

“Readier than ever.”
Her voice was breathy, wistful.

Aaron
paid the driver, then slipped his hand around hers and led her to the restaurant entrance. The bouncer nodded to him and opened the door. He led her to the coat check, gliding his fingers into her collar, feeling the heat of her skin, the scent of her shampoo drugging him. He slid her out of the jacket, fingers running intimately down the length of her bare arms. Bloody, bloody hell. He swallowed, his cock raging. He shifted, took off his own jacket and willed his groin to tame itself.

B
ecause he’d made a reservation, the hostess immediately led them to a private, semi-circle velvet couch with a table.

“Have a seat,” he said.

“Been here a lot?” she asked with a raised brow. Her question made sense, getting prompt service at such a swanky, high-demand restaurant.

He felt his face heat slightly.
“Kind of goes with the territory,” he said with a shrug.

“Sutherland!” A call from across the
room, pulled his attention momentarily to one of the late night talk show hosts. Aaron waved, and turned to slide onto the couch beside Darla.

“Is that… Jimmy Fallon?”

Aaron nodded. “His studio is in the same building as a couple of our shows.”

“Shows?”
She pressed her hands to her forehead. “Oh my God, I just realized. Sutherland Productions is a television production company.”

“Yes.” He smiled.

“And your dad owns it.”

He nodded. “Deal breaker?”

She laughed, and glanced around the lounge, sweeping her hands out. “No, no, not at all. I just… All this makes sense now.”

“Too much?”

She cocked her head to the side, and then reached forward, putting her warm hand over top of his. “Not too much, just a complete surprise.”

He raised a brow, and flipped his hand over so they were pressed palm to palm. “You can be honest with me.”

“In that case,” she pinched her fingers together, “maybe it is just a tad much for a first date.”

“But it
’s not our first date.”

Her mouth formed a little O and Aaron wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “Technically it
’s our third.” And had he now just shoved his foot into his mouth?

“Third?”
She dipped her shoulder a little, showing the creamy curve, and a freckle he’d like to put his lips on.

“Not that I’m keeping track…” Damn, he felt like he was sticking his foot further and further down his throat.

“Cocoa,” she counted off her fingers, “ice-skating, and dinner. You’re right. I’m a terrible gir—”

She cut herself off before she said it, ducked her head, no doubt to hide the blush
she was feeling. They were moving too fast. What was he thinking?

A waiter approached.
“Welcome to 48. My name is Keith, can I get you guys some cocktails to start off the evening?”

Aaron looked to Darla.
“Ladies first.”

“Chardonnay, please.”

“And for you, sir?” The waiter stood with his hands behind his back as he memorized their order.

“I’ll have the same.”

“I didn’t take you for a wine drinker,” Darla said.

“Why not?”
Aaron grinned at her wolfishly. “Took me for more of an ale and whisky drinker?”

She gave a dainty shrug, a wicked glint in her eyes.
“Or maybe a dirty martini type.”

He held up his finger. “One drink and then we’re going to
St. Andrews for fish and chips.”

Darla giggled.
“Deal.”

When their wine arrived, Darla took a sip, studying him above the rim of her glass. “You know,” she said, holding the dainty stem of the glass in her fingers. “You don’t have to work so hard to impress me, Aaron. I just like being with you.”

Aaron swirled the wine in his glass. “I really like being with you, too.” He locked gazes with her. “I have a confession to make.”

“You really are a stalker?”

He laughed. “No. The truth is, I didn’t have the guts to come find you the past couple days. I… I like you so much, I had to put some distance between us. Had to know if it was just the excitement of meeting someone new, or if…”

She held up her hand and shook her head, making his stomach plummet. “Don’t say anymore.” Darla scooted closer to him, so that their faces were only a few inches apart. “Sounds like you’ve been hurt before, and so have I. I’ll admit I was upset I didn’t hear from you, but then, I started to think maybe it was all in my head. When you showed up—”

Now it was his turn to stop her. “Shh…”

She smiled up at him and took a sip of her wine.
“Right. First things first.”

“Check!” he said, lifting his hand into the air.

After Aaron paid the bill, he hailed a cab, and five minutes later they pulled up in front of St. Andrew’s. The pub was hopping already, but as soon as Aaron came in, the bartenders—all clad in kilts and Santa hats—sent up a shout and a table was cleared for them.

“Don’t say anything,” Aaron said when he saw Darla’s raised brows. “Of course I made friends, it’s the best Scots bar in town.”

Her laugh was mesmerizing. They slid into the rounded booth, sitting beside each other, dressed way too formally, but neither of them caring.

“Where’s your kilt?” the bartender yelled.

“I don’t bring it out on the third date,” Aaron called back, winking at Darla.

Her lip curled. “What date does it come out?”

He leaned close, elbows pressed to the table. “Truth is, I haven’t brought it out for any woman.”

“No?” she asked.

“You’d be the first.” And she would be. Damn, he shocked himself. He’d worn it on formal occasions and celebrations in Scotland, but he’d never brought it out to impress a woman, not even for Megan. He’d never felt the urge to do it, but now that Darla was intrigued by it… he was suddenly interested.

The waitress came to the table, and they placed their orders—two fish sandwiches with fries with two thick pints of Scottish ale.

“Have you ever tried Scots whisky?”

“Other than viewing the hot Lawson’s commercials, no.”
She giggled.

Aaron winged a brow.
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen those.”

“Not sure you’d want to,” she teased.

“Then you’ve got to try some. Can’t come to St. Andrews without trying a wee dram.” He held his hand up catching sight of the bartender. “Two Glenallachies.”

“Have I told you how much I adore the way you talk?”

“Maybe.” He leaned closer to her, taking in the scent of her hair and coming within half an inch of her. Going deeper into his brogue, he said, “Have I told ye, lassie, how verra much I like ye?”

Darla shivered, and he watched her bite her lip. A lip he’d wanted to taste since the moment he met her. A lip, he shouldn’t want. A woman he shouldn’t be out with. Why couldn’t he have met her a year from now? No
t a mere few months after losing Megan.

Breaking the moment, t
he waitress set two shot glasses filled to the brim with whisky and two pints of ale. He didn’t know whether to be irritated at losing the chance to steal a kiss or grateful for not losing himself in a desire he shouldn’t be having.