KiltedForPleasure (24 page)

Taking that reprieve, she turned on her heel and plastered on a smile. “Mr. Baird.”

“Douglass or the Baird is fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest, acting like she’d planned to shove a thermometer up his butt to take his temp.

“You’re my boss.”

“Technically, Victoria’s paying you.”

“Then you’re my—” Saying patient wouldn’t help things. With someone this stubborn she had to win him over or the next few weeks would hurt, the both of them.

She said, “I’m your companion. You want to drink, you can have one. Smoke—light ’em up. Plan to beat the record at the local eat-and-gab and chow down a sixty-nine ounce steak, I’ll tip the waitress. I won’t provide any lectures.”

His brows rose in disbelief. Kate ignored that. She was only half-through the speech that won her jobs as much as it lost her ones. “If you keel over I will provide CPR. I will stick your nitrogen tablet under your tongue. When you’re fine I will mutter an I-told-you-so under my breath after you’re fine. CPR takes a lot out of me, and it makes me cranky so…I’m not perfect. I just wanted you to know that.”

His lips started to twitch, and Kate knew she had him. She put out her hand. “Katherine Campbell, but you can call me Kate.”

“I’ll call you Kitten and spray you with water when you get smart.”

Her stomach clenched for a moment at the nickname. “I charge extra for that.”

He lost the battle and laughed. “I see why Victoria hired you. All of the United Kingdom and she had to find someone worse than her.”

“I promise to never find a way to smite you. Swears.”

He sighed just like he did when Victoria had won their argument. It sounded full of exasperation. “You know you do have to cook and clean.”

“Light cleaning, healthy cooking.”

He muttered a curse. “Fine. Let me walk you through the pub. They’re having something here tonight for the wedding. Are you supposed to be here for that?”

“I prefer morning work, old habit, but if you need me here tonight, I’ll come.”

“Awright. I’ll refill your drink and put a splash of Scotch in it. You’re going to need it.”

She waved off his offer. “Just the Coke while I’m technically on the clock.”

A mischievous glint filled his eye. “Aye, of course.”

That didn’t sound like an agreement at all. She laughed. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“Aye,” he said and it sounded like a pirate’s growl.

Shaking her head, she turned to go get her glass and froze. Quinton had disappeared. Not surprising he was stealthy. He looked shifty at best, delicious at worst. Her stomach still felt tight from the punch of need. She shook it off, glad for his absence, because she had a job to do. Promises to keep. Flirting with a Scotsman was not on the schedule.

Hell, she was holding out for a Parisian anyway.

Coming June 2015