Scot of My Dreams

Hot for the Scot

Scot of My Dreams

Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

Kilted Heroes

LYRICAL PRESS

Kensington Publishing Corp.

www.kensingtonbooks.com

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Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2016 by Janice Maynard

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First Electronic Edition: May 2016

eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-627-4

eISBN-10: 1-60183-627-9

First Print Edition: May 2016

ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-628-1

ISBN-10: 1-60183-628-7

Printed in the United States of America

For Pam, Rita, and Debbie of Three Sisters Hair Design. So glad we are friends!

On the East Coast train…somewhere north of Edinburgh…

I had done a lot of crazy things in my thirty-two years. But borrowing money against my business to make a month-long trip to Scotland was possibly the most reckless. It annoyed me that neither of my companions seemed half as frazzled as I was, not that I would ever let them guess I was flipping out.

Hayley, love her heart, was in her element with maps and guidebooks and half a dozen lists, her mood beyond excited. Once a teacher, always a teacher. McKenzie on the other hand, was the picture of calm. Her manicure was perfect, her hair swung in a soft platinum-blonde curve at her shoulders, and the expression on her face was dreamy.

I was frustrated that neither of my friends was taking my warnings seriously. I knew they were in for a big disappointment. They had both built this
Outlander
obsession to such a fever pitch that no trip to Scotland in real life would ever measure up. “Jamie Fraser is a fictional character,” I said. “Like Harry Potter or Jason Bourne. You’re not going to find him wandering around the Scottish Highlands waiting to sweep you off your feet.”

Hayley looked at me with hurt, puppy dog eyes, but McKenzie only smiled. “I
know
that. I’m not delusional. But at least I have a whimsical soul. You wouldn’t know a romantic moment if it smacked you in the face.”

I blinked, not expecting the insult. McKenzie gave the impression that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but she could bite when backed into a corner. McKenzie and I were about as different as two women could be. But we had begun our lives at the same daycare in suburban Atlanta, the one run by Hayley’s endlessly patient mother.

Hayley intervened. “You’re both jet-lagged,” she said. “If you’re not going to enjoy the trip, at least get some sleep so you won’t be grumpy when we get to Inverness. I’m tired of listening to both of you.”

I slumped back into my seat and sulked. We wouldn’t be so tired if McKenzie hadn’t dragged us out of bed early this morning. She’d wanted to make it to King’s Cross train station in time to get her picture taken with all the Harry Potter stuff. I was a fan of the kid wizard, too, but it wouldn’t have killed us to sleep in for another hour.

The train racketed along, giving tantalizing glimpses of the countryside. We were sitting in the first class compartment thanks to McKenzie’s generosity. She’d grown up with money…lots of it. A recent bequest from her late grandmother’s estate had prompted this bucket list trip. We were all three madly enamored with the
Outlander
TV series. McKenzie decided we should travel to Scotland and seek out our own adventures, preferably with a kilt-clad hero involved.

I was skeptical about the hero business. Guys like the fictional Jamie Fraser, even if they existed in real life, were about as rare as honest politicians. Since romance wasn’t a priority for me, my goal for this trip was to see if I had it in me to relax. I’d been working pretty much nonstop since I was fourteen, and the habit was ingrained. Hayley and McKenzie might have their own private agendas, but they hadn’t shared them with me at this point. Like Claire Randall, the gutsy heroine of the TV series
Outlander
, we were supposed to find our own gorgeous, chivalrous, modern-day Highlander.

Hayley and McKenzie really believed it might happen. As far as I was concerned, it was a harmless fantasy.

I tried to sleep, but I was too buzzed. Though my seat was plush, first class on the train meant little more than free WiFi and free food. The Internet was decent, the meals and snacks unimaginative. On the other hand, I had flown from Georgia to Heathrow on a jumbo jet, with a bed that reclined and an honest-to-God feather pillow and comforter, so I had no complaints. McKenzie’s generosity was legend. All I had to cover for the next four weeks was lodging and meals.

I yawned. “Tell me again why we didn’t fly straight to Inverness?”

“You know why,” Hayley said. She opened her notebook. “We agreed that since we can’t actually go back in time like Claire does in
Outlander
, this train journey will be symbolic of our desire to go off the grid for a month. No cell phones. No Internet. No Facebook. No Twitter. You agreed, Willow.”

“Under duress,” I muttered.

McKenzie snickered. “You’re bitchy when you’re tired.”

“And you’re even more annoying than usual,” I drawled. Even though we’d all known each other as toddlers and children, McKenzie’s parents had pulled her out of public school when we were nine and enrolled her in an elite private academy. My own situation had taken a nosedive about that time. Fortunately, even though we were separated by circumstance, Hayley’s mother had insisted we all keep in touch at least occasionally. Then about seven years ago, McKenzie and Hayley and I reconnected via Facebook and managed to resurrect a friendship that was as solid today as it had been when we were learning cursive and how to multiply six times eight.

I would walk through fire for either of my two companions, but I was not at my best at the moment. All I could think about while a headache jackhammered its way through my skull was that I had abandoned my finally-breaking-even hair salon to fly across the ocean and pursue an idea that was unrealistic at best.

Our plan was to stay together tonight at the hotel adjacent to the train station in Inverness. Then tomorrow morning, we would all three go our separate ways. I’d feel better after that, because there would be no witnesses if I decided to have a tiny little meltdown.

Hayley tapped the notebook where she had underlined the final piece of our plan. “And remember: every night at nine o’clock, or as close as we can make it, we’ll turn on our phones and check for any emergency messages from each other.”

I nodded. “I won’t forget.” I could see that McKenzie was worried about Hayley. McKenzie knew I had street smarts, but our schoolteacher friend possessed a naïve streak a mile wide.

McKenzie was Hayley’s opposite in almost every way. She was sophisticated and extremely well traveled and always willing to try something new. Fashion and adventure came easily to those with plenty of money in the bank. Truthfully, though, even if I won the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes, I’d still a blue-collar girl from Georgia and not a fraction as exciting as McKenzie.

With all that cash, it wouldn’t be surprising if McKenzie were a pampered diva. But she wasn’t. The truth was, I adored her. She probably didn’t know how much. I tended to keep my deepest emotions under wraps. Life was safer that way.

I loved Hayley, too. At the moment, though, I was panicky and wishing I had never agreed to this mad scheme. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, eyeing the passing scenery surreptitiously through lashes that were tipped in sapphire mascara.

Inverness couldn’t get here soon enough.…

Although McKenzie could be bossy, I had to admit her attention to detail was admirable. We no sooner had left the train station than we found ourselves on the doorstep of our hotel for the night. She’d picked a winner. It was so close we didn’t even need to call a cab.

It was probably a good thing it wasn’t necessary to walk any distance. Poor Hayley was in danger of falling asleep standing up. While McKenzie checked us in, I studied the lobby. It was elegant and slightly shabby, but in that genteel European way that American hotels couldn’t match. Despite my exhaustion, I felt a fillip of excitement.

By the time we dragged our bags upstairs, it was all we could do to take turns in the tiny bathroom and brush our teeth at the small sink in the corner of the room. Hayley volunteered for the rollaway. That left the two single beds for McKenzie and me. I pulled back the covers on mine and flopped facedown on the mattress.

Seconds later, McKenzie’s voice dragged me back from the verge of sleep. “I’m glad you both came with me,” she said.

“Me, too,” I muttered, trying to pummel my pillow into a more comfortable shape. “I’m sorry I was in a bad mood earlier. I really am excited. But are we absolutely sure we want to split up?” I was worried about Hayley, and though I would never admit it out loud, I was a little intimidated by the idea of traveling alone in a foreign country. The farthest from Georgia I had ever been was a weekend trip to the Smoky Mountains.

The room was mostly dark. Hayley’s drowsy voice carried across the small space separating us. “We have to,” she said. “If we’re really going to be on the lookout for our own Scottish heroes, we need to be independent. A cluster of three women isn’t likely to attract the attention of an available Scotsman.”

“Unless he’s into ménage a trois,” I joked. The idea of Hayley in a threesome was too funny for words.

Her tone was snippy. “Your math skills suck,” she said. “And I don’t know the French word for four. Go to sleep. We don’t have to say goodbye yet.”

McKenzie was suspiciously silent. I wondered what she was thinking. A soft snore from her direction told me she had gone to sleep with a clear conscience. Hayley soon followed suit, judging by her regular breathing. Which left only me to stare up at the ceiling and wonder if I had made a huge mistake.

* * *

The following morning, I paid for my sleepless night. My roommates were up at first light, their bodies still on Eastern Standard Time. I should have been as well, but instead, I pulled the pillow over my head. “Go to breakfast without me,” I begged. I could tell it was gray and rainy outside. The perfect day to lie in bed.

Unfortunately, I found no sympathy from either one of my friends. Instead of arguing with me directly, they proceeded to make so much damn noise that I had no choice but to roll out of bed and splash water on my face. They stood by the door to the narrow hallway, almost visibly counting the minutes until I was ready.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m up. I’m dressed. Let’s do this.”