The Great Scot (17 page)

A shame he also
was
her problem.

Just then there came a tap on the door.

Erin groaned and rolled off the bed. It was almost midnight and she'd been up since dawn. If this was one of Tommy's minions with yet another addendum to the schedule, she was going to scream. She peeked through the peephole, only to find Amelia standing on the other side. If Erin wasn't mistaken, she'd been on duty early this morning, too. She threw the latch on the door and opened it. “Hi. You're working late.”

Amelia blushed quite prettily. “Aye, mum. Getting some extra hours in so I can have off this Saturday.” She smiled. “My boyfriend is to compete for his Gold Clasp in Inverness and I want to go watch him win.”

“Gold Clasp?”

She beamed with pride. “Aye, mum. He plays the pipes, ye see. They've a prestigious competition this weekend and only former gold medal winners are eligible for the Clasp. He'll be one of the youngest to ever win it.”

“Wow,” Erin said, spending a wistful moment thinking how nice it would be to have her life benchmarked by such simple pleasures. “It sounds like he's got a great supporter in you. If he's half as determined to win as you are to see him do it, I don't doubt he'll bring the trophy home.”

“Oh, he will, I just know it! I know I'm biased, but no one is as good as my Ian. He's one of the most sought after pipers in the region. I'll bring you one of his CDs if you'd like.” She leaned in as if to share a particularly juicy piece of gossip. “He's quite good looking, if I do say so, and I do. Which doesn't hurt his sales any. Girls chase him all over. But his heart belongs to me.”

“Sounds to me like he knows a good thing when he sees it.”

Her blush deepened, but she gave Erin a saucy wink. “I'd like to think so.” She fanned her face with the envelope in her hand, then realized what she was doing and blanched. “Och, I'm so sorry! Here I am disturbin' you so late and now I'm going on about my Ian.” She thrust out the small, white envelope. “I would have put it in your box for the morning staff to deliver, but it had a note attached saying deliver immediately. Hope you don't mind the late intrusion. I'd have slipped it beneath your door, but you all seem to keep pretty late hours and I saw your light on, so—”

Erin took the envelope, her mind spinning on Amelia's story. “No, problem, really. Let me ask you, is the bagpipe competition open to the public?”

“Aye, 'tis. It's one of the largest solo competitions in the country, so it's a big draw. I can get you a copy of the notice, we've flyers downstairs, if you'd like.”

Erin smiled. “That'd be great. Just hold it at the desk for me. I'll pick it up in the morning.”

Amelia beamed. “My pleasure. Is there anythin' else I can get you?”

“No, I'm fine.” Erin waved the envelope. “And thanks for this.”

Amelia nodded and skipped off before Erin could tip her, but then she'd tried several times since taking up lodging in the hotel, only to be very sweetly rebuffed each and every time. Erin had already determined to do something nice for the girl before she checked out. At the very least, she'd send a note to her boss, detailing what great help she'd been during Erin's stay.

At the moment, however, her thoughts were on bagpipers. Men in kilts. Lots of them. She turned and leaned back against the door, tapping the envelope to her chin. She needed to find a hot Scot. Where better to start than to check out a bunch of studly guys in uniform? And if none of them filled the bill, perhaps they could recommend someone who did.

She was already mentally rearranging her schedule so she could sneak out for a good chunk of the day on Saturday. If this panned out, she was going to owe Amelia a hell of a lot more than a glowing letter to her boss.

All caught up in the hatching stages of her grand plan, she almost forgot about the envelope. It wasn't large and manila, which meant notes from Tommy or someone on staff. It was small, square, and white. She turned it over. There was nothing printed on it, not her name or room number, so it must have been hand delivered.

“Hmm.” She wedged a fingertip under one corner and slid it along the sealed edge. There was one single sheet of folded note paper inside. And when she flipped it open, there were two lines scrawled across the middle of the page:

 

Still in need of that second fantasy date site?

Meet me in the courtyard at midnight.

 

She turned it over, but that was it. No signature. But her heart had already started its now-familiar tattoo inside her chest. It had to be Dylan. Who else would write this? Who else knew she still had one site location to nail down? Well, Tommy did, as that had been the focal point of his ten minute harangue tonight after their end-of-day production meeting had ended. She looked at the note again. The writing was bold, masculine. But maybe she was just projecting.

“Yeah, projecting your own doom.” If it was Dylan, the very last thing she needed to do right now was give the gossip mill anything more to latch on to. Which was the least of the reasons why she had no business meeting him anywhere, at anytime, but certainly not in the middle of the night to head out on god knows what kind of adventure.

She walked over to the window and looked down over the village square. Night had long since fallen, but given that it was early summer, the square was still dotted with more than a few people. The shops were closed, but Hagg's was still ablaze and Erin knew a quick walk around the corner would show the windows of Miss Eleanor's coffee shop still lit with a warm glow. She kept her attention on the square, scanning the couples and the small groupings. She noted a number of the show's staffers as well as a few familiar locals, but Dylan wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Meet me in the courtyard at midnight.

She glanced over at the bedside clock. It was ten to.

It had to be him. She tapped the note against her palm. But why the sudden turn around after the silent treatment for the past two days? She'd told him what was what in the library, he'd listened, then told her no. When she'd tried to discuss it, he'd stood and excused himself, telling her that particular topic wasn't up for discussion. She hadn't heard from him since. Maybe he'd been waiting for her to make the next move.

She looked from the mess of notes and folders scattered on her bed still waiting to be attended to before she could sleep tonight…to the door to her room. A midnight rendezvous, huh? She sighed, the romantic in her trying not to swoon, but it did anyway, just a little. He'd phrased the request as a work meeting, but she knew damn well it wouldn't be all business. Or she could hope. And it wasn't like she didn't need to talk to him, anyway, about her idea to find a replacement. If Dana were here, she'd be personally dragging Erin down to the courtyard.

“Wait a minute,” she murmured. “What courtyard?” She'd read “courtyard” but had been thinking “village square.” Maybe they were one in the same, but none of the locals she knew called it that. He couldn't possibly mean the courtyard behind Glenshire? If he did, then there was no hope as she'd never make it in time.

She crossed to the hotel phone and dialed the desk before she could change her mind.

Amelia's perky voice popped up on the other end. “Yes, Miss MacGregor?”

“Is there a courtyard somewhere off the square?”

“A courtyard, mum? You mean aside from the car park behind the hotel?”

“The rear parking lot?” She'd parked back there when she'd first checked in, but once Tommy had arrived, he'd commandeered it for his own personal use. So she'd gotten used to parking along one of the side streets and walking up to the hotel. The one nice thing about the village being so small, was that pretty much everything was in walking distance. She'd all but forgotten about the little courtyard back there.

“Aye. I dinna know of another. Would you like me to ask about?”

“No, no, that's okay. Thanks.” She'd barely hung up when the phone rang again. Assuming it was Amelia calling her back, she scooped it up and said, “It's okay, I know where it is.”

“Then why aren't you down here?” came the decidedly masculine, and very familiar voice.

“Dylan.”

“Erin.”

Maybe it was the amused tone in his voice. Maybe it was the fact that, at the moment, he really was the only one she could talk to. Or maybe it was the way her entire body went on a full, four alarm alert.

“Don't leave without me.” She dropped the phone, grabbed her bag, and flew out of the room before common sense could return. Common sense was no fun.

H
e'd been sweating. Waiting. And sweating. Truly worried that she might not show up. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He'd walked out of the library the other night, worked up and worn out. His life was already upside down. And everything that was upside down about it, all circled round to one Erin MacGregor.

Yet, here he sat, in the middle of the night, like a stupid nit, waiting to see if she'd come to him. Or if he was going to have to go in there after her. He'd told himself that steering clear of her was the smart, rational thing to do. But as one day turned into two, then looked to dawn into three, it had started to feel a hell of a lot more like hiding.

When things got complicated, he liked to think he was a take action sort. He'd done that with Glenshire, hadn't he? So it only stood to reason that he would handle this…whatever the hell it was he was doing with Erin…the same way. Her boss' mad scheme to have him parade about on the telly as their next pig to slaughter was just that, crazy. But he shouldn't hold that against Erin.

All he wanted to hold against Erin was himself. Preferably naked, and on a comfortable surface where he could explore her naked self at his leisure. Maybe if he could do that, he could get his head back on straight and stop thinking about her every damn minute of every damn day. And night. Och, but the nights were about to do him in completely. Which explained why he was sitting in the car park at midnight.

He wasn't sure which was worse, the fantasies his conscious mind dreamed up, or the intensely erotic, highly detailed forays into fantasy his subconscious treated him to the moment he allowed sleep to take him.

It was enough to drive anyone raving starkers. So he was a man with a mission: Get her, take her, get on with life. Only a fool wouldn't act on the chemistry they shared. It was healthy and good to feel something. Anything. Even lust. Not a bad place to start in his book. So he'd slake his curiosity and his hunger while they filmed their little program, then he'd take their money and free promotion, wish Erin godspeed with her next project, and get on with the business of being an innkeeper.

Hell, after this circus, running a bed and breakfast would seem tame by comparison. He was actually looking forward to having only a handful of guests underfoot. Perhaps he should thank Erin for putting his future career in proper perspective for him.

And he would. If she ever got her flat little arse out here.

As if he'd willed her to appear, there came a tap on the passenger side window, followed by her sharp-eyed, gamine face peering in through the glass. He leaned across the seat and popped the door handle.

“Hello, stranger,” she said brightly, as she climbed in and settled herself in the bucket seat. As if they hadn't last parted under less than lovely circumstances. As if it was nothing out of the ordinary for her to meet up with a man in the dark of night.

And yet, he'd not only asked it of her, he'd expected her to comply. More fool he, perhaps. Except here she was. Alone with him. By choice. His body stirred at the thought, and he wondered if she had any idea of the motives behind his invitation. If she, too, was hoping this was more personal than business.

The overhead light briefly illuminated her face before she shut the door. She seemed quite at ease, not at all anxious. Perhaps she'd taken his note at face value. A peace offering of sorts, for walking out on her the other day, then avoiding all contact since.

“Your note surprised me,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “I almost didn't come down.” Before he could ask, she said, “You might want to sign your notes.”

“You receive a lot of midnight invitations, do you?”

She laughed at that. “Only from Tommy, usually involving a crisis that only I can solve, sure to rob me of what little sleep I do get.”

He was more relieved by her confirmation than he'd liked to be. He wasn't a jealous sort. Or he never had been. He didn't know what he was now. “Well, hopefully I'll be helping you reduce your workload rather than increase it. I'm sorry about the loss of sleep time.”

She lifted a shoulder, as if to say he wasn't to worry about it. “I haven't had a second to breathe the past couple of days, so if this site is viable, you'd really be helping me out. I'd give up more than sleep to get this particular headache resolved. Speaking of which, where have you been hiding out?”

So, she was here for business, then. He'd see about that. “Catching up on paperwork, my investments, and other things I've let go in my haste to complete the construction work for the grand opening. If anything, I've enjoyed the respite.”

She shot him a knowing smile. “So it was just coincidence, then, that by holing up in your wing, you'd keep from inadvertently crossing Tommy's path so he didn't hound you about the whole Prince Charming thing.”

So, she wasn't going to duck that sticky issue, either, though he'd have been perfectly willing to let her. “There might have been some side benefits, aye.”

“Given the flurry of final construction taking place, your restraint has been admirable.”

“Ye have no idea,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“What?”

“I said, I had an idea. I overheard some chatter that there was concern that the last site hadn't been nailed down. I thought I might be able to help you with that.”

“Can I ask why?” She held up a hand. “Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I'm desperate enough at this point I'd take help from any corner.”

“I believe I was just insulted.”

She laughed. “Sorry, that did come out a bit wrong. It's just, I assumed you'd prefer to steer completely clear of me and my boss, so I'm just…surprised, I guess. You certainly don't owe me a thing.”

“I know your boss really fancied the idea of signing me on and I suspected my refusal might have left you in a wee bit of a bind. So I thought maybe I could redeem myself and help you get back in his good graces.”

She just stared at him. “Really.”

He gave her the look right back. “Really.” He lifted his hands. “Why is that so hard to believe? I'm not that bad a sort, am I?” She certainly hadn't thought so when she was moaning as he teased her nipples with his tongue, but he thought better of mentioning that at the moment. His body, however, was perfectly content to respond quite fully to the memory.

“Let's just say you haven't been all that motivated to help me thus far, usually quite the opposite. Getting you to agree to the lease was a battle right off the bat.”

“Och, so quickly they forget. Was it not me who helped you secure your other much-needed date site?” His body grew even harder at the reminder, like it needed more taunting memories at the moment.

“Only after I dragged you bodily from the building to get you out of my crew's hair. It was more by default than by design.” She shifted a little in her seat, as if suddenly a bit uncomfortable. “And trust me, I've hardly forgotten.”

He smiled at that. So, she wasn't quite as unaffected as she seemed.

She caught his smile and quickly added, “But don't get any ideas. Nothing has changed since our, uh, talk in the library.”

“Talk.”

She gazed at him rather defiantly. “Yes. Talk. Which you bailed out on pretty quickly when it became clear you weren't going to get what you wanted.”

“You've no idea what I want,” he said. How could she when he didn't know himself? He thought he knew. Hadn't he just told himself he was out here for the express purpose of finishing off what they'd started? Easy to say when he was alone and horny. Only now that she was sitting next to him, he wasn't at all certain that was all he wanted. She confused the hell out of him. But there was one thing he wasn't at all confused about. “If you've come out here tonight thinking to sway me on that whole Prince Charming thing, dinna waste yer breath. I've no' changed my mind on it, nor will I.”

“I know that.”

Now it was his turn to look a bit wary. “Do you?”

“Yes, I do. I knew going in you'd never agree to anything like that, but with my job on the line, I had to at least try.”

He wouldn't have expected anything less of his tenacious lass. Which was why it was so surprising to hear her give up so readily. It was completely ridiculous, but a part of him was curious to know if she'd backed off because, perhaps, she wanted him for herself and had no intentions of sharing him with a bevy of hand-selected beauties. His ego would like to think that was true, of course. But there might have been some other part of him in there wishing the same thing. A part that had nothing to do with ego or thwarted libido. He ignored that part. “And now your job is no longer on the line? You've convinced your boss to look elsewhere?”

She didn't answer. And, he noted, she no longer held his gaze, shifting her own forward, staring through the windshield at the stone wall surrounding the hotel courtyard.

“Erin?”

“Not exactly,” she blurted out after a long, silent moment. “But I—I have another plan on how I'm going to handle it and Tommy, so you don't have to feel obligated to do anything for me, okay?” Gone was the casual, unaffected demeanor. Back was his hard-wired, always thinking, highly motivated Erin.

And that right there was the thing about her that captivated him. Things were never dull or complacent with Erin. It was a rare moment indeed where she didn't manage, without even trying, to fully engage him. Never a moment where he wasn't all caught up in her.

He made himself settle back in his own seat. Only his body had no intentions of complying. Bloody hell, but he hadn't spent this much time with a hard-on since he'd been thirteen and discovered there were magazines with undressed women in them. And was obviously what he'd been thinking with when he came up with this plan in the first place.

He abruptly gunned the engine to life. Moving, he needed to be moving. “We are still on for tonight, right?”

She nodded and pulled on her seat belt as he backed out of the narrow parking lot.

“So, what is this plan of yours?” Not that it really mattered, but if he got her talking about that, it would give him time to reassess his real motives here, get a firmer grip on his self control.

“To find Tommy someone else who will fill the bill in your place.”

“Which is what, exactly? I'm no' quite clear on why he'd want me in the first place.”

“Which is part of your charm.”

He barked a laugh. “Charming am I, now?”

“You can be.”

He gave her a sideways glance as he steered them out of the village square and headed out in the opposite direction from the way he'd come, heading away from Glenshire toward the mountains on the far side of the valley. “So much the flatterer.”

She cast him a sideways look. “Well, you didn't strike me as the type who needed his ego stroked. But I can give you a list if you insist.”

Oh, he wanted to be stroked all right, but he politely kept that thought to himself. “I was merely curious. It was a sincere question. I just wondered what this bloke would have to have to appease your boss, is all. It's no' about me.”

“Okay, then. He can't be hard on the eyes, owning a crumbling, historic mansion or castle would be a nice bonus, even better if it's set against a stunning landscape. There's the whole accent thing. The tragic past.” She glanced at him, as if gauging his response. “I don't know if we could get all that and swing having him be clan chief to a village of people who adore him, but it's on the list. That guy would be quite the romantic figure. When packaged properly anyway.”

“I think I've been maligned in there somewhere, but I'm no' entirely certain.” He caught her responding smile from the corner of his eye.

“Quite the opposite. You won't be easy to replace. Tommy already has the whole thing laid out in his mind's eye. And he can be pretty dogged about getting what he wants.”

“Which explains why he hired you.”

“See, I'll take that as a compliment.”

He smiled. “As well you should. So, does Tommy know about this substitution you'll be making? Or am I still the target?”

“It'll be easier to persuade him when I can hand him the new guy, all signed up and ready to go.” She patted his knee. “Don't worry, somehow, someway, we'll manage to limp along into a new season without you.”

He downshifted, then trapped her hand on his knee before she could withdraw it. A quick glance at her showed a fast instant of awareness in her eyes, before she carefully looked away.

“I appreciate your boundless optimism,” he said dryly, tracing his fingers along the backs of hers.

She shrugged, vainly attempting to appear unaffected, but he'd felt the fine tremor in her fingers. When she slid her hand from under his and carefully folded her arms across her chest, he had to work to contain a triumphant grin. Unaffected, his white Scottish arse.

“I figured you'd be happy to be off the hook,” she said. “I should have it resolved this weekend. I'll be sure to let you know so you won't have to hide anymore.”