Chapter
Twenty-One
Emma snorted at what she thought might be a very bad Gaelic expletive exploding from behind the closed bathroom door.
“Are you all right?” She waited, head bent close to the door.
Silence. A hard thud. Then the whooshing sound of a stronger stream of running water as it spouted from the showerhead.
“I am fine,” Torin barked. “Ye didna tell me this vile machine would scald the hide off me arse.”
Emma shuddered and tiptoed back to the kitchen. Apparently, she didn’t need to take anything for granted with Torin. He must’ve learned the hard way that there was both a hot and a cold water handle.
Pulling open the refrigerator door, she paused and stared at the package of hot dogs sitting on the shelf. A pang of guilt shoved aside the hunger rumbling in her belly. She’d just had unprotected sex with a man she hardly knew. Her medically trained, no-nonsense conscience shook an accusing finger in her face. How many times had she lectured teenagers about the dangers of unprotected sex?
Emma grabbed the cellophane wrapped package of meat and slammed shut the refrigerator door. Drumming her fingers on the countertop, she stared at the freshly painted bathroom door hiding the slightly off-tune, singing man from view. Yes. She’d had unprotected sex. And well, damn, it had been good.
Her tapping fingers bumped against her cell phone lying on the counter. That’s what she needed to do. She’d call Moira and ask her where she could find the nearest drugstore. Eying the steam creeping out from the bottom of the bathroom door, Emma licked her lips. Moira would know where she could find the nearest place that might have condoms, preferably one that delivered.
She punched Moira’s number and plucked at the plastic wrapped around the hot dogs as the call rang through. “Come on, Moira. Answer the phone. I need to talk to you before my object of interest emerges from his ablutions.”
“Hello?”
“Moira. Hi. It’s Emma Maxwell. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?” Emma frowned at the stubborn cellophane wrap as she tried to shake loose the wieners.
“Not at all, dear. Alfred and I were just watching a bit of telly. What can I do for ye? Ye are all right, are ye not?”
“Oh, I’m just fine.”You’re a lot better than fine,her wicked libido whispered in the other ear. Emma cleared her throat and bounced the hot dogs free of the wrap, jumping to catch them with her free hand before they rolled off the counter. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where I could find the nearest drugstore.” Emma paused. “One that delivers.”
“Drugstore?” Moira’s voice took on a worried tone. “Do ye mean a chemist’s shop? Are ye feeling unwell again? Dr. Mac told me how pale ye were and that ye ached down to your very bones.”
Great.Moira and Alex had chatted about her. And chemist’s shop? Emma frowned into the phone. Maybe that’s how they usually referred to pharmacies here. “I’m fine, Moira. I just kind of discovered…” Emma paused again. How was she going to phrase this? She’d just met the kindly older woman and didn’t want Moira to think that Emma jumped in bed with every muscular tattooed Scot that came along. “I…um…found out that I need some personal supplies.” Emma coughed. “If you know what I mean.”
“Ahhh.” Then the distinct sound of heels clicking on tile flooring echoed through the phone. Emma could almost see Moira nodding in understanding while she waddled into another room out of earshot of husband Alfred. “I understand.Femininesupplies. If ye call the shop just off Cromwell St., I believe they’ll deliver whatever ye need for a verra reasonable fee.”
Emma’s heart lifted. “That’s just perfect, Moira—”
“And be certain to ask for Flora. She’s my sister and will ensure the delivery boy doesna think he can dawdle along the way.”
Emma’s heart fell. Moira’ssister. Great.Emma was going to call Moira’s sister and ask them to deliver the biggest package of condoms the store carried. That would go over well. Flora would probably break her neck getting back to the phone to call and report to friendly, sweet,old-fashionedMoira that the lovely young doctor from the United States had somebody in her bed, and they were exhausting the island’s supply of condoms. Just great.
“Dr. Em, are ye there?”
Moira’s concerned voice broke through Emma’s internal turmoil. “I’m here, Moira.” Emma gulped in a fortifying breath, glanced again at the steaming bathroom door, and covered her eyes with her free hand. “You wouldn’t happen to have that number, would you?”
Emma repeated the number over in her head while she fished a pen and notepad out of her bag. Jotting down the numbers, she heard the creak of the bathroom door and glanced up just in time to see Torin’s glistening buttocks disappear into the bedroom.
Emma swallowed hard as her lower extremities flared to white-hot attention. Yep. Moira’s sister or no Moira’s sister. She had to get those condoms—just in case Torin stayed.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The bit of meat called ahot dogwasn’t half bad as long as it truly wasn’t a dog. Torin eyed the pinkish chunk peeping out from the bun as he rolled the first taste around in his mouth. With a shrug, he shoved the other half of the cheese-slathered morsel into his mouth. But then again, it was not as good as a plate of roasted fowl and a chunk of freshly baked brown bread.
Torin glanced toward the gleaming black box sitting on the counter. What strange things this time held. Stirring a spoon through the bowl of stew on his plate, he watched the steam rise from the rich soup. “What magic makes the box heat the food? Do ye release the box’s energy by twisting that silver knob?”
Emma glanced toward the microwave and shrugged. “I’m not quite sure how to explain it. Its atomic motion stirring the molecules of the food. The faster they’re agitated, the hotter the food becomes.”
