‘Why are you leaving?’ she asked when she caught up with him. ‘I thought you were joining us for a drink?’
‘I did. I had awee dram.’ The assumed Scottish accent felt alien on his tongue.
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I know, but it’s for the best. They don’t want me there.’
‘Ido.’ Her eyes widened and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
He guessed she hadn’t meant to say that. It warmed him more than the whisky. It warmed him more than it should, considering… and Rocco did some blurting of his own. ‘Show me Skye.’
‘Why?’
Because I want to spend time with you, he almost replied. ‘Because you love it.’
‘So do they.’ She waved an arm at the pub.
When he automatically glanced behind, he saw several curious faces gawking out the window. ‘I’m not asking them. I’m askingyou.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow? The next day?’ He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay before Beverly demanded his return. Not for the first time, Rocco wished his boss wasn’t his mother. It was an uncomfortable dynamic, but he supposed anyone going into a firm run by their parents must feel the same way. And what he was feeling now was conflicted, on more levels than he could count.
Giselle was hesitating.
He said, ‘Sorry, I forgot that tomorrow is Saturday. It’ll be your busiest trading day. And Sunday won’t be far behind.’
‘Not necessarily. Weekdays are equally busy.’
He blinked, disarmed. He knew that: he’d seen the figures from the cafe and the gift shop. Although he wasn’t an accountant like Claire, it was easy to see that there were only minor fluctuations in the daily takings from both establishments over the course of a week during the more lucrative summer months.
He expected her to tell him she couldn’t spare the time, but instead she said, ‘Pick me up at eight,’ as she turned on her heel and walked away. He stared after her in surprise and a considerable amount of pleasure.
Chapter 13
The area north of Portree had some of the most stunning sights on Skye, from towering peaks and stomach-dropping cliffs, to tumbling waterfalls and fairy circles. And Giselle was going to take Rocco to see every last one of them in a whistlestop tour of the most popular tourist must-sees.
When he came to pick her up at dead-on eight o’clock the following morning, she noticed with a wry smile that he was suitably dressed for the great outdoors. There was even a brand-new rucksack on the back seat. More cheese and pickle sandwiches, she presumed. She also noticed he hadn’t shaved, and she thought the less-well-groomed look suited him. He was looking more like the laid-back, T-shirt-wearing, necklace-sporting man she’d met in Venice, and a bolt of desire shot through her.
‘Where to?’ he asked.
Bed?The thought caught her unawares. ‘How fit are you?’ she asked, swiftly shoving the thought out of her head.
‘Probably not as fit as I’d like to think I am. Why? What did you have in mind?’
Oh, he was fit all right, and what was going through her mind right now had nothing to do with the great outdoors. ‘Lealt Falls, I think.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘And after that, a nice wee stretch of the legs.’
‘How wee?’
‘A couple of hours.’
‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’
We’ll see, she thought with a smile. It would probably take a bit longer. Maybe twice as long.Ifhe was up to it. The Quiraing was an impressive rock formation, regarded as possibly the most spectacular landscape on Skye. Was she being cruel making him hike it?
