I reach for my wallet to get some cash, but he rolls his eyes, giving me a withering look. “Really?”
I smile. “You let me buy my salad.”
He reaches over and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “That was before we were friends, darlin’.”
Oh God, he’s playing me like a fiddle, and my body issinging.
“Then in that case, I’ll take the coffee, a brownie, and two slices of the Rich Man’s Shortbread, please.”
It’ll be a late night at the shop. It’s dinner.
He winks at me. “Atta girl.” My heart somersaults again. “On it. See you soon.”
I go my way and he goes his, but I know he’s heading back to me soon, and I find it hard to focus. I pace the shop, twiddle my hair, chew my nails, and finally fire up my computer and pull up the next design I’m working on. I’m completely procrastinating about the one I’m on a deadline to finish, but I feel odd picking that one up knowing Mac is due in at any moment. I don’t know why it feels so secret.
I stare at the screen. I’m past the planning stage, and this is when I always get a little nervous and excited. It's time for me to take out the fabric, my scissors, and my trusty old needle and thread. I use a sewing machine, of course, but I love to begin projects by hand. I feel like it gives me a good connection with the piece that I'm working on. Fruity, maybe, but I don't much care.
I lose myself to the work. I feel the silky fabric beneath my fingers, and it ceases to be only a textile. Now it holds a world of possibility.
Warmed up, inspired, I pick up the custom piece I’m finishing by hand. I imagine the lovely bride taking her vows. I imagine her looking at her bridesmaids with pride and wonder, as they walk down the aisle with fresh flowers in hand. I imagine a gentle breeze, and the groom waiting at the altar. This event’s a beautiful day in summer, one of the most gorgeous times of year in Inverness.
I'm so lost in my work I’ve forgotten all about Mac coming. I jump when the door opens. I had gotten so wrapped up in my work it takes me a moment to get my bearings. He's got a tray of coffee, and a white bag that looks pretty jammed.
“Looks like I startled you,” he says with a grin. “Y’alright?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say, getting to my feet. “I was just starting a new piece and trying to finish another I’m a bit nervous about. I sometimes get my head up in the clouds. Something my mum’s always scolding me about.”
He nods and hands me a steaming cup of coffee.
“Oh, this smells good,” I say, gesturing for him to take the only other seat in the entire little shop. I love a cup of tea, but this coffee’s one of the best. He sits in the tiny folding chair opposite me, and it seems as if the entire shop is half-filled with his large frame.
“Here, this ought to keep you going,” he says, handing me the white paper bag. I open it, relishing the sweet scent of vanilla and chocolate. Rich Man’s Shortbread is my favorite treat, thickslabs of golden shortbread dipped in dark chocolate. My mouth waters.
“Did you buy the whole tray?” I tease. The bag’s jammed.
He grins. “Mum loves the stuff. I always bring her some when I come into town. She makes shortbread but won’t let herself indulge in the chocolate-dipped variety unless there’s a wee bit of an arm twist. In other words, ready-made and gifted in a paper bag.” He winks.
Okay, so that’s adorable. Treats for his mum.
I take a bite and follow it with my coffee. I haven’t had one in ages, and it tastes so damn good I moan a little, capturing a stray crumb with the tip of my tongue. “Delicious,” I whisper.
His eyes follow my tongue, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
“What’s that?” he says, his voice a little lower and husky.
Oh my God.Am I affecting him? Is he turned on by me? The very idea makes me all squirmy.
I decide to test the theory.
I take a second bite, a larger one so my mouth is filled with the rich, mildly sweet treat. “Mmm,” I moan, licking the crumbs off my lips again.
“Jaysus,” he mutters, his voice ragged and gravelly. I place my hand on the desk between us, bracing myself for the sudden rush of emotion and arousal at his husky voice. His thumb flicks over the top of my hand, rough and sensual, and I shiver with excitement. I watch him lick his lips and swallow again. I want to trace the outline of his Adam’s apple with my tongue.God.
I’m so damn flattered that he’s attracted to me, I’ve damn near lost all sense of propriety. I look out the door of the shop to find my guard standing there with his back to us, fingers laced behind his back.
“That’s my bodyguard. He’s usually watching every fucking move,” I whisper, leaning over so Mac can hear me. “I wonder why he isn’t staring at us.”
Mac leans even closer, anddamn,he smells good. Once when I was a child, I spent a holiday in the Norwegian mountains, and for some reason his scent reminds me of that. Warm, sensual, gently spicy. Masculine and virile.
