by Anna Durand
I flopped onto my back, arms crossed over my eyes, and cursed myself. My satin nightie caught under my butt, stretching tight over my breasts. I wriggled to free the fabric. Sunlight streamed through the crack between the blackout curtains on the window and leaked through the gap between my arms. I squashed my arms together to block the glare.
Somewhere in the middle of my mostly sleepless night, I'd figured out why I bolted. The game plan had been solid, but my resolve wavered. One night with a stranger, one incredible fantasy brought to life, sounded good. I'd craved it out of desperation I might never get the chance again. Faced with the reality of giving myself to a man I knew only from his brief profile on a dating site, the real me reared her head. I was no man-eater, prowling raunchy clubs for fresh meat. I couldn't go through with it. But oh, I had enjoyed that kiss. Maybe I succeeded after all in being wild.
Claws clicked on the wood floor, accompanied by panting. A weight landed on the bed, depressing the mattress at my feet and bouncing me. I dropped my arms to my sides. My golden retriever, Casey, wagged his tail. It thumped on the blanket.
After a self-pitying moan, I heaved my torso off the bed to lean over and pat my companion on the head. "Morning, Casey-wasey."
He lunged forward to slap a wet kiss on my mouth. I spluttered and wiped my mouth, then shoved the dog off the bed. "No tongue, remember? I'm not that kind of girl."
Not for canines, anyway. I'd thrust my tongue into Cliff's mouth without hesitation and permitted him to plunder mine in return. A hot shiver rippled through me as I flashed back to my body plastered to his and the faint pressure of something stirring under his kilt. Stop thinking about him.
A tiny thread of regret came loose inside me. Poor Cliff. I wound him up and left him hanging. Maybe I'd send him one last message and apologize for fleeing.
Casey rested his chin on the bed's edge, tail wagging, and whimpered.
"I know, I know, it's breakfast time." I swung my legs over the edge and my feet struck the chilly wood floor. With a yawn, I launched myself off the bed.
Twenty minutes later, I'd consumed two bowlfuls of chocolate Cheerios and downed a mug of steaming-hot green tea. Casey settled for chicken gizzards in addition to his dry dog food. Mmm, I loved the stench of raw gizzards in the morning. Refreshed, in spite of the chicken parts, I clasped Casey's collar around his neck, clipped the leash onto it, and pulled the front door open.
I yelped. My heart thrashed against my ribs.
Cliff smiled. "Morning, neighbor."
Stonewashed blue jeans hugged his hips and another tight T-shirt, this time jade green, stretched over his chiseled chest. The leash fell from my hand.
Casey flung his front paws onto Cliff's thighs. The man I'd kissed last night scratched my dog behind the ears. Casey, ebullient at the attention, licked Cliff's arm.
My fantasy Highlander's smile faltered. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
Happy? Seriously? I snagged Casey's collar and dragged him away from Cliff. "Are you stalking me?"
"Stalking?" He scratched his cheek. "I thought to follow you last night to make sure you were all right, but you took off so bloody fast. Might not believe it, but I am an honorable man."
A panicked laugh hiccupped out of me. "Honorable? Stalking is a crime, buddy."
My terrifying guard dog hopped up and down on his front feet, his tongue lolling.
"Erica." Cliff raised his hands, palms out. "I'm trying to be friendly."
"Go creep out some other random girl you hunted down online." I pushed Casey out of the doorway with my foot and pulled the door halfway closed. "Leave me alone, Cliff."
I slammed the door. Casey whined.
"Forget it." I wagged a finger at him. "Stalkers bad. Dog bite stalkers. Got it? No licking."
My Highlander's voice resounded through the door. "Who the bloody hell is Cliff?"
A chill trickled through me. I stared at the door, unable to budge a muscle. How could he not know his own name? The truth reeled through me and the room spun once. I never spoke his name last night. When a stranger acted like he knew me, I'd assumed he was Cliff. But if the Highlander wasn't Cliff, then who in heaven's name was he?
One way to find out. I fastened the security chain and eased the door open a few inches.
The Scot lifted one brow. "Cliff?"
"Who are you?"
He offered me his hand. "Lachlan MacTaggart. I moved in next door yesterday. Housesitting for my friend, Gil Friedman, as an excuse for a holiday in America. Gil told me about you — your name and how much he and his new bride like you."
I stared at his hand, blinking slowly. He claimed to know Gil, so… I clasped his hand. Warm fingers closed around mine in a firm grip. I managed to say, "Erica Teague. But you know that already."
"Pleasure to meet you, Erica. Officially."
"Uh-huh." His hand lingered on mine, his thumb dancing over my knuckles. The feathery touch sizzled through my whole body. I withdrew my hand and folded my arms over my chest. "How did you know what I looked like?"
"I arrived yesterday while you were out. When you came home, you set about tending to your rose bushes."
Not my rose bushes. Mom would kill me if I let them wither. This guy did not need to know the details of my living arrangements. "The roses were here when I moved in."
"You care for them with such tenderness, it's wonderful to watch." Lachlan gave me a guilty smile. "Suppose I did stalk you, by accident. I truly am sorry about last night, though."
"Wasn't your fault." Hey, why was I consoling this guy? "How do I know you're really housesitting for Gil and Jayne?"
"Call him. He's at my place in Scotland and he's got his mobile. Said you knew the number."
Gil had given me his cell number in case of emergency and I gave him mine for the same reason. Despite three years of living next to him, I couldn't say we were besties, but he and Jayne had invited me over for dinner on occasion and I'd cooked for them too. Gil helped me clean up the mess when a storm knocked a tree branch down in my yard and he ran three blocks to catch Casey when the dopey dog took off after a big truck. He and Jayne were the closest thing I had to friends.
"Call Gil," Lachlan said. "And if you want me, I'll be next door."
He strode down the steps and across the adjoining yards to Gil's house. If I wanted him? I wouldn't. No way. My gaze was riveted to his taut ass, accentuated by those second-skin jeans, as the muscles shifted with each of his long strides. The door to Gil's house clicked shut behind Lachlan. I stood there for a moment, one hand on the door knob, gazing out through the gap between the frame and door.
With a wistful sigh, I pried myself away from the view and shut the door. Wistful Erica, that I was. Wimpy Erica too. But wild and wanton Erica? Last night you were.
I grabbed my phone to call Gil. He answered on the fifth ring, sounding way too cheerful for my time zone. While I talked to him, I made coffee. I reserved java for emergencies, and this morning I definitely needed a serious caffeine boost.
"Erica, hey." He gave a surprised little laugh. "Imagine hearing from you. Did my pipes explode or something?"
"Wouldn't your house guest take care of that?"
"Oh." At least he had the gentlemanliness to sound chagrined. "You met Lachlan."
Met. Kissed. Accused of stalking. "Yeah. He, uh, stopped by to say hello. Why didn't you let me know you'd have a house sitter while you're gone?"
"Plum forgot. Lachlan called a week ago saying he wanted a break from Scotland, and me and Jayne had talked about getting a house sitter anyway, so… We decided to turn my business trip into the start of a Scottish honeymoon. We switched houses. Jayne and me are at Lachlan's apartment in Edinburgh this week, then we're heading up to his place in the Highlands. It's stone gorgeous up there."
I felt my brows tighten, crinkling my nose. "How long is Lachlan staying here?"
"Four weeks."
Twenty-eight days living next to the only man I'd ever kissed without even knowing his na
me. And he wanted to be friendly. "Is Lachlan married or involved with anybody?"
Gil chortled. "Do I detect a crush?"
"No." I slapped the coffee pod into the single-serve machine and snapped the lid shut. "How do I know the guy living there is really Lachlan? Maybe you should send me a photo of him."
"Cripes, Erica, you are so paranoid." I heard shuffling and then he said, "I'm e-mailing a photo of me and Lachlan. Satisfied?"
Not in the slightest. The mere mention of the Scot's name had my lips burning with a desire to finish what I started last night. "Yes, I'm satisfied. Thank you." I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. "So, does he have a significant other?"
The volume of Gil's laughter overtaxed my receiver's speaker. "You like him, don't you?"
"No." Damn. That came out a little petulant and a lot unconvincing. "I like to know my neighbors, that's all."
"Well… " He coughed. "If you want to know more about Lachlan, better ask Lachlan."
Uh-oh, wife alert. I grunted as I grabbed a mug from the cabinet. "Thanks for the info. And for the head's up about your house sitter."
"He's a good guy, Erica. Relax." Gil's voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "Bake some of those yummy brownies of yours and take them over to Lachlan. A housewarming gift. He'll love it."
"Housewarming?" I thumped my mug on the counter. "Are you selling him your house?"
"No, I just thought — " He blew out a breath. "Man, you are so suspicious. I love you, kid, but you have got to learn to let people in. All's I'm saying is, make a friend."
"You're my friend." I slid the mug into the coffee maker.
"Erica." He drew my name out with exasperation. "You need more friends than me and Jayne."
Grumbling, I drummed my fingers on the counter. The coffee maker drip-dripped with all the speed of a glacier traversing a continent.
"Come on," Gil chided. "Go over there and practice your social skills. I already told Lachlan you're a real sweetie and you've got a big heart to match your big mouth."
"Excuse me? I do not have a big mouth."
"No, of course not," he said with no sincerity whatsoever.
"I can't believe you told Lachlan I have a big mouth."
Gil tried but failed to restrain a chuckle. "Like he wouldn't figure it out on his own."
"Remind me to never let you write an online dating profile for me."
"Relax, your big mouth is one of your best qualities." Gil gave a long-suffering sigh. "Just give Lachlan a chance. He's a good guy. Besides, you're stuck living next door to him for a month."
I focused on the coffee slowly amassing in my mug. My new neighbor was a scorching Highlander the sight of whom drove me to lose control and lose my mind. Why me?
"You'll do it, right?" Gil asked. "You'll be nice to Lachlan? Cuz frankly, he could use a friend too."
"Why?" I didn't worry about the suspicion in my voice. I had a right to it. "What's wrong with him?"
"Ask Lachlan." A pause, and then Gil added, "He's not a criminal or a pervert. You'll like him, sweetie, so get your butt over there and be as charming as I know you can be. Toodles."
He hung up. Since when did Gil Friedman say toodles?
I had no choice. Like it or not, my almost one-night stand ate, drank, and slept twenty feet away from my quiet sanctuary in suburbia. Maybe I could get away with pretending last night never happened, but I disliked inviting elephants into my home. They tended to trash the furniture.
Gil assured me Lachlan wasn't a criminal. That made one of us.
Casey scampered up to me, his leash still dangling from his collar, and hopped on his front feet.
"Jeez," I whined. "Can I have my coffee before you start pestering me to be nice to Lachlan?"
The dog chuffed his dissent.
A knock resounded from the front door. Mug in hand, I marched to the door and drew it open. My throat constricted. An icy spike rammed straight into my heart. I stammered but couldn't form words.
Presley Cichon smirked. "Hey, babe. Miss me?"
Chapter Four
"Get the hell off my property." And out of my life. I clacked my coffee mug down onto the table beside the door. Dark liquid sloshed out. I shielded myself with the door, glaring at Presley through a narrow gap. My legs quivered and I locked my knees for support. My mouth was suddenly parched. "I dumped you, remember? Or have you developed early onset Alzheimer's?"
A sick part of me wished he had, the part hungry for vengeance or at least some kind of punishment.
He leaned against the house, where the bedroom jutted out alongside the door, and hooked a thumb in the pocket of his gray slacks. His coppery brown eyes undressed me with a covetous sweep over my body, then sharpened on my face. The bastard had no right to be so good-looking.
When he angled his head, the sunlight sparked on green flecks in his irises. "I missed you, babe. Is that a crime?"
My jaw clenched. Breaths hissed out my nostrils. "Actually, it kind of is. We're involved in litigation, in case you forgot."
Presley ran a hand through sandy locks that curled around the nape of his neck. His lips curved in a boyish smile, the kind most women swooned over, the kind I had once swooned over — but no more. He cocked his head. "Come on, I'm not a witness or anything. We aren't breaking any laws by talking."
I ground my teeth. "After what you did, you've got a lot of nerve showing your face here. We are not friends."
He sauntered two steps closer. I lifted my chin to meet his gaze. Damned if I'd give him the pleasure of seeing me cringe. Presley tapped a finger on my chin. "No, sugar, we're not friends. We're way more." He stroked his finger up my jawline. "This is all a big misunderstanding. Let me in so we can talk."
Disgust slithered through me and I shook off his touch. "You're a sleaze, Presley. I can't believe I ever slept with you."
Behind me, Casey growled softly.
"Come on, babe." He settled one hand on the frame and the other on the door, exerting a slight pressure. "Let's kiss and make up."
The musky scent of his cologne choked me. Despite my thundering heartbeat and the faint quiver in my hands, I kept my voice fierce. "You set me up. And now, what, you want to get back together? You're insane."
He clucked his tongue. "Set you up? Sweet thing, all the evidence points to you and nobody else, which the DA told you when you tried to feed him your cock-and-bull story about me conspiring against you. But I forgive you."
My brain screeched to a halt. Chill morning air, tainted with his cologne, seeped into my gaping mouth. He forgave me? Once, I'd been gullible enough to swallow whatever he told me, but since then I'd gone on a bullshit-free diet.
"We had a good thing once," Presley said, his tone steamy as a summer day in the tropics. "And you need somebody to stand by you through this ordeal. I can be what you need, Erica, you know I can."
His voice exuded heroin-laced honey, an enticing blend that used to tempt me. During our… What should I call it? Relationship didn't fit. During our affair, Presley's sweet words and sensual ways had drugged me with a high so intense I abandoned all reason. Today, I couldn't believe I'd wasted five months with him, or that I'd trusted him so much I ignored the warning signs. Can I use your computer, Erica? Mine's glitching again and these clients are gonna rip me a new one if I don't get this work done. I stifled a disgusted groan at the memory. What had I said in response? Oh yeah, I remembered. Sure, Pres, here's my password. My rational brain told me I couldn't have known what he was really up to, but I still hated myself for not figuring it out.
Presley's fingers coiled around mine, joining our hands. His felt cold, his grip a little too firm. "What do you say, babe?"
I wrenched my hand free. "What do you really want?"
"To talk, like I said."
"Screw you, babe." I tried to shut the door, but he jammed his foot in the way. Casey snarled and started barking. A door banged shut somewhere outside. I pushed on the door as Presley shoved back, the door inching in and out,
like a seesaw tipped up on its side. Push, pull, push, pull. The door inched inward, despite my arms burning from the exertion.
Presley threw his whole weight into the door, banging it into my chin. I choked back a cry as pain radiated through my jaw.
"Quit it!" I kicked at his foot. "Stop or I'll call — "
"The police?" He threw his head back and laughed. "You're so funny. Who do you think they'll believe? A filthy little thief, or the Harvard-educated, prized son of the Cichon dynasty?"
"Get away, you twisted son of a bitch!"
I yanked the door inward, knocking him off balance, and then slammed it shut on his foot. He howled, his face contorted in agony. Stumbling backward, he shouted a string of the most vulgar curses I'd ever heard. Casey darted outside and latched onto Presley's calf. I seized Casey's collar, dragging him back into the house.
An imposing figure vaulted across the concrete walkway to whomp down beside Presley. Lachlan zeroed in on me. "Need a hand?"
"Thanks, but this creep was just leaving." I glowered at Presley, though my lower lip trembled. He scrambled to his feet, scowling at Lachlan.
Though Lachlan's posture remained casual, his gaze hardened on Presley and his tone dropped to a dangerously soft volume. "Your visit is over, laddie. Take yourself away from here."
Presley stepped back from the door, nose high, lips tightened into a smirk. "Or what? You'll torture me to death with bagpipe music?"
A muscle in Lachlan's jaw twitched. "I don't take kindly to scunners who try to force their way into a lady's home."
The "scunner" in question flicked his middle finger at Lachlan.
"Okay-okay," I said, and rushed forward to plant myself between the two men. "Let's end this right now. You two walloping each other won't solve anything."
Lachlan arched one eyebrow at me. "Sure you don't want me to give him a right skelping with a caber?"
"A caper?" Presley sniggered. "Ooooh, hitting me with pickled garnish sounds real scary."
My Highlander aimed a deadly smile at my scumbag ex. "A caber's a very large wooden pole. Best know what yer on about before ye start bumping yer gums, laddie."