Kirsty pushed her way through the crowd, blissfully unnoticed by the press, but then she didn’t exactly look and act like the model she’d once been. There was no reason why anyone should recognise her. She shut her shop door behind her, leaned her head against the cool glass and concentrated on breathing slowly.
Fight me, Lake had said. Use everything you have.
The words fanned a flame of courage inside her. Instead of thinking about what she didn’t have and couldn’t do, she needed to start thinking about what she did have at her disposal. Her heart began to race. For the first time in years it was from excitement rather than anxiety. What did she have at her disposal? She had a shop full of lingerie, half a body and a scandalous past. And now she had a plan.
Without taking time to analyse her decision, lest she chicken out, she marched through her shop, stopping only to pick up a tangerine satin corset set and sheer stockings. She ran up the steps to her flat and rummaged in the back of the wardrobe for the coat her mum had given her for Christmas two years earlier—it was white, ankle length and made of faux fur. It was one of the gaudiest things she’d ever seen. Poor Mum, she never did have any taste. Still, she was grateful for it now. In the bathroom she ran some mousse through her hair, giving it that tousled bedroom look. Thick black eyeliner, a brush of grey shadow and an extra set of eyelashes and her eyes were smoky and sexy. Pale pink lipstick and she was done.
Back in the bedroom, she opened the closet door to reveal the full-length mirror she never looked in. Her eyes flicked to the window and the crowd down below in the street. They would be leaving soon.
It was now or never.
Her stomach clenched at the thought. She tried to calm it with logic. Telling it that this was nothing she hadn’t spent years doing. Before her stomach could answer back, she stripped and pulled on the corset set. The satin material stretched across her body and hid the scar that curved round her right side and onto her stomach. She smoothed on her stockings, clipping them into the suspenders. There were no scars on the few inches of skin that peeked out between the stocking and the lace edge of her panties.
With great effort she looked at herself objectively. The coat would hide the scars on her shoulder and arm, but the scars on her neck worried her. She would have to make sure she held the collar up while she posed, otherwise the pictures would be all about the scars. With a deep and shaky breath, she pulled on the fur coat. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeated. She picked out a pair of designer shoes. They were several seasons out of date but she doubted anyone would notice.
The voice in the back of her head told her she looked more like a cheap hooker than a once popular model. She ignored it. In her modelling days she’d made stuff a lot tackier than this look classy. She could do it again.
Taking a deep and shaky breath, she headed for the stairs before she could stop herself, or before she passed out from thinking about what she was going to do. As her hand rested on the doorknob, a thought hit her. She turned and walked through to her office. She took the long strand of papier-mâché beads from the bowl on her desk and slipped them over her head. They didn’t exactly go with the outfit, but they felt right. For some reason the fact she’d worn them on her last professional photo shoot, before the accident, made them seem like the perfect thing to wear now. Her hand trembled as she stroked the beads. She was literally half the woman she’d been the last time she wore them.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered out loud.
Her stomach lurched. She knew that it was a lie. She probably wasn’t going to be okay. She was probably going to make a fool of herself in front of the town and the national press. Her scars would be revealed, the coat would slip or the wind would blow—something would happen. She was sure of it. And then all anyone would talk about would be the scars. Not the fact she was healthy and alive. Not the fact her shop needed the business. Not even the fact she was fighting again.
“It hasn’t happened yet,” she said aloud. “Nothing is set in stone. You don’t know what will happen. You don’t.”
Now she was really beginning to feel like she’d lost her mind.
With a shuddering deep breath, she opened the door to her shop and stepped out into the crowded high street. For a second, everything was surreal. She was dressed like a cheap hooker on a Saturday afternoon in Invertary. Her steps faltered. Then someone shouted above the crowd.
“Isn’t that Kirsty?”
Slowly everyone turned towards her. Kirsty forgot how to breathe. With great effort she smiled at everyone and took a step. The ground did not open up beneath her. She took another step and another; her hips began to sway as they remembered the walk she’d perfected as a model. And before she knew it, she was halfway across the road.
There was no going back now.
Lake felt the atmosphere change before he became aware that people were moving towards the front of her shop. The excitement in the chatter went up a notch.
“Holy smoke,” Betty called from where she was posing “for her fans” next to his tuxedoed cut-out. “It’s Kirsty.”
Everything within him went on high alert. He pushed his way through the crowd. He made it to the door as things grew eerily quiet. They parted for him, like the Red Sea for Moses. Next thing he knew, he was standing on the pavement watching Kirsty sway towards him in an ankle-length fur coat.
“Shut your trap,” Betty said beside him. “The drool is ruining your fancy suit.”
His mouth snapped shut.
Kirsty walked straight at him as cameras clicked and flashed. Her eyes never left his. Those deep, smoky eyes. She stopped in front of him, both hands fisted in the fur, holding the coat shut at her neck.
“You can’t have a Bond-themed launch without a Bond girl,” she told him.
He wondered if he was the only person that noticed her bottom lip trembled as she spoke.
“No, you can’t,” he said.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. Had she been wondering if he would turn her away? Silly woman. He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear.
“I hope you’re naked under there.”
Her genuine smile surprised them both.
“Better,” she teased.
Lake wasn’t sure what could be better than naked. He put a hand on her shoulder so that all the other drooling men would back off.
“What now?” he said.
“Now, I fight back,” she said, but her voice shook on the words.
He squeezed her shoulder.
“Boys,” she called to the newspaper reporters, “Lake was missing a Bond girl, and I’m only too happy to help him out.”
“No way,” one of them gaped. “Is that Kirsty Campbell?”
The photographers stepped in closer.
Lake felt her take a deep, shuddering breath as she turned towards the cameras. Slowly and seductively, she opened her coat to bare the whole left side of her body. She arched her back slightly, bent her knee and pointed her toe. Then she lowered her chin and pouted at the camera. Each movement was subtle. It could have been crass and over the top, but it wasn’t. It was amazing. Lake stepped towards her, moving around to her right side so that the cameras could get a better shot of her left. She held her coat tight at her neck with her right hand. Lake put his arm around her shoulder and leaned into her.
“You’re stealing my publicity,” he said in admiration.
“Yeah,” she sounded surprised. “I guess I am.”
“How about a shot from a different angle?” one of the reporters shouted.
He felt her stiffen, but her smile seemed relaxed.
“This is all you’re getting, boys. It’s been years and I’m old and rusty.”
There was laughter from the crowd and calls of “you tell them, Kirsty girl” and “you don’t look old to me”, plus one guy shouted “if you’re rusty I’ll oil you”, which made Lake look for him in the crowd.
“Come on,” said the camera guy, “give us one more shot and we’ll fight for a double
-page spread.”
Kirsty hesitated. She cast a glance, with barely concealed panic, towards Lake. His eyes narrowed. Kirsty had run out of ideas. With more of a smirk than a smile, Lake turned towards the photographers.
“I’ve got the perfect shot for you,” he told the guy.
He snaked his arm around Kirsty’s waist and heard her yelp with surprise. He tipped her back, just like they did in all those dumb old movies, and then he kissed the living daylights out of her. As proud as he was to see her fight properly for a change, he felt a whole lot better being the one in control. The crowd went wild. Kirsty wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her body up into his and with a deep, sensual growl, she kissed him back. Well and truly kissed him back. It took his breath away.
At last they separated. As Lake put Kirsty back on her feet, he felt breathless and a little dazed. To his disgust, apart from swollen lips and a flush in her cheeks, Kirsty looked very much in control.
“You’re not the only one who can kiss, soldier boy,” she said with a sultry wink.
Lake was struck dumb. This Kirsty, the one he’d thought was lurking under the scared one, was better than he’d ever hoped possible. He gave her a long, slow smile full of promise. He wasn’t going to let her hide behind that wimpy exterior again. Not now he knew what she was capable of. Kirsty’s eyes flared wide before she pulled her coat tight around her and turned her back on him.
“Now, would anyone like to see what’s on sale in Eye Candy?” she called.
There was a roar, and just like that the townsfolk left his shop and followed her.
Lake watched her go while his feet twitched with the need to follow her. He wanted to get his hands on her before she remembered that they were at war, and that it wasn’t over yet. And he definitely wanted to get her alone before she talked herself out of kissing him again. He took a step towards Kirsty’s shop when he felt a sharp pain in his left ankle.
“What was that for?” he demanded of his evil little helper.
The crowd disappeared into Kirsty’s shop. He’d missed his window of opportunity. He scowled at Betty.
“That’s for selling out to the enemy,” Betty said. “I don’t know what they’re teaching you lot in the English army these days, but this isn’t how you run a war, laddie. Which side do you want to win this thing? Well?”
“Ours. Mine. What do you think?”
“I think you’re acting like a lovestruck boy on his first crush. Buck up or I’ll have to fight on my own again.”
With that she stormed down the hill towards her wee cottage—with the cardboard cut-out of him in a tux under her arm. Lake shook his head slightly. He wasn’t even going to ask what she planned to do with his picture. And he definitely didn’t want it back when she was done. With a frustrated grunt, he turned his back on the party over the road—his party, the one he’d paid for—and strode into his shop. He’d have to deal with Kirsty later, and he wasn’t sure he could wait that long.
Once inside the shop, Lake was surprised to find that Rainne was tallying up the day’s takings. He thought she’d be long gone. Or hiding in some corner, lamenting the fact he’d ridden into town.
“We made a lot of money,” she told him with a grin. “People loved the place.” She paused for a minute. “You did a great job. You were right about everything. You’re better at this than I am.”
The wind went out of him. All he’d ever really wanted was to see her happy and settled. In his mind she was still the five-year-old who’d cried and held him tight when he’d told her he was leaving for the army. And he was going to make her cry again. Because when he left, her dreams went with him. A pang of guilt made his stomach clench. He forced himself to swallow it as he affectionately ruffled his sister’s mad hair.
“We make a good team,” he told her.
He knew he was overcompensating for his plans. His statement was generous, especially considering her part in the team mainly consisted of crying and whining.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go over some of my plans—you know, for more environmentally friendly underwear?”
“Does that mean you recycle it? Because that sounds seriously wrong.”
“No, stupid. Sustainable materials. I think it could be big. We could be the only shop in Scotland that specialises in fair-trade lingerie.”
She looked so happy that Lake didn’t want to burst her bubble. At some point he had to tell her he was selling the shop. He looked at her hopeful face—it wouldn’t be today.
“Sure,” he said. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“Great!” She threw her arms around him and hugged tight.
“You coming, Rainne?” Alastair said from the back of the shop.
Rainne beamed at him.
“Be right with you,” she said.
“Alastair?” Lake said.
“He’s nice.” Rainne blushed and looked away.
A few seconds later they were gone, leaving Lake with an empty shop. He looked out the window to find the party was still going strong at Kirsty’s place. She’d stolen his advertising and his launch day. Lake pulled at his bow tie as he went up the stairs to his flat. He couldn’t help grinning. Kirsty Campbell knew how to fight after all. He couldn’t wait to see what she did next.
“That was a bit mad,” Alastair said as he reached for Rainne’s hand.
Rainne smiled at him. He had a way of making her feel light, like she was a schoolgirl again.
“A bit,” she said. “And slightly gross. It’s not every day you watch your big brother play tonsil hockey for the cameras.”
“Aye, I can see where you would find it a bit disconcerting.”
“A bit!” she scoffed as they headed to the loch. “Kirsty was practically naked and he was in a tux. That image was burned into my retinas. I may never get over it.”
“Mmm,” he said with a wicked smile. “I may never get over it either.”
Rainne stopped walking.
“Oh my goodness, you thought it was sexy.”
“I’m a man, Rainbow, and I’m not dead.”
“You’re a boy.”
He lowered his head and looked up through those thick lashes of his.
“Are you challenging my manhood, Rainbow Benson?”
She stifled a giggle.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good.” He turned back towards the water as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “With that sorted, we can fish.”
They crossed the road, jumped the low wall and headed to the spot where he’d found her crying a few weeks earlier. She’d come to think of it as “their spot”, which she knew was beyond corny, but couldn’t help herself. He brought out her inner teenager.
“Why are we fishing again? Why can’t we do something else?”
He squeezed her hand while he placed his free hand over his heart.
“You wound me. First I’m not a man, now you don’t want to learn to cast a line. Seriously, why don’t you insult the size of my...” He grinned mischievously at her. “...Feet, while you’re at it.”
“Because I haven’t seen the size of your, ahem, feet, so I can’t pass judgment.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him.
“I’m not ashamed to tell you that I have great feet. Big, useful, sexy feet.”
Rainne felt colour pop on her cheeks.
“Good to know,” she mumbled.
Alastair chuckled before hugging her close. He always seemed to smell like a Christmas candle. She took a deep breath and swooned. The best smell in the world.
“Why is it you can grow up surrounded by so many free-talking people and blush when I even hint at sex?”
“Genetic failure?” she mumbled against his green Arran jumper.
His laughter vibrated right through her body.
“The fish are waiting, Rainbow. I have it on good authority that they want to be caught by a beautiful amateur today.”
“So now you talk to fish.” He
smiled as he set up the rods he’d left on the beach earlier. “Why are we doing this now, Alastair? It’s going to be dark soon, and cold.”
She tugged her velvet jacket tight around herself at the thought.
“Fish bite better at twilight.”
“Is that true?”
He grinned.
Alastair put a fishing rod in her hands and stood behind her. He wrapped his strong arms around her until his hands covered hers. Rainne sank back into him. Delicious.
“You take the line like this,” he was saying. “You swing back and flick as you go out, letting the line go as it reaches the arc closest to the water.”
He may as well have been talking in Dutch. But the sound of his voice vibrating through her body was better than any fishing lesson, so she nodded like it was all sage wisdom.
“Your turn,” he said, and stepped away.
“No,” she protested. “Once isn’t enough, show me again.”
With a laugh, he did exactly that and Rainne heard exactly the same amount of nonsense as the first time. Instead, all she could think of was that smell. He was driving her crazy. Arms around her, but not holding her. Whispers in her ear, but they weren’t romantic words. This was impossible.
“Okay, off you go.” He stepped away again.
“One more time, Alastair, please.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
He put his hands on his hips and smiled slowly at her.
“Rainbow, I get the distinct impression that you aren’t listening to me.”
“That’s because you keep distracting me.”
“With the instructions?”
“No, with the smell, and the arms, and the heat, and the hands, and that voice in my ear.” She glared at him. “Stop it.”
“Stop it?” He took a step towards her.
He leaned in really close, but didn’t touch her. Infuriating man.
“Stop what? This?” he whispered against her ear. “Or this?” He wrapped his arms around her. “Or this?” He moved his mouth to her lips and kissed her softly.
Rainne felt lightheaded as she discovered the nerves in her lips were connected to all sorts of other places on her body.
“Should I stop?” he said with a smile.
“If you do, I’ll get my brother to beat you up.”
“We can’t have that,” Alastair said against her mouth. “I don’t stand a chance.”
Neither do I, thought Rainne as the sun set over the loch and she found herself lost in the expert kisses of a Scottish boy.
“I’m so proud of you,” Kirsty’s mother told her again. “You really took a stand today. I wish your father had been here to see it.”
“You wish he’d been here to see his daughter half naked in the high street?”
Her mum laughed through the tears that had been streaming down her face all afternoon.
“You always were a fighter,” she carried on. “You never gave up. You make me so proud. I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what you do.”
Kirsty felt her eyes well up. Caroline came up beside them. She gave Kirsty a look that said she was there on a rescue mission.
“Really, Mrs Campbell?” Caroline said with an indulgent smile. “You’re proud no matter what she does? I for one wasn’t that proud when she French kissed the enemy in front of the town. Shame on you,” she told Kirsty with a gleam in her eye.
“I am contrite,” Kirsty said, and hung her head.
“Yep, you look all broken up about it.” Caroline leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Harlot.”
Kirsty barked out a laugh.
“I was proud when you took your first steps so early,” her mum carried on with a faraway look in her eye. “All the other babies started months after you—by that time you were running.”
“How much has she had to drink?” Caroline whispered.
“I’m thinking too much,” Kirsty whispered back.
Caroline went into take-charge mode.
“Come on, Mrs Campbell. You can tell me all about it over a nice cup of tea.”
“You go, Mum. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave her a big hug and heard her sob.
“I love you, Kirsty,” her mum said.
“I love you too, Mum.”
“Time for tea,” Caroline said as she manoeuvred Kirsty’s mum through the shop.
Kirsty mouthed “thank you” to her friend as she led her mother out into the street and along the road to her house. She was still smiling fondly after them when Jean sidled up to her.
“Kirsty?” she said out of the side of her mouth, so as not to be noticed. Although lowering her voice might have helped on that front too. “Where are the sex toys?”
Kirsty rolled her eyes.
“I told you before, I don’t sell sex toys. I sell lingerie.”
Jean looked confused, which led Kirsty to believe that she’d had about the same amount to drink as her mother. She took the half-empty glass of wine out of Jean’s hand and looked around for somewhere to put it. Dougal appeared and took it off her.
“Dougal, you couldn’t get Jean home, could you? She’s a bit worse for wear.”
“Kirsty won’t let me look at the sex toys,” Jean complained.
“Ah...” said Dougal.
Jean swayed as she bent over to look around Kirsty and talk to the bar owner.
“I’ve never seen a sex toy, I was really looking forward to it.”
She waited for Dougal to say something important in reply.
“Would you like to see a snooker table instead?” he asked in the end.
“Oh yes, that’d be lovely.”
Jean lit up like a Christmas tree as she took the bewildered Dougal’s arm and let him lead her from the shop. Kirsty shook her head and helped the wait staff clear up the mess. It made her smile to think that the staff, food and caterer had all made their way over to her shop. She got to have the services Lake had paid for, and without going to the bother of arranging it. Dougal didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. He told Kirsty it wasn’t his problem that Lake couldn’t keep a hold of his own shindig. Kirsty didn’t feel guilty about the theft either. She thought it was the least she deserved for letting Lake mess around in her life.
“You stole my publicity and my party,” said the voice from the door.
Kirsty turned to find Lake leaning nonchalantly against the front doorjamb. It seemed that all she had to do these days was think about him and he appeared. It was as though she had her own pesky Tinker Bell. Although hers was six foot two and built like a brick house. With his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets and his feet crossed at the ankles, he was obviously trying to appear non-threatening. It wasn’t working.
“The least you could have done,” he drawled, “was to keep on the underwear and the coat. I like the coat.”
Men—they all seemed to have a thing about fur coats.
“You said fight back,” she said with a shrug. “So I did.”
“That you did,” Lake said as he picked his way through the shop. “I see you made a decent amount of sales, too.”
He nodded to the half-empty racks.
“Yes, and all it took was me getting half naked and you buying a full-size picture of yourself in a tux.”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Your ego knows no bounds, does it?”
“Hey, I had more offers to buy that picture than I did sales of underwear. I could have made a fortune.”
Kirsty bit back a smile.
“So why didn’t you sell it?”
“I was worried what they’d do with it,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the women in this town aren’t all that predictable.”
Kirsty laughed.
“Aye, it could have been used for target practice,” she said.
“Or—as one woman told me—a fantasy aid in the bedroom.”
Kirsty couldn’t control the giggle that erupted. She waved as the pub staff left for the night. It
was just her and Lake—alone. And for the first time since she met him, he didn’t look all that threatening.
“As it is, Betty took the picture home with her,” Lake said, looking bewildered.
That was all it took to send her over the edge. She was laughing so hard that she had to clutch her side.
“That’s priceless,” she said at last.
“Glad you think so,” he drawled, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re not the one who has to deal with Betty day in and day out.”
Kirsty gave him a look that told him clearly that she wasn’t buying his “poor me” act.
“One—I’m sure you can handle it. Two—I’m sure you deserve it,” she said with a grin.
Lake ran a hand through his strawberry-blond hair.
“I’m not sure anyone deserves Betty,” he said.
There was an awkward silence. Kirsty folded her arms and looked around her for something else to talk about. This wasn’t the usual small-talk situation. This man was the enemy. The enemy who kept kissing her. The enemy who kissed her very well indeed. The silence stretched so far she couldn’t stand it any more.
“Do you want a drink?” she heard herself ask.
“No, I’m hungry.” The way his eyes darkened when he said that made her heart pick up pace.
“Going to the pub for some dinner?” she asked as she put some distance between them.
The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement and she got the nasty feeling he could read her mind. She inched towards the counter.
“Why? Do you want to join me?”
Kirsty shook her head. She cleared her throat. It was suddenly hard to speak. Lake didn’t help. He studied her as though she was some sort of experiment. Well, she wasn’t. She pushed up her chin. She was stronger than she looked. Hadn’t she won the war today? She looked at his smiling lips and his clear blue eyes and suddenly didn’t want him to go. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do, but she didn’t want him to leave. Not just yet, anyway.
“I’m making pasta,” she said, disgusted that her voice had a quaver in it. “You can have some if you want.”
It’s only food, she told herself, no big deal. Her insides churned in disagreement.
“It’s not a truce or anything,” she clarified. “Especially as I’m now winning the war. It’s only dinner.”
More twitching mouth. She wished the man would smile and get it over with.
“You’re not winning,” he said as he took a step towards her. “And it isn’t only dinner.”
For a minute she wondered if he knew that she’d never before asked a man up to her flat above the shop. His clear blue eyes focused in on her. Her mouth went dry. He took another step towards her and she fought the urge to run. Suddenly asking Lake to dinner was the most foolish idea she’d ever had.
“Look, you don’t need to come if you don’t want to,” she said.
“Oh, I want to come,” he told her in that deep, lazy voice of his.
He rounded the counter to stand in front of her.
“But I’m not eating with you, Kirsty Campbell,” he said. Kirsty felt her shoulders sag with relief. Lake’s eyes twinkled; he’d seen her relax.
“Well, that’s a shame, but probably for the best,” Kirsty said as she took a little step back.
“I’m not letting you off the hook either,” he told her as he closed the gap between them. “We both know that if I go upstairs with you, I’ll want a lot more than dinner.”
Kirsty gasped. Lake smiled. He placed his palm on her cheek. She’d never realised that every nerve in her body ran through that exact spot.
“I’ll wait until you’re sure what kind of invitation you’re issuing,” he said on a whisper as he leaned towards her.
Kirsty’s head began to fog up a little.
“Until then,” he murmured against her lips, “how about I give you something to think about?”
His kiss was lazy, thorough and tender. And lasted forever. When he pulled away, Kirsty wasn’t even sure she could spell her name. From the look in Lake’s eyes, he knew exactly how she felt. He brushed his thumb over her kiss-battered lower lip and made her sway towards him. As much as her mind was in turmoil over the man, her body shared none of its confusion. Her body wanted him. Her stupid body didn’t remember that she wasn’t the woman she once was. But her mind did.
As Lake turned and walked towards the door, Kirsty felt a flood of adrenalin.
“I have scars,” she blurted.
With his grip on the door handle, he turned and smiled. Usually his face was a mask of controlled emotion. Not this time. This time Kirsty saw the rawness beneath the surface. He wanted her. Kirsty’s hand flew to her mouth. He. Wanted. Her.
“I know,” he said.
And then he was gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Lingerie Wars Page 9