Kiltless

by Melissa Blue

  “You know what I think?” Keri asked her cousin.

  “What?”

  “I think you don't hate him at all. You just had this vision of him in your head and the moment you found out the truth, he disappointed the shit out of you. He's so smart, why would he choose to do that, of all things?”

  Joce's eyes widened and she started to straighten. “Uh...”

  “What a dick. And you know what? Despite being a fast talker he has a shitty delivery. Before he touched me he should have been truthful. Or around the fourth time we had sex. No. He waited until I was stupid over him and pumped up full of dopamine and envisioning us six months down the line to tell me just how scummy he used to be.”

  “Uh...”

  “I'm mad at myself, though. I romanticized what con men did, because he did it so effortlessly and made it fun.” She picked up the letter. “This is a con. I should know that and rip these up. But I write back. I can't help it. I want to talk to him, but I know if I see him face-to-face, I'm fucked. And then that whole thing with his mother.” Her voice sounded vicious. “I'm pissed on his behalf. He may have made peace with it but I just want to cut a bitch. She hurt him. She—” Made Tristan feel broken and like there was something wrong with him.

  Keri's throat felt thick and she couldn't finish the rest of the sentence. She could understand that feeling all too well. It was why she'd been so pissed at him. All the insecurities that had fallen by the wayside rose back up with a vengeance when he confessed to her.

  Joce grabbed her face and the shocking action shut Keri up. “Breathe or you're going to pass out.”

  Since her cousin's expression looked a bit wild, she listened and breathed. Joce sighed and let her hands fall away. “He's not conning you. He never did.”

  Keri's brows rose. “But—”

  Her cousin put up her hand to stop her. “I can say a lot of shitty things about Tristan—you know I'd love to—but you haven't seen him with Ian. Or with me. Ian had to blackmail him into going to that class.” She shook her head. “I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I didn't know you believed he'd conned you. I thought you were just pissy the way everything turned out and how he told you.”

  Joce's expression pinched into a scowl. “He spent over a decade of his life conning. So he'll always have that skill, but he doesn't hurt people anymore. I don't know what he did or said with you, but it was real.”

  Was she making excuses and feeling sorry for him? “So why did he tell me like that?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he wanted you to know.”

  But why?

  Her heart skipped as her mind tripped up on an answer. It mattered that she knew everything. He could have said goodbye when he told her to run—hell, when he told her about his past—but he wasn't walking away. He had his chances, plenty of them, but he never took them. Wasn't that why she agreed to stay for a few more days? They both could have made the argument that they’d fulfilled their end of the bargain. He'd even started to pack and stopped to join her in the shower.

  Tears stung Keri’s eyes. “Shit.”

  “I know that look on your face. Shit, indeed.” Joce rolled her shoulders. “No need to write the letter. You'll see him tomorrow at the housewarming.” The other woman sighed. “Tristan lives at my old place. So he's in town. Has been for a month. Ian's trying to talk him into working for him. So...” She gave her a once-over. “Go shopping. Get your hair done. Make him grovel and then do what you already planned to do. I can attest that makeup sex is fantastic.”

  “I'm not—”

  “I'm married to a Baird. I know the insanity. You're worse off because Ian's the watered-down, broodier version. Their da is something else.” Jocelyn checked her watch. “I can talk to Langston for you and we can have an extended lunch. The man adores me.”

  “You never used to be this pushy.”

  Her cousin grinned. “I know.”

  She laughed. The test took some time and the reports were halfway done. She could use an extended lunch if it meant heels. And seeing Tristan. God, just the thought of him made her stomach flip-flop. Her brain bombarded her with common sense, probability factors and a slew of things not steeped in a single emotion. She wavered. She was just going to see him. Return the ring because she hadn't known his address to give it to him; plus, it was polite to return it to him in person.

  Yeah.

  So, that was what she'd do. She'd return the ring while wearing heels, a silk dress and looking like something he should throw in bed and ravish. Not that she'd fall into bed with him.

  She wouldn't.

  She calculated the probability and changed that to maybe.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tristan lifted his hand to knock on the guest house's door. The light yellow trim fit perfectly on the little house that had good bones for its age. He dropped his hand back down when the door opened.

  He had every intention of starting off with an apology. He couldn't change the man he used to be. His gut ached because he'd told her in a way that left no room to reply or react that didn't involve disgust, shock, anger—pretty much everything but a thoughtful consideration. His confession made her believe he wanted her gone. He could see that now—not then, because he'd been too wrapped up in fear that she'd hate him. And that fear was what ensured it.

  But that didn't matter, because she answered the door in a silk dress and heels that made her feet look feminine and dainty. He'd seen enough photos in the albums at Joce's place to know what she normally looked like. Buried, hidden in baggy clothes as though they could make her disappear. His mouth dried and his heart thudded.

  “Keri.” All the other words he had disappeared with the sight of her again, finally.

  She reached up to her hair. “I didn't—What are you doing back here?”

  He wanted to drag her to him just so he could take in the warmth of her body and her scent. “Wasn't sure if you knew I'd be here and rather—I just wanted to give you a heads-up I'd be here. If you wanted me to go, I'd go.”

  She blinked. “Oh.” She shook her head. “Give me a moment.” She motioned for him to wait and disappeared into the house.

  When she came back to the door, she handed him the ring. Silence thickened between them. He chuckled at himself and her. “I came so we wouldn't have an awkward moment, somewhat like this, in front of Joce and Ian.”

  She laughed. “Yeah. Ian would get frustrated and Joce would just kick you in the balls.” She glanced down. “Thank you.”

  She lifted her hand and dropped it back to her side. She met his gaze, her tongue dragged over her top lip.

  His gut tightened. “Do you?”

  Her lids lowered. “Do I what?”

  “Want me to leave?”

  Heat simmered in her gaze. “At the moment I want what I shouldn't.”

  He stepped forward. “What's that, Keri?”

  Her breath shuddered out and her breasts moved with the motion. “You look like you want to bite me.”

  “I do.” He took another step until his fingers could brush the skin revealed by the low-cut dress. “Shouldn't is such a confining word.” He touched her and everything in him felt fluid, right.

  Her eyes widened, but she didn't back away. “You know what? I've been thinking.”

  “Aye?”

  She inhaled. “And I came to the conclusion that sometimes my brain gets in the way of action.”

  He didn't want to be hopeful, but it showed through his voice anyway. “What action?”

  She fisted her hand in his shirt and dragged him closer. Her mouth slammed into his and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. He had enough thought to kick the door closed before pulling her to the floor. Hardwood. He tightened his hold and rolled so she wouldn't have to take the brunt of his weight and the harsh flooring.

  She nipped his lip and tugged away. “My brain is telling me we should talk.”

  “We will.” He grabbed a handful of her hair with one hand and kisse
d her again, harder. With his other hand, he still held the ring. Maybe they didn't need words or thoughts. They'd share plenty soon enough, but actions meant more to him. They never lied, they never conned. She needed reassurance, no doubt, that he was here and would be as long as she'd have him. She wouldn't notice what he'd done, but he'd know.

  Once he was done, he tangled his fingers with hers and held her hand. She moaned, her body giving and melting into him.

  There.

  Right there.

  He felt her give him her everything.

  *****

  What are you doing?

  Kissing the man I've fallen for.

  Stop.

  Can't.

  And really, she couldn't, but her brain kept right on screaming at her. So much so, she broke the kiss, trying to catch her breath. She'd missed the taste of him, the feel of him, just the way his blue-gray eyes hazed over whenever he looked at her.

  It didn't make sense to miss him the way she did, but every night she'd awakened the past month, she'd crave for his arms to be wrapped around her waist. Or one hand cupping her ass, claiming her as his even in his sleep.

  They were all primitive little beasts on the inside. Territorial. Needing a tribe, a home. She claimed him with her mouth again because her stomach felt weightless. She sprawled over him possessively, not caring about the words they should have said first. She should have. She should lift and tell him they needed to work through a lot, but he was there and she'd missed him.

  Her brain roared. She pulled back and it hurt physically to break that intimate contact. “Why? Why did you write me those letters?”

  “I missed you. I couldn't think of a way that could possibly earn back your trust, but I wanted to talk to you. Any way I could.”

  He could fake sincerity. He could tell her exactly what she needed to hear, but why would he? What did he get from her? “Why?”

  He frowned, running a hand over his hair. “We were pretending to be a couple and I wanted it to be real. I wanted to be the kind of man you could love. I put your needs before mine and I barely knew you, but it mattered that I did. I've always regretted my past, but for the first time I wished to be a better man. You made me feel like I could be.”

  She pressed her face against his chest to beat back the tears. “But why me?” she mumbled into his shirt.

  “You're smart, funny, sexy as fuck. Any man with half a working brain should look at you and see perfection.”

  She lifted and narrowed her gaze on him. He was smiling but it lit his eyes in a way that made her want to kiss him again. “You're exaggerating.”

  “Could be the dopamine my brain's swimming in, but I doubt it.”

  “Big words. I shouldn't believe you.”

  “You're right to be hesitant. I am still a con man. Will always be. I've gone honest, but that I can never change. If you want me to leave, I'll go. I'll tell you goodbye and never bother you.”

  She closed her eyes and kissed him again, but her mind calculated the probabilities of them sticking it out. Her brain doubted and got in the way of what her heart felt. But logic played out all the scenarios of a man who could have anything and then choosing her to fool. She wasn't rich. She had nothing but herself to give him.

  Could that be all he wanted? Was she his whisper?

  He hadn't lied to her. He may have been scared to reveal his heart, but he hadn't lied. And they were primitive little beasts. He wouldn't be here unless he wanted her. He wanted her to be his tribe. What hoops would she force him to jump through to prove it to her? When would she accept that not every man was paying her lip service?

  He cupped her cheeks with both his hands. “Forgive me if you can. I won't push. I'll go.”

  Logic. She closed her eyes and used it. From the moment they met she'd pretended to be a different woman. Provocative, sexy and everything she usually wasn't. And what had he done? He'd made sure she could be. He'd soothed her, gave her exactly what she asked for; he protected her, treated her in a way that left no doubt her needs were the most important. He'd known what she needed. Everything in her wanted to do the same for him.

  Maybe it took a con man to see her, really see her. How could she hold it against him now? She'd tried normal men. Maybe she could trust the one man who could see through her pretense, who could tell her inane and odd facts about sex when her brain refused to shut down, who'd touch her and make her heart race. She didn't need normal—she needed a former con man who could know her deepest desires and not let her feel an ounce of shame for them.

  “I forgive you.” She pressed her lips to his. “Now what?”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, his gaze shone bright. “You're wearing my answer.”

  It wasn't until he said those words that she felt the weight of the ring on her finger. “Oh.” He was capable of taking her breath away. “Oh,” she said again, unable to think of anything else to say.

  He grinned. “Sounds like we won't make it to the housewarming.”

  “I didn't really want to go anyway. I'm not a people person.”

  He feathered a kiss over her cheekbone. “I am a people person, but I didn't want to go either. I showed up because you were going to be there.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Aye.”

  She kissed him again, longer, deeper, until all she could think of was him. This man was hers and she wanted nothing more than to be his. Her heart and head agreed, finally.

  THE END

  KILTED FOR PLEASURE

  BLURB

  Callan Baird used to laugh more than he frowned, but that was before his wife died. Now his life is duty, debts and a general apathy for anything else. And then Victoria Burke burst into his life. She's everything he wants to corrupt.

  Victoria has two choices: agree to a grouchy, sexy Scotsman's extortion or call her boss to explain why she can't do her job. Since she's spent the last three years rebuilding her career as antique appraiser, and this one commission could make or break it, the decision is a no-brainer. Except everything about Callan is complicated.

  He sees no problem turning their work relationship into a sexual one. She refuses to break her boss' no-fraternization rule. He's the one thing she wants and the one thing she can't have. He's had his one great love, and doesn't want a replacement. His heart doesn't agree, because she's everything he desires.

  Callan will have to let go of his past if he wants Victoria to be in his future.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Victoria Burke tightened her hold on the rental car’s steering wheel to stop her fingers from trembling. “Buck the hell up.”

  As far as battle cries went it sucked, but, at the moment, it's all she had. Mist made the endless sea of grass of Inverness, Scotland, appear dreamy, lush and completely unreal. The car's window framed the mountain covered in purple heather. The breathtaking sight almost made her believe in magic, though none of the beauty eased the knot coiling in her gut.

  Only two houses sat within the moor—an actual moor. One was her own rental cottage a little more than a mile away from where she'd parked her rental car, and the other was Jacob's. What she knew of the man could barely fill one page of the manila folder that sat on her passenger seat. Hell, all of the paperwork didn’t even have his name on it. The bottom line: He was a wood craftsman who needed to sign a contract.

  Her employer had sent her to appraise and then ship priceless artifacts from the MacDougal Castle. The MacDougals had never allowed access to their antiques, until now.

  So getting Jacob's John Hancock was the first step in completing the commission, because there would be no appraising or shipping until Jacob had done the necessary repairs. She hoped the familiarity in which her boss had used the man's first name meant this meeting was just a formality.

  Why didn't he get a digital signature if they are that close?

  “Not a thing to worry about.” The verbal reassurance couldn't compete with her bullshit detector, and it was going off loudly. />
  Victoria wiped her damp palms on her dress suit and told herself to grow a pair. This was her chance to prove her worth, once and for all. Ian Baird had taken her on two years ago with a laundry list of conditions, but she couldn't blame him. Her reputation in their curating circle had a huge black mark. One so dire that Baird and Associates had been her last opportunity to work in her field as an appraiser. If he hadn't hired her, she'd have been asking if someone wanted fries with their meal. Too much was at stake to mess up this simple task.

  Her knuckles practically popped as her fists clenched tighter. Ian trusted the man, had chosen him for the job, and more importantly, she actually trusted her boss. That in itself was good enough. She didn't give her trust lightly after what she'd been through, and even that had taken years.

  Victoria steadied her breathing. Sitting in the car and having a mild panic attack wouldn't get a damn thing done. She allowed herself one more second of mental whining and then grabbed the folder from the passenger seat. Another deep breath and she stepped out of the car.

  Even though it was the middle of the day, in the summertime, a frigid breeze seeped into her suit jacket. Clutching the file to her side, she paused at the cottage's gate. The thatched roof had two rounded windows that sat three feet out and cut across the top. Two small chimneys framed the roof on each side. Stone made up the exterior; the cottage looked cute and picturesque. Since plenty of people accused her of being just as wholesome at first glance, she noted the sturdiness.

  She strode up the stone walkway, glad for the flats when her insoles slipped over them. Although the shoes gave her the disadvantage of being her actual height of five-foot-four, cementing the whole “cute” factor to her appearance...

  No. I'll be kickass.

  Victoria pushed back her shoulders, grasped the X-shaped knocker and pounded the metal against the red door. Curses echoed on the other side. She pulled out a smile that would, unfortunately, bring out the dimple in her left cheek, but it couldn't be helped. Maybe the welcoming but professional lift of her lips would soothe whatever temper that brewed on the other side of the wood.