Five Days in Skye

by Carla Laureano

  He couldn’t do it. She was vulnerable tonight, and he wouldn’t take advantage of that. If she kissed him, it should be because she wanted to, not because she didn’t have the presence of mind to refuse.

  He dropped his hand. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Good night, Andrea.”

  “Good night.” She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. The dead bolt slid home on the other side with a heavy clunk.

  He stared at the bright-red door for the space of a heartbeat and headed for his own cottage before he could change his mind.

  She wasn’t what he needed right now. Cassandra had been that dangerous combination of fragility and strength as well. She’d taught him that heartache came in the form of beautiful women whose vulnerability roused his protective instincts.

  But the comparison was hardly fair to Andrea. Cassandra had fooled him into believing her innocence and openness were real, when it turned out to be a role she played when it suited her. Their engagement had been a boost to her career: a publicity ploy, a diversion while she secretly carried on with her then-married costar.

  Andrea, on the other hand, asked for no help. Wanted no help. She hid her thoughts deep and masked her vulnerability well. She’d made her opinion of his reputation clear, and yet tonight she’d actually shown him a measure of trust.

  He couldn’t break that trust. The last thing he wanted to do was turn what was supposed to be a relaxing week into an experience she’d regret. How in the world did he manage to get himself into these situations? He’d meant to have a little innocent fun, but he hadn’t counted on a concert pianist who almost fell apart when she performed.

  He toed off his shoes and sank into the chair in front of the television, flicking it on with the remote. He reached for the weathered, leather-bound Bible on the table beside him and set it in his lap, but he didn’t open it. He knew the inside well, its pages worn, dog-eared, and marked by a kaleidoscope of colored Biro pens. Duncan MacDonald may never have set foot inside a church other than the day he married James’s mother, but he lived by the words in this book. Just holding it brought back an ache two years had done nothing to abate.

  His dad should be here right now. He would know what to do. If James had taken his father’s last advice, he might have avoided the whole mess with Cassandra in the first place.

  The elder MacDonald would have liked Andrea, though. Her musical talent alone would have endeared her to the man who’d taught cèilidh pipe and fiddle to children on the island for almost thirty years. Besides, his father had as much of a weakness for beautiful women as James did.

  “I wish you were here,” he said aloud, smoothing the cover of the Bible. “You’d know exactly how I should proceed.”

  But he already knew what to do. His father’s answer had usually been one of two things: “Wait on the Lord,” or “Treat others as you wish to be treated.”

  James wasn’t all that skilled at waiting, but he did know how Andrea wanted to be treated. She was in desperate need of rest, but not solitude. Something in her craved a connection or she wouldn’t have submitted to his touch so easily. She’d allowed him a brief glimpse at the wounds behind her capable exterior, and the last thing he wanted to do was give her a reason to retreat behind the shell.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Andrea stepped out of her shoes and tossed her coat onto the nearest chair, thoroughly unsettled. It had been a night of terrible decisions. First she had agreed to stay in Skye with James for the rest of the week, for no other reason than he had asked her to. Then she’d played the piano for him and his family, even though she’d known the feelings it would stir up. She certainly hadn’t rebuffed his touch like she should have. Either time. As it was, the memory of his hands on her shoulders—first comforting, then unsettling—sent a current of electricity straight down her spine. Had she given him the slightest indication she would have welcomed it, he would have kissed her good night.

  She was fairly certain she wouldn’t have resisted.

  “You’re losing it, Andrea,” she murmured. She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, trading the businesslike wool for the comforting flannel of her pajamas. What was she thinking? She was fine on her own. She didn’t need a man. Didn’t want a man. Especially not one who moved through the female population like a tornado, leaving devastation in his wake.

  Andrea sighed and reached for her cell phone before she remembered there was no signal at the hotel. She picked up the room phone and dialed her sister’s number. She didn’t wait for Becky to talk after she picked up.

  “How much of an idiot am I really?”

  “Uh, hello to you too, Andy. What did I miss?”

  “I’m changing my return flight to Saturday.”

  Silence stretched for several seconds. When Becky spoke, Andrea could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s interesting.”

  “It’s stupid is what it is. I can’t afford to spend the week sightseeing in Scotland when I should be home working.” Andrea dropped onto the bed and drew her legs up beneath her.

  “You already planned to go to Tahiti. I don’t see the problem. Unless of course the scenery you’re staying for isn’t of the landscape variety.”

  Andrea smoothed her hair back fitfully. “He’s . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “Gorgeous?” Becky suggested. “Talented? Charming? Gorgeous?”

  “You said gorgeous twice.”

  “Well, it bears repeating, considering who we’re talking about.”

  “You’re finding this way too amusing.”

  Becky laughed. “Of course I am. I never thought there would be a guy who could get under your skin. Really. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “He’s not under my skin. It’s just . . .”

  “Yeah, that was convincing. Did he kiss you?”

  Andrea threw herself back against the pillows. “No! Of course not . . . Not yet.” She had to pry the last part out.

  “Well, get on with it, then. You’ve only got three full days left. I wouldn’t waste them if I were you. Call me when you get around to it. I want details. I bet he’s a fantastic kisser.”

  “You’re hopeless.” Andrea pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Thanks for being absolutely no help.”

  Becky paused for another long moment. “Andy, I know you’ve spent the last eight years pushing everyone away. But not every man is like Logan. What’s the worst that could happen if you let someone in just a little bit?”

  “You know what could happen,” Andrea said darkly. “You were there. Besides, a man who lives three thousand miles away on a different continent is hardly relationship material.”

  “You never know what God has in mind for your life. Maybe there was a reason you got sent to Scotland at the last minute.”

  “I gave up on the ‘God’s plan’ thing years ago, Becks. If there was a purpose in that whole sordid mess with Logan, I can’t imagine what it might be.”

  “It made you who you are today. A successful, focused, talented woman with a lot to offer. I wish you would remember there’s more to you than your career.”

  Unexpectedly, tears pricked Andrea’s eyes. She wiped them away before they could take up permanent residence and swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I love you, Becks.”

  “I love you too. Just try, sweetie. If you think he’s trustworthy, let him in a little. If it makes you feel better, it’s only three days. It’s like . . . relationship training wheels. If everything goes south, you’ve got a plane ticket home on Saturday.”

  “You’re completely right, of course.” Andrea sighed. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime. Now go have some fun.”

  Andrea hung up the phone. Her sister was right. It was silly to get all worked up over this. After all, James had done nothing but flirt and promise her a better time than she’d have back in her office in New York. That couldn’t be too difficult, could it? She was in a beautiful place with a handsome man who cooked spectacular meals. If sh
e couldn’t see that as a dream vacation, she possessed very little imagination.

  Unfortunately she had no shortage of that trait tonight. When she finally settled into bed and closed her eyes, all she could think about was his fingers on her cheek and what might have happened had he not, at the last minute, turned away.

  Andrea awoke the next morning with a flutter in her stomach. For a moment, she lay ensconced in the fluffy duvet, trying to place the feeling.

  Anticipation.

  How long had it been since she had awakened feeling anything other than dread about the day before her? It had been years, maybe decades, since she hadn’t had to struggle against the heavy weight of anxiety just to get out of bed.

  She dressed in the most casual outfit she could assemble from her business wardrobe, though the lipstick-red Jimmy Choos had to make a comeback. She used a light hand on the makeup and let her hair dry into natural waves in the absence of a hair dryer.

  James knocked promptly at seven. She opened the door, and her heart tripped. In jeans, a fitted black turtleneck, and a black leather jacket, he epitomized the words effortlessly handsome. Okay, maybe not effortless. The cut of the jacket definitely suggested a certain London designer’s spring line. She had to admit, the man knew how to dress.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing down at himself. “Did I get toothpaste on myself or something?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “I was just thinking how nice you look.”

  He actually looked embarrassed by the compliment. “So do you. Except those shoes aren’t made for walking.”

  “I know, but all my slacks are hemmed for heels. I could hardly wear running shoes. Besides, how can I turn down the justification to shop?”

  “Women.” He threw the word back with a twinkle in his eye as they walked toward the car.

  “Oh, don’t think I don’t recognize that designer jacket you’re wearing. You don’t know the meaning of the words off the rack.”

  James laughed and held the door open as she climbed into the car. “I don’t suppose the fact the designer’s a friend of mine makes it any better?”

  “No, actually, that’s even worse.”

  “Just don’t tell my family, then. I’d never live it down.”

  Their arrival at Muriel’s house was a repeat of the day before. Emmy claimed Andrea immediately, this time to mold play dough, while Serena gulped down an enormous mug of coffee and fed Max cereal at the low table. James immediately disappeared into the kitchen. When Andrea didn’t smell bacon, she assumed she would be saved from another massive breakfast. That notion fled when he called them to the table to a platter of eggs Benedict, complete with the richest, creamiest sauce she’d ever tasted.

  “Sinful,” Andrea said. “The road to hell is definitely paved with hollandaise.”

  Serena laughed. “Now you see the real reason we visit Skye. It’s good I don’t live here, though. I’d weigh twenty stone by Christmas.”

  After breakfast, Andrea attempted to clear the plates, but Serena waved her off. “No, you two get going. It’s almost two hours to Fort William.”

  James detached his car keys from his key ring and set them on the sideboard. “I’m going to leave the keys to the Subaru in case you need it. Don’t hold dinner for us.”

  Andrea frowned at James as he led her out the front door and around to the garage. The door rolled up to reveal a silver Audi sports sedan. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked pointedly between James and the sleek luxury car.

  He shrugged. “I never said I only owned one car. I promise you, it’s much more comfortable than the Subaru.”

  Andrea let herself smile as she slid into the front passenger seat, where she was immediately enveloped by the masculine scent of leather and his cologne. When James climbed in beside her, she said, “All this big talk, and yet you consciously try not to impress a woman.”

  “Maybe I don’t want a woman who needs to be impressed by an expensive car.”

  “So the Green Monster is a test?”

  “I like that. The Green Monster.” James backed out of the garage and turned the car down the pitted drive. “It’s not a test, though you would have passed. You don’t seem hung up on material things, despite the absurdly expensive shoes.”

  “Like I told you before, I’m just a small-town girl at heart, regardless of my shoe collection.”

  “Andrea, my dear, you aren’t just anything.”

  For once, he wasn’t teasing. He actually sounded reproachful. She shook off a flutter of nervousness and quickly changed the subject. “Was moving to London a huge shock after growing up on Skye?”

  “I’d gone to school in Edinburgh, and we visited our mother in London every summer. But, yes, it was still a shock.”

  “Why did you stay so long there?”

  “Time passes and you barely notice. Before I knew it, it had been ten years. Opening the restaurants in Scotland was almost an excuse to come back home.”

  “Nice that you have that luxury,” Andrea said wryly. “Most people can’t just decide to expand their business because they’re homesick.”

  “My success is a blessing. It was unexpected. I suppose my kind of cooking connected with the things people loved: traditions, home, family. I still get letters telling me my recipes remind them of their grandmother’s cooking. Only better, of course.”

  “As long as you’re humble about it.”

  He laughed. “I do my best.”

  Andrea had met all sorts of men in her business travels. Some truly were humble, appreciative of their success. Most thought wealth and status gave them the right to do whatever they wanted. She’d had to extricate herself from the grasp of entitled, inebriated clients more than once, walking the tightrope between keeping a professional distance and maintaining their good graces.

  It was exactly what she had been doing in London with James.

  But he didn’t deserve the comparison. Those men wouldn’t bring her to a family dinner or give her an escape when she had a panic attack. They wouldn’t offer to take her sightseeing and shopping without expectations in return.

  At least, she didn’t think he had those expectations. If he did, he wouldn’t have held back from kissing her even though he’d clearly wanted to. He might have a reputation as a ladies’ man, but he had done nothing but flirt. So far.

  Raindrops spattered down on the windshield, and James squinted at the sky. “I may not have picked the best day for high street shopping. Of course, we like to say in Scotland: ‘If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.’”

  “So I’ve noticed. I don’t mind a little rain, though.”

  “Is that so? What happened to Scotland being wet and miserable?”

  “I said cold, not wet. And maybe it’s not quite so miserable.”

  James slanted her an amused expression. “We’ll hope it passes quickly, then. I don’t want you to miss the chance to see the loch and the views of Ben Nevis. If it were later in the year, there would be some incredible hikes we could take.”

  “So you really are an outdoorsman,” she said. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”

  “No more than you.”

  He was referring to her playing the night before, but he was sticking to his word that he would let her tell him when she was ready. She chewed her lip, wondering how much she could safely reveal without treading on subjects she didn’t share with anyone.

  “I double-majored in architecture and music at NYU.” She waited for the inevitable barrage of questions, her stomach tight.

  “That explains it. Doesn’t NYU have one of the best music schools in the country?”

  She relaxed at his delicate treatment of the topic. “Yes, it’s known for music performance.”

  “It’s a shame you don’t play more. I can’t even whistle in tune, but I grew up with a musician in the house. I recognize talent when I see it, and there’s no doubt you’re something special.”

  Heat rushed to her face, and s
he willed it away in embarrassment. What was it about this man that kept her constantly off guard? She had blushed more in his presence these past days than she had in the last ten years.

  “Thank you,” she managed finally.

  “You’re welcome. Now you might as well get to it.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’ve got a captive audience for at least another hour. You know you’re going to feel guilty all day if you don’t get some work done. So go ahead. Give me your pitch.” He was smiling, but he didn’t seem to be joking.

  “All right. You sure?”

  “Of course. Convince me I’d be crazy to pass up this opportunity.” He shot her that wicked grin again.

  It came almost as a relief. This James was far easier to handle than the sensitive one who treaded lightly around topics she wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss. She launched into an overview of the proposal she had e-mailed the night before, pausing only to answer James’s occasional questions.

  “You’ve been paying attention.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe I can be serious, but I do mean to make this hotel a success. It’s been closed for over a year, and the longer we wait, the harder it will be to retain our regular guests. We’ve had families book their holidays here every summer for years. Once they find another spot, they may not come back.”

  Andrea murmured her agreement. “You’ve got matters well in hand. If your contractor is good, you should be booking for Christmas.”

  “I think so too. Fancy a Christmas in Scotland? Skye is lovely under snow.”

  “Becky would kill me. It’s the only time I’m ever guaranteed to see her and the kids. That’s assuming I don’t get called out of town at the last minute.”

  “Don’t tell me you’d actually let them send you on a business trip on Christmas.”