Don’t be nervous, she schooled herself. But she could feel him right behind her, like some sort of heat-seeking missile or something. It’s a business meeting. Focus on the bottom line.
And not his bottom line, either, she thought, fighting a sudden urge to snicker. It was nerves, that was all. She always got fidgety, talked faster, laughed too much, when she was nervous. This meeting was important and she couldn’t afford to get distracted like this.
“Here you go,” Brodie said, arranging their glasses on the small, round table. “Stew will be out shortly. Make yourselves comfortable.” Brodie winked at her, then cast a quick look at his brother. “You’re having a drink and a bite with one of the prettiest lasses in town, the envy of all around you. Least you can do is smile.”
Daisy flushed a little, wishing now that Brodie would go back to the bar. When Reese only managed a tight smile in response to his brother’s teasing, she worried that he might just get up and leave before she’d even had the chance to discuss the Web site proposal with him. She quickly pulled out her chair before either Chisholm brother could reach for it, sitting down right away to encourage Reese to do the same.
“Loosen him up a little, Daisy, okay? The man doesn’t understand the meaning of the word relax.”
“I’m not sure you’re talking to the right person,” she said, with a quick laugh. She fussed with the zipper on the leather binder she’d brought with her, then, feeling Reese’s attention shift to her, she tapped her palm on the cover. “Shall we get down to business?” she asked brightly.
“Would you like me to wait on the stew until you’ve had a chance to talk shop?” Brodie was still hovering.
“That sounds good,” she said, then hazarded a glance at Reese. He was sitting casually enough, but there was something about his gaze that made her feel pinned. Her knees knocked together under the table, and she pressed her thighs together for good measure. Damn, but the man had presence in spades, and he wasn’t even doing anything. Hadn’t said a word yet, in fact. “Is that okay with you? Or would you rather eat first?”
His gaze narrowed there a bit, or maybe she’d just imagined it. Either way, she’d gone from feeling pinned, to feeling a little like ... prey. Dear Lord, this was going to be a long meeting. Because it was a meeting. Not a date. Something she’d do really well to remember. To cover her reaction to him, and because she needed the fortitude, she picked up her ale and took a sip.
Reese finally shifted his gaze back to his brother. “Give us a few minutes, will you?”
Brodie grinned. “I’ll give ye all the time you need.” There was a definite undercurrent going on between the two, making Daisy wonder what they’d been discussing before she came in. “Just give me a signal when you’re ready,” Brodie added, then finally, mercifully, went back to tend the bar.
Which left her completely alone with his reserved, enigmatic older brother. Maybe she’d been too hasty in wishing Brodie gone. A buffer, even one as intrusive as Brodie, suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She took another quick sip of ale, then put the glass back down and nudged it to the center of the table. After all but badgering his secretary to get him to agree to this, she’d been too nervous about meeting him to eat much today. She propped her binder in front of her instead. The last thing she needed was fuzzy thinking.
Pulling the zipper open, she resisted the urge to fidget in her seat. But she could feel Reese’s stare drilling right into her, and it was disconcerting to say the least. He wasn’t sipping his drink or looking around the pub. No, his attention was completely on her.
Sure, nothing to be nervous about.
It wasn’t unusual in her former line of work for her to stand in front of a conference table filled with corporate bigwigs, all eyes on her, and give a solo presentation as smoothly and comfortably as if she was standing in her own living room, surrounded by friends. So why was she hyper-aware of being the focal point of his attention? He was just another prospective client. Yes, her first and hopefully biggest client, but the nervousness didn’t feel all that business-related. Or she wouldn’t have to keep pressing her thighs together, would she? Or worry that he was going to notice the fact that her nipples were standing at attention.
“I’ve given your proposal some thought,” he said, rather abruptly.
His sudden comment after such complete silence startled her, and her half-open binder slid off the table into her lap. The contents came cascading out and slid across the polished hardwood floor. Both she and Reese moved to get them at the same time. For a tall man with such long legs, he moved quickly, crouching down beside the table as he reached for the scattered pages. Daisy had leaned down from her seat to reach what she could, then lost her balance a little. She overcorrected, grabbing for the table when her chair wobbled, and managed to pull the whole thing over with her as she slid from her seat ... and landed right on top of Reese. Followed by the contents of both of their glasses of ale.
Other than the television over the bar, loudly broadcasting a soccer match, and the random clacking of a few pool balls, the rest of the noise in the pub came to an instant halt. Daisy could feel all eyes on them as she tried to scramble off of Reese. Her back was completely soaked, but at least she’d borne the brunt of the ale. Other than being knocked on his ass and having her sprawled all over him, Reese had come through it all relatively unscathed.
He grabbed at her arms, stilling her movements when her knee came dangerously close to changing that fact. “Hold on,” he instructed her, then carefully shifted both of them so she could get her feet under her. “There you go.”
Several other patrons had jumped up to help, one righting the table, another picking up their glasses where they’d rolled across the floor, and yet another helping Daisy to her feet.
She immediately reached a hand to Reese. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“Now, now, what is all this? I let ye come into my place of business to do a little courtin’ and the next thing I know, you’re tossing her to the floor.” Brodie tugged his brother easily to a stand, then watched him with a broad grin as he brushed off his trousers. “Come now, Reese, I thought you had more polish than that. I know it’s been a while—”
Reese’s glare cut him right off, but not before laughter skittered through the avidly watching crowd.
Brodie turned to Daisy. “Can’t take a joke, never could.” He ran his gaze over her. “Och, look at you. A bit of a mess there. You want to go upstairs and—”
“I’ll take care of her,” Reese said, startling both of them, and a goodly number of the other customers as well if the looks on their faces were anything to judge by.
“I can take care of myself, thanks,” Daisy said, clearly hearing the undercurrent suddenly flowing between the brothers and figuring it best to put a swift end to it. “I just need to—” she broke off when she looked down to find her notes and presentation information all stuck to the hardwood floor, sodden through with ale “—gather my notes,” she finished lamely. “Bollocks.”
Her very Scottish swearing in her very American accent made those around her laugh good-naturedly. And, most surprisingly, got a tiny crook of the mouth from Reese as well.
“I’ll take care of your papers and such,” Brodie said. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, then come back for some stew and we’ll see what we can salvage from this date.”
“It’s not a date,” Daisy muttered, but no one was listening to her.
Brodie was looking at Reese, but before he could say anything else, Reese was turning to her and taking her elbow in a gentle but determined grasp. “Let me walk you out,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
At the moment, he wasn’t going to get one from her. Even if his touch was warm, and his hand did feel big and wide and strong propping her up. And all those reactions she’d forgotten about for a moment came rushing back in, double time and double strength. She’d worry about that just as soon as they got out of the pub and done with being a public spectac
le. She’d quite probably already ruined any chance she had to get Reese to take her seriously, but that didn’t mean she wanted the entire village to think her a laughingstock. Not if she planned on doing business in Glenbuie, anyway.
As soon as the pub door closed behind them, leaving them both blinking a bit in the sudden brightness of the late spring day, she extricated herself from his hold and stepped back. “I appreciate the assistance. And I’m so sorry I’ve made such a mess of this.” She gave him a small smile. “I promise I usually manage to conduct business quite professionally and with very little spillage.”
Reese’s mouth quirked at the corner again and she found herself staring. He really was arrestingly attractive, and with all that intensity, too ... even if he wasn’t her type. Well, not anymore, anyway.
“Accidents happen,” he said, his deep voice so smooth, almost melodic. “Let me walk you to your shop.”
“I can manage. If you’d like to go back inside and talk to your brother, or—”
“No, I think I’ve given Brodie enough openings for one day. I’m certain they’re all having a spot of fun at our expense and I’d be loath to interrupt.”
Her cheeks flamed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to attract unwanted attention—”
He surprised her by letting out a short bark of a laugh. “You have little experience with village life, I take it?”
Her responding smile was rueful at best. “Very little. Guilty.”
“If you’re planning on residing in this one for any length of time, then you might as well get used to unwanted attention right off. The term ‘none of your business’ does not apply here. Best to understand that straight off.”
“So ... you’re not angry with me?”
“Of course not,” he said, looking sincerely perplexed by the thought. “Why would you think that? It wasn’t as if you did it on purpose.”
“It’s just ... I’d all but badgered you into coming in the first place, and then—”
His deep sigh stopped her from going on and risking making things worse. If such a thing were possible. He said nothing, however, just braced his hand on the back of her elbow once again, and resumed escorting her across the square to her shop. “If you’d prefer, I can wait out here while you change.”
“Wait?” She’d assumed their meeting was postponed. Indefinitely.
He held her gaze for an interminably long moment, then said, “Am I really as bad as all that?”
She frowned. “What do you mean? I’m the one that knocked you to the floor and got ale dumped all over us.”
Rather than clarify, he said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait. I don’t know you very well, but I’m guessing you are well prepared enough that you don’t really need those notes.”
“You still want to discuss—never mind,” she said hastily. The man wanted to keep his business appointment and she was standing there second-guessing him? Was she crazy? “It will only take a second. Promise.” She hurriedly unlocked the door and stepped inside the small vestibule. In front of her was the glass-paned door to the shop and to her left was a paneled door leading to the stairs up to her rooms over the shop. She debated a half-second on inviting him up, but decided he might take the invitation the wrong way. She’d done enough wrong already.
Not to mention the fact that she didn’t need him prowling around up there while she was stripping off her clothes. She was having a hard enough time concentrating around the man as it was.
“You can wait inside the shop, if you’d like.”
“That will be fine.”
She opened the door for him, then turned toward the stairs. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“I’ll be right here.”
She stood there, but he didn’t go into the shop. He was still staring at her. And she didn’t go up the stairs, either. She was all caught up in staring back. The moment stretched beyond the socially acceptable, but neither of them made a move to break eye contact. Her thighs trembled a little as the silence continued ... but it wasn’t all that uncomfortable. Well, not in a bad way, anyway. Laugh, say something witty, run up the damn stairs, her little voice counseled. But the intensity in his gaze might as well have been a tractor beam for all the power she had to look away from it. “I ... uh ...” she finally stuttered.
He shifted an almost imperceptible space closer. But suddenly it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the tiny vestibule. “Do you need any assistance?”
Her entire body went on red alert. Had he really just asked her that? Really? Or had she just hallucinated what she wanted him to say?
Either way, she was in deep trouble.
Chapter 3
Dear Lord. Had he really just said that? Was he insane? Damn Brodie for provoking him, for putting thoughts of Daisy into his head that ... well, okay, to be honest they had already long since taken up residence there. He’d spent the past fortnight trying to get them out, with a complete lack of success.
Now she was staring at him and he was wondering how to make her understand exactly what he’d been offering. Which he would, just as soon as he decided for himself. “Your dress ... is soaked down the back.” Something his entire body was quite well aware of at this point. Trailing behind her a few steps out of the bar had been pure torture. He told himself he was just blocking her rear view from the gawkers inside the pub, but that hadn’t exactly kept him from gawking at the view himself, now had it?
The way the thin, wet fabric clung to her curves had already made him wish he hadn’t been sipping an ale for the past half-hour before she’d arrived. He didn’t need any less control than he already appeared to have. Seeing that dress all wet and plastered to every inch of her tight bum was like adding fuel to an already banked fire. One he was having an increasingly hard time putting out. Hard being the key term there.
“I thought you might need help, you see, with the buttons up the back—” He stopped short and raised a hand between them to stall her response. “Right. Completely inappropriate. I didn’t mean anything untoward.” Which wasn’t entirely true, as it happened.
Brodie’s earlier ribbing at the pub echoed through his mind. Reese wasn’t a social outcast, as his brother proclaimed; he was simply focused on getting his job done. So he was a wee bit overly work-oriented. He’d had to be for so long, back during those first years right after Finney died, maybe he’d forgotten how not to be. Brodie had pointedly asked him when was the last time he’d even thought about going out on a date, much less actually gone on one.
Reese had taken so long to think about it, his younger brother had laughed at him outright. Point to Brodie.
“I just thought,” he said absently, his mind still going in circles, “with it being wet like that, it might be tricky ...” He trailed off again, realizing he was only making it worse. “I’ll wait in the shop.”
He’d glanced down, not at all used to feeling quite so utterly foolish. When he glanced back up, however, it was to find Daisy smiling at him.
“No offense taken. I know you were just trying to be a gentleman.”
She’d said it so matter-of-factly. As if never in a million years could she fathom someone like him making an advance. It pricked at him, made him want to prove her wrong. A reaction that, in and of itself, should have been a glaring warning sign. Maybe it was the ale lowering his defenses, but he doubted it. He’d grown up helping his grandfather run the distillery and he’d sampled more than his fair share of Glenbuie over the years, and knew his limits well. It would take more than a few sips of ale to cloud his judgment. What was it, then, that so provoked him when it came to one Daisy MacDonnell? Certainly not Brodie’s pointed jibes—they were a common staple among all four Chisholm brothers, of one form or another. Well, three of them, anyway. No one teased Dylan overly much these days.
He’d only agreed to see her because he knew she’d persist in disrupting his carefully maintained schedule if he didn’t settle her business proposition once and for all. And again
, he knew he was lying to himself almost the instant he finished thinking it. He’d wanted to see her again from the very moment she’d exited his office.
“Would you ... why don’t you come up,” she said. “I should have offered before. Excuse my poor manners, please.” She smiled. “You’ve been nothing but kind, and I—I shouldn’t make you stand around down here.”
For some reason, this only served to irritate Reese further. Why in the world he wanted her to see him as some sort of dangerous threat he had no idea. It made absolutely no sense. And yet her sudden willingness to invite him up, clearly believing herself to be perfectly safe in his presence, made him feel somehow less than himself. Not that he wanted her to feel there was any danger to her physical well-being ... but he couldn’t help but wish she felt at least a tiny bit threatened by the more visceral reaction he seemed to have in her presence.
Before he could formulate a response of any kind, whether it be a tight refusal ... or backing her up against the vestibule wall and seeing if she thought he was quite as harmless when every hard inch of him was pressed between those lovely legs of hers, she was unlocking the door leading up the stairs and beckoning him to follow.
“I can’t vouch for the state you’ll find it in,” she said lightly, not a care in the world, followed by that musical laugh of hers. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
He could vouch for the state he was in, he thought, somewhat morosely as he trudged silently up the stairs behind her, watching her hips sway right in front of his eyes, unable not to, and finding himself not really caring at this point how rude it might be. He had no idea what was coming over him or why it was happening, but he decided right then he wasn’t going to thwart it or shove it aside. Best to tackle it as he did any challenge when presented to him: head-on.
“Here we are,” she said, pushing open the door at the top of the stairs. It was painted a shade of periwinkle blue that contrasted with her auburn hair perfectly as she leaned back against it to politely allow him entry in front of her.
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