Chisholm Brothers 02 On Tap

by Donna Kauffman

  “I’m still not sold on the idea,” he said abruptly, proving she’d been right. He’d asked one off-the-record question upstairs. Probably because she had the kind of sunny disposition that invited confidences. Yes, he’d admitted that he was specifically asking her, but he’d apparently put aside the whole provocation discussion when he’d left her flat for the business environs of her shop. It was only Daisy who couldn’t shake the whole idea.

  “What would it take for you to be able to give me a clearer idea of how the site would benefit my business?”

  She blinked, thinking she hadn’t heard him right. He’d been about to brush off her and her marketing proposal, she’d been sure of it. She quickly regrouped. “I can show you some other sites I’ve developed—”

  “I’m not particularly Internet savvy. I don’t know that it would make much sense to me to see other sites—”

  “Well, it would give you an idea of what kind of interactive elements we can incorporate, the kind of design plans I would use. If you’d like, I could do a mock-up of something specifically geared to Glenbuie Distillery, but I don’t have enough information at this point to really do it justice.”

  “What would you need for that?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He was considering it. Despite the complete lack of enthusiasm in his tone, he was really considering it. She had a toe in the door; now all she had to do was keep it there until she could wedge the rest of her in there as well. “I’d want to know more of the history and folklore surrounding both the area and the distillery itself. But mainly I’d need access to the distillery, all parts of it. I’ll need to photograph everything, and I’ll need a full tour. Someone, perhaps, who could explain the entire process in detail, in layman’s terms, which is the same language I’d use on the site.”

  “Why would that matter to anyone?”

  “Because people are a curious lot by nature. Designing a Web page is a little like telling a story. If you make it look and sound fascinating—and frankly, anything new can be fascinating if presented the right way—they’ll be interested in it. They’ll want to know. I’m not saying I’m going to exhaust anyone with a detailed manual on whisky-making, but the more I know, the more I have to work with.”

  He seemed to ponder that for a moment.

  Not content to let him think on it too long, she plunged ahead. “If you could spare someone for just an hour or two, for a more detailed, behind-the-scenes tour, with a healthy question-and-answer session, that would be a good start.”

  “Start?”

  “I’ll need to know more about what you do, to know what kind of other information I’ll want or need. After the basics, I’d ask that you let me wander around a bit—safely, of course—and take some pictures, get a feel for how the place operates on a normal day, maybe talk with a few of your people.” She held up her hand. “I’d be very unobtrusive, I promise.”

  It was hard to tell from his enigmatic expression, but she got the impression he wasn’t all that keen about having someone underfoot.

  “Just a few days. Then maybe a sit-down with you to cover any final questions I might have. Then give me a week and I’ll put together at least a basic idea of what to expect. We would then work together to develop it into something that you feel represents Glenbuie as you envision it. I’ve done some research on the other competing sites on the Internet and I think I could easily duplicate their traffic successes with your site, perhaps exceed them.” She was babbling again. She took a short moment, breathed, and smiled. “And don’t worry, this is all on spec. Nothing from you except some time and a little access. If you like what I come up with, we’ll talk contract then.”

  “You sound quite confident.”

  Her smile grew slightly. “If I didn’t, you’d never have given me this much of your time.”

  “Quite good at your job back in the States, I’ll wager.”

  She felt her cheeks warm a bit. “I did okay.”

  He studied her for a moment. “I’m guessing that’s an understatement.”

  She said nothing. Success had a different meaning to her before. But on any scale, yes, she’d done quite well for herself.

  “So why relocate so far away? And pitch your lot with such a small village? What of your family? And your career? No matter if you have every one of us on your client list—I’m sure it won’t match what you were accustomed to before.”

  “Maybe that’s why I’m here. Because I don’t want what I had before.”

  “What do you want, Daisy MacDonnell?”

  Oh, there was a loaded question if ever there was one.

  “I want access to your distillery so I can show you what I can do.”

  His eyes sharpened at that, and she wondered, for a moment, if he was as unaffected by her as he appeared to be. “Okay.”

  She’d already opened her mouth to rebut his reply—then the single word sank in. She snapped her mouth shut, then smiled. “Really?” She quickly regrouped. Never give a client a moment to doubt their decision. “I mean, thank you. You won’t regret it.”

  There appeared to be an almost amused hint of a smile hovering around his mouth, the corners of his eyes. It was mesmerizing, really, that little hint. “Now that I’ve given you what you want, tell me the real answer.”

  “Real answer?”

  “Why did you come to Glenbuie? Surely your life goal was not to create a Web site for some obscure, family-owned distillery. I know it was an inheritance that lured you here, but you could easily have sold that, remained in the States. But you didn’t. You uprooted your entire life and transplanted yourself amongst strangers. Again, I ask, why?”

  She cocked her head slightly. He wasn’t making small talk. He was hardly the type. In fact, he seemed quite serious. But then, when wasn’t he? “Why does it matter?”

  “I guess I’m curious to know what drives you. Success, clearly. I recognize that, as I see it in the mirror every day. But for that you could have remained where you were. Why here? Why us?”

  His gaze settled on her then in such a way as to make her feel as if he could see straight through her. Or want to, anyway. It might have been business on the surface, but the way he held her gaze felt eminently personal and intimate to her. Foolish on her part, for sure, but it encouraged her to speak more freely, more frankly, than she otherwise might have. “I want a different kind of success. I don’t have any real family per se. My dad took off when I was little and my mom passed away right after I graduated from college. So my career has been my partner in life, my haven, my security. But somewhere along the line, I let it become my entire life. I let it define me. All of me.”

  She paused, but he didn’t say anything, encouraging her to continue. “I want a balance. I want a blend to my personal and professional life.” She laughed. “I want a personal life, period. When I got the telegram saying I’d inherited this place from a relative I didn’t even know I had, I decided it was a sign. That if I really wanted to alter my life drastically, a life-altering change was necessary. And I knew I could always go back. But from the moment I stepped out of the taxi into the village square, I knew I’d done the right thing. Glenbuie feels like the perfect place to find the new me.”

  He stayed silent for the longest moment, then looked like he was about to speak, but thought better of it. With a short shake of his head, he stood, pushing the stool back. “Then I believe you’ll find what you seek.”

  Daisy impulsively stood as well, put her hand on his arm. “What else?”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow in response.

  “What were you about to say just now?” When he hesitated, she prodded him. “There was something else you were about to say, but you didn’t. Come on. You’ve asked me some pretty personal questions.”

  He looked down at her, then sighed. “You came here to find balance. Yet, I’ve lived here all my life, and I haven’t managed to find it.”

  “But you think I will?”

  “I don’t imagine an
y goals you set eluding you for too long.”

  Her lips quirked at that. “I’m not so sure that’s entirely a good thing. All that goal-setting, I mean. Maybe I need to learn how to just let life happen. It’s one thing to plan with business, quite another to plan out a personal life. It should be more spontaneous, more impulsive.” The corners of her mouth lifted. “I’m still working on that part.”

  “Spontaneous,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper, softer note. “Impulsive.”

  Her heart rate kicked up a notch as his gaze dropped from her eyes…to her mouth.

  “Perhaps,” he said, slowly and quite intently, “we could help each other with that part.”

  “We could?” she asked, hearing the breathlessness in her voice and incapable of doing anything about it.

  “Aye.” Slowly, so slowly that she had plenty of time to deny him, he lowered his head to hers.

  Her mouth went dry. The rest of her…didn’t. “Reese…”

  “I like to hear you say my name,” he said. He tipped her chin up with his hand, then went about claiming her as if that very goal had been his sole desire, planned quite well and thoroughly. He started with kisses along her chin, then moved to the corners of her mouth.

  She sighed and leaned into him.

  “Like that,” he murmured against her lips. “Just like that.”

  “Yeah,” she said shakily. “Just like that.”

  Chapter 5

  Reese took his time before finally claiming her mouth. She could have stopped him, could have kept things all business between them. It was well beyond him at that point. Provoked, indeed.

  She hadn’t stopped him. Nay, she’d sighed and leaned into him, that’s what she’d done. And turned his world upside down, even as something had settled deep inside him.

  Heaven she was, the taste of her. As sweet and intoxicating as he’d wagered she’d be. He’d spent more time than he’d care to admit over the past fortnight, imagining this moment. Never once truly thinking he’d take it this far. But what she’d said, about finding balance in her life, had struck a chord in him, in a way all the teasing in the world from his brothers never would. She’d changed her whole life to find something more for herself. Such bravery, he thought, and heart. Others might see such a move as foolhardy, but to him, she’d shown she had the capacity to stand up for herself, to put her needs first. A trait he, himself, did not apparently possess.

  Until this moment. Kissing her was the most selfish thing he’d done in a long time. Possibly ever. There was no good reason to cross such a line, and plenty of bad ones. And yet there he was, taking her mouth like a man starved for it. And perhaps he was.

  She moaned softly as he took the kiss deeper. He cupped her face, tilted her so he could dip his tongue past those perfectly shaped lips into the decadent recesses of her mouth, and for all that was holy, she let him. Despite the difference in their heights, she fit him well, her body curving into his, making his scream more loudly with need. Heedless of the stool behind him, or the small confines of her office, he staggered backward, taking her with him as his back hit the door. Another groan, this one his, as her hands came up, braced against his chest. He’d thought perhaps nothing could top the taste of her, the feel of her beneath his hands. He’d been wrong. The feel of her hands on him threatened to unravel what little control he had left. Her living quarters were but a short jaunt up the stairs. All that softness awaited them if he only had the nerve to take them there.

  At the moment, the animal she’d unleashed inside him would have been perfectly happy to have her right there, bent over the counter or up against the nearest wall. Naked, legs wrapped around his hips as he pistoned deep inside of her, their bodies glistening and—

  “Hello? Daisy? Are you back there, dear? Halloo?”

  Daisy went stock-still in his arms. The blood was pounding so hard in his ears, he didn’t immediately catch on. “What’s wr—?”

  Then the voice drew closer. “I know the sign says closed, dear, but I saw the lights on and thought you wouldn’t mind if I dropped in to pick up that adorable stationery set I was in here looking over for my niece. I need to get it posted tomorrow if it’s to make it to her on time.”

  Daisy looked up at him with much the same look that deer get when headlights pin them to the middle of the road in the dark of night. Her cheeks were flushed, her neck and jaw slightly reddened from his attentions, her hair mussed as well, half out of her barrette. Any one of them a dead giveaway, but combined, there was no way she could brazen it out and not be the immediate talk of Glenbuie. Not after the ale stunt at Hagg’s.

  Reese pushed her back into the office before she could decide otherwise. “Stay here. I’ll take care of this.”

  “You will? How? I mean—” She paused, shook her head a little, as if to clear it. He understood the need. “It’s just—”

  “Doris Granger,” he finished for her. He’d recognized the voice. And the auld bat would love nothing more than to spread the word that Glenbuie’s newest resident had been caught in her office juggling a little more than her books. “I can take care of her. Perhaps you’d like to step into the WC for a moment.” He made a vague motion toward her head. “Fix your barrette.”

  Her hand flew up to her hair, then her cheeks. To his surprise, rather than scowl, she covered her mouth and snickered. “I don’t suppose she’d believe I got into such a state unpacking the latest order of self-filling ink pens. Perhaps if I wedged a Styrofoam noodle or two in my hair.”

  Caught off guard by her amused reaction, he found himself smiling in return. Immediately they were partners in crime, rather than stuttering initiates. “Perhaps. But how would you explain me?”

  The flush in her cheeks did deepen then, but her response was just as direct and frank as he was coming to expect from her. “I have no idea how to explain you. I’m still working on that one my own self.”

  There would be no dodging the awkward moment with Daisy. His respect for her grew. As did his smile. “I’d like to help you out with that. Give me just a moment, and I’ll gladly return and provide more assistance on that matter.”

  She tilted her head, her smile growing bemused. “I wouldn’t have thought you had a teasing side to you like this. I like it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Daisy? Are you back there?”

  He shot her a quick wink, so completely out of character for him, he should have been alarmed. Except he was grinning like a loon and felt as if he floated out the door of her office on a cloud. Amazing what a kiss from a beautiful woman could do for a man’s spirit, he thought. Even as he knew there was likely far more to it than that. Or could be, if he’d let it. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea.

  So many things to consider, his mind was racing in a dozen different directions.

  “Reese!”

  Daisy’s voice hissed behind him and he turned back just before stepping beyond the first row of racks.

  She made a motion of tucking in her shirt. He glanced down and realized his own clothing was somewhat askew. When had she tugged at his shirt like that? He quickly straightened things out and swore he heard her snicker, but looked up in time to see the door to the bathroom close. For good measure he raked his hand through his hair, took a deep breath, then squared his shoulders and moved to the front of the shop, prepared to do battle with the dragon for his fair maiden.

  That thought made him smile a bit. Daisy MacDonnell was all woman, of that he had no doubt. Just as he knew she could battle her own dragons when need be. And possibly a few of his as well. So it was only sporting that he stepped in to help out when he could.

  “Hullo, Doris,” he said, announcing his presence as he stepped out from behind the end display on the middle aisle.

  “Reese Chisholm!” Her gossip radar went on immediate alert, as he’d expected. She looked past him for a sign of Daisy, and was obviously disappointed. “What brings you in here?”

  He could only hope s
he hadn’t stepped into Hagg’s at any point this afternoon and heard the tale of the spilling ale with him and Daisy. But Doris would have already mentioned that, were it the case. “Daisy is working on a marketing plan for the distillery, updating some of our publicity. We’re neck-deep in a planning meeting at the moment. She sends her apologies—she’s on the phone getting some cost estimates.” It was a wee white lie, but he felt it was necessary to expedite Doris’s exit. “Is it possible you could come back in the morning when the shop opens again?”

  The dour older woman studied him for far too long a moment. “Marketing plan, is it? What has that to do with running Maude’s stationer’s shop?”

  “Yes. Perhaps you haven’t heard,” he said easily, knowing this would tweak Doris, who liked to pride herself on knowing absolutely everything. “Daisy was quite the marvel back in the States when it comes to things like that. She’s looking to add that service to her shop here as well. Perhaps you and Fergus should consider consulting with her to see if she can do anything for your place.” Doris and her husband ran the butcher’s shop on the opposite side of the square. Fergus was notoriously tightfisted, and Reese doubted he’d avail himself of Daisy’s services, but at the moment it was a much needed distraction and so he went with it.