Her giggle was cut short when his tongue touched her again. She honestly couldn’t take any more.
“Fine. Fine. I love you, Hairy Boil, I love you.”
The words released a pressure valve of emotion within her. Every feeling she’d had for him over the years burst forth. Everything she’d buried or denied. Oh how she loved this man.
His forehead rested on her lower stomach, and she felt him relax. “You bet your life you love me.” He sounded smug.
Magenta lifted her head. She blinked back tears of hope that threatened, and aimed for sounding lighthearted. “Are you going to finish this now?”
“Oh yeah.” Harry gave her a satisfied grin.
His skilled lips and tongue devoured her, and ten seconds later she was flying. The world disappeared. Perfect. It was perfect. When she came back to earth, she was lying sprawled on the bed with Harry over her. The heat from his skin soothed her. He brushed her hair away from her face, placing a kiss on her nose.
“I love you too, Magenta,” he said against her lips.
Her heart stuttered at the words. Hope bloomed within her. She wanted him. She wanted to believe they could get past their differences. She wanted it so much it hurt.
Slowly, she felt him inch inside her. Harry. Her Harry. The only man she’d ever loved. He’d been everything to her. Her whole world. She wanted that again. Desperately. His soft kisses snatched her gasps and moans as he joined with her.
“I love you,” he told her again. “Only you. Forever.”
The words were said solemnly. A promise she was desperate to believe. As he held himself on straining arms above her, Magenta cupped his face in her hands.
“I do love you, you bully,” she said.
His grin was pure sunshine. “One of these days you’ll tell me without insulting me at the same time.”
That made her laugh. A laugh that turned into a desperate gasp as he moved within her. She wrapped her arms around him and let herself drift away, floating on waves of sensation.
Perfect.
20
Harry was buzzing from making love to Magenta. If he’d had his way, he’d have never let her out of bed. He could still feel her on his skin. Feel her wrapped around him. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He had no words for it. Except perfection.
He’d smiled when she’d come down from the high of making love. After her shower, she was grumpy and annoyed. Although she didn’t say it, he was pretty sure she was mad that she’d admitted her feelings. He could live with that. He was under no illusions as to how stubborn his woman could be. His woman. He grinned at the thought. Man, he loved that crazy girl so much it hurt.
When Magenta had stomped off to work, complaining that she was late and protesting that words said under duress didn’t count, Harry headed to his meeting with Rachel. They were looking at the office space again. He planned to sign the lease then go over to the local secondary school to talk to Magenta’s old English teacher.
He was certain Magenta was dyslexic. Harry had a friend in London who was dyslexic, a very successful and intelligent friend. Harry knew the signs. He also knew that it wasn’t related to IQ. The fact Magenta had come to believe she was stupid because of it made him want to punch something. Or someone. Lots of someones.
“What are you frowning at?” Rachel said.
They were checking out the new office space one last time before Harry signed the lease.
“Something Magenta said that I didn’t like.” More accurately, something the people around her had told her time and again. It made him cold with rage to think about it.
Rachel folded her arms over a severe royal-blue shift dress and tapped the toe of her red Louboutin shoe on the linoleum-covered floor. He knew they were Louboutin shoes because Rachel had given him a lecture on the designer’s trademark being red leather soles. To say that Harry couldn’t have cared less would have been putting it mildly.
“Aren’t you finished chasing that girl?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s forget this lease thing and move back to London, where we have a perfectly decent office set up. One that’s close to Sloane Square instead of being close to Invertary’s only pub.” She sniffed in disgust.
“Stop being such a snob, Rachel. The landscape here is beautiful. The air is fresh. People fight to live in places like this.”
“Some of us would rather be surrounded by culture.”
He rolled his eyes, making sure she saw it. “There’s culture here. Scottish culture. You don’t get better than that.”
“Save me the Braveheart speeches. We’ve had enough of that for one trip.”
Harry walked over to the window that looked out over the loch and smiled. This was the spot he’d set up his machines. That way, when he looked up from his latest code he could stare out at the blue water and lush green hills.
“Set it up. We’ll sign today,” he told her.
“I really have to object. Again. You only want to do this because you have a hard-on for the Goth. Is that a reason to move your company? She doesn’t even want you. Why can’t you take the hint and let us go home?”
“She does want me. She’s been protecting me. She thinks she isn’t smart enough to date me. She’s had issues with reading and writing, and from what she says I think she’s dyslexic. That’s something I can help her with. Once that problem is gone, she won’t worry about us being too different to make a relationship work.”
“She isn’t smart enough for you. Most people aren’t. For the love of all things Gucci, you have an IQ that reads like a phone number. People are queuing up to get at your latest code. You see holes in programming security most experts would never see. And she”—Rachel huffed in disgust—“works in a shop and likes to play in an abandoned mine. From what you say, I doubt she even knows how to turn a computer on. Have you thought about her in all of this? Mmm? If your intelligence intimidates her, how upset would she be around your friends? Your colleagues? You aren’t doing her any favours throwing her into a world she barely understands. It will only make her feel more inadequate.”
Harry thought about that for a minute as his stomach churned. Would it hurt her? Her self-esteem had taken a kicking these past few years. Maybe pushing her to deal with his overly educated circle of friends was a bad idea. He shook his head. Magenta wasn’t that easily intimidated. He wasn’t going to think like this.
“It will be fine,” Harry said. “Get the paperwork for the lease and I’ll sign it.”
“Are you sure?” Rachel cocked an eyebrow at him. “Self-esteem is a delicate thing. If your girl is worried she isn’t clever enough for you, then she may never get over that.”
“I’m sure.” Harry strode towards the door. “I’m going to help her. It will all be fine, you’ll see.”
With that, he left Rachel to deal with the lease and headed to the local high school to have a word with his old English teacher, Mrs. Adams. Maybe together they could find a way to fix the damage in Magenta’s past.
Magenta was in a bad mood. She was also late for work, which didn’t help her disposition any. She was annoyed that she’d caved and told Harry she loved him—even if it was true. It didn’t solve anything. She was still the village idiot and he was still the genius boy wonder. No matter how much she’d convinced herself that they had a future, she knew they didn’t. It was a delusion brought on by lust. Lust and his really talented tongue.
To complement her mood, she’d worn her “leave me alone” outfit to work. Black mini-skirt, black bat-wing top with the words “Back Off Bitch” written in red across her chest, a studded dog collar, studded belt, red tartan tights and black Doc Marten boots. She’d painted her eyes with even more eyeliner than usual and coated her nails with blood-red polish.
“Excellent, you made the effort to turn up. Well done,” Kirsty said when she arrived.
Magenta ignored the sarcasm. “I’m sorry.”
“Want to give me a reason for you being late?”
What was this? School? No, she didn’t want to give a reason. Especially when that reason involved her being in bed with Harry. The town already knew too much about her sex life without her adding to it.
Kirsty sighed. “I see you’re all decked out to be delightful to my customers.”
Magenta growled. “I was going to strap a knife to my thigh. I didn’t.”
Kirsty’s eyes went wide. “And that’s supposed to make me feel grateful?”
Magenta stomped over to the new posters that were to go up in the store window. Each one showed a perfectly stunning Victoria’s Secret model. She hated them all.
“Who put the bug up your bum?” Kirsty said. “Come on. What’s the problem?”
Magenta almost cracked a smile. Kirsty never said things like that. She glared at her friend. “Harry.” Magenta figured one word was enough.
Kirsty let out a dramatic sigh. She was going for a wood nymph look in a leaf-green chiffon top with long, billowing sleeves, over beige suede trousers. With her red hair and green eyes, she was beyond stunning. Exactly like the models on the posters. Not fair. Not fair at all. Damn, everything was getting to her. Now Magenta thought she didn’t look good enough for Harry. She growled at herself, irritated that her thoughts were so girly.
“Why won’t you date the guy?” Kirsty said. “You might be surprised and actually enjoy it.”
She was glad Kirsty didn’t know exactly how much she enjoyed Harry.
“Harry doesn’t want to date. He wants to get straight to the marriage and baby part. He’s come back for his soul mate. He thinks it’s me. He’s never done things by halves. So dating him won’t work.”
“Marriage? Babies? Did he say that?” Kirsty’s voice was an insulting squeak.
“More like implied it, with the ‘you’re mine forever,’ ‘we were made for each other’ comments he keeps making.”
“You and Harry, having babies? Children? Heaven help us. Miniature computer geniuses who dress only in black and hate almost everyone who crosses their paths. The world wouldn’t be safe. On second thoughts, don’t date Harry. Run from him. Run fast.”
“Funny,” Magenta told her friend and boss. “Very funny.” Magenta figured that with her being so stupid and Harry being so smart, their kids might end up with an IQ somewhere in the middle. They might actually be normal. She almost screamed. Why the hell was she thinking about kids? She was twenty-one. Too young to get married. Too young to have children. And definitely too young to deal with someone who thought he was her soul mate.
“He said he loves me,” she found herself telling Kirsty. Her mouth would not stay shut. It was like a compulsion, this sudden need to bare her soul.
She heard a thud, and turned to find Kirsty had dropped the box of hangers she’d been holding.
“I told him I love him too. It came out under duress.” She was still annoyed about that.
“So, you don’t love him?”
She shook her head then sighed. Why not go the whole hog and wail too? “No, I do love him. I’ve always loved him. I just don’t see how we can have a future. We’re too different. I couldn’t even finish high school, whereas Harry has a whole alphabet after his name.”
Kirsty came up beside her and squeezed her shoulder. “There’s all kinds of intelligence, Magenta. Just because you didn’t do well in academia, doesn’t mean you’re ignorant. You can do things Harry can’t do.”
“Like?”
“Like get within three miles of a rat.” Kirsty grinned.
Magenta smiled back at her friend as the worry within her lessened some. “Heard about that, huh?”
“Wish I’d seen it.” Kirsty looked almost wistful.
“I think Claire saved the file. She can email it to you. It might be up on YouTube by now anyway.”
Kirsty gave her shoulders another squeeze. “Don’t worry about things so much. They have a way of working out. And don’t think you are any less than Harry because he has degrees and you don’t. That’s a crazy way to think.”
Magenta shrugged out from under her friend’s arm. “You’re right. I’m turning into a sissy.”
Kirsty shook her head. “Not what I said.” She moved to pick up the box she’d dropped, her eyes straying to the shop door. “Customer,” Kirsty told her. “Try not to scare her away.”
“I can’t promise anything.” Magenta turned to the front of the shop and her heart sank. Excellent. Executive Barbie. Magenta didn’t bother plastering a fake smile on her face. Rachel wasn’t worth the effort.
Harry’s friend and business manager sailed through the door like a despot ruler gracing the plebs with her presence.
“Magenta.” It was amazing how much distaste she could squeeze into one word. “I’d like to have a word with you about Harry.”
“Again?” Magenta rolled her eyes dramatically. The twins would have been proud. “Haven’t we already done this? I can’t even begin to express how not interested I am in doing it again.”
“Be that as it may,” Rachel said, and Magenta took a minute to wonder how there were actually people out there that said that kind of thing. “But Harry is about to sign a lease on new office space, and I can’t allow that to happen. Moving to Invertary is a mistake. We both know that.” Her lip actually curled up when she said “Invertary.”
“I don’t know if it’s a mistake or not, Rachel. I’m not involved with your business.”
“Exactly.” She tapped her chin, flashing her perfect French manicure. “Harry did mention that the workings of the business would be over your head. He said that you hadn’t even finished high school.” Her smile was cold. “Please forgive me if what I’m about to explain is difficult for you to comprehend. I’m more used to dealing with people who are educated.”
Magenta was vaguely aware of Kirsty sucking in a shocked breath. She ignored it as she clenched her fists into tight, tension-filled balls by her side.
Magenta ground her teeth. “Do you have a point?”
Rachel’s eyes turned cold and her voice dropped. Her haughty tone was gone.
“My point is that you need to back off from Harry. He’s got a life in London, a business to run, contracts to fulfil. People depending on him. Instead of spending his time dealing with all of that, he’s chasing his high school crush. A crush who has made it painfully obvious she isn’t suited to him.” She folded her arms and drummed her fingers on her biceps. “Tell him to go to London. Tell him there’s no chance with you. Make it clear. And for the love of all things Prada, do it before he ties us to a lease on an office that none of us want.”
Magenta worked to take calming breaths. Whatever was happening, or not happening, between her and Harry was their business. No one else’s. His designer sidekick didn’t have the right to stick her nose in.
“And if I don’t do this?” Magenta’s tone was ice.
Rachel smirked. An honest-to-goodness, superior-as-all-out smirk. Magenta’s blood shot past boiling and straight to red steam. She was sure it spewed from her ears.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing with Harry, but do you honestly think you’ll fit into his world? That his friends will accept you? You won’t even understand the conversations we have. You can’t even read and write.”
Kirsty made a strangled noise. Magenta froze. Rachel smiled. Cold. Calculating.
“That’s right. He told me. The love of his life is so thick she can’t even read and write. A perfect match for one of the brightest brains of this generation, don’t you think?”
Every insecurity Magenta struggled with surged to the forefront of her mind. Her dirty secret was out. Now Kirsty knew that she’d hired an idiot. The thought burned. It actually physically burned. A searing pain in her stomach. How could Harry have done this to her? No. He couldn’t have. This wasn’t the kind of thing Harry would do. He’d never gossip about her to Rachel. Something else was going on here.
Rachel leaned in towards her. “Face facts, little girl—you are far too stupid
for Harry. You will drag him down and everyone will get hurt. He’s too busy and important to waste time explaining every tiny little thing to you in small words so you can understand. Let him go to London and you can stay here, selling underwear and pretending you aren’t as dumb as you look.”
“Oh hell,” Kirsty wailed.
Magenta barely noticed her cry. All she saw was that smirk on Rachel’s face, and the next thing she knew, her fist was flying straight for it.
21
Harry was in the middle of an enlightening conversation with his high school English teacher when his phone rang. He apologised profusely as he reached for it, thinking it would be work. He was puzzled to see Kirsty’s name on the screen.
“Hey, Kirsty,” he said as he smiled at Mrs. Adams.
“Get your backside to my shop right now. You need to stop Magenta from killing Rachel. Oh crap, got to go.”
The line went dead. Harry stared at the phone for a second. What the…?
“I’m sorry, I need to go. Kirsty said Magenta is in a fight at the lingerie shop.” He could hardly believe the words came out of his mouth.
Mrs. Adams didn’t look surprised. “Some things never change. That girl has always had a short fuse, especially if someone called her an idiot.”
Harry’s stomach tried to climb out of his oesophagus as the blood drained from his face. Rachel wouldn’t. Would she? He hung his head. He should never have told Rachel about Magenta’s dyslexia.
“I need to run. Now.”
He was out of the door at a sprint as Mrs. Adams called out her goodbyes behind him.
The high school, like everything else in Invertary, wasn’t far from the main street. It took Harry less than five minutes to get to Kirsty’s shop. What he saw made him screech to a halt.
On the floor, in the middle of a completely trashed lingerie shop, were two wrestling women. Magenta’s T-shirt was ripped, flashing a fuchsia-coloured bra. Her hair was wild and there was a crazy glint in her eye. Rachel’s designer dress was up around her hips, allowing everyone to see that she was wearing underwear from Kirsty’s new pink tartan line. There was a scrape on her thigh and it looked like her manicured fingernails were broken. She was also missing one of those red-soled shoes she loved so much. Magenta was on Rachel’s back, trying to strangle Rachel with a green satin bra. Rachel, in turn, had a death grip on a leg that had broken off a mannequin. She was using it to pummel Magenta. The noise was phenomenal. He’d heard quieter catfights.
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