“In that case, the answer is, if it was drugs or human trafficking, I said no. Firmly. Everything else, I upped my fee.”
“Holy crap, Kat.” Brodie dropped all pretense of them having just met. “Please tell me you didn’t put yourself in danger. There’s a whole lot of gray area that doesn’t fall under the heading of drugs and human trafficking.”
“I know, and I was careful. Mainly, I transported black-market goods into countries with limits on their imports/exports. Sometimes I flew someone with a metal case handcuffed to their wrist from Africa to Europe. I never asked what was inside, and they didn’t tell. Once or twice, I helped people get out of a country when it became too difficult for them to stay there.”
“You scare the crap out of me,” he admitted.
“Don’t worry, Brodie. I spent most of my time transporting wealthy executives to meetings.”
The woman needed a keeper. Someone to stop her from jumping on every daft idea that popped into her head. Someone who could watch her back when she got in too deep—just like he’d done for her while they were growing up.
“I’m glad to hear you took every precaution,” he said, stepping back into the role of first-date man. “What did you do when you weren’t flying people around?”
“I was a treasure hunter.” She clasped her hands in front of herself on the table, the white linen reflecting light onto her pale skin.
“Treasure?” Her arms were more muscular than he remembered, and she had calluses on her hands from hard manual work.
“The kind that’s worth more than gold,” she said with gentle teasing in her tone. “I went in search of information about my great-grandmother. She was a Soviet war hero who couldn’t return to her country for fear of being killed. My family never talked much about her when I was growing up, so when I found out she’d been a bomber pilot, I went hunting for more information.”
“A bomber pilot is impressive.” To be honest, he was genuinely beginning to think there was much about Natasha Savage that was impressive. A night spent reading about her life—the things she’d seen, done, and endured—had ignited a curiosity within him. “Where did she bomb?”
“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” Katya said pointedly. “Some people find it boring.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible. A beautiful woman talking about the war? That’s two male interests in one go. Add a discussion on Scotland’s chances in the next World Cup, and you might well be the perfect woman.” The irony of the situation was, as Brodie spoke, he realized it was true. If anyone else had wanted to discuss the Second World War with him, he’d have been all over it, dredging up years of knowledge from books he’d read and films he’d watched. But because Katya had been the one to develop an interest in the topic, Brodie’s younger self had seen it as a betrayal of everything they’d built together.
Brodie was beginning to think his younger self had been a bit of an idiot.
Dinner was not going the way Katya had envisioned. For one, Brodie was actually good company, and their conversation was entertaining and amusing. Of course, pretending they didn’t have a truckload of baggage from their shared past—baggage neither of them was anywhere near dropping off at lost and found— certainly helped.
She’d never thought for a minute she’d be able to share her passion for the war and her great-gran’s part in it with him, but for once, he seemed genuinely interested.
“Okay,” she said as the waitress served their meals. “I’m going to take you at your word and talk endlessly about the late, great Natasha Klimova.”
“Go ahead.” He gestured with his knife.
“Well, one of the most interesting things I learned during my hunt for information was about her involvement in liberating the first concentration camp discovered by the Allies.”
Brodie let out a low whistle. “She helped free the people in Majdanek?
“You know your war.” Katya was impressed. Most people only knew the names of the most famous camps—Auschwitz, Ravensbrück, Bergen-Belsen.
“I read.” He shrugged, drawing her attention to the good, good things the cut of his jacket did for his shoulders. “Plus, I think most young boys absorb war facts from the air around them. By the time we’re ten, we think we’re experts.”
“True.” She took a bite of her steak that cut like butter and groaned. “This is amazing.”
“I know, right?” He gestured to his plate. “Try the salmon. It’s perfect.”
“Later.” Katya nodded. “Save me a piece.”
“So, your great-grandmother was involved in Majdanek?” Brodie prompted.
“Yep, she bombed the barracks and the roads around the camp, giving the ground forces time and space to get in and liberate it. She also helped provide emergency medical care for the people they found inside. The fleeing Nazis had cleared out most of the prisoners by then, but they’d left some behind. As far as I can tell, they were all in a bad way, and even though Natasha only had the medic training she’d received, she stepped in to help. All the women in her squadron did.”
“I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.” Brodie speared a potato. “How did you find this out?”
“Those letters between Ben and Natasha. He mentioned it in one of his. I got the impression Natasha was trying to stop talking about the war because her letters didn’t reveal much about it, but Ben’s were filled with war stories. Like the fact he was part of the team that liberated Bergen-Belsen.” She put down her cutlery and drank some water. This was a hard topic for dinner conversation.
“We can change the subject,” Brodie offered, easily reading her actions.
“No, it’s just that I’ve read those letters so often that they feel real to me now. I can see the images in my head when I think about them. The piles of bodies, the shallow mass graves, the starving people with wide, hopeless eyes. Damn.” She blinked back her threatening tears.
Brodie’s hand reached across the table to cover hers. “Let’s talk about something else. You okay?”
Katya found herself turning her hand over to thread her fingers through his. “Yeah.”
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” a nearby voice sneered.
Together, they looked up to see a woman glaring down at them. It took Katya a moment to recognize her, and when she did, her jaw dropped.
“Mary? Mary Cameron?” Katya gaped at the woman she hadn’t seen since high school, when—she winced—she’d threatened to shave her head if she didn’t stop chasing Brodie.
“Yes. Mary Cameron.” She cocked her hip, which appeared to be wrapped in a purple bandage doubling as a minidress. “You’re sitting in my seat. Brodie and I had a date tonight.”
Katya snatched her hand from Brodie’s as though burned.
She stared between the man facing her, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and the woman in stripper heels, bleached hair falling in waves to her shoulders, and more makeup than Katya’s face had seen in her whole life.
“A date?” Katya said. “Together? You two?”
“Yes.” Mary spoke loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear. “Imagine my surprise when I heard he was back with his ex-wife.”
“Oh, hell,” Brodie muttered before pushing back his chair and standing. “I meant to cancel, and I forgot. I’m sorry, Mary.”
“No matter.” Mary’s smile was saccharine sweet. “We can start our date now. I’m sure Katya won’t mind finishing her meal alone. No doubt they can find us another table.”
“No need.” Katya shot to her feet. “Take my place. I’ve lost my appetite.”
At the table next to them, someone Katya didn’t recognize had their phone out and was giving the person on the other end a blow-by-blow of their interaction. “Aye,” the woman said. “I think the relationship is back off again because the girlfriend has turned up.” There was a pause before she added, “I know. Complete man-whore.”
Katya had heard enough. “I’m going home.” She
turned toward the front entrance, desperate to escape the gleeful scrutiny.
Only she’d forgotten about her damn borrowed shoes.
Her ankle turned as she rushed to get away, and she toppled forward, doing a belly flop into the middle of the phone-woman’s table.
There were gasps, and shouts, and flashes going off as the phone-woman took pictures. And underneath it all was the unmistakable sound of spiteful giggling. Hands grasped hold of Katya to help her back to her feet. Once there, she assessed the damage.
She now wore what looked like chicken and mushroom pasta.
“Let me help.” Brodie released her arm and reached for a napkin.
“No!” While holding up a hand to stop him, Katya kicked off her friend’s shoes. Pasta falling from her body, she slowly bent down to pick up the shoes before aiming them at Brodie’s head.
Of course, she missed.
One landed in someone’s dessert.
The other went straight through a stained glass window.
“Call the police,” Mary shouted. “Tell them another Savage has gone insane.”
With what little dignity she could muster, Katya half walked, half limped to the door—dripping pasta as she went.
“Kat!” Brodie called after her.
“Let her go,” Mary said loudly. “We don’t need her.”
As she passed the stunned hostess, Katya said, “Please bill Brodie MacGregor for any repairs.”
The woman nodded, but as Katya let the door swing shut behind her, she remembered she’d left her bag, complete with phone and wallet, hanging on the back of her chair.
To hell with it.
She’d walk.
With one last growl at the building behind her, she set off down the road. Only to realize after a few steps that she had no idea where to go. She couldn’t return to Brodie’s house—she was so furious there was a good chance she’d smother him in his sleep. And unless she wanted to see her dad locked up for murder, she couldn’t go to her parents’ house.
That left only one option.
20
After peeling Mary off him, and collecting Katya’s bag and Denise’s shoes, Brodie stopped by the kitchen.
“I’ll pay for the damage,” he told a stony-faced Deke—the restaurant’s owner and chef.
“Damn straight, you’re paying, and you’re banned until you sort things out with your ex. I’ve heard all about your wild relationship the first time around, and I don’t want you back in here until you’ve both settled down.”
“Seems fair.” Brodie grimaced. “Sorry about the window, and the food.”
Deke sighed. “Don’t worry about it. The restaurant’s all over social media already, but the main complaint is the diners hated having a great meal ruined. So, it’s all good publicity.” He lifted his chin toward the foyer, which could be seen easily from the open plan kitchen area. A furious Mary was glaring at them. “What about her?”
“She got herself here, so she can get herself home. You know what she’s like,” Brodie said to his soccer teammate. “She harassed me for weeks to set up this date. I only did it to shut her up.”
“And I remember telling you it was a stupid plan. It took you months to shake her off after the last time you dated.”
Brodie pinched the bridge of his nose. “How was I supposed to get rid of her?”
“Just say no.” Deke frowned.
“You don’t prize off a limpet with a simple no.”
“Well, you’d better think of something that will prize her off, because she’s heading this way.” Deke, the coward, exited stage left. At speed.
“Brodie,” Mary whined. “You owe me an apology for going out on a date with your ex-wife when you should have been with me.”
“Aye, I do.” Brodie frowned down at her. “But that doesn’t excuse you interrupting our meal. We both know we were meant to meet at the pub. You could have called when I didn’t show, instead you turned up here. I’m guessing one of your friends saw Katya and me having dinner and called you. Who was it?” He scanned the room. “Never mind. I can see Janice in the corner. I told you last time, and I’ll tell you again—you need to keep your friend out of my business.”
“If I’d kept her out of it, I’d never have known you were standing me up to see Katya.” She practically spat the name.
“I’m sorry I forgot about our dinner and didn’t cancel, but I’m also sorry that I agreed to the date in the first place.”
She gasped. Dramatically. “You don’t mean that. We can’t keep away from each other, even when we try.”
Oh, he’d tried, all right, but Mary kept finding him. Maybe his da was right, and he was hardwired to keep the peace—even when it meant doing things he didn’t want to do. If it hadn’t been for Kat shaking up his life and making him stand up to the people around him, would he have ended up married to Mary? Would he have said yes to her many invitations to avoid rocking the boat? Was he that complacent? Judging by the sick dread in the pit of his stomach at the thought of what his life could have been, Brodie suspected the answer to all of those questions was yes.
It was time to stand up for what he wanted. Or, in this case, didn’t want. “Mary, there’s nothing between us. I’m sorry if you thought there was after we slept together years ago, and I’m sorry for letting you think I’d be happy to start things up again. Although we had a good time during our brief affair, I should have made it clear that I felt we weren’t suited to each other. We never have been.”
“Typical!” She stomped her glittery shoes. “Katya comes back into town, and no one else gets a look in. I hate that girl!” Then she promptly burst into tears.
“Okay. Good talk,” Brodie said, backing away. “I’m sure you’ll find another man who has nothing to do with Katya.”
“Why does she always win?” Mary wailed.
Brodie took that as his cue to leave. Possibly never to return, as he suspected Deke would never let him set foot in this place again, no matter the outcome with Katya.
One thing was for certain, he needed to sort things with her. The look on her face when she realized he had plans with Mary had been a punch to his gut. Mary and Katya had been rivals all through school, with Mary never missing an opportunity to remind Katya that her family was laughed about all over town. In all honesty, Mary had been a bitch. Something that hadn’t changed since their school days, but that Brodie had managed to overlook.
Which meant his da had been spot-on all along. He had reverted to not caring what he did after Katya left.
He needed to find her and make sure she was okay after the chaos in the restaurant. She couldn’t have gotten far without her keys and wallet, but that didn’t mean she’d be easy to find. Katya didn’t think like other people, which made her harder to predict. Something he’d always loved about her.
Brodie pulled out his phone and dialed Darach. “Is Katya at the house?” he said as soon as his brother answered.
“What do you mean, is she at the house? She’s supposed to be at dinner—with you.”
“Aye, it didn’t quite go as planned, and she ran out of the restaurant without her bag. You don’t think she’ll have gone to her parents’ house?” If she had, there was no way Brodie could get to her without suffering a backside full of buckshot.
“I’ll get Denise to call Stephen. Hopefully, he can let us know if Katya’s there without setting off their dad’s radar. I’ll call you when we know something.”
“Good, I’ll check our land. Maybe she’s gone there to hang out with her plane. She left her shoes at the restaurant too.” Brodie didn’t see the point in telling Darach how she left them. “I’m worried her feet will get shredded if she takes it into her head to walk all over town. Plus, what if someone we don’t know offers her a lift? If they try anything on, she won’t be able to call for help because her phone’s in her bag too. She could get hurt. We need to find her.”
“On top of that, if your date was such a disaster, you need to find her fast s
o you can try to salvage this. Maybe take her to the pub and show everyone you’re fine together now. Otherwise, you might as well give up on the charade of your new romance, along with the hope of keeping your land.”
The air left Brodie’s lungs in a rush as his heart raced. He hadn’t, even for one split second, thought about the land. Or even the damage this evening had done to the public perception of their fake relationship. All he’d thought about was getting to Katya, making sure she was okay, and trying to explain about Mary.
“You still there?” Darach said in his ear.
“Aye,” Brodie squeezed out the word. “Got to go.”
Before his brother could say anything more, he ended the call. As soon as he was alone inside his car, he took several deep breaths and admitted the truth to himself.
He wasn’t pretending anymore.
He wanted Katya back.
“Thanks for taking me in.” Katya accepted the mug of hot tea. “I didn’t know where else to go, and I was worried I’d murder Brodie if I went back to his place.”
“You know, this could all have been avoided if you’d accepted my offer of help in the first place.” Margaret Jamieson settled into the armchair in the corner of the living room she shared with her new husband, Dougal. Fortunately, Dougal was still at his pub and hotel for a wee while longer because, unlike Margaret, Katya wasn’t sure he could keep a secret.
“How would it have helped?” Katya said. “I would still have gone to dinner, still have had to deal with Mary, and still would have wanted to stab Brodie in the eye with my fork.”
“Because,” Margaret said with long-suffering, “I would have warned you that they had a date set up at the pub. At the very least, you could have reminded Brodie to cancel. It’s typical. When that boy gets around you, he can’t think about anything else. Which means now we have to figure out a way to do damage control.”
“It’s pointless.” Katya tucked her feet up under her. “No one in their right mind will believe we’re a couple now.”
“The key,” Margaret mused, “is to get everyone treating you like you’re a couple. That way, Kitty Baxter will think we already believe it.”
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