Insatiable in a Kilt

by Anna Durand

  The pitch of her voice kicked up a few notches. "Grin? Evan? No, I've never seen him do that."

  "Do you know him well? He lets you call him Evan."

  Her posture and her expression softened. "I've been with Evan since the day he founded this company six years ago. And since I'm five years older, I've become a sort of surrogate mother figure."

  Jeez, I was eleven years older than Evan. If a five-year difference made Tamsen a mother figure, what did eleven make me? A dirty cougar, that's what. An older woman on the prowl for some sweet young tail. Not that I planned on "tapping" that tail.

  I swung my foot, letting the heel of my shoe dangle free. "Does Evan take every potential business partner on a tour of the building?"

  "Never." Tamsen tipped her head to the side. "He lets you call him Evan?"

  I held up my hands. "Tried to stick to the rules, honest. He insisted I call him by his first name."

  "How odd." She studied me like I was a bizarre new form of human being. "Only I call him Evan, because we've been together for so long. If he wants you to use his first name…"

  She shook her head, seeming unable to comprehend the implications.

  Evan strode up to Tamsen's desk and handed her a file folder. "Send this to Robert at the factory."

  "Of course." She took the folder. "I'll take care of it right away."

  He moved to the door and pushed it open, his hand on the knob. "In my office, Miss O'Shea. If you please."

  I waltzed past him into the office.

  Evan slammed the door and pushed me back against it. His mouth covered mine, the kiss brutal and hungry. His tongue pushed inside my mouth, and I sagged against the door, opening for him, devouring him as greedily as he devoured me. Our tongues lashed and thrust, licked and scraped, while he plastered his body to mine and I shoved my hands inside his suit jacket to clutch at him for support. My knees felt wobbly, my head floaty.

  He tore his mouth away.

  I fought to catch my breath, my body pressed into the door to keep from falling into him.

  Breathing hard, he braced his arms at either side of my head. "Been needing to do that since you walked into my office this morning. After watching your bonnie erse all day, I couldnae wait anymore."

  "That was completely unprofessional."

  He smirked. "Better tell that to your tongue. It wouldn't let mine go."

  "Don't you worry I might accuse you of sexual harassment?"

  "No, you wouldn't do that." He rubbed his erection against my belly. "Besides, you want me as much as I want you. And since you were obsessed with my cock all morning, I think I'd have as good a chance at winning a lawsuit as you might."

  I couldn't refute that logic.

  "Kissing," I said, "does not mean we're dating or romantically involved in any way. We should stick to business from here on."

  "That'll be right," he said with unmistakable sarcasm. He brushed his lips over mine, making my breath hitch. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't be involved."

  "I'm eleven years older than you."

  "That's not a good reason. I don't care about your age."

  "Stop being so pigheaded. I am way too old—"

  He mashed his mouth to mine.

  I held perfectly still, waiting for him to pull away, but he kept his mouth crushed to mine for so long I couldn't prevent my body from responding. It slackened, and I slumped against the door again. My lips relaxed too, parting just enough for him to forge inside.

  But he didn't.

  He pulled away, his arms still braced against the door, and gave me a smug smile. "Doesnae matter how old ye are, Keely. Ye want me, and ye cannae hide it." He moved one hand to my hip. "Every time you tell me you're too old for me, I am going to kiss you senseless."

  "No man's kiss does that to me."

  "Mine will."

  I made a scoffing noise.

  He crushed his lips to mine yet again and leaned in until his entire body was molded to mine, pinning me to the door. A decadent heat bloomed inside me to suffuse my entire body, though it settled heavily in my lower belly. God, I did want him. Too much. Way too much.

  I shoved my hands between us and pushed.

  With one hand still on my hip, he straightened his other arm to create a gap between our bodies, though I doubted my pushing had much to do with it. With all those muscles, he could've outmaneuvered me. He hadn't, and I could admit I appreciated that.

  Nevertheless, I aimed a chastising look at him. "Behave, Evan."

  "Why would I do that?" One side of his mouth inched upward. "I love it when you reprimand me in that schoolteacher voice."

  A man with a schoolteacher fetish. Wonderful. Well, if he wanted to be reprimanded…

  I barred my arms over my chest. "Do I need to call your mother?"

  Every muscle in his body stiffened. He gritted his teeth, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. "That won't be necessary."

  His flinty tone cut into me as sharply as his gaze.

  Spinning on his heels, he stalked across the room, behind his desk, and jerked the chair out. His big body dropped onto the seat with a thud. He wheeled the chair up to the desk, his hands flat on the surface. "The contract, please. Now."

  Okay, he had mommy issues and a schoolteacher fetish. Even if I'd been inclined to date him, I would've paid attention to the alarm bells his behavior had set off.

  I took a seat across the desk from him and wondered for the hundredth time who Evan MacTaggart was.

  Chapter Four

  Evan

  Keely slapped the paper down on my desk right under my nose. I'd been staring down at the large calendar on the desktop, wondering what the bloody hell was wrong with me. Why did I get angry when Keely mentioned my mother? I knew why in the general sense, but she couldn't know about the problems between me and my mother. I'd been the moron who mentioned how much I liked her schoolteacher voice, and Keely had responded in kind.

  She tapped the paper with one fingernail. "Here it is, Mr. MacTaggart. As you commanded."

  The woman was furious, and she was right to be.

  I scratched the back of my neck. "I'm sorry, Keely. I shouldn't have shouted at you."

  She leaned forward. "You didn't shout. Snarled, maybe."

  "I acted like a daftie."

  "Not sure what that means, but I'm guessing it's not good."

  "Means I've been a fool." I slouched into my chair. "I am sorry."

  She seemed to appraise me for a moment while she absently ran her fingertips along the smooth surface of the desk's edge. "Why did mentioning your mother make you fly off the handle?"

  I straightened and plunked one finger on the contract she'd laid there for me, spinning my finger to twirl the page. "I don't have a good relationship with my mother. It's very complicated, and I'd rather not talk about it."

  "Okay." She rested her hip on the desk and bent her knee. "On to the contract."

  "Yes." I spun the paper so it faced me the right way, grabbed my pen, and prepared to sign at the bottom of the page.

  Keely slanted toward me to stay my hand with her own. "Don't you want to read it first? Negotiate the details?"

  "You drafted this contract, yes?"

  "I did."

  The warmth of her hand lingering on mine was distracting, but I managed to speak in a measured voice. "You are a clever and honest person. I trust you."

  "You don't know me."

  "I trust my instincts." Shaking off her hand, I moved my pen closer to the paper.

  Keely stopped me again with her soft hand on mine. "I'm not comfortable with you signing the contract without even reading it."

  "Doesn't bother me."

  "Read it, Evan, please. Humor me."

  I set down the pen, leaned back, and folded my hands over my belly.

  Keely planted her hand on the desk near the paper and leaned into it. She tapped her fingers. "I flew all the way to Scotland so we could ne
gotiate this distribution deal. You commanded it. Why make me come all this way if you're going to sign the contract without so much as glancing at it?"

  "You're implying I deceived you, but I didn't know the woman I had a meeting with this morning would be you." I rocked my chair back, never looking away from her piercing green eyes. "If I had known, I would've met you at the airport. But you wouldn't let me send a car for you, so I doubt you would've agreed to me picking you up."

  "Send a car?" She gave me that chastising look again, the one that made my balls tighten. "You wanted to send a limousine and set me up at a five-star hotel."

  "I treat all my clients and potential business partners the same way. Again, I did not know you were the woman in question." I couldn't help admiring her cleavage, the way her blouse stretched tight over her breasts when she leaned in. "You didn't know who I was either. Why wouldn't you let me treat you like a VIP?"

  "Because I'm not a VIP, I'm the assistant manager of an electronics store. One store. We don't have a chain. The VIP treatment would be overkill." She straightened and swiped her hands over her skirt, avoiding my gaze. "Besides, I planned on taking a tour of the Highlands after this meeting today. I needed my own car for that."

  This trip was a holiday for her? I sprang forward, hit with a brilliant idea. "How long are you staying?"

  "I leave Saturday." Her gaze flicked to me, and something on my face must've told her I had a scheme in mind. Her eyes narrowed, and she wagged her finger at me. "Oh no, Evan. No-no-no-no-no. I'm taking a solo vacation. In case you're in doubt about the meaning of the word solo, it refers to something done alone."

  "Say no-no-no again in that schoolteacher voice. I love it."

  Keely sighed, her mouth tight. "You have a schoolteacher fetish, don't you?"

  "Only since you walked into my office." I rested my elbows on the desk and petted its surface with two fingers, imagining I was petting her. "I've been fantasizing about you slapping a ruler on your palm while telling me to behave."

  "Keep your fantasies to yourself, Mr. MacTaggart."

  Hearing her call me Mr. MacTaggart again brought my brilliant idea back to me. "I meant to give you a tour of my factory this afternoon, but we should—"

  "Factory? I didn't realize you had one of those. I thought your company designed the doohickeys."

  She was teasing me with that word, but she seemed genuinely unaware of the scope of my business. Despite the fact she'd interrupted me, preventing me from sharing my brilliant idea, I explained anyway. "I have five factories in the UK. Two in Scotland, two in England, and another in Cornwall."

  "Most companies as large as yours outsource to China or India or at least Eastern Europe."

  "If and when we need to expand production, I'll open more factories here. Outsourcing does not appeal to me. I want to create jobs where I live. Besides, I can't keep a close eye on production standards if the factories are a world away."

  She looked me up and down, seeming satisfied with what she found. "That's an admirable attitude. A rare one, in my experience, when it comes to big business."

  "You might've noticed I'm not like most businessmen."

  "No, you are definitely one of a kind."

  I liked hearing her say that.

  Keely slid off the desk, strolled around it to my chair, and perched on the desk's edge again. "What do I have to do to get you to read and sign the contract?"

  This woman was dead brilliant, and she didn't even realize it. She'd given me the perfect opening to share my idea.

  I settled back in my chair, propping one ankle on the other knee. "Spend your holiday with me."

  She closed the fingers of both hands over the beveled edge of the desk. "I've told you more than once I am not interested in dating or relationships."

  "Yes, I heard you every time. I'd meant to show you the Inverness factory this afternoon, but let's delay that until tomorrow. I want to show you my favorite parts of the city." I let my gaze wander up and down her body, tracing every voluptuous curve. "If you're afraid ye cannae keep from ravishing me, I willnae hold it against ye."

  "Don't worry about me. My willpower is at full throttle." She squinted at me. "That sounds an awful lot like a date. There will be none of that, Mr. MacTaggart."

  I grinned. "I love it when you're disciplining me in that voice."

  "Forget your fetish for one minute and try to focus on what I said." She lifted a finger, most likely to wag it at me again, but crimped her mouth as if she'd realized I would like that. She withdrew her finger. "No dating."

  "I understand, Keely. My brain works very well." My cock tended to override my brain in her presence, but I decided to keep that fact to myself. "Think of it as sightseeing, and I'm your tour guide."

  "Sure, every tourist gets the CEO of an international corporation as their guide."

  "Call it a professional courtesy."

  "There you go again with professional courtesy." Her lips tightened. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't accept it. Not when you refuse to behave."

  "You mean because you can't put the hems on me."

  "Are you speaking English? It's not like any version of it I've heard."

  "I gather you've never been to Scotland before."

  "This is my first trip to the UK."

  "What I said," I explained, "means you can't control me. I refuse to follow your orders, and that clearly fashes you."

  She made a frustrated noise. "You explain one phrase and throw another at me."

  "Fash means bother."

  "Maybe it does bother me." She shifted her attention to the windows, her expression faintly pinched. "I've been told I'm bossy and that it's not an attractive quality."

  "Who said that?"

  "My—" She met my gaze again, rubbing her arms, and I swore I noticed a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "My two ex-husbands and the man I lived with between husbands, not to mention nearly every man I've ever dated. Some of them tolerated my bossiness, but none of them liked it."

  Her frank confession stopped me. I searched her eyes, suddenly feeling like I understood why she kept insisting we should not date. All I'd wanted since the moment she'd stepped foot in my office was to wine and dine her. Well, that and shag her mindless. Mostly, I wanted to get under that soft, creamy skin of hers and get to know the real Keely O'Shea.

  A frank confession of my own seemed in order.

  "I told you I've never been married," I said. "Haven't dated much either. Women confuse me. Before I became wealthy, most girls wanted nothing to do with me because I didn't speak unless I had something worth saying. I wasn't shy, though other people thought so. I didn't see the point of blethering. Still don't. Once my company took off, women only wanted me for the thrill of fucking a billionaire. I gave up on dating."

  "I assumed you were a Casanova."

  "You want to think the worst of me, don't you? I've had sexual partners, even after I stopped dating. But I've been celibate since Paris."

  "Celibate? I don't think the worst, but you could have any woman you want. Why give up on sex?"

  "Because I don't want just any woman." I touched my fingertips to her thigh, gliding them along the hem of her skirt. "I want you."

  She gripped the desk with enough strength to make the sinews on the back of her hand visible.

  "Ever since Paris," I told her, "I've wanted no one else."

  "That's…flattering, I suppose. But it doesn't change my mind about anything. No dating."

  "Have it your way." I tickled the back of her knee, making her squirm. "This time."

  "I'm sure my schoolteacher charm will get on your nerves eventually."

  "You are bossy, but only because you know what you want and you aren't afraid to ask for it." I slid my fingers under the hem of her skirt to caress her inner thigh. "I like that."

  Her lips ticked upward. "That's because you are a lunatic."

  "I'm certainly insane with lust for you." I
moved my fingers higher, earning a wee gasp from her. "I'm beginning to think your problem is that you choose the wrong sort of men. Weak men will let you boss them around, but they'll start to resent you for it after a while. They haven't got the bagais to handle a woman like you."

  "Bagais?"

  I tickled her thigh, making her gasp again. "Balls, lass. The men you've been with obviously didn't have the balls to handle you."

  She huffed. "I do not need a man to handle me."

  "No, you need the right man. The sort who knows what you need." I spread my hand over her inner thigh, pushing upward until my longest finger grazed her mound and the silky panties that covered it. The fabric felt like lace. "I know what you need."

  She frowned at me, but the expression lacked vigor, which might've had something to do with my finger teasing her flesh. "You are the most arrogant—"

  I pulled my hand away. "Lift your skirt, Miss O'Shea."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I said lift your skirt. Let me see those lace panties."

  She locked her arms under her breasts, the action pushing them up, and slanted toward me. "No."

  I chuckled.

  Her brows knit together over her nose, carving out that sweet little dimple I'd seen before. She seemed thoroughly confused by the shift in our discussion.

  This was the most fun I'd had in years.

  "What's your game?" she asked. "I'm not into that BDSM stuff."

  "Neither am I, but you need this. You need a man who stands up to you, challenges you, understands what you need and gives it but doesn't give in to you at every turn." I steepled my fingers. "Lift your skirt, Keely. I won't say it again. Hike it up or I'll do it for you."

  She squinted at me again, the way she had earlier. "I don't take orders."

  "You want to do this as much as I want you to do it." I skimmed my fingers over her knee, up to her inner thigh, and curled my hand around it. "So go on and do it."

  Chapter Five

  Keely

  I couldn't tear my gaze away from his, spellbound by his sudden turn into domineering territory. Spellbound and shocked. All day, he'd been flirtatious. This was something else. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised since he had dragged me into an alley on that infamous night in Paris. Either he had multiple personalities, or our unexpected reunion had stunned him as much as it had me.