by Anna Durand
"Yes."
She narrowed her eyes. "You are too young to understand these grown-up issues."
I clamped my mouth shut, my lips stretched taut, determined to stop myself from showing the depth of my irritation. Sometimes I got the impression she wanted to make me angry so she'd have an excuse to run away.
Eyes half closed, she groaned. "I've become a cliché, a dirty cougar on the prowl."
"Cougar?" I frowned, confused by her statement. "What does a big cat have to do with anything?"
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "A cougar is an older woman who dates younger men."
"What's the term for a man who dates younger women?"
"Lucky bastard."
I couldn't help laughing. "I suppose you're right about that. Men dating younger women is acceptable, even admired, but older women with younger men isn't."
"Exactly." She plucked a piece of crust off the half-eaten pie and chewed on it. "An older woman is a cougar if she's with a younger man. A wild beast. A predator. Yet men who snag younger women are heroes. And a woman who hooks up with a young man after her husband dumps her for a newer model…That's just pathetic."
At last, I'd gotten a glimpse into her mind. No wonder she was hesitant to call this a relationship or even dating. Her exes had wounded her deeply, and she felt like she'd become a joke in a raunchy movie.
"Keely, I—"
My phone rang.
I glanced at the screen. My cousin Iain was calling. I'd been on the verge of coaxing Keely into opening up about her fears. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to Iain or anyone else but Keely.
The phone rang twice more while I stared at the screen.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Keely asked.
No, dammit, I did not want to.
"It's okay," she said. "Take your call. It's not like we were having a vital conversation."
Like hell we weren't.
When the phone rang a fourth time, I realized the moment had been shattered anyway. I might as well see what my cousin wanted. I swiped the screen to accept the call.
"What is it?" I said into the phone.
My cousin sighed melodramatically. "Is that how you greet everyone who calls you? No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."
I stole a glimpse at Keely. "What makes you think I don't?"
Why had I said that? Keely wouldn't want my family knowing about us.
"You have a girl?" Iain said with genuine surprise. "Who is she? When do we meet her?"
"Careful, Iain, you're starting to sound like your daughter. Incessant questions with no time to answer."
"Two questions is not incessant. Who is she, Evan?"
In the background of the call, I heard his wife's voice. "Evan has a girlfriend? That's wonderful!"
Ah, bloody hell. If Rae knew, then soon every one of the American wives would know, and soon after that, every MacTaggart in creation would know. But Keely was not my girlfriend.
According to her.
No, I couldn't use Iain's mistaken assumption to my advantage. That would be wrong. Then again, Keely needed some sort of kick in the erse to show her the truth. Still, it would be wrong. Very, very wrong.
"Yes," I said, grimacing at my horrible behavior. "It's not such a shock, is it?"
"No," Iain said. "We're happy for you, that's all. What's her name?"
"Ahhh…." My gaze flicked to Keely, who was watching me with a sweet expression and softness in her eyes, her raven hair shimmering in the sunshine. I swallowed hard. "Too early to share that."
Iain laughed. "Too early? I asked for her name, not a complete background investigation and medical history."
He was right, but I couldn't tell him her name without her permission. Keely would never consent to that.
"Forget it," I said. "Your nosiness is no excuse for invading the lass's privacy."
Keely pointed at herself and mouthed, "Me?"
Nodding, scowling, I grumbled into the phone, "Lay off it, Iain."
"At least show her to us."
"What?"
"A video chat, man. Point your phone at her."
"I—No, she wouldnae want that."
The flapping of Keely's hand drew my attention back to her. She mouthed, "What?"
"Hang on," I told Iain, then held the phone to my chest. "My cousin Iain has figured out I'm with a woman. He's irritatingly perceptive. If I won't tell him your name, he insists I show you to him with my phone."
She smiled, her lips sealed and her cheeks dimpling.
Was she—No, she couldn't want to have a video chat with my cousin.
"It's okay," she said. "I don't mind."
Shock immobilized me for two and a half seconds—or thereabout. I'd forgotten to time it on my watch. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Evan, I'm sure."
I turned on the video feed, and Iain's face appeared on the screen. I aimed the phone at Keely. "Here she is, Iain."
Keely smiled brightly and waved at him. "Hi, I'm Keely."
I couldn't blink or speak, my gaze riveted to her. She had introduced herself to my cousin. The woman who wanted nothing more than a fling had said hello to a member of my family. Voluntarily. Cheerfully.
"That's Iain," I said, pointing at the screen. "He's fifty-one years old, but he married a woman fifteen years younger. If anyone's a predatory beast, it's Iain MacTaggart."
"Predatory?" Iain said with a laugh. "And what's my age got to do with anything?"
"You don't look fifty-one," Keely said. "I'm forty-one, but Evan keeps telling me I'm not a cougar for being with him."
"Cougar," Iain repeated thoughtfully. "Oh yes, Rae has mentioned that term. Never mind labels, Keely. No one is ever too old for the right person."
A shadow seemed to descend over Keely, her happy expression dimming, and I knew she'd had enough of this conversation.
"We have things to do," I told Iain, angling the phone's screen toward myself. "I'll talk to you later. Say hello to Rae and Malina for me."
"Not the baby?"
"He's a wee bairn, too young to understand. Goodbye, Iain."
I hung up before my cousin could say anything else.
"Sorry about that," I told Keely. "Iain likes to push his nose into my business."
"That would be some of your family's well-meaning meddling."
"Yes." I studied her for a moment. "Why did you tell Iain your name? Why did you want to speak to him at all? You say this is a fling, so you shouldn't want to know my family."
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and let it slide out slowly. "I'm not sure. My curiosity got the better of me, I guess, and I'm in the habit of introducing myself when I meet new people."
That sounded like an excuse rather than an explanation, but I let it go to avoid embarrassing her. She'd wanted to speak to my cousin. It had to mean she liked me as more than a sex partner.
Once we'd collected the remnants of our picnic, we strolled back to the Porsche.
Keely moved toward the passenger door.
I held up the keys. "Would you like to drive?"
"Me?" she said, pretending to be shocked. "You're going to let a woman drive your manly man car?"
"Aye. But it's not a manly man car. It's simply a means of transportation."
"Hmm. I don't think something that costs over a hundred thousand dollars is 'simply' anything." She stepped closer, eying the keys that dangled from the ring hooked around my finger. "Men don't usually like to let a woman drive their cars."
Another clue about her exes. I was beginning to well and truly dislike them.
"None of the men in the MacTaggart family mind letting their women take the wheel." I took hold of her hand, flipped it upside down, and dropped the keys into her palm. "Drive, Keely. I know how much you like being in control."
She closed her fingers around the keys. "Thank you."
While I climbed into the passenger seat, Keely marched around to the d
river's side and settled in behind the wheel. She adjusted the seat and started up the engine, revving it while she stroked the wheel with both hands.
"Do you like driving?" I asked.
"I love it." She eased the Porsche forward, carefully pulling out into traffic. "I didn't get to do much driving until the last few years. My ex-husband would never let me drive. We shared a car since we worked, um, at the same office. After my dad was injured, I became his chauffeur."
A scrap of personal information? I wanted to press for more but didn't want to push too far again.
Instead, I tilted my seat back and crossed my ankles, folding my hands behind my head. "You don't have to leave tomorrow, you know. I can have you flown home on my jet anytime. Stay another week. Let me show you even more of my favorite places in Scotland. I'll take you to visit my cousin Iain and his wife and their two children."
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm going home tomorrow as scheduled."
"Think of all the fun things we could do together, in and out of the bedroom."
"Hot sex is nice, but it's not a valid reason to skip out on my responsibilities."
"The vice president can take a holiday without the whole business going under. I'm sure Mr. Bazzoli could handle things on his own for a bit longer."
"First of all, he really can't. I'm in charge of human resources, which means I deal with all the employees. Vic hates riding herd on them. He's too nice to give anyone a dressing-down even when they need it." She pulled one hand away from the wheel to gesticulate while she continued. "I also handle all the bookkeeping and marketing. Vic's an expert in electronics, but he knows nothing about the stuff I take care of. But I think you know all of that since Vic blabbed to you on the phone about me."
"One more week won't destroy the business."
"I have family responsibilities too."
"Tell me about those. Maybe I can help you. Hire people to fill in for you at work and at home so you could stay—"
"Stop it, Evan. I'm not accepting charity from you or anyone." She exhaled a long breath that seemed to ease the tension in her body. "Look, I appreciate that you want to help. It's kind of sweet. But I need to handle my responsibilities on my own. I told you from the start this is a fling, nothing more than an enjoyable distraction, and it will not go on past Saturday. I'm leaving tomorrow."
My mouth wanted to remind her of every time she'd done or said something that contradicted the "just a fling" idea, but I gritted my teeth to keep from speaking. I had less than one day to convince her to stay. Words wouldn't do the job. I needed to show her how good we were together.
We drove to the company headquarters so Keely could give Tamsen the gift she'd bought for her the other day. We'd been so caught up in sightseeing and sex that we'd both almost forgotten Keely wanted to hand deliver the gift-wrapped scarf.
By the time we reached my building, I'd made a resolution. Whatever it took, I would prove to Keely she could trust me and that we belonged together. I had never done anything of the sort in my life. Never before had I wanted to keep a woman with me for more than the occasional night. How did a man prove to a woman they had something more than sex between them? I had no bloody idea. Unless I figured out the answer, I'd lose her. Failure? No, I hadn't gotten where I was by giving up. Keely O'Shea hadn't seen even half of my obstinate side.
Time to show her the rest.
While she pulled the car into a parking space, I said, "Next week, I'll show you my other factories."
"No, you won't. I'm leaving tomorrow morning."
"You don't have to."
"I told you I have responsibilities."
"Fate brought us together. Don't run away from that because you're afraid."
She shut off the engine and twisted to face me. Her eyes were squinted in that analytical way she adopted whenever she was about to reprimand me in the tone that made me want to tear off her clothes. "Fate? Are you seriously claiming destiny brought us together? That's hogwash."
"No, it's a fact." I twisted toward her too, laying an arm across the back of her seat. "How do you explain the way we met in Paris? And how you turned up in my office on Monday? It was meant to be."
"Bullshit. I don't believe in fate."
"Neither did I until I experienced it." I drilled my gaze into her sparkling green eyes, willing her to accept the truth. "What were the odds the woman I approached at a cafe in Paris ten months ago would turn out to be the woman sent to Scotland to negotiate a distribution deal with my company?"
"That does not make it fate. Coincidence, yes. Not fate."
I hadn't expected her to agree with me the first time I mentioned the idea. A willful and practical woman like Keely would need time to digest the information. At least I'd introduced the subject.
What were the odds of coincidence? Zero point zero percent.
All my life I'd banked on facts and numbers and electronic circuits. Ten months of dreaming about the raven-haired beauty I'd met in Paris had forced me to reconsider the value of logic. All of my cousins had found their perfect matches via a series of supposed coincidences. Where was the line between luck and fate? I knew where. It was a bright red line drawn between me and Keely.
Sooner or later, I'd convince her to step over to my side.
Chapter Thirteen
Keely
I rested my cheek on Evan's shoulder, enjoying the sweet pleasure of post-sex tranquility. We sat naked on the bed entwined with me on his lap, my arms and legs wrapped around him. He held his arms around me too as he placed soft kisses on my shoulder. I closed my eyes, my cheek on his skin, and absently massaged his nape with my fingertips. He'd done it again. He had made love to me like a man who cherished the woman in his arms, but this time, I hadn't panicked afterward. The feeling of connection, the intimacy of this moment, had lured me into its spell.
His spell. The man must've enthralled me with sorcery.
Not that I believed in magic. It was hogwash just like fate.
Basking in the afterglow with him like this, I had trouble remembering why all that stuff was hogwash. If Vic hadn't sent me to Scotland to handle the distribution deal, I would never have met Evan again. If we both hadn't chosen the same cafe in Paris…
Not fate.
Sex made me loopy, that was all. I did not believe in destiny or the magical powers of Evan MacTaggart. Better to leave before things got too messy.
He brushed his fingers through my hair and caught my earlobe with his lips, releasing it slowly. "Stay the night."
The request, whispered straight into my ear, sent a warm shiver down my spine. I wanted to say yes, but I'd sworn I would not sleep with him. Have sex, yes. Sleep, no. Keeping to my parameters seemed less and less important every day. He'd already convinced me to give up my decree about no kissing. Did it matter if I spent the night with him? The fact that I wanted to, that I yearned to, answered my own question.
I wrapped my arms more snugly around him. "I'll stay."
He kissed a path down my neck to my shoulder, resting his forehead there. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me for something I want to do."
Evan went motionless, not quite tensing up. "You want to stay? I assumed you were saying yes to make me happy."
"I am, but staying will make me happy too."
He toppled backward onto the mattress and took me with him. I ended up sprawled half on top of him with his arms still around me. He tugged the covers over us and frisked his hands over my back. "You don't have to leave tomorrow."
"Yes I do." I snuggled into him, probably giving him the wrong idea. Or maybe it was the right idea. My desire to spend the night with him testified to some facts I didn't care to think about, tonight or ever. "This was always supposed to be a limited-time affair."
"If you're calling it an affair instead of a fling, you must not see it as casual anymore."
Damn. The hypnotic afterglow of intensely intimate sex had turned my bra
in to mush. With Evan, I didn't feel like a bossy forty-one-year-old woman who couldn't hold on to a man.
He was right. The word affair did suggest more than a casual thing.
"Can we enjoy sleeping together," I asked, "and worry about the rest later?"
"Aye."
We both fell silent, and before long I drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, I woke before Evan did and sneaked out of bed without disturbing him. Our clothes lay strewn across the floor where we'd tossed them when we undressed each other, driven by a burning desire to get naked. I found Evan's white dress shirt and slipped it on, hooking two buttons so the shirt covered my breasts. Last night, he'd insisted on changing into a suit to take me to a fancy restaurant, and I'd worn the most dining-appropriate clothes I'd brought with me, the skirt and blouse I'd worn the day he tied my hands behind my back and convinced me no kissing was a stupid idea.
Dressed in only his shirt, I ambled to the floor-to-ceiling windows and pulled the semitransparent drapes open so I could appreciate the view of the River Ness. My gaze was drawn to the old castle that hunkered atop a hill. Had I locked myself up in an emotional fortress no man could breach? Maybe I had, but I couldn't take a chance on letting Evan inside my walls. I knew so little about him.
You can change that, a voice whispered in my head.
If I hadn't insisted we not get to know each other, I might've learned more about him. He had cousins, I knew that. He had a problem with his mother, that I also knew. My curiosity prodded me to ask questions, to learn more. My heart warned me against doing that. It had been bruised too many times.
"Good morning."
He'd gotten out of bed and was stretching his entire body. His entire naked body.
Oh my, but I had wonderful memories of the ways he put all those muscles to work.
"Good morning," I said, leaning against the window.
He sauntered toward me and the huge windows that overlooked public places.
"You're naked," I said like he wouldn't know that already.
"Aye." He stopped near me, in clear view of anyone who could see these windows. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"You aren't at all concerned someone will see you through the windows. Stark naked."