them. The first time had been when he confessed his mother’s absence from his life. What could she do but ignore the push-pull?
Forcing her voice to a lightness she did not feel, she said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you doled out a compliment.”
She sat and busied herself in the stack of papers, reaching for the cordless phone and refusing to engage any further with him.
At the sound of his retreating footsteps, she looked up, only to meet his gaze where he’d paused at the foot of the staircase. Even with the distance between them, she could sense the power of him. He was lightning and she quaked with an internal thunder. It felt melodramatic, yet fear leapt. Not fear of his physicality, but because she recognized something of herself in him. A restlessness. A desire for chaos. A need to feel out of control.
As soon as he was out of sight and she heard a door close upstairs, she dropped her head and banged it against the desk. No. This was not happening. Not right now with the festival bearing down on them like a train and her ambition to run for Highland mayor. She needed to maintain the image of upstanding businesswoman and not indulge in the kind of fling that would lead nowhere good.
The shower turned on upstairs, the trickle of water through the pipes distracting her. She stared at the ceiling for so long, her neck grew a crick. It was painfully obvious she would get no work done with Iain gallivanting around without a shirt on or reciting poetry or showering.
Anna gathered the list of numbers she needed and climbed into her oven-like car with a hint of guilt. She was leaving Iain, a stranger in a strange land (because as much as she loved Highland, it qualified as strange) to fend for himself.
If he hadn’t been borderline nice earlier, she wouldn’t be hesitating with her foot hovering over the gas pedal right now. Her Southern ancestors would be turning over in their graves at her lack of hospitality. Not to mention what Izzy and Rose would have to say on the matter.
No, he was a grown man who was imminently capable of taking care of himself. She made a wide turn in the graveled loop leading up to Stonehaven and headed toward the Brown Cow for a bracing cup of coffee and a table to work at, trying not to consider how a fling with Iain might leave one of them (him—never her) emotionally wrecked, but sexually (very) satisfied.
* * *
Iain spent longer than normal in the shower, maxing out the cold water tap, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He shivered in the air-con as cold water droplets from his hair trailed down his back. Even in Scotland, quoting a Burns poem in casual conversation when it wasn’t New Year’s Eve or at a Burns Night Feast was an oddity, but he hadn’t been able to help himself when the look of nostalgia crossed her delicate features, pulling her mouth into a sad pout.
The energy and verve of a young Anna had been caught in the snapshot, but still it was a pale facsimile to the woman. Looking at the picture, he sensed Anna hadn’t drawn on fond memories but lost herself in the thorny brambles between then and now.
He padded downstairs and stopped in the entryway. She was gone. He knew before he pulled the drapery aside to see the graveled front driveway empty.
Now what? He’d unloaded the wood, but planned to wait until the evening offered some respite before continuing his project in the barn. Even if he could figure out the numerous remotes, he wasn’t the type to sit around and watch the telly.
Feeling unaccountably nervous, he retrieved Dr. Jameson’s number and rang him up. The conversation was easier than he anticipated due to Dr. Jameson’s innate friendliness, and Iain readily accepted the doctor’s invitation to meet at the Scottish Lass restaurant for lunch.
Stepping into the restaurant brought another spate of nerves, and Iain scanned the crowded room for Dr. Jameson, spotting him waving from a back corner. Instead of a one-on-one meal, Iain found himself in a gathering of Highland residents, mostly over the age of sixty.
The menu was full of meat and vegetables, some familiar, some not. Iain followed Dr. Jameson’s example and ordered the meatloaf along with a variety of vegetables, including fried okra. The meatloaf reminded him of a