McGillivray's Mistress - By Anne McAllister Page 0,46
caroming off the walls.
“The whole damn island thinks that I’m your mistress!” She came to a halt directly in front of him and glared.
Lachlan shrugged and grinned. “Now there’s an even better idea!”
Fiona punched him in the stomach.
“Hey!” He coughed, then caught his breath, and looked at her closely.
Fiona wasn’t looking at him. She had retreated swiftly behind her worktable again and was staring at the sculpture, a shuttered expression on her face.
“Is that a no?” he teased after a moment, wondering what the hell was eating her, trying to get her to smile.
But she didn’t smile. She ignored him, focusing intently and completely on the sculpture, using her thumbs to do something to its face.
Smash it in? Lachlan wondered.
“Maybe you could write a letter to the editor denying it?” he suggested lightly. “As I recall you were pretty big on letters to the editor.”
“No.”
“So, you mean there’s hope—” He grinned again.
“Writing a letter wouldn’t work. Taking an ad wouldn’t work. Believe me, I already considered it.”
She had? Being his mistress was that distasteful? Lachlan scowled.
“Don’t draw your brows down like that,” Fiona said. “I can’t get this right if you do.”
So he glared at her without drawing his brows down. He frowned and she worked. He fumed and she sculpted until finally she stopped and said, “That’s fine. Thanks a lot. You can go.”
Like it was dismissal time. Annoyed, Lachlan stalked off and made quick work of getting dressed again. No cold shower necessary this time. Fiona had solved the problem all by herself.
“See you tomorrow,” he said as he headed for the stairs. She was standing in the doorway to her studio.
She shook her head. “Not necessary. I’m far enough along now. I don’t need to have you model anymore.”
He considered that, then cocked his head and said with a lightness he didn’t feel, “You sure? I’m always happy to get naked for you.”
If he’d hoped that would help, he was disappointed.
At the sight of his grin, Fiona felt her jaw tighten further. “No thanks. We’re done. I’m sure.”
THEY WERE FINISHED, just as she’d told him. But the truth was they’d never even really started.
There had never been anything between her and Lachlan McGillivray—not in real life. Only in Fiona’s mind and in her heart.
She’d wondered how to tell him about the rumor. She should have known he already knew. She should have known, too, what his reaction would be.
Why not? Great idea! To him it undoubtedly was.
To her it was simply painful because in her heart of hearts she wanted so much more.
And she’d wanted Lachlan to want it, too.
She’d fretted about it all morning. Then she’d got a grip. And now, blinking back stupid tears and grateful for her sunglasses, she marched determinedly up the hill to Carin’s shop.
Carin beamed when Fiona came in. “I see Lachlan’s back,” she said cheerily.
“I saw him comin’ from your place this morning,” Elaine added with a knowing wink.
Fiona ignored them. “Can I use your computer to send a few e-mails?”
Carin blinked at the lack of reply and the hard tone. “Yes, sure. But—” she paused and looked at Fiona closely. “Are you and Lachlan—”
Fiona gritted her teeth.
“Never mind. None of my business,” she said wisely. “None of my business at all.” She nodded toward the back room. “You know where it is. Go right ahead.”
“Thanks. Will you show me how to do attachments?” Fiona had had very little reason to e-mail anyone. She’d never sent an attachment in her life.
Today she was going to send four of them.
Carin’s brows lifted. “Certainly,” she said and followed Fiona into the back room.
“I’m sending out my portfolio,” Fiona told her. It was no secret. In fact, the more people who knew, the better. “David helped me get it together last night.”
“Portfolio? For what?”
“Art school. He said you might write me a letter of recommendation. He said Nathan might, too.”
Carin looked momentarily taken aback. Then she said, “Of course. If that’s what you want. Isn’t this sudden? Are you sure? Did Lachlan—?”
“This has nothing to do with Lachlan,” Fiona snapped. “This has to do with my life. Once upon a time I did have one! I had a life before Lachlan McGillivray came back to Pelican Cay.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And it’s not sudden. I’d hoped to go to art school years ago before Dad got sick. It’s just—it took David to make me see I needed to follow through.”
“Of course,” Carin said, apparently convinced by her fervency. “I’ll certainly recommend you, and I know