Page 31 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

“See you shortly.”

And then he was gone, leaving me standing clutching my phone and in a bit of a tailspin.

I gave my outfit an appraisal. Suddenly, my black jeans and electric-blue vest top didn’t seem appropriate for coming face to face with an officious art critic.

When I explained to Ally and Finn, who were now undertaking a final touch-up of the skirting boards, they ushered me out of the shop. “We will keep an eye out for your new phone arriving,” Ally assured me. “You pop off and do what you need to do.”

So, with grateful thanks, I jumped into my car and drove back to my flat. I retrieved the peacock-embossed tea set from where I had stored it at the bottom of my wardrobe. I settled the off-cream leather case onto my bedspread, before rattling my array of coat hangers, trying to locate something smart to change into.

It wasn’t until I came across a pair of slim-fitting pinstriped trousers and my high-necked, frilly ruby blouse that I was satisfied.

I threw my jeans and vest top on top of the bed in a rumpled heap and changed, all the while making a tutting noise of disapproval at my out-of-control ponytail.

With very little time to spare, I grabbed a handful of hairgrips from my bathroom cupboard and fired my hair up into a hurried French roll. Not exactly perfect but it would have to do.

Once I’d slipped on my red ballet pumps in place of my trainers, I locked up my flat again and made my way back to the car, carrying the case with its rattling crockery as though it was my first newborn.

The thought of greeting Xander North with a mish-mash of smashed crockery was making my cheeks flush with horror.

I wrapped the tea set case in a couple of blankets I kept in the boot of my car and secured it on the back seat.

I drove slowly back to The Cup That Cheers, grateful to locate a now empty parking space at the rear of the shop. Finn greeted me at the shop door. “You look very smart. Just like one of those contestants on The Apprentice.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” I joked.

Ally dashed a smudge of paint from his freckled cheek. “Oh, your new phone arrived right after you’d gone. We told the guy to install it where the old one used to be. I hope that was okay.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“And we’ve finished painting the windowsill in your office,” beamed Finn. “You might want to go and take a look.”

I stashed the case containing the tea set under the counter and hurried through to the back of the shop before the arrival of Xander North.

I pushed open the office door, which was now gleaming in strokes of Scottish Mist. My refurbished mahogany desk nestled there, complete with my new black leather chair with its chrome arm rests, which had arrived a couple of days ago.

I let out a thrilled gasp and sat down, running my fingers along the edge of the desk. Like a little girl presented with a new doll’s house, I slid the freshly varnished drawers open and closed several times. They made a satisfying gliding motion.

I swished this way and that in my new plush chair, feeling a faint rush of air beneath my ballet pumps as I lifted my feet up from the new petrol-blue carpet Dad had fitted for me. I experienced a rush of excitement. I felt like a Bond villain.

I swivelled around, giddy with growing excitement and put on a Sir Sean Connery accent. “You eshpect me to talk?” I then transformed my voice into the sinister Blofeld. “No, Mr Bond. I expect you to die.”

I let out a giggle, spinning gaily around and around, before the chair slowed and stopped to face the doorway.

A pair of hard, unimpressed eyes the shade of the Mediterranean was appraising me. “Ms Harkness, I take it?”

My bottom felt stuck to the leather of the chair. I sprang upwards, my face illuminated hot pink. “Sorry … er … I was … er … checking the ergonomics…”

Stop talking, Sophie, for goodness’ sake!

The startling blue-green gaze flicked over me. “I don’t have a great deal of time,” he remarked, unable to conceal his boredom.

My stomach pirouetted to my feet. Oh no. Don’t tell me this was him.

I glanced down at my watch. It was 11a.m. My shoulders sank under my blouse in horror.

Resignation took hold, as the owner of the striking yet unimpressed eyes let them drift over me again. “I’m Xander North.”

Chapter Fifteen