Page 14 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

I heard Zach Stern blow out a cloud of air. “I did some investigating after we received the tip-off about Ezra King being seen around here. I took a look at Heather Moore online and I found a website giving details of Mrs Rankin being involved in local amateur dramatics.”

“And you wondered whether she might know anything or have come across Ezra King?” I supplied. “Well, like I told you, the Rankins sold me this place and moved to London to be near family.”

There came another frustrated grunt from the other side of the shop door. “I suggest the local amateur dramatics society update their website then. Hazel Rankin is still listed as one of their major players.”

There was a charged silence for a few moments before I put out my hand and let it hover over the door latch. If I let him in, perhaps I could control the situation more. I had no intention of misleading a journalist, but I wasn’t prepared to tell him anything about Ezra either.

I just hoped he wouldn’t realise who I was. I was beginning to like the new me. I was toughing it out after being conned and jilted and I refused to lose the lovely, quiet life I was building for myself here in Heather Moore.

The life I lived before, falling out of nightclubs with celebrity friends all seemed so pointless now, when I surveyed Flower Power.

I had to try and be composed. I didn’t want to put this journalist on high alert about Ezra or myself. Refusing to debate the matter a moment longer, my hand shot out and unlocked the shop door.

A snap of brisk, November chill shot through the open door, as did the athletic, tall figure of a handsome man. He possessed thick, wavy, blueberry-black hair, pushed back from his angular face. He wasn’t what I was expecting.

Zach Stern appraised me through intense, dark brown eyes. He extended a gloved hand. “Good to meet you. Apologies if I don’t maintain eye contact. My eyelids are frozen.”

I shook his hand in return and allowed my long hair to fall over my face in an attempt to obscure it. I didn’t want to take any chances, just in case I did seem familiar to him. “I’m sure you can appreciate me being careful.”

He cocked one brow and turned his attention to his surroundings. “So, this is yours?”

I nodded, watching his broad shoulders swing this way and that under his long charcoal wool overcoat.

“I’ve only been open since late spring, but business is improving.”

I battled to ignore the warning voice yelling in my head. What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re sharing idle chit chat with a journalist. You need to get rid of him. Fast. You’ll be discussing the weather and last night’s TV next.

Deciding that I should get this unnerving situation over with as soon as possible, I suggested we talk in my office. The light wouldn’t be great in there either at this time of day, which would be an added advantage.

He glanced around while following me across the shop floor. I clicked on a couple of the low lights, which bathed my sleepy flowers and plants in a golden hue. I could hear his boots thudding along behind me.

I indicated for him to sit down opposite me at my desk. I clicked on my desk lamp and angled it away from my face. He didn’t waste any time exchanging pleasantries. Even his voice didn’t marry with the image I’d conjured of him in my head. He seemed more like the type of journalist who should be writing in-depth political analysis for the likes of The Times.

“So, Ezra King,” he announced, pinning me with his burning, dark gaze from across the desk.

I hoped I could maintain an aura of calm and that my neck wasn’t a sea of red blotches, like it always was when I got nervous. “What about him?”

“Like I said, we’ve been told he’s been seen here in Heather Moore.”

I performed an indifferent shrug. “Are you sure? I very much doubt it. Maybe it’s a lookalike. They say we all have a doppelganger.”

Zach Stern frowned at me. “So, you haven’t seen him? He hasn’t been in here?”

I fought to maintain a level of calm in my voice. “Nope. I think I’d recognise him if I saw him.”

He suddenly leant forward. “You’re certain of that, are you?”

I swallowed. “Yes. Of course.”

“It’s just we were told that someone who looked very much like him may have come in here.”

I forced out a bark of laughter. “Well, he didn’t.”

He lounged back in his swivel chair, as though my office belonged to him. A bolt of irritation fired through me. He wasn’t lacking in confidence. “It’s just that someone contacted the magazine to say she and her friend were driving through Heather Moore on their way to Inverness recently.” He tilted his dark head to one side as he continued to speak. “She said they were sure they saw him in his car and they thought he may have come in here.”

Great. Just bloody great! Annoyance on Ezra’s behalf stirred up inside of me. I knew what it was like to be betrayed; for people to let you down. I pushed Declan out of my head and made myself refocus on what Zach Stern was saying. Why was this anyone’s business? Couldn’t they leave him alone?

The tips of my cheeks sizzled. I hoped he wouldn’t notice. I let my hands flail around. “What would someone like Ezra King be doing round here?” I offered Zach a pointed look. “So, are you planning on writing a story about it? About Ezra King living here now, which he isn’t.”