Page 20 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

I readied myself. “I also bumped into the journalist, Zach, this morning in Heather Moore woods. He was out running and made some comment about hoping to catch up with me again later.” I buried images of Zach’s muscular legs. “And there’s something else.”

“What, my dear?”

“Last night, he said something about a scandal.”

Ezra’s expression paled.

“He didn’t elaborate…”

Ezra tried to push out a disinterested smile. “Oh, poppycock!” he rushed. “Probably some made-up nonsense. Happens all the time, unfortunately.”

He fell quiet for a few moments.

I couldn’t ask him anything else about it. How could I? I’d only known the man five minutes. “I didn’t tell this Zach Stern anything. I denied you’d been in Flower Power, let alone that I’d met you or spoken to you.”

“And did he believe you?”

I shrugged my shoulders under my quilted jacket. “I’m not sure. I just wanted him out of my shop, to be honest.” I hesitated. “He’s staying at a local hotel. From what I’ve read about him online, he’s the sort of character that once he gets the bit between his teeth about a story, he doesn’t give up.”

Ezra sank his head back against his oversized lemon-yellow cushions. “So much for me enjoying a life of tranquillity in the Scottish Highlands.” Frustration gripped his face.

Resentment about Ezra’s situation piled up inside of me.

Who the hell did this Zach Stern think he was turning up in Heather Moore in order to make Ezra’s new life implode, just so he could get a column out of it? And his sheer presence around here was making me nervous, too. If he was as dogged as his reputation suggested, my new life here could be under threat as well. Was it only a matter of time before he worked out who I was?

My stomach lurched. I thought of how happy Flower Power had made me, and the fresh start I was trying to build here.

Why should Ezra and I have to worry so much about our future here? How was it fair that people trying to get away from media attention were constantly hounded?

Well, I wasn’t about to give up my new life here without a fight! Zach would have a battle on his hands if he thought he could dismantle my new life and everything I’d worked so hard for. “We need to think of something to throw him off the scent,” I suggested, shuffling forward on Ezra’s sofa. “Something to get rid of him.”

Ezra’s serious, long mouth flickered at the edges. “I hope you aren’t suggesting we have him assassinated? Having said that, I do know of a couple of shady but influential London gentlemen who possess certain connections.”

I let out a snort. “No, tempting though that is, Ezra. Nothing illegal.” I let my hands rise and fall again into my lap. “We need to let him think that there’s no story up here. We have to convince Zach Stern he’s been sent on a wild goose chase. Then he’ll bugger off back to Glasgow. Fingers crossed.”

Ezra twitched his sharp nose. “How? I mean, how are we going to get shot of him?”

I could feel my shoulders sinking again. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought of anything yet.”

“Then try not to worry about it just now. I’m not.”

I offered Ezra a small smile of support. I could see his eyes had tensed, though. He was trying to reassure himself. He may well be an accomplished actor, but he wasn’t fooling me.

Ezra clapped his hands together. “Now, seeing as you’re here, why don’t I give you a tour of the rest of the house? It might give you some more ideas for the floral displays.” He stood up and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “I’m very much a fan of Christmas, so I’m more than open to any festive themes you may have up your sleeve.”

“That sounds like a plan. Thank you.”

I followed him out of the sitting room.

Ezra guided me through to his study across the hall. It looked out onto another section of the garden and a set of wavy hills in the distance.

A semi-circular oak desk was facing the window, dotted with various acting awards and papers. “I have to decide where I’m going to put these,” he grimaced, patting one gleaming gold award.

“A nice problem to have.”

Ezra grinned.

As we made our way past his desk, I noticed a copy of his recently released autobiography, King of the World. The book cover consisted of swirly gold type, with his name running underneath the title and a colour portrait photograph of him leaning nonchalantly with one hand placed on top of a world globe. He was wearing a sharp, black suit, bright blue shirt, and dark tie.