Page 24 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

“And neither is it any of your business who may or who may not be living here!” I tried to rein in my emotions, but they were in free-fall. “What gives you the right to rock up here and try to lob a grenade into people’s lives?”

A chilly atmosphere descended.

Zach reached for the handle of the office door and yanked it open.

“Don’t you have any scruples?”

An odd look washed across his face. He straightened his back. “You’d be surprised.” He pushed out his chin. “But I should warn you I don’t give up easily, Ms McArthur. That’s why I’m so good at what I do.”

He pinned me with his unwavering gaze. “You’re not telling me everything. I know it.”

My stomach lurched. “Psychic now, are we?”

He ignored my barbed comment. “I find in my line of work that the truth always surfaces in the end.”

“The truth? About celebrity gossip? Very noble of you.”

He angled his head at me as he was about to leave my office. His eyes narrowed. “Nothing like making wild assumptions about people.”

I shifted uncomfortably.

“You know, I’m sure I do recognise you from somewhere.”

A sickening dread pooled inside me. I pushed my chin out and fought to keep my voice calm. “I thought you were leaving. Don’t let me stop you,” I said. Then, unable to resist it, I added, “Oh, and be careful where you’re running. There’s lots of rabbit and fox holes in the woods.”

He shot me a hot gaze, before whirling away in his coat and out of my shop.

Chapter Six

I spent the remainder of Saturday afternoon chewing over what Zach had said, before taking decisive action.

As soon as the clock struck five, I ushered Rowan and Amber out, insisting I would clear up, sweep the floor and water the plants that needed it.

Both girls were delighted, seeing as they’d agreed to meet up with some mutual friends to go clubbing in Glasgow.

Once they’d vanished in a typhoon of plaits and perfume, I locked the shop door, picked up my phone and brought Ezra’s mobile number up, which he’d given me when I called round.

He picked up after a few rings. “Bailey! How are you?”

“I’m all right, thanks.” I let out a worried sigh. “He’s been back here, Ezra. The journalist. Zach Stern.”

“What?!”

I took a breath. “Look, I know my suggestion sounded crazy, but we might just have to give this a shot – using Joshua as a decoy.”

Ezra let out an unconvinced grunt into my ear.

“Isn’t it worth giving this a try? It’s up to you, but if Zach Stern finds out you really have moved here, you’re going to end up splashed across that wretched magazine of his.”

I tried not to think about the mounting worry I had about my own life here. All it would take was one loose tongue or him digging around in my past and then my life would start tumbling down around me, like a pack of playing cards. The press would be salivating to be able to reveal how the so-called party-mad Bollinger Babe who was jilted at the altar and swindled by the man she loved was now running a little florists in the Scottish Highlands.

“I thought you were enjoying living here,” I murmured, as the pale light danced through the shop windows.

“I do,” Ezra assured me. “I feel settled for the first time in a very long time.” He hesitated. “But even if poor Josh were to agree to act as me, how on earth would it work?”

“I would speak to Zach and say I’d been thinking about his Ezra King search and that those two women who claimed they had a sighting of you were wrong. I’ll say it was a case of mistaken identity.”

“Dear God. A sighting? You make me sound like the Loch Ness Monster.”