Page 50 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

“Anyway,” announced Zach. “I’ve got some news.”

Before I knew what was happening, he was in front of me and his hand was steering me by the elbow towards the rear of the shop. His long, tapered fingers against my skin triggered exploding bubbles of excitement inside me. I had to get a grip. It’s just because he scrubs up well, I assured myself. I ordered myself to concentrate. “What is it? What are you doing?”

Rowan came past, then, armed with boxes of white snowflake decorations for our window display from the store room. I saw her share a conspiratorial grin with Amber.

“Please, come in to the office,” I told Zach, smiling as normally as I could at my colleagues. Closing the door behind us, I struggled not to register how irresistible Zach looked in that suit. “What’s going on?”

I stopped myself from asking if Declan had been in touch with him, that would just look weird.

Zach smiled, while I retained a fake smile as my heart pumped furiously.

“I was thinking,” he said, seriously.

“Oh, dangerous.” I laughed a little too loudly.

Zach gave me a withering look. “Moira tells me that back in the day there was an aristocratic family who used to holiday here in Heather Moore. At least, that was the rumour.”

A horrified shiver raced down my back, as though someone had just rammed several ice cubes down there. Bloody Moira Telford and her big mouth. Perhaps this was karma, because I’d sent Zach in her man-eating direction. I feigned casual interest. “Really? Did she tell you who they were? The aristo family, I mean?”

Zach glanced around my office. “No. She doesn’t know. They kept themselves to themselves, apparently.”

My past zipped in front of my eyes. Marcus and me as kids, tumbling down Heather Moore’s grassy hills and splashing about in our wellington boots. Dad channelling his inner cave man with a barbecue and Mum floating around, her dark hair streaming down her back.

I prayed that Zach couldn’t sense the tidal waves of discomfort swallowing me up. This situation was becoming too precarious. “Right.”

His melting brown eyes became more animated. “But I was thinking… If Moira remembers this family, then there must be other locals who might be persuaded to tell me more.”

“They’re a loyal bunch around here,” I countered, through sharp prickles of worry.

Zach barked a laugh and brandished his phone. “Bailey, I think you’ll find that money talks.”

Any glimmers of optimism that Zach might be wasting his time evaporated. The world I had lived in meant I knew very well how some people, especially if they were struggling for cash, dispensed with their principles if a wodge of money was dangled in front of them.

“I believe in following a hunch,” he went on. “After all, my instincts rarely let me down. It’s what’s got me this far in my career.”

I made myself refocus on Zach across the desk from me. “Really?” I blurted sarcastically. “Didn’t you used to work for some of the well-regarded newspapers?”

Zach jerked his handsome face away from his phone screen. His shutters clanged down. “Your point is?”

Through the closed office door, I could hear Amber and Rowan deliberating over a string of bright white versus electric-blue fairy lights.

“Well,” I said. “It just seems a bit strange that a journalist of your calibre, who’s known for investigating hard-news stories, should end up chasing tabloid rubbish like this for a gossip magazine.”

Zach’s shoulders tensed before I saw a hint of a smile in those hot eyes as they locked with mine. “You know, you’d make a good reporter yourself, Bailey. I think you’ve the nose for it.” He eyed me. “And something tells me you might have one or two secrets of your own.”

“Is that so?” I stalled for time. He was using diversion tactics, not answering my questions but instead turning them round on me. I pushed out my chin. I hoped I could retain a poker face. “I could say the same about you, Zach.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re good at asking the questions, but not so keen on answering any.”

“Huh.” The light disappeared from his eyes and his face hardened as he stashed his phone back in his coat pocket, his gaze hardening. “My job is to investigate and ask questions, not talk about myself.” He stepped closer. “And I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

I rolled my eyes as though he was ridiculous. “Sure, Zach,” I said dryly, then decided to change the subject. “Any luck on Ezra’s daughters or this rumoured scandal circling him?”

Zach’s lips twitched. “You enjoy seeing me squirm, don’t you?”

“Not at all. I’m merely making small talk.”