Page 51 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

He narrowed his eyes. “Not much progress yet, but I’ll get there. Anyway, I do have other stories to investigate.”

“So, why keep dropping in to speak to me?”

He rose to his feet. His eyes blazed down at me. “Just thought I’d keep you in the loop. I know you’re interested in the goings-on in Heather Moore as a concerned member of the community.”

A lame answer, that emboldened me.

“And no other reason?” I asked, way more calmly than I felt.

There was a charged silence, in which I realised I didn’t want to pursue this line of conversation after all. I now wanted to put as much space as I could between us. I shot out my hand and fumbled with the door handle. It was stuck.

I jerked the handle up and down, aware that Zach was watching me.

“Here. Let me.”

“It’s ok, thanks. I can do it.”

Our hands brushed against one another. I let out a short, sharp gasp as my heart performed a somersault.

It was as if my office was holding its breath.

Zach’s dark-rimmed pupils grew. He studied me for what seemed like forever before he reached for the handle and gently manoeuvred it open. “There we are.” His voice was softer.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gestured to the handle. “A squirt of WD40 should help.”

My mind was scattering thoughts like confetti right now.

“Oh. Yes. Thanks.”

I watched him stride towards the shop doorway, turn around and offer me a pensive glance.

Then he was gone.

Chapter Eleven

It was a welcome relief to kick back and relax in the flat with Marcus that evening after dealing with Zach and another flurry of pre-Christmas orders for table decorations and purchases of our new mini-potted Christmas trees,

Weary from the week, I decided we should have a quick and comforting dinner. I unearthed a frozen lasagne and crusty garlic bread, topped it with a dusting of Parmesan cheese, and put both in the oven. Worry was nibbling at me about Moira Telford shooting her mouth off, but I tried to stem my rising panic. I was still clinging to the hope, like a raft in a stormy sea, that Zach didn’t know who I was – and used to be – yet, so I just had to pray that the situation would stay that way. He hadn’t said anything. It was just rather disconcerting, the way he kept reappearing. Just as disconcerting, though, was the unmistakeable charge between us. I hadn’t imagined it. During the embarrassing door-handle debacle, my skin had zinged at his touch.

It was nuts! No way could I allow myself to fall for Zach. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Marcus noticed something was on my mind and had been offering me long, thoughtful looks and asked me a couple of times if I was feeling ok. I fobbed him off, saying I was tired after a busy day. If I told him the truth, he’d think I’d lost the plot. Mooning after a journalist who worked for a gossip magazine!

After we finished eating, I rinsed off the dirty plates and slid them into the dishwasher. Marcus materialised at my shoulder. He leant against the edge of the kitchen worktop. “I’ve made a decision, sis. I’m going to return to Edinburgh on Saturday.”

I turned off the kitchen tap. “But that’s the day after tomorrow. Why so soon? You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

He studied his stripey socks. “I know that and I appreciate it. But like I said, I can’t put my life on pause, just because Jacob turned out to be an utter dickhead.” He fiddled with the hem of his cream cable knit jumper. “Paul has been terrific about me taking time off but I don’t want him to think I’m taking liberties.” He gave an eyeroll. “Losing my job would top things off nicely this close to Christmas.”

I gestured to him to give me a hug. “As long as you’re sure, but you know there’s always a home for you here whenever you want it.”

His smile quivered. “Thanks. Anyway, I want to get cracking with my application for a digital online marketing course. It’ll look good on my CV and give me something else to focus on.”

I stepped back to study him. “Good for you. I’m so proud of you.”

His chin wobbled.