Page 52 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

“So, if you’re leaving on Saturday, we’d better make the most of tonight and tomorrow then.” I gestured to one of the cupboards above the sink and asked Marcus to fetch down some of the extortionate ninety per cent dark chocolate that he liked and which I’d bought especially for him.

“Whoa! You really know how to live, sis!” He reached up to locate the chocolate. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You’ll stop this Miss Marple act over Declan.”

I pulled a face.

“I mean it. It could be dangerous. Just sit tight. Promise me. Please.” Marcus set the bar of chocolate down on my kitchen table. “I think he wouldn’t be as stupid as to turn up here. Too risky. Whereas if you go looking for him…”

“Ok. Ok. I promise.”

Marcus awarded me a small smile. “Good. Glad to hear it.”

“I wonder how Mum enjoyed her New York jaunt,” I said, keen to move the subject onto something else, and hoping my tightening features weren’t betraying me. I’d decided not to tell him of my intention to travel back home on Sunday afternoon to talk to Mum about his broken engagement. He’d enough to contend with at the moment, without fretting about anything else, and there would be plenty of time to talk to Marcus about it later, if and when I found out anything more.

“Riotous, no doubt,” he said wryly as he sloshed white wine into two glasses, just as my mobile let out its familiar tinkly ringtone from the hall table.

I stared at it, wrinkling my nose and Marcus laughed. “Want me to get it?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

He set the wine bottle down and padded out of the kitchen, his socked feet slapping on the kitchen floor. A few seconds later, I heard him murmuring something, then his footsteps came back into the kitchen. He proffered the phone, arching a brow. “It’s Zach.”

Oh God. A zinging sensation rose up in my stomach, as though I was about to set off on a wild rollercoaster ride. I struggled to meet my brother’s eye as I accepted the phone.

“Thanks.” I watched Marcus vanish into the sitting room as I put the phone to my ear. “Hi Zach. How are you?”

“Good, thanks. Just chilling in my hotel room with a glass of full-bodied red.”

The way he said the words “full-bodied” made my heart speed up. I needed to get out more. I was going to end up a frustrated middle-aged florist. I gave myself a mental shake.

“I’m also hiding from a certain lady hotel receptionist,” he continued.

The image of Zach, approximately six foot one, trembling in his hotel room at the thought of diminutive, redheaded, sixty-something Moira Telford, made a smile break out across my face, despite my niggling worries. “Might you be talking about Moira, by any chance?”

“Congratulations. You guessed correctly.”

There was another frisson of something, which I couldn’t quite put my finger on: casual chatter; a smooth easiness between us; smiles down the line.

“I just wanted to hear a friendly voice, Bailey.”

I blinked at his words. His deep, educated voice was like honey. “Oh?” I managed, wishing I could think of something more insightful to say. I eased myself down into one of my kitchen chairs. “So, what would you like me to talk about?”

“Anything,” he replied in a teasing tone, which caused my stomach to ripple. “Although I hope you don’t mind me saying that you’re not exactly Miss Chatty when it comes to revealing much about yourself.”

Hold on. Did he think I was stupid? Did he think that by flirting with me, I’d do some of his dirty work for him? That I’d try to help him and do some digging amongst the locals on his behalf? Get him some info on the Bollinger Babe and Ezra King? Was the attraction on his part all just an act? After Declan and his deceit, I wasn’t sure about my judgement.

Then again, what if I was just too cynical and he was genuinely interested in me?

Bollocks! My head was beginning to spin. Whatever this was that was happening between us, it could become dangerous. It wasn’t worth the hassle. There was too much at risk. I wouldn’t allow myself to trust anyone again. I would be the one in control from now on. And yet, Zach’s eyes, his smoking hot body––

“Bailey, about what happened this morning in your office.” Zach cut across my conflicting thoughts.

I was about to answer, about to admit the undeniable chemistry between us, when the unmistakeable sound of a female voice in the background pulled me back, sending a brutal and sudden punch to my solar plexus, just as Zach said, “The posh coffee is over there, Astrid…”

There was giggling from Astrid and then a throaty laugh from Zach. Crashing disappointment gripped me. Anger at myself for allowing slivers of hope to creep in contorted into shame-faced embarrassment. Served me right for allowing my ridiculous imagination to spiral out of control. He really had been playing with me; teasing me; letting me think there might be something developing between us. All to secure a good story. To keep me onside?