Page 62 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

“Really?” A picture of Ezra, all cheese grater cheekbones and cut-glass English accent, swaggering down the runway in his youth, jumped into my mind. I could see him doing that.

“Yep. And from what I’ve been told through my contacts,” he continued, “His revelations have got certain TV and film executives worried.”

I hesitated, a dirty plate in one hand above the open dishwasher. “So, what do we do now? I mean, you want the story about him moving here and your editor is expecting you to come up with the goods.” I offered Zach a glance. “But at what expense?”

Zach gazed at me. “I’m not the ogre you think I am, Bailey. Please believe me.”

I fiddled with my hair. “And I’m not trying to make your search for news difficult. I’m just trying to let you see what impact these stories can have on people.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

There was a sudden softening in his eyes and we continued to clear up in comparative silence.

Once we finished despatching the takeaway debris, Zach sauntered into my sitting room and spotted my Christmas tree. His attention fell on the star I’d set down on my coffee table. “Your tree looks great – or at least it would do if the lights were on it as well.”

“I was struggling with wrapping the lights around it and with putting the star on top.” I felt myself blush. “I hadn’t realised the tree was so tall.”

He flashed a grin, picked up the star, and in one long stride, was over by the glittering white and silver tree.

I watched him attach the star to the top of the tree with ease. He took a step back to admire his handiwork. Then his attention drifted to the messy lights.

His face softened. “Let’s do it together.”

My stomach tangled itself up in more knots than my tree lights.

Zach gathered up the delicate lights at one end, I took the other, and we eased them around the tree, lacing them this way and that. It was much easier having another pair of hands to help me.

A couple of times, we inadvertently bumped into each other. The brush of Zach’s body against mine sent my breath into a spin.

We finished decorating the tree in silence, with electrified glances exchanged between us. I noticed how the rose-gold lights emphasised the cut of his jaw and the sweep of his nose as they flashed against his face.

A few times, he looked like he wanted to say something, but then he switched his attention back to decorating the tree so fast that I wondered if it was my imagination playing tricks on me.

Zach lingered by my front door at the end of the evening.

“Thank you for the takeaway. I really enjoyed it.”

“Me too.”

There was a pregnant pause. “And thank you so much for helping me decorate the tree. I dread to think what state it would be in right now, if you hadn’t been here.”

Zach towered over me, his magnificent eyes trailing across my face. They came to rest on my lips. Rasps of excited breath knotted at the base of my throat.

“You’re welcome, Bailey.”

But just as a corner of my mind wondered whether he was going to kiss me, he seemed to collect himself. He took a step backwards, flipping into professional journalist mode again. “I’m going to contact Ezra King’s management team and see if they’ll talk to me.”

The spell broken; I wrapped my arms around myself.

My God! Hasn’t he listened to a word I’d told him?

Did the intimate looks between us while we decorated my Christmas tree mean nothing? The dinner we shared…! My eyes hardened.

“So, you still plan to expose him and chase after his daughters, after all I said?”

Zach hesitated. “Bailey, it’s not what you think. Things have moved on. It’s complicated…”

Stupidity rained down on me. Shit! When would I ever learn? I’d sat there, torturing myself over what to tell Zach – if anything – and now he was turning the tables again. I let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. “Why the hell did I think I could trust you? Jesus, what was I thinking? Me of all people should’ve realised⁠—”