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She watched him push his loose hair back as he spoke. It was so pale blond, and fell well below his chin, as if his scholarly life left him little time for the luxury of haircuts. The blond hair, combined with the chiseled jaw and cheekbones and fit physique, gave him the look of a Viking. To top it all, she was having a really hard time not letting her gaze drop below his shoulder level. A man that sexy, dressed in leather and denim, created an automatic compulsion to look lower, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself. Or him. Not that he looked like the sort of man who was easily embarrassed. There was an aura of strength about him, and even though she still felt rather unnerved by her reactions, she couldn’t help admiring him.
“Thanks,” she responded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She didn’t want him to go just yet. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” His accent was less strong than the locals, but with the occasional lilt.
“Well spotted. My dad was English. I grew up in Edinburgh. My mother’s side of the family is from this area, though.” He looked a bit awkward as he explained his background, and then gave her that sexy, lopsided smile again.
“It was the family connection to the area that got me into folklore.” He leaned one elbow up against the door frame while he spoke, flexing his torso in a very unselfconscious way.
Once again she was sorely tempted to run her hand down his side, to feel the hard muscle of his flank, to draw him closer against her. It was almost as if someone was egging her on to do so, a naughty girlfriend who was by her side and who’d had one too many drinks.
He glanced down, and she saw a lean, ginger tomcat had wound its way around his legs.
“Oh, you have a friend.” The cat was rubbing up against him just the way she’d felt like doing a moment before.
“Hey, Cat.” He ducked down and swooped the cat into one arm. “He adopted me when I bought the house. He was a stray living off fish scraps, but he lives with me now. I’m going to have to take him with me when I go.”
“He looks as if he’d be happy with the arrangement.” The cat rubbed his head against that lean jaw, and Zoë noticed the slight stubble there. That had to feel good. “So, that’s one local inhabitant who approves of the nosy professor and his research?”
“Yes.” He smiled knowingly, amused at her comment. “The locals are friendly, kind people, for the most part. Don’t be put off by the odd one or two.”
It sounded like a subtle warning, but the whole of the conversation he’d had with Elspeth in the shop seemed to have a double-edged nature to it. Barbed, even.
“What do you call the cat?”
“Oh, just Cat,” he replied. “He’s my lucky charm.”
She was about to comment when her phone bleeped at her from her bag on the hall floor. “I’m sorry, I better get that. It’ll be my sister, she worries about me.” She rolled her eyes.
“That’s good,” he replied, quite seriously, then he nodded and left her to it, the cat perched precariously on his shoulder as he went, looking back at her, blinking.
“Hi, Gina,” she breathed into the phone when she eventually pulled it free from her bag.
“Well—you sound better. Have you had that shower?”
Zoë shut the front door. “No, not yet. I just got into the house. I’ve been meeting the neighbors.”
“Anyone interesting?”
“Maybe.”
“Ooh, tell me more, I’ll pull up a chair.”
Zoë gave a mock groan. Her sister was constantly trying to find her a boyfriend. Over the last couple of years she’d had to endure several painful dinners where Gina’s husband, James, had brought along a work buddy for her. “Don’t bother, nothing to tell.”
“At least you’re out meeting people, got you away from your stuffy office for a while.”
Zoë felt a pang for her stuffy office. “I wonder how they’ll cope without me.”
Gina sighed. “You are replaceable, Zoë. I know you don’t like to think that, but you are. The temp will do just fine.”
It was hard to face up to, but Gina was probably right. Zoë liked feeling needed in her job, though. She liked the feeling of rightness and order it gave to her world. Just thinking about it made her want to run back to it, but she knew she needed to break away, even if only for a little while.
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“I’ve got a question for you,” she said, changing the subject. “Does a chef called Cain Davot sound familiar? He’s got a restaurant up here. The name rang a bell but I couldn’t place him.”
“Hell, yes. I wondered what had happened to him. He had a TV show a few years back, very popular. There was some sort of a scandal in the papers and he disappeared from the scene. I’ll see if I can remember. Are you going to check him out?”
“Check the food out, maybe, after I chill for a bit.”
