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His lips twitched.
“Still, I feel like I have a point to prove now. I’m wondering how much charm it will take to get you out of your underwear, Kirsty Campbell.”
“More than you have.”
Kirsty sighed heavily as her temples began to throb.
“Look,” she told him. “Even if you did have enough charm to get me undressed—which you don’t—what makes you think that I would go anywhere near you? You’re trying to ruin me. Or did you forget that?”
She placed her palms on the counter in front of her as she wondered what it would take to get Lake Benson out of her life.
“I’m not trying to ruin you,” he said in that annoyingly smooth voice of his that could melt butter. “I don’t want to ruin you. This is about business. Nothing more. What I think of you—in fact, everything else—is separate.”
She shook her head vehemently.
“It isn’t for me.”
With a knowing smile, Lake turned and strode from the shop, leaving Kirsty to wonder what can of worms she’d inadvertently opened this time. When the door closed behind him, she fled to her office and threw herself into her chair. The beads she’d worn on her last photo shoot mocked her from their place on her desk. She wasn’t that person any more. She swept the beads, and the bowl they sat in, into her desk drawer and closed it. She was done looking at them. With new determination she pulled the phone towards her. She needed to generate money fast. She needed to buy more advertising. Time was running out. Lake’s shop would be open soon and thanks to her, he’d have the women of Invertary queuing at his door. Add to that his latest challenge, which she didn’t even want to think about. The faster that man was out of Invertary, the better.
“Hello,” she said to the person she’d dialled. “I need to cancel my insurance.”
It wouldn’t give her a lot
of spare cash, but it would be a start. As she went through the inane questions from her insurance company, she worked out the sums on her notepad. With the money she would save on insurance for the shop, she could get her website up and running. That would generate more sales. It had to.
“No, it’s only for a few months,” she told the guy at the other end of the line.
With a tight smile, she hoped that Lake Benson would be long gone from Invertary by the time she renewed her policy.
CHAPTER THREE
It took a lot to make Lake Benson feel stir crazy, but days on end stuck in the shop with Betty and Rainne had done the job. Not to mention the steady parade of women gawking at him through the shop window. It’d been a week since Kirsty’s article and there was still no let-up in the number of women pointing and giggling. He was beginning to feel like one of those guys in the Diet Coke commercials. His breaking point was when Betty started calling him a “wee hot totty”—whatever the hell that meant. After that, he covered the windows with newspaper and ran from the shop.
Lake turned right towards the black waters of Invertary loch. It was barely October but the chill of the Scottish Highlands managed to work its way through his denim jacket and his woollen sweater—in fact, right through to his bones. The cold didn’t bother him so much as the mood it brought with it. He wasn’t one for introspection, but on nights like these when the wind was sharp and darkness was black like coal, his mind turned inward. He’d made exactly two spontaneous decisions in his life—join the army, leave the army. He didn’t regret the first, but the second was proving to be a huge pain in his backside. Especially after almost a month in Invertary with little to show for it.
The old pub sat huge and imposing on the corner of the high street opposite the loch. Its walls, like the rest of the buildings in the centre of town, were whitewashed. The smooth surface reflected the warm light from the street lamps and made the place glow. As usual, the hanging shingle made him smile. The pub was called The Scottie Dog. Not a name meant for smugglers and Highland bandits. The leaden windows let flickers of light from inside seep out, and as someone pushed open the heavy wooden door the din of chat, and laughter, wafted into the street. It was busy. Crowded. For a minute, he wondered if he wouldn’t rather be alone.
He pushed the door open before he could chicken out and spend his evening feeling sorry for himself in his ‘70s throwback flat. The door swung inwards quickly, hitting the person on the other side. Lake stepped inside and tripped over Kirsty Campbell. Words of apology fell out of his mouth before he realised who he’d trodden on. For some reason, the fact that he’d stumbled over Kirsty lifted his spirits no end.
“Seriously,” she grumbled. “You’re here too? You’re everywhere. I can’t get away from you.”
“It’s been almost a week since we talked,” Lake pointed out.
Not a week since he’d seen her. He’d had that pleasure every day. Kirsty bent over to rub the ankle he’d trodden on. Lake smiled at the sight of Kirsty’s rear wrapped in a wine-coloured skirt. His fingers tingled. They wanted to reach out and curl around her hips. Someone jostled him as they exited the pub—it broke his concentration, but not before Kirsty spotted where he’d been staring. Her perfect eyes narrowed.
“You’re a snake, Lake Benson,” she told him.
Lake cocked his head to the side in agreement.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she said.
“It’s a pub,” he said by way of explanation.
She pulled on the green coat he’d seen her wear before. Yet again she was covered from chin to ankle, and although it was cold, he was certain she must have been sweltering in the heat of the pub. She frowned at him.
“I know it’s a pub, dimwit. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be renovating? Painting something? Planning world domination?”
“The world domination plan is in the bag. My evening is free.”
