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“No. Making money is my intention.” He paused. “It should be yours too.”
“I’m doing everything I can.”
“Are you? It’s no fun if you don’t fight back.”
Kirsty turned her head away from him to look out into the street.
There was a flash. Three newspaper photographers were taking pictures of the front of the store.
“You got the press?”
“Just the Scottish,” he said. It was no big deal. “I pulled a few strings.”
“And got the Scottish national papers to come to Invertary?”
He shrugged. He was more interested in the fact Kirsty had suddenly paled than in the guy with the camera.
“You’ve got to use everything you have, right?”
Kirsty looked around her as her brow furrowed. Her eyes widened. She was standing so close that he could feel her breathing speed up. He ran a finger down her throat, making her jerk, but not before he felt it. Her pulse was picking up. He could see her eyes flick about the room. She was suddenly disorientated. Everything within Lake stilled.
“Breathe,” he told her.
“I need to go.” She turned in a panic.
Lake grabbed her upper arm and spun her back towards him. He’d seen plenty of panic attacks over the years. Now wasn’t the time to run.
“No. Don’t run. Fight. Use everything you have, Kirsty. You can beat me. You can win.”
“No, let me go. I can’t breathe. My throat.”
Her hand moved to her neck.
Lake held her shoulders. He made her look him in the eyes.
“You can breathe. This will pass. Trust me.”
He saw a flicker of hope and relaxed slightly.
“Whatever it is, don’t think about it. Think about something else.”
“What?” she said, her eyes pleading with him.
He hated the hopelessness in her voice.
“This,” he said.
His kiss was soft, gentle. He wanted to give her his breath. To take her panic from her. He held her against him, firmly but gently. Slowly, he felt her relax, felt her breathing ease, felt her heartbeat slow. The panic attack hadn’t come. She was fine. He slanted his lips and kissed her deeper, feeling, rather than hearing her moan against his mouth. She was more than fine. She was his.
There was flashing. Reluctantly they pulled apart. The photographers outside had spotted them. Kirsty’s face flushed.
“Now I really need to go,” she told him.
He wouldn’t release her.
“You’re okay, right?” he said, searching her eyes for the truth.
She nodded, lowering her gaze, embarrassed.
