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‘Exactly. It’s a fantasy. It’s not as if we want to do it in real life. I bet heather is prickly. And possibly full of insects. Also, I checked his photo on the internet and the Laird is in his late sixties—although still very handsome in a craggy, weather-beaten sort of way.’
Samantha decided it was time to change the subject. ‘Did he say exactly what he wants me to do on this visit?’
‘No. I didn’t spend that long on the phone with him because I was worried Amy was going to bawl.’ Charlotte adjusted her bra strap. ‘He said you should spend a few nights there this month, that’s all. And, honestly, he did have an incredibly sexy voice.’
‘You think a selling point would be the owner’s voice? It’s twenty-four days until Christmas. There’s no way I can fit it in a visit.’
‘Why don’t you talk to him and try and arrange something? He even suggested Christmas itself, but I said you always spend the holiday with your sister. So then he said maybe she would like to come too, and you could test the whole family holiday thing. Which would be cool, don’t you think?’
‘I do not think.’
‘Are you sure? What better way to evaluate the commercial appeal of spending Christmas in Scotland than by spending Christmas in Scotland?’
‘It would be work—and I am not working at Christmas unless there’s a client emergency. I am going to travel to my sister’s and then stay in my pyjamas for the entire time. I’ll speak to him and arrange another time.’
‘Hmm… You could be missing out. Laid by the Laird would be a good title for a book, don’t you think?’
‘I do not. And please hold back from suggesting book titles if you ever meet him.’
‘Got it.’ Charlotte glanced out of the window. ‘It’s snowing again.’
Samantha wasn’t listening. Instead she was thinking about the hunting lodge in the Highlands. Maybe a few days in Scotland wouldn’t be so bad. The lodge looked perfect, and she could think of at least a dozen clients who would love it—and love her for finding it.
‘Get him on the phone. I’ll try and fix a date between now and Christmas. I guess I can fly in one day and out the next. Is that it?’
‘Kyle rang. Four times. He sounded irritated. Said he waited for two hours in the restaurant last night.’
‘Oh…’
She’d been tied up with one of her favourite clients—an elderly widow who lived in Arizona and had decided to bravely embrace her new single life. So far Samantha had arranged three trips for her, and they’d spent an hour the previous evening discussing a fourth. She’d forgotten her dinner arrangement with Kyle. What did it say about her that she’d forgotten? What did it say about them?
‘That was rude of me. I’ll call and apologise.’
Charlotte shifted. ‘He said to tell you not to bother to call unless you’re ready to take your relationship to the next level.’
Oh, for goodness’ sake!
‘The next level? It’s a relationship—not an elevator.’ And as far as she was concerned they hadn’t made it out of the ba
sement.
‘That was kind of his point. He said you need to decide where you want to go with this. I got the impression he wanted to go right to the top floor.’ Charlotte gave an apologetic smile. ‘I think he’s in love with you.’
‘He— What? That’s not true. He isn’t any more in love with me than I am with him.’
What she had with Kyle was a relationship of mutual convenience. They were theatre partners. Opera partners. Occasional bedroom partners. Only more often than not Kyle fell asleep the moment he was horizontal. Like so many people in this area, he ran a tech start-up and was busier than she was. And the most disturbing part of that…? She didn’t even care.
She should care, shouldn’t she?
She should care that they would both rather work than spend time together.
She should care that there was no passion.
She knew that real life wasn’t like the romantic fiction she read, but surely it should come a little closer?
‘Get him on the phone,’ she said. ‘I’ll talk to him.’
What was she going to say? She had no idea, but she’d find a way to smooth it over and keep things the way they were.
