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She frowned, sitting down in a rocking chair and pulling her knees up to her chest as if she really were cold. “A deal breaker for what?”
“A deal breaker for us. You and me,” he elaborated. In case there was any doubt.
“Umm…”
For once he had stumped the opinionated and prickly southern belle. Ian grabbed the second rocker and angled it to hers, deciding not to push his luck at the moment. He kicked off his shoes and warmed his sock-clad feet on the brass fender. “This is nice. But are you ready to tell me why we’re playing squatter in a crofter’s cottage in the middle of nowhere?”
Bella recovered her equanimity. “My new sister-in-law, McKenzie, rented this place sight unseen when she came here to spend a month in Scotland. But the owner was old and senile, and when she arrived, the house was in shambles. Finley rescued her until they had a chance to get the cottage cleaned up and in livable condition. It’s really a very romantic story.”
Ian rocked slowly, extremely conscious of the woman beside him. “So no one lives here now?”
“It’s a big secret from McKenzie, but my brother is in the process of purchasing the house from the original owner’s family so he can give it to McKenzie as a present on their first anniversary.”
“Most men might go with jewelry.”
Bella smiled dreamily, her chin resting on her knees. The firelight cast shadows on her face. She looked very young. “You’d have to know McKenzie. She has a great deal of money, but she appreciates simplicity. To have Finley give her this place will please her to no end.”
“What would a man have to do to please you, Bella? What do you appreciate?”
He saw the muscles in her throat work as she swallowed. “Are you making a pass at me?”
“Does anyone really say that anymore?” There was something very proper and old-fashioned about her wary posture. He found himself flooded with a mixture of tenderness and hunger.
“Okay then,” she snapped. “Are you hitting on me?”
He winced. “I’m trying to get to know you.” It was the truth, though maybe not the entire truth.
Bella was smart, too smart to be pacified by his equivocation. Still, she didn’t pursue her original question. “I like fresh flowers, even in the dead of winter. They make me happy. I adore chocolate, but only in moderation. I enjoy spending time alone. My musical tastes are eclectic. Is that the kind of thing you want to know?”
“It’s a start.”
“And what about you, Ian Larrimore? What do you do when you’re not being hounded by the paparazzi?”
“Nothing very exciting, I assure you. I work and work and work, and when I’m not working, I think about work. I love what I do, so it’s difficult to keep my personal life and professional life separate.”
“I understand that, I think. Do you run for exercise only, or do you really like it?”
“Both. My chosen field requires a great deal of mental concentration. Getting outside to blow the cobwebs away is not only necessary for good health, but it often gives me a jolt of creative energy. I might be in the middle of a five-mile run and suddenly have a breakthrough.”
“That must be exhilarating.”
“It is. But what about you? I know from what Finley has told me that you’re an academic overachiever. Are you hoping to teach when you finish your dissertation? Mold young minds for the future and all that?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I thought that was what I wanted. Now, I’m not so sure. What I fantasize about is living here in Scotland and spending my days researching history and learning everything I can about the past five hundred years. That’s not really a viable life choice, though, so I’m stuck.”
“Tell me more about this novel.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, her expression mulish.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a man and men sneer.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Education is supposed to broaden a person’s horizons… expand the mind. Why would you make assumptions about me?”
“I’ve known more than a few ‘geniuses’ in my academic tenure. Arrogance and intolerance comes with the territory.”
“I’m not sure what your brother told you about me, but I assure you I’m neither as intelligent nor as close-minded as you seem to think. I may be a socially awkward introvert, but I’m not a jerk. At least I don’t think so.”
