Page 23 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

"No." She sealed two fingers over his lips. "Until you know what you want, there's nothing to talk about. I want us to get together for sex in the meantime. Only sex."

Either he was being punked or he'd stumbled into an alternate reality. Sweet little Jamie MacTaggart would never suggest hot sex with no strings. She was the kind of girl who needed commitment.

She wriggled free of him, ducking under his arm to stand near the opposite post. Hands on hips, she lifted her chin. "This is what I want. Sex only. Can you handle it? Are you not man enough for an arrangement like this?"

"I'm not that easy to goad," he said, knowing he was a damn liar. Her brothers got under his skin without saying a word to him. And Iain was right. He had, well, kind of a problem with manly pride getting in the way of rational decision-making.

But he wanted her. Despite what he'd said about needing time, he couldn't stand being away from her. What if he never figured out what his problem was? He'd lose her, for sure.

Unless he took her up on this crazy offer.

Sex with the woman he loved, the woman who fired up his libido like nobody else. Nothing but sex. No expectation he'd bare his soul to her, or vice versa. Wasn't this every man's dream? It might've been his, back before Leanne and his parents and everything that came after, but not anymore.

If he said no, she might cut him out of her life.

Gavin cleared his throat, shucked the condom in a nearby trash can, and tucked his dick back in his pants. "Okay."

Her eyes flared wide for a heartbeat. "Really?"

"Yeah." He squared his shoulders. "I'm in. Sex, sex, and more sex with no strings attached."

Jamie stared at him for a moment, unblinking. Finally, she strutted up to him and planted a quick, firm kiss on his mouth. "I'll call you when I want you."

With that, the love of his life traipsed out the door.

Chapter Ten

Jamie shuffled down the hallway into the gallery. Her knees felt wobbly. Her breaths shortened, coming faster. She stopped a few feet inside the huge room, paralyzed by the sight of everyone she knew and loved enjoying the party. They had no idea what she and Gavin had done in the bedroom. Could anyone tell she'd been ravished moments ago? No, of course not. Right?

Bloody hell. She'd begged him to take her.

Cool air tickled her legs and arms and chilled the wetness still gathered between her thighs. She moved her hand as if to tug her dress down, but it had no more coverage to offer. Going without panties had seemed naughty and fun before she enticed Gavin into following her into the bedroom. Now, her lack of undergarments seemed like a shame she'd dumped on herself. And she'd suggested casual sex.I'll call you when I want you. She'd said that.

She'd turned into a flipping tart.

But he had agreed to a sex-only arrangement.

A little shiver of arousal tingled through her. Sex with Gavin. Whenever she wanted. It sounded like the perfect situation, but only if she ignored the fact she was in love with him and he'd offered her a credit card.

Jamie drew in five deep breaths, slow and easy, her muscles slackening with each exhalation. The jittery sensation lessened, and her knees solidified. She would excuse herself from the party. No one would mind.

She took two steps toward the crowd and froze again.

A man had nailed his gaze to her. Short curls of his sandy hair framed his face, a boyishly attractive face, the face she'd once held in her hands and kissed.

Trevor Langley smiled, his gray eyes squinting almost as if he'd forced the expression.

Jamie couldn't move. Her feet had mutated into lead. Even her heart seemed to have grown sluggish as if it couldn't acclimate to this new situation. Her ex-fiancé, the one she hadn't seen or spoken to in five years, was striding toward her.

He halted an arm's length away, still smiling.

She gaped at him, rendered speechless by his very presence here, at a family gathering. He wore an outfit from the eighteenth or nineteenth century, like something out of a historical romance novel. His black pants fit snugly over all his muscles and disappeared inside a pair of shiny, knee-high black boots. His hunter-green coat hung long in the back but stopped at his waist in the front, while some sort of frilly scarf draped down from his throat.

Like a Victorian gentleman — or maybe Edwardian, she didn't know the difference — he bowed from the waist and clasped her hand to light a feathery kiss on her knuckles.

"Jamie, what a pleasure it is to see you." Trevor straightened but kept his fingers loosely around hers even as his attention flitted to her bosom where her nipples remained stiff. "And my, you are a vision this evening."

His English accent used to thrill her. Tonight, his voice and his dashing attire had no effect on her except to leave her awash in confusion.

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