Page 39 of Wild Scottish Rose

That?Thatwas what came out?

“It depends.” Owen smirked, lightly nipping at my lower lip. His teeth grazed my sensitive skin and I shivered under his caress. “Sometimes I like to rebel. Don’t you enjoy breaking the rules once in a while?”

“I sensed that about you,” I said. Seriously, this man had leader written all over him. People followed him. He was the type of man to effortlessly part a crowd without knowing it, his very charisma drawing people to him. Yes, oh yes, he most definitely made the rules.

“Are you a rule follower, Shona?” Owen’s breath was warm on my lips, and my body trembled, need inflaming me.

“I like rules. Keeps things neat and tidy.” Except in my house as evidenced by the many piles of clutter. Frankly, I’d never given it much thought, but I suppose I had mostly gone my own way in life. But I hadn’t really broken the rules to do that. Unless you counted the societal rules that preferred women to spend their days looking for a man to take care of them.

“Even better. There’s nothing hotter than watching a woman break her own rules.”

I honestly had no words, my brain basically flatlined, and then there was nothing more to think about because Owen’s mouth was commanding mine, his kiss rendering me immobile, and lust consumed my entire body. I wanted to climb this man like a tree, topple him over, and then unbutton him until I could savor every inch of his gorgeous body. I was ravenous for him, bending backwards as he dove his hands into my hair and kissed me until stars danced across my eyes.

When he broke the kiss, stepping back, a smug smile hovered at his lips while I gasped for breath. Gently, he pulled me up so I wouldn’t crush the tomato vines behind me and steadied me on my feet while I worked to calm my pounding heart.

“Seriously, how do you do that?” I asked, waving a hand limply in the air.

“Do what?”

“Kiss a woman until she can’t think straight? That’s a skill, isn’t it?”

“In certain circles, yes.” Owen ran a hand down my arm, looking pleased with himself. “But I wouldn’t say it’s a practice of mine. Honestly, I think it’s because you’re the last thing I think about before I fall asleep and the first thing on my mind when I wake up.Seriously, how doyoudo that?I’m not certain of it, Shona, but I just may be addicted to you.”

And just what does a woman say to that? Out of my league, I didn’t respond, instead pointing to the bushels stacked against the far wall of the greenhouse.

“Those can go in the van.” Much to my annoyance, I was still slightly out of breath.

“Yes, boss.” Owen gave me a jaunty salute as he wandered away, a bounce in his step. Turning, I braced myself on the table and found Gnorman glaring at me with his hands on his hips.

“Not a word, G. Not a word.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Shona

“What is that?” I grimaced at the camera slung around Owen’s neck as he settled in the passenger seat of my van.

“Could you be more specific?” Owen asked.

“Around your neck?” I raised an eyebrow at him, not amused.

Owen glanced down at the camera and then back up at me, a considering light in his eyes.

“This is a Sony A7 mirrorless camera, highly regarded among filmmakers as a capable and portable camera to capture footage on the go.”

“Footage?” My mouth dropped open and I could kick myself for not putting more makeup on today. Had I known I’d be on camera, I would have taken more time with my appearance. As soon as the thought entered myhead, I wanted to beat it into a bloody pulp and toss it out of the back door of my mind. I wassonot that woman. Not the type who preened for Hollywood producers and made them shoot me from my best angle.

“Yes?” Owen said it like a question, as though I was about to get him in trouble. Which was stupid, really. Tourists often strolled through the market and took pictures at the stalls. There was no reason he couldn’t do the same. And if I tried to stop him, I’d likely look like I was trying to hide something. Silently berating Agnes for putting me in this situation, I shifted the van into gear and headed toward town.

“Why filmmaking? What got you into that?” I asked, wanting to shift the conversation. Plus, I was curious. I don’t know if I’d ever really had a conversation with someone in the film world before, and now I realized I had a ton of questions.

“The search for the truth,” Owen mumbled, futzing with the settings on his camera. His words cut through me, and my stomach twisted.

“When did you start making films?” I wasn’t about to unpack the whole truth question, not when I was the one hiding something. Well, several things. It wasn’t just the secret of the Kelpies I was hiding anymore.

“After my parents divorced. I went up north with my mother, and Kennedy stayed with my father in Texas. Mom was so fixated on the breakup, endlessly caught in a cycle of reliving her pain, that I had to channel my energy into something, or I was going to lose it.”

I snuck a look at him, but his face was set in stone as he continued to fiddle with hiscamera.

---