Page 9 of 40 and Flashing (the Scotsman)
“Aye, ya are.”
“No, I’m not.” She immediately burst into laughter. “Okay, I am.”
He paused, his gaze taking her in as she plopped onto the sofa, laughter shaking her whole body.
“It’s kind of like giving me a tip,” she tried to explain, her words interspersed with gaps filled with amusement. “You buy the book, and that’s great because royalties, obviously. But to know that you’re so frustrated you came all the way here to find out what happens in the next book? That’s the best tip anybody could give an author.”
“Ya enjoy my frustration, do ya?”
“I normally wouldn’t admit it, but that’s because I’m normally hiding behind a keyboard. So yes, I definitely enjoy it.”
Gavin began a slow stalk toward the couch. “I may have to extract revenge for that.”
“Revenge?” The squeak in her voice embarrassed her.
This time it was Gavin’s turn to chuckle. “Revenge.”
When he reached the couch, he planted his fists on both sides of her head and leaned over her body. “Aye, lass, I definitely think a bit o’ mutual torture is called for.”
“Mutual torture?” The words were breathless, anticipation sending her heart into her throat. He was so close she could smell the aftershave he wore, something spicy that tangled in her nose. Exciting, like the man himself. Gavin wasn’t like any man she’d ever met—and it wasn’t simply because he was Scottish.
“Definitely mutual torture,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto her lips.
She licked them.
A flicker crossed his face that she wasn’t sure she understood. And then he straightened.
She tried to hold back her whimper but didn’t succeed. Gavin gave her a somewhat twisted grin.
Oh. Mutual torture. Ugh.
She tried not to think about the fact that he couldn’t be tortured if he wasn’t feeling as turned-on as she was. Instead she stood as well. Scrambling for a distraction, she happened on, “Have you had lunch? I was just about to fix some.”
He rubbed a hand over his curls. “Might be a better idea if I take ya out to lunch. Know anyplace acceptable?”
“As a matter of fact I do.”
Twenty minutes later they were being led to a seat at Casa Blanca, the local Mexican restaurant. Rich, the owner, was a staple in town; he’d grown up with Lily’s parents. On their way to the back of the restaurant, he busily quizzed Gavin about his homeland and traveling to the US, which Gavin said he did frequently. Scarlett thought for a few minutes that Rich would never leave their table, but finally he went to grab Gavin’s beer and her margarita. Hey, if Gavin was going to drink, she was going to have her favorite too.
“So does that happen all the time?” she asked, her natural curiosity overcoming her tongue-tied-ness around this massively attractive man.
“Does what happen?”
“People quizzing you about Scotland and being Scottish? Americans are fascinated by anything Scots.”
“Usually, aye, except this one time with this wee lass in this tiny town in the Tennessee mountains…”
Wee?She was beginning to think the man needed glasses. “Why do you keep calling me ‘lass’?”
He arched a brow at her. “Because it suits ya.”
“I’m not a young woman,” she pointed out.
“And thank God for that.” His enthusiasm made her cheeks flush. “When ya say Americans are fascinated by anythin’ Scots, that goes double for young women.” He chuckled without shame. “It’s not often I get to enjoy time with a woman closer to my age. It’s nice.”
Ignoring the pleasure that filled her at his compliment, she persisted. “So…lass?”
Now he did look slightly embarrassed. “Partly habit,” he admitted.
