Page 53 of Some Like It Scot
“Shhh!” She shot me a mock-warning look. “Don’t blow my cover. I make a living off of helping others see the world when they can’t get there themselves, remember? But there is a temptation toward the simple and sweet, in a homey sort of way.” She wiggled her brows.“Maybe I’m more like Bilbo, where I want the best of both—trulyfictional.”
When she shone her job in that light, it changed the hue of my presumptions a bit. Helping others see the world? I couldn’t stop my curiosity. “If you’re prone to home, hearth, and pipe, why travel like you do?”
I sent her into another twirl, and she returned to my arms, her gaze not meeting mine. “It started as chasing stories and then turned into a real career.”
“And you want to keep chasing stories?”
“I love stories.” Not quite an answer, but she flashed me a smile. “But a pipe now and then? Now that’s a real draw.”
Her pun took two seconds to register and shouldn’t have made me grin like a bampot. “You think you’re witty, do ye?”
“Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.” She wiggled her brows as I turned her into another spin, and this time when I drew her back into my arms, I brought her a little closer.
“You quote Shakespeare to me?”
“You called me on a quote?” Her eyes widened with new appreciation, tempting my bathersome smile again. “Surprising.”
My grin fell along with my chest. “Surprising?”
“I mean, you seem too grumpy to like Shakespeare.”
This time my brows rose but the tilt in her lips gave her teasing away. “You’re having a bit of banter with me, are ye?”
“If we’re going to be stuck together in a dance, it’s certainly more enjoyable to talk than silently suffer, don’t you think?” She shrugged a shoulder as I sent her into a turn. “Besides, if you’ve been roped into playing the butler, the least I can do is offer some teasing as compensation. This conversation has been one of the most normal and delightful ones I’ve had in this house so far.”
“Has it now?” The declaration shouldn’t have brought me so much pleasure, but it did. Only partly because I reciprocated the delight.Which I shouldn’t have. Because encouraging this attraction was a certain disaster.
Instead of answering, her gaze dropped as we came back together for a polka. “What type of flower is pinned on your lapel?”
I followed Katie’s gaze to my chest, the purple blossom striking against my black jacket. “Heather.”
“Heather.” She sighed. “Oh, I’ve heard about it my whole life, but no description can quite capture that scent, can it? Honey and... earth?”
Something in the way she looked up at me, in her appreciation for something so wholly Scottish, squeezed in my lungs. It’s the only excuse I had for my next response. “Since you like stories, have you heard the legend of heather?”
“I try not to read too much into the places I visit beforehand so that I’m as surprised and awed as my readers, so no.”
“So you know nothing about Scotland.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know basic things, plus my grandfather was a first-generation Scottish American, and he bragged about his parents’ home country until the day he died, so I’ve always felt a little connection to it.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “I just didn’t expect to feel... I don’t know.” She shook her head and squeezed my hand, grin resurrecting. “But I’d love to hear the legend.”
I pulled my attention away from the way she tilted her head back a little as I spun her around, the sheer freedom in her movements almost mesmerizing. I faulted her Scottish heritage, for certain. She probably came from the faerie line.
“Very well.” I cleared my throat and then drew in a breath for dramatic effect. “Legend has it—”
“Legend has it?” Both her brows rose as she laughed. “You’re really playing into the Scottish heritage, aren’t you?”
“Oh, aye!” I welcomed her back into my arms. Her breath caught as I closed in, a fascinating rush of rose blushing over her cheeks andmatching those lips. Och aye, those lips. I’d paid them little mind until now but couldn’t seem to look away fast enough. “Leave it to the Scots to put a better shine on a story than one you’ve heard before, lass.”
The words rasped out of me, so low I thought she mightn’t have heard, but she had. Her gaze softened at the phrase.
My mouth went dry.
It didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t be happening, but I wanted to kiss the troublesome woman.
And what was worse, from the way she settled so closely in my arms and glanced down at my mouth, she wanted me to kiss her too.
We were both mental!
