Page 22 of Loving the Scot

I’m going to have to answer it.

I reach out and snatch the receiver up, putting it to my ear with my heart pounding.

“Hello?” I ask, finding my throat dry and my voice high again.

“Hello,” someone says. Casting my memory back, I’m sure I recognize the voice of the woman who checked me in at reception yesterday. “This Alana Covington, isn’t it?”

“Um, yes,” I say.

“There’s a guest here in reception to see you.”

“A guest?” I ask, frowning.

“That’s right. So, if you wouldn’t mind, please come to meet him immediately.”

There’s a click as the line disconnects.

That's it?

Isn’t she going to give me any more information?

I frown to myself, trying to think.

I don’t evenknowanyone here. Unless somehow, my dad or someone else in my family set up a surprise for me? A visit from one of them? A long-distant relative to meet me in my quest to reconnect with my roots? A surprise tour?

Or…

Or could it be Finlay?

The thought makes my heart race so fast in my chest that I think I’m going to pass out for a moment. Instead, I leap to my feet and check my reflection quickly in the full-length mirror hidden inside the wardrobe.

I look good – or so I think.

I put on the flirtiest dress I brought with me this morning, even if I had to pair it with wooly leggings and a big, chunky knit cardigan for warmth.

I thought there might be a possibility of meeting him after I called, but I hadn’t expected this but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I was ready to see him if he was truly here.

I grab my purse, cell phone, and my room’s key card and slip outside into the hall. I don’t wait for the elevator but instead begin racing toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Right at the bottom, I pause before I emerge from the doors that lead into the lobby. I smooth my hands over my blonde hair, take a breath so I won’t appear flustered, and then walk out, casually, as if I’m not nervous at all to see who it is.

As I do so, my heart sank.

There is a strange man standing at the reception desk, an older man with a large paunch belly who is flipping through one of the leaflets from the rack.

It really is some kind of surprise. Just not the one I wanted at all.

I take another deep breath and carry on walking forward, ready to introduce myself and see what’s in store for me – but as I do so, my view of the rest of the lobby area opens up, and….

And there he is, leaning against the back wall with his arms folded over his chest.

Finlay.

“Hi!” I exclaim, breathless, my heart rising from my boots to my throat so fast I almost choke.

The mere sight of him has me on fire.

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