Page 23 of Lochlan

“Does that require you to have your shirt off during your tutoring sessions, or are you doing these naked?”

He did notice my lopsided shirt. Shit.

He breathes out irritation. “This isn't about me. You're interested in Connell, so why take off your clothes here? Are you a kilt chaser?”

“Please,” I plead, hoping to appeal to his compassion. “I'm cold.”

“Talk, lass.” His words are a dangerous warning.

He's not going to budge, not by that stubborn look he's giving me. I hug my knees tighter and try to figure out where to begin this story. I take in a long breath. “Have you ever wanted something so badly that you were willing to do anything to get it?”

He doesn't answer for a few moments. “Aye,” he says with caution.

“You said you've played sports, so you've been on teams. Then you know there's a dynamic that happens. A team has to bond to be effective. We work as a unit, like we use one collective brain to achieve our goal. Initiations are part of it. Men's teams initiate new members, like dressing up in women's clothes and makeup to sing an aria. It's to bond, to show you're one of them. This was an initiation challenge...”

He cuts me off. “To get me in bed?”

“I had to prove we had sex. You made it clear you have no interest in me. I thought if I took a picture to make it look like we did, it would be enough to satisfy Poppy.”

He's turning something over in his mind. “I met Poppy a few weeks ago. Your club was here doing a tasting, and you were with them?”

“I had a cold and couldn't come.”

“This was Poppy's idea?” he asks.

“She's looking for a partner to qualify for the Olympics. I've had the dream to medal in the Olympics since I could walk. Her choice is between me and Livi, who's another player in the club. Livi's challenge is with Douglas Foxton at Foxton Winery.”

“That scheming wee witch,” he mumbles.

I peer back at him, but he's shaking his head and not looking at me. He's repeating something under his breath. It's low, but it sounds like Gaelic. The few words I can catch are some very creative swearing, which the Scots do so well.

“Do you want to win this challenge?” The question is abrupt, and it startles me.

“Yes, but...”

“Look, lass, either you do or you don't. Which is it?”

The way he asks the question, I'm afraid there's going to be a blow job in my future if I say yes. I swallow hard. “I do. I mean, yes, I want to win.”

“Then let's make a bargain.”

“You want to have sex with me? I guess you figure I'm already naked, so why not? That's what you really want, anyway. What's the price? I give you so many blow jobs and you're willing to help me out with a picture?”

He blinks like I've jammed his circuits, but he recovers fast with the thin line of distaste on his lips. “Are you offering yourself to me? Do you really want me to have my wicked way with you and pump you until you're senseless?” He shakes his head as if I've lost all reason. “Why would I want a woman who's been forced to my bed? I don't want to bed you; you don't pique my interest. I should send you packing after your antics tonight, but I have something else in mind.” He opens the wardrobe and drops my clothes next to me. “If the answer is no to my proposal, you can dress and leave. You don't need to return to work; it's a certain that you're not interested in wine.”

I clutch the clothes to me. “If it's not sex, then what's the deal?”

“I give you proof we slept together if you agree to some requirements. You said you have a degree in business, was that correct?”

“Yes…”

“How are your presentation skills?”

“Impressive. I've thought about opening a business after I'm done with volleyball. I've even thought about working as a sports commentator.”

Lochlan strides over to a desk on the opposite side of the room, yanks open a drawer, and extracts a large envelope. “I need you to help me pitch this idea. I'm proposing we make Silicon Valley a wine destination similar to Tin City in Paso Robles.” He returns and drops the envelope on the bed. “The project is called Catriona.”

I pull out all the bits and pieces of information and fan them out. “Ever heard of the Internet?” I say. “You can store all this information in the cloud.”

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