Page 24 of Lochlan

He shrugs. “I think better with paper. I like to touch something when I'm working.”

I pull out a rendering of the proposed site, along with notes on leases and a budget on construction. It looks complete enough; I wouldn't have to do much research.

“The Wine Association has given me time at their monthly luncheon to pitch this to their members in three days. I need backers for the project. I want you to create a presentation that I can pitch to the association.”

It looks like an interesting venture. I meet his gaze. “I can do that, no problem. So, if that's the extent of our deal...” I stop talking when I catch his eyes narrowing.

“We're not done,” he says. “You're also going to be my girlfriend for the time my granda is here and you need to be available to talk to him about the project.”

“You mean Ian MacTavish, the head of your family?”

I'm getting that narrow-eyed stare with a frown thrown in, again. I should be used to his resting bitch face by now.

“I see you've done your homework; that's a plus. He pressing me to be more responsible, and seeing you will get him off my arse. Play the dutiful girlfriend who's mad about me and he'll buy it because you're a MacGregor with a parent who was born in Edinburgh.”

“You're not a responsible person?”

“I have my moments.”

“Let me understand this. I help you with the Catriona project and I'm to be your girlfriend?”

“Don't worry. It won't be real.”

“That's it? That's all you want?”

“Oh, lass, life is never that easy. I'll need some assurance that you'll do your best. I want to take photos of you in my kilt.”

Heat rushes to my face at this part of the proposal. It's one thing to snap a quick photo, but to pose is something different, and what kinds of shots is he suggesting?

“Don't worry. It'll be tasteful. Seeing you buggering up the photo, it gave me an idea. Are you willing?”

I have no choice. I nod.

“Right. I'll find safety pins to help hold the kilt up.” He pivots to his dresser, locates a few in a drawer, and holds them up like a prize. “Stand, please, so I can fasten this securely.”

I'm not body conscious, so I stand, facing him. He moves closer and places one safety pin in his mouth as he uses the other to secure the first pin. Lochlan doesn't seem to be affected by my partial nudity. He goes about his business like he pins kilts to topless women all the time. As far as I know, he just might…whatever. He pulls the other pin from his mouth and finishes the job. He steps back and studies me for a few moments. “I'll turn the heat up and get my camera.”

CHAPTER11

DOUBLE EXPOSURE

LOCHLAN

Before I retrieve my camera, I assemble standing lights and place them in the area where I want her to pose. I've done several portraits over the years, but not since I've been in this country. I haven't had a strong inclination to do photography, only to teach. The photos at the winery were a one off, an inspiration that quickly faded after I completed it. My teaching at the community center is my only way to keep that spark for photography alive.

I study Kenzie briefly while she tries to ignore me. She's beautiful—there's no denying that. Her dark hair curves softly past her shoulders and her intense brown eyes are so dark, they appear black. Those striking features, along with her full lips, caught my attention when I first saw her standing alone in the tasting room.

If I'm able to capture even a tenth of what I see, the photos will be memorable. I busy myself with completing my set-up. It's good she's interested in Connell, because it's hard not to press my advantage to do more than take photos.

“Turn your back to me and move a wee bit to the left. That's good,” I say. Kenzie had the right idea to take the picture of her back. It must have been more for modesty than for art. I grab the bottle off the table and pick up the stemware she was using earlier for the photo. There's still red wine in the bottle and I splash a wee bit into Kenzie's glass and hand it to her.

I touch her shoulders to reposition her, then brush her hair to one side, exposing her back. “I want to take your picture in profile; tip the glass to your lips. Hold it at the base so the camera can see the MacTavish Cellars logo.”

She does what I say without protest. “Are you warm enough? Should I dial the heat higher?”

“I'm good. How long will this session take?”

“For as long as it needs to,” I say and begin the work.

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