Page 63 of Geordie

William beams like a proud papa. “A beautiful terror sometimes, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Sorry to meet and run, but we have a doctor's appointment and I don't want to be late.”

“She's not sick, is she?” I ask.

“No, no just a checkup.”

“I'll help you with your stuff, wee yin,” a besotted Geordie says, cooing to the giggling little girl and following William out.

I load the tray with what we'll need for our meal, hoping Geordie will lunch on the terrace.

Geordie arrives with a large paper bag, the aroma of paninis triggering my hunger. “I met the delivery guy in the hallway,” he says, hoisting the bag onto the table.

“It's a beautiful day, I thought we could eat on your terrace.”

He plucks each item from the tray, dropping them into the bag, adding the last bottle from our tasting and glasses. “I have a better idea, let's have lunch on the rooftop.”

The elevator opens to an uninteresting bit of concrete surface, topped with a sculpted metal shade that hides the presence of the elevator from the garden. The scent of sweet honey alyssum perfumes the air before we round the metal sculpture to a rooftop botanical garden. I'm not given a chance to examine raised beds alive with color or different textures of plant life as I try to keep up with Geordie's longs strides, with only a slight hesitation as he walks.

“The garden ends here,” he says, stepping onto a concrete patio. “The residences have parties up here. I'm certain it can hold a few hundred people, but some come to relax.” He points out a fireplace, barbeque area big enough to char an entire cow, a brick-colored sail stretched across a meeting area with tables and chairs, and the turquoise-blue water of the Olympic-size pool. Everywhere I look beyond this oasis are stunning views of the cityscape.

“If you don't mind, we can eat here. This is my favorite place.” He motions to one of several alcoves that are separated by a wide swath of foliage, like sitting in a private garden with a view. It's intimate, a place to sneak away for a romantic, clandestine meeting. How many women has he romanced up here? With that smile and that thick, sexy Scottish brogue, it would be hard to resist him.

“Is this where you bring your dates?” I ask, taking a seat on the small bench, Geordie sliding next to me, our hips touching.

He pulls the small table closer, setting the bag down. “Why do you want to know, lass? Are you disappointed you're not the first to share this special place with me?” His grin is slight, but noticeable. “I'll set your mind at ease; you're the first. I come here to relax and think, nothing else, but thank you for giving me the idea.”

Warmth flushes my body, like he's caught me expressing something I should keep a secret. Do I care he's seeing someone else? “It was an idle thought,” I say, brushing past him to get to our meal, pulling it closer, the scent of salty prosciutto ham and gooey cheese wafting from the bag.

“It seems you needed to ask that question. It was important for you to know,” he chides.

I don't want to discuss a slip of the tongue with him. I never let his teasing conversations go too far; I don't know where it will lead. “What did you want to talk about?” ignoring the comment.

He pulls the bottle and two glasses from the bag, pouring out the rich, dark-red liquid into the glass. “Eat and drink first, then talk business.”

Chapter thirty

The Moon and Stars

Geordie

Lilysitswithaglass in hand, head thrown back, laughing at an embellished hunting story about my adventures with Lochlan, Harris, and Granda in Scotland.

“It sounds idyllic staying in a cabin overnight with your grandfather and cousins.”

“Aye, it would have been, except for the cold cabin and bad cooking.”

Lily sighs, looking at the view. “It was just me and mom growing up. The most bonding we did was over pedicures.” She places her drink next to the brown bag that contained our meal and the empty, greasy wrappers from our lunch. My glass rests on my knee, the sun warming our wee corner of the rooftop, and a half-drunk bottle has us both lazy.

“Lily, I thought a lot about what you told me the night before you left.”

She snuggles deeper into her corner of the padded bench, legs tucked to her chest, looking out.

“Which part?”

The way the light frames her profile, her dark hair shining, it reminds me of the first time we met, when I was stunned by her fierce beauty. I don’t answer until she turns her head, face resting on her knees.

I down the last of my wine, then balance the empty glass on my knee. “The part where you said that you want to have a child. You thought I wouldn’t believe you, because I’m trying to start a family too.”

She smiles. “I had to be careful; I didn’t want you to think I was pandering just to get into Catriona.”

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