Mcgillivray's Mistress. Anne McAllister
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about herself and Lachlan McGillivray, opened her mouth to say no and found herself saying yes instead.
After all, it was still early. Not even close to midnight. She was still Cinderella at the ball. She didn’t want to go back to her cold lonely reality just yet.
She could still feel the press of his hard warm fingers wrapped around hers as they’d walked down to the dock. She could still smell the salt air and the hint of lime in his aftershave as he helped her up and over the rail on to his new boat.
It was a brand-new sailboat, one she’d admired from a distance, wondering who it belonged to. Someday, she’d promised herself, she’d go out for a sail on a boat like that. The only boats she’d been on were the grimy smelly diesel-powered fishing boats her brothers used.
“It’s lovely,” Fiona had whispered, running a hand over the brightwork as they stood in the bow and the boat rocked under her feet.
“Not as lovely as you.” Lachlan’s voice had sounded a little ragged around the edges, its rustiness surprising her as much as the words.
Lovely. Lachlan thought she was lovely. He was touching her cheek, smiling at her. And just like in her dreams, he drew her against him and touched his lips to hers.
It was all there—everything she’d ever dreamed of—the taste, the heat, the passion.
And she couldn’t help it. She gave herself to it. Her lips parted, and when his tongue sought entry, she met him hungrily. She was kissing Lachlan McGillivray.
Even better, he was kissing her!
And when he slid an arm around her and whispered, “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” she almost nodded, almost said yes.
She wanted it. She wanted him. But even more, she wanted forever.
And she knew that Lachlan didn’t.
She might not have seen Lachlan McGillivray in person very often over the years. But it would have been hard to miss Lachlan in the tabloids. His hard handsome face was everywhere. He had the reputation of an athlete whose prowess on the pitch was only matched by his prowess between the sheets.
“It’s exaggerated,” Molly said. “The press makes it up.”
But the press hadn’t made up the red panties collection.
And the sudden memory that she was actually wearing a pair of red panties that very evening had jolted her mid-kiss.
Dear God! He wouldn’t!
And as she felt him start to draw her toward the cabin, she had wrapped her arms around him again, held on even more tightly, kissed him deeply one last time—then tipped them both right over the railing and into the harbor!
“Well, I’m delighted with your work,” Carin was saying now. “Now if you’d just find a man.”
“Carin!”
“Well, you’re not getting any younger.”
“And you are getting completely politically incorrect,” Fiona retorted sharply. “I don’t need a man.”
“I didn’t say ‘need,’ Carin soothed. “I just thought you might enjoy—”
“Well, stop thinking. I’ve got a man in my life.”
“Oh?” Carin’s eyes went wide. “Who?”
Fiona grinned. “He’s about ten feet tall with arms made of driftwood and—”
Carin laughed, then shook her head. “Seriously, Fiona, Nathan has a photographer friend coming to stay next week. Nick’s a really nice guy. Maybe he—”
“I’m not having you set me up on a blind date! I hate blind dates!”
Carin blinked at her vehemence. “Voice of experience?” she asked mildly.
“Yes! No.” Fiona changed her tune rapidly. “I just think it’s a bad idea. You can’t rush these things. I’ll find my own man when I’m ready.”
“As long as you don’t wait too long.”
“Says the woman who waited thirteen years.”
Carin gave a rueful laugh. “Some of us are a bit slow.” She turned as the bell jangled and the door opened and a tall dark-haired man with a toddler on his shoulders came in. “But eventually we get it right. Don’t we, Nate?” she smiled at the man.
“We got it right,” Nathan Wolfe agreed and wrapped his wife in a hard one-armed hug while he held on to his son’s feet with his other. Then he gave Carin a smacking kiss for good measure.
Fiona smiled at the sight. In fact Carin and Nathan did give her hope. She might have spent nearly ten years alone while taking care of her father. But Carin and Nathan had spent thirteen years apart before he’d discovered exactly why she’d jilted his brother at the altar—because she loved Nathan and was expecting his baby.
That baby, Lacey Campbell Wolfe, was now a very grown-up fourteen. Their son Joshua, born last year, grinned at her now and thumped on his father’s head.
“Don’t you think Fiona could use a good man?” Carin said to her husband.
“Carin!” Fiona protested.
But Nathan nodded. “Absolutely. Unfortunately I’m all out of brothers.”
“Stop!” Fiona demanded.
“We’re only trying to help.” Carin looked aggrieved.
“I don’t need any help,” Fiona said firmly. “I’m doing just fine.”
“I guess,” Carin said, but she didn’t look convinced. “At least you did a new sculpture,” she said, showing the surfer to Nathan. “It’s a start. You should do something else new this week.”
“I will,” Fiona promised.
“Great. I can hardly wait to see it.”
Fiona smothered a grin. She could just imagine what Carin would say if she trundled in a sculpture of Lachlan McGillivray nude!
Wasn’t going to happen. No way on earth.
He’d never ever do it.
HE WAITED FOR HER to contact him, to tell him what she really wanted in exchange for removing her damned sculpture.
“Were there any messages?” he asked Suzette when he got back to the inn Monday night.
She glanced at her notes. “Dooley called about the roof on the Sandpiper. And the lumberyard called from Nassau.”
“No one else?”
“Lord Grantham. He’ll be arriving Wednesday night.”
Lachlan drummed his fingers on the bookcase. He scowled out the window. There seemed to be new additions to Fiona’s monstrosity. The “king” had an actual six-pack where his abs would be. He had a lasso dangling from his hand. And he seemed to be wearing a baseball cap.
Lachlan could just imagine the cultured Lord Grantham’s reaction to that.
“Did Fiona Dunbar call?”
Suzette blinked and shook her head. “Was she supposed to?”
“No. No. I just thought she might.”
She didn’t call Tuesday afternoon or evening, either. Nor did she call Wednesday morning, though he was in his office the whole time, right there by the phone.
Lachlan felt sweat sliding down his spine and wondered if there was something wrong with the air-conditioning. He also wondered if she actually meant to go through with it.
That thought prompted a vague hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. And feeling it made him furious. It wasn’t as if it bothered him to take his clothes off, damn