Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (19 page)

Twenty minutes later Kirsty was negotiating with Jean's grandson. If she didn't already know he was thirteen, she would have guessed it. He was five and a half feet of everything irritating about the male race.

"What do I get out of this?" he said with a superior smirk.

He plunged his hands into the pockets of his distressed jeans and waited. As though he was certain she would pay him off. Kirsty blew her hair out of her eyes and glared at him.

"You don't get anything. You're doing this out of the kindness of your heart and because you want to help the town."

"I don't think the English guy would see it like that."

"Are you trying to blackmail me, Gordon Stewart?" She narrowed her eyes at him and he didn't even have the decency to blush with shame.

"No. I'm telling you that skills like mine come at a price." He pulled his hands out of his jeans and gestured towards the rest of the town. "Where else in this dump are you going to find someone with my ability? Nowhere. That's where. And I'm not doing it unless you make it worth my while."

Kirsty wanted to lock the wee twat in his room for about a month—without his precious computer. And while he was there, she'd pay someone to shave that ridiculous Justin Bieber haircut off his head.

"Time is running out," he said. "Mum will be calling me for dinner soon."

"What do you want?" she said between clenched teeth.

He didn't even hesitate.

"I want to be backstage for the runway show. I want to see the models getting dressed."

Kirsty's jaw dropped open.

"You tiny wee pervert."

He shrugged.

"I'm thirteen. If there's a chance I'll see some boobs, I'm there."

"It's not going to happen," she told him.

"Well then, neither is your computer sabotage." He stepped inside the house and moved to close the door. "Tatty bye," he told her.

"Wait." Kirsty hated herself for even trying to negotiate with the little reprobate. "There must be something else you want. Something that isn't disgusting."

The grin he gave her made her want to take a bath.

"How about a date with Magenta?"

"Done," Kirsty said without even blinking.

Gordon looked astonished.

"Really?" he said.

"Careful, Gordon, your teenage years are showing."

"I mean, that's great." He tried to look all macho and failed.

"Now," she said as she handed him a flash drive, "the photos are coming soon. Your Granny will get them to you. This has the email that I want you to send to every woman on the competition list. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Your granny will be in touch about when you're to go to Lake's shop. Do exactly what she tells you or there will be trouble."

She wasn't sure he was taking her seriously enough. He frowned at the thumb drive, then at her.

"When's my date with Magenta?" he said.

"I'll get her to call you," Kirsty said.

His eyes narrowed.

"You better, Kirsty Campbell, or I'll be hacking into your computer next and causing all sorts of havoc."

Kirsty pulled herself up to her full height and stared down at the boy.

"You need to work on that attitude, Gordon," she told him primly. "I can tell you for a fact, if it doesn't change girls will never come near you."

He laughed.

"Of course they will. I'm thirteen and I'm already rich."

There was no talking to the boy. She just hoped Magenta could sort him out.

"Don't mess this up," she warned before walking towards home.

She had better things to think about than an annoying boy. Nope, she had her hands full thinking about an annoying man.

It didn't take long for Lake to spot he was being followed. Around three seconds, to be exact. For a start the woman wore a bright yellow jacket and every time he glanced her way she became completely fascinated by whatever tree, wall or cloud was nearest her. That and the fact she had a bloody huge camera slung around her neck were little clues that were hard to miss. Lake smiled as he ran towards the loch. There was no way she could keep up. Whatever scheme the women in Invertary were currently hatching, it would have to wait until after he went for his run.

His legs stretched into a long stride as he hit the road beside the loch. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the light reflect off another lens. Another woman. This time dressed head to toe in black, wearing a headscarf and trying to pretend her camera was invisible. Lake grinned as he ran. The town was full of lunatics. It was entertaining, that was for sure. He pushed his run longer than usual and arrived back at his shop an hour later. And, lo and behold, there was another woman with a camera. As he pushed open the door to his shop, she came running over to him.

"Lake," she said. "Would you mind posing for a couple of pictures?"

"What's it for?" he asked as he went into the store.

He wanted to check that the latest shipment of lingerie had arrived as planned. Rainne gave him a thumbs-up as soon as she saw him. He let himself relax—slightly. At this rate the shop would be showing enough profit by Christmas to make a sale attractive to buyers. He wouldn't make anything on what he'd put into the place, but at least he would free up his money again. And in time for when he needed it. That was the most important part.

"So," the little woman beside him said as she trotted along to keep up with his pace. "Can I take some pictures?"

"I asked: what is it for?" Lake said.

She seemed a bit confused, then obviously remembered what her story was supposed to be.

"I'm making a leaflet. For the tourists."

From the way her eyes went wide and she tried to keep her face expressionless, he'd say he was being fed a story. Lake found it hard to care. After all, what could a bunch of women do with a picture?

"Sure, take your pictures," he told her.

She seemed relieved. He posed beside the cash register and beside the men's underwear rack. Then she roped Betty in and he posed with her. Twice. Because Betty screwed up the first picture by making the victory sign.

"Okay," he said. "We're done here. I have to take a shower and run a shop."

"Thank you," the woman said.

"No problem," he said as she walked to the door. "Tell Kirsty I hope she can use them."

"Will do," she called back. Then hung her head.

He could hear her cursing under her breath all the way out of the shop. With a grin, Lake went to shower.

"Want to tell me why you're taking pictures of me?" Lake said as he entered Kirsty's office.

She had on a pink dress that came to below her knee and the same black boots that made him drool every time he saw them. The collar on her dress was high and she wore a silk scarf around her neck. Everything was carefully covered, as usual.

"Why hello, Lake," she said with a smile that reminded him of a snake. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."

"Of course you don't."

She was standing in front of a mannequin, pinning butter-yellow material to it.

"Why are you here?" she said. "To snoop?" She slapped herself on the forehead. "Oh no, wait, you break in when I'm not here to do your snooping."

Lake didn't correct her. He also didn't tell her that she'd been asleep at the time.

"You really need better locks. Your security sucks. A kid could break in here. Even Betty could break in here."

"Don't you go putting any ideas in her head," Kirsty said. "I have enough problems as it is."

"At least get some new locks."

"With what? Every last penny I have right now is invested in wiping your shop off the face of the earth."

"Fine. I'll get you some."

"You will not." She put the material on the desk beside her and went over to her desk. "Why are you here?" she said again.

He plopped down in the chair on the other side of her purple desk.

"We need to figure out how this fashion show is going to run."

"I do my thing. You do yours."

"I think we need to coordinate a little more than that. The press will be there. We need to put on a united front."

"Work together? I don't think so."

"It makes sense."

"Do I look like I care?"

He let his eye roam over her. She looked sexy, that's what she looked like.

"So what are you doing with the photos?" he said.

"Is this some sort of interrogation technique you learned? Ask the same question over again until the person gets bored and answers to make you shut up?"

Lake grinned as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

"You're not going to tell me what you're doing with them, are you?"

"No," she said primly, then regrouped. "I mean,
if
I was taking pictures, which I'm not."

"Smooth, Kirsty, real smooth," he said. "Guess I'll have to wait and see. So, about the show?"

She let out a long sigh as she leaned forward onto the desk and clasped her hands in front of her.

"I don't want to do the show with you, therefore I don't want to talk about it."

He waited her out. He could almost see her think behind those beautiful green eyes of hers.

"Fine," she said at last. Lake tried not to give her a victory smile. "We'll each have a twenty-minute session. Pick a theme and some music and then make your girls walk to it. It isn't rocket science, I'm sure you'll be fine."

She paused for him to take issue with the insult. He let it slide.

"I plan to run a raffle and some other competitions, get people involved. I'm also going to have a stall beside the show, so people can buy straight after it." She shrugged. "That's pretty much it."

"I already have a competition running," he said.

Kirsty pursed her lips with disgust.

"I heard all about it. A weekend with you. Seriously? That's the prize? You're pimping yourself out to sell lingerie."

"Tut tut, Kirsty. You had a whole career pimping yourself to sell lingerie. I'm only offering one woman, one weekend."

"Lingerie models don't pimp themselves out." Her eyes narrowed, and he assumed she meant it to make her look mean. Instead it was kind of cute. Although not as cute as when her eyes flashed with passion. For that he had to make her mad. They were nowhere near that—yet.

Lake pushed himself up from his chair. His business was over, but he didn't want to leave.

"Don't forget to change the passwords on your computer," he told her. "And never let the browser save your password. Especially the one for your bank account."

Her mouth fell open.

"You were in my bank account?" She tapped on the screen in front of her.

"I didn't take anything," he said, kind of offended that she was checking.

"It's time for you to leave." She pointed at the door, in case he didn't understand.

As he reached the door, Kirsty's phone rang. He pulled the door open as she said, "What the hell do you want?"

And instead of walking out, Lake turned, folded his arms and listened. He knew he already hated whoever was on the line.

Kirsty almost dropped the phone. Instead her knuckles went white from holding it so tightly. She knew that Lake was still in the room, blatantly listening in on her conversation, but she didn't care.

"You've got a cheek calling me," she said.

She could hear her voice shake and wished that it didn't.

"You're right, and I understand if you decide to hang up. It's the least I deserve." Her ex-fiancé’s voice oozed sincerity.

Kirsty felt the room lose focus as her breathing sped up.

"What do you want? Are you calling to tell me that you plan to return the money you stole?"

"I wish I could," Brandon said with a sigh. "You have no idea how much I regret that, Kirsty. I was a fool."

Her heartbeat started to pound in her chest. She grasped the phone tighter. Suddenly, she felt the weight of Lake's hand on her shoulder. For some reason, her breathing slowed a little, so she didn't shrug him off.

"I don't have words for what you are," she said tightly. "You left me in a hospital while you stole all my money and ran away."

"I know, I know, baby," he cooed in her ear. "I was in debt. I feared for my life. I was planning to borrow money to repay the debt, but there was no time left. I felt like I was in a corner and then we had the accident. I saw a way out and I took it. It's something I regret every moment of every day."

"Not as much as I regret it. All of it." Her voice had become weak. She felt weak.

Her palms began to tingle.

Lake stepped in closer. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and gently rubbed his thumbs in a circle at the base of her neck. For once, Kirsty didn't think about the scars. She was grateful for the touch that soothed her and stopped her from losing control completely.