Heart Melter (11 page)

Natasha pushed her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, stroking and clutching, as his lips and tongue plowed her swollen mouth with deep, slow kisses.

"Aye, they're a lovely couple of lovebirds again, aren't they Ranald?" Maggie exclaimed as she walked into the kitchen, chuckling when they jumped apart.

“That they are,” Ranald said merrily.

Startled, Natasha drew in a sharp breath and stared at them ruefully. Her heart pounded like a tap dancer's feet inside her chest as she waited for Ian to do something. 

Natasha’s face flamed at the twinkle in Maggie and Ranald's discerning eyes. Evita’s yelps drew attention away from Natasha’s predicament as the puppy leaped from Ranald’s arms into hers.

"It’s—it’s not what you think," Natasha said lamely when she caught her breath.

Maggie raised her brows at Ranald. They grinned and exchanged a private look. Natasha looked at Ian for support, but he remained silent and his ironic half-smile did nothing to ease her embarrassment.

"Ian can't seem to control the impulse to kiss me," she said after a pause, returning his smug smile. That wiped away any semblance of amusement from his face.

Coughing as if to clear his throat, Ian turned to Maggie and Ranald, who were still grinning broadly. "We'll be leaving now. If things take longer than I expect, we'll return tomorrow," he said.

"You didn't say anything about spending the night in Edinburgh," Natasha said. "I haven't packed an overnight bag." The word overnight elicited a flutter of excitement as she realized they’d be staying in a hotel together.

"We don't have time for you to go upstairs and pack. Did you take your antibiotic already?” he said briskly.

“I took the last pill early this morning.”

Ian gave a short nod. “Good. If we stay over, I’ll pick up what we need in Edinburgh."

“What about Evita?” Natasha said, hugging her close. She had missed her puppy last night, but in retrospect it was a good thing she hadn’t been in the room with them.

“We’ll watch her,” Ranald and Maggie said in unison. They laughed heartily and shook their heads at their identical responses.

“Be on your way, then,” Maggie said. “The sky is clear and the air is lovely out.”

“Thank you for watching Evita,” Natasha said, smiling at Maggie. She kissed Evita’s cute little face. “Be a good girl. Mommy will be back soon, and I’ll bring you a present.”

Ian rolled his eyes and placed a hand on the small of Natasha’s back, nudging her toward the door. “Time to go,” he said.

Natasha wished she knew what he was thinking, but his face was an inscrutable mask. She warmly hugged Maggie and Ranald goodbye and promised to phone them if they decided to stay overnight in Edinburgh. 

On the way to Edinburgh, Ian drove past the moors and craggy mountains with the windows down. He breathed in deeply of the fresh Highland air and enjoyed the simple pleasure of it. After the storm last night, the air had cleared to a crisp coolness and the blue sky was littered with white clouds frayed at the edges.

They drove in silence while Ian considered his recent flare-up in the kitchen. How like Natasha to wring out the last drop of his self-control. They hadn't been together more than ten minutes this morning and they were fighting and lusting for each other simultaneously. He shook his head when he remembered what had goaded him into kissing her. She had yelled, "Grow up!" No one he knew would have had the nerve say that to him—no one but Tasha.

She was right, though. He was a respected, successful physician, yet for seven years he had held on to the pain and resentment their breakup had caused him. He had dated many women afterward, but no one had ever filled the bleak emptiness left by Tasha. It was time to put the past behind where it belonged and forge ahead. It amazed him that her insult to "Grow up!" suddenly put everything into perspective.

Tasha was in danger and he would protect her regardless of their past. But there remained a major hurdle. She drove him wild and he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. She was still a thistle in his heart, more now as a confident woman.

After what seemed like an interminable hour of stony silence, Natasha couldn't take it any longer. She had tried to take a nap, but she was too wired up. She had counted hearty hikers walking with their dogs and sheep grazing on the blue-green mountain sides. If they didn't talk soon, she'd burst from the restless energy inside her.

The friction between them in the kitchen had lit her up like a match. Now that it had been ignited, the dousing was near impossible. She glanced at Ian’s granite jaw and his straight, bladelike nose. His gaze was focused directly ahead, absorbed in his thoughts while he listened to the strains of Irish rock violin. 

"Ian," Natasha said.

Ian turned to her, silver-green eyes brooding. Refusing to be dissuaded by his mood, she flashed a friendly smile. “Tell me about this patient you'll be seeing at the orphanage,” she said.

He turned his attention back to the road. "Arthur is a wee lad of six. His mum is a poor, ignorant woman who had five children already. When she widowed suddenly, she gave Arthur up for adoption, blaming him for her husband's death.”

“Why?” Natasha asked, startled.

“She had some odd religious belief that Arthur’s scarred face was the curse of the devil."

"What's wrong with his face?"

"The left side is covered by a dark port wine stain." He glanced at her. "The head of the orphanage, Mrs. Byrne, called it grotesque,” he said in a disgusted tone. “She said the other
bairns
ostracize wee Arthur because of it."

"That’s so sad. How old was he when his mother gave him up for adoption?"

"I don't know for sure, but he was still an infant."

"So the only home he's ever known is the orphanage? That’s tragic. Can you help him?" she said anxiously.

"I’ll do my best to remove it. That type of port stain could get worse as Arthur grows older. In time it could become raised." He shook his head ruefully. "Mrs. Byrne told me he's been praying every night that I'll come to see him soon."

"Aw, you have a kind heart, Ian. I admire that," she said with all sincerity, wishing they hadn’t quarreled earlier.

He glanced at her, his eyes sharp. "Do you know that in the short time we’ve been together, I’ve been tempted on too many occasions to wring your neck?"

"You’re not the only one," she replied smartly. “I don’t enjoy arguing with you.”

"I don’t either, but the mere mention of Anitra makes my blood boil."

"Then we won’t mention her. Don't you think I always wished for a different type of mother? Someone who would hug and kiss me and tell me how much she loved me? I've had to come to terms with her type of parenting…or lack of it." She touched his forearm hesitantly. "Let's call a truce. We won't talk about my mother. Or the past. No more arguing. Agreed?"

Ian grunted. "I don't know if it's possible to spend time with you without arguing, but I'll do my bloody damnedest."

"Good. I'll hold you to it, Dr. Who."

He grabbed her hand and held it firmly. "If you rile me again, we’ll argue."

"If you don't want me to rile you, then don't provoke me,” she said pleasantly. “I'll only be here a few days, Ian. Let's enjoy each other's company. As soon as the flash drive is resolved, I'll leave," she said, her heart hurting at the finality of it.

Ian's look of disappointment caught Natasha by surprise. "I'm not kicking you out of my home. You can stay as long as necessary," he said. It sounded as if he didn’t want her to leave yet. He slanted a rueful glance at her. “I might have been a bit hard on you these past days. But the way you resurfaced out of the blue stunned me.”

Ian apologizing? His softening toward her made her heart lift. “
Dinna fash
,” she said in a lighthearted tone. “I forgive you. You made up for it last night in more ways than one.” She flashed a saucy grin and was rewarded by Ian’s incredibly appealing robust chuckle. It felt wonderful to hear him laugh.

“Damn right I did, wench. The well isn’t dry yet.”

She gave a mock gasp. “Ian! Are you referring to mine?” she said, having fun turning it with innuendo. “I’d say it’s definitely wet, but not bottomless.”

“I don’t know about your well, Tasha, but your figure is not bottom-
less
,” he said with a roguish smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’d say that part of you is nicely rounded. And firm.”

“How do you know?” She smiled impishly. “Oh that’s right, you have first-
hand
knowledge, Dr. Who.”

Ian’s silver-green eyes darkened a shade as his mouth eased into a slow smile filled with wicked intent.

Sensual heat rose from her neck to color her cheeks and her belly did crazy flips as the possibility of Ian making love to her again became more than a hot fantasy. She loved the way he was flirting with her and she didn’t want him to stop. The tension between them was scorching; she could feel the sexual heat radiating from his strong body as he drove. Hopefully, they would run late and spend the night in Edinburgh. The prospect made her giddy with anticipation.

When they neared the site of infamous Rob Roy MacGregor's tomb, Natasha turned to him with a teasing grin. "Do you have any honest, law-abiding relatives who might still live in the Trossachs?"

Ian arched a brow. "Taunting me about Rob Roy again?"

She shook her head. “Gotta watch out for those MacGregors. Your clan seems to be—” She was stopped in mid-sentence when the Rover hit something on the road. The jeep lurched to the side as one of the tires blew out.

Ian pulled over to the side and got out. "Bloody hell! The tire’s flat.”

Natasha joined him at the side of the car. "Do you have a spare?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Of course I have a spare. I just can't
spare
the time to change it. I was planning on getting to Edinburgh with plenty of time to go to the University before I see Arthur."

"Oh. What can I do to help?” Natasha said cheerfully. “Not that I know what to do, but I’m willing to learn. My friend Ronnie is another story. She can change a flat in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

"I don’t need help. Stand on the other side and don't distract me," he said rolling up his sleeves.

"Why so grumpy all of a sudden? It's not my fault we got a flat.
Men
and their cars," she grumbled, turning away in a huff. Five minutes later, she returned to his side. “Have you finished yet?”

Ian’s head shot up and banged against the wheel wall. He muttered an expletive and rubbed the offended part. Ignoring her question, he removed the lug nuts from the tire.

“By the way, did you tell Maggie and Ranald about the flash drive? I’m worried about them."

"Aye, I’ve already alerted them to be extra careful."

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. She squatted beside him and placed her hand on his hunched shoulder. "Do they know we have it here?"

"I told them about it this morning before they took Evita for a walk. They understand."  He dropped the wrench on his toe. "Damn it. Stop distracting me or we'll be here all afternoon," he said, retrieving the wrench.

She straightened and walked away muttering
dunderheid
loud enough for him to hear.

“I heard that.”

“Good.”

Ian turned his attention to changing the tire and in no time they were on the road again. "Sorry I snapped at you back there, but your chattering was slowing things down," he said.

"I don't chatter, I speak. I sing too.” She gave him a saccharine smile. “Would you like me to sing an aria?" she asked knowing he hated opera.

“No thanks,” he said, his dry tone eliciting a dainty snort from Natasha.

As they neared Edinburgh, rays of sunshine bathed the city in a glow so brilliant, Natasha blinked to make sure it wasn't a mirage. It was the first time she had seen Edinburgh Castle on a sunny day. Regally situated over the massive dead volcano, Castle Rock, the castle glistened in the golden sunlight.

"It’s breathtaking," she said, turning to see Ian’s reaction.

Ian nodded. "I remember the first time I visited with my father when I was a wee lad. I stood there with my mouth hanging open." He glanced at his watch. "We need to go straight to the University and then stop for lunch. I called Connor and he’ll be pleased to help you with the flash drive."

"That’s great. But what about Arthur? When are you going to see him?"

"We'll take him to lunch with us. How's that?"

Natasha smiled. "Perfect."

“The business school building was recently completed in 2010,” Ian said. “All the equipment and rooms are state of the art.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Not at all. It’s in the core of the University’s central campus.”

When they arrived and parked near the business school complex, a feeling of trepidation plagued Natasha. She hesitated and slowed her steps as they walked toward it.

Ian rested his large hand on the small of her back and leaned toward her. "What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, wishing she could sound more convincing.

“You look pale. Are you all right? "

"Yes," she said, willing her overactive imagination to turn off.

“Don’t be concerned about Connor. He’s trustworthy. I say it with complete confidence.”

“Good to hear.” Natasha took a deep breath and straightened her spine, determined to walk into the office calmly, even if the thought of seeing what was on the flash drive gave her the willies.

Connor McKinney was indeed much younger than Maggie. He was tall, lean and handsome in a nerdy way, with rumpled auburn hair, horn-rim glasses, warm brown eyes and a ready smile. He welcomed them and led them to his computer.

"Natasha tried opening the flash drive, but it wouldn’t on her laptop. It’s a highly confidential and sensitive matter. One for the police,” Ian said, handing him the flash drive.

"I understand.” Connor inserted the flash drive in the computer. His thick brows knitted as he squinted at the screen. "Hmmm. It might take a few minutes, but we’ll get it to open.”