KiltTease (5 page)

Each time she’d pressed Quinton for what he did for a living, he had changed the subject. Oh, he did it with a deft hand that had seemed innocent, until now. What conceivable reason would a man have to buy a woman he’d just met clothes and jewelry?

She sucked in a breath and stepped back. “You’re a pimp.”

He shook his head at the accusation, not looking offended at all. “No. I just have money.”

An understatement if he could drop a store into his hotel-sized home. The answer wasn’t enough to soothe the nerves jumbling in her gut. “But how do you make your money?”

He rubbed his thumb along his eyebrow, his discomfort clear in the small action. “I used to play rugby. I saved. I invested. Bought some businesses and stocks before I retired. In short, I became a man who could fill a room with clothes for my pretend girlfriend. Figured we wouldn’t have the time to go shopping in a store.”

She could only blink at him. The answer and explanation sounded honest. But…”So you brought the store to your house?”

“It’s on loan,” he said as if that fact made all the difference. He hadn’t bought a store for her. He’d just
loaned
it. “Whatever you don’t take, they’ll pick up.”

Either she could feel the world spinning all of a sudden, or the magnitude of the situation was making her a little dizzy. She sucked in air, held it until the world settled again. “I don’t want something like this.”

He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. “You’re a woman who travels alone with only one pretty dress. And you don’t want anything in here?”

“No.” The word came out sharp.

He kept his intense gaze on her for a long moment and then dug into his pocket for his phone. A few seconds later, the theme to
Pretty Woman
started to play.

The laugh was right there in his eyes, but his voice remained steady. “We don’t have all morning. I still have to get you back to my uncle’s house before your shift starts, and it takes about an hour and a half to get to Inverness from Glasgow. So be pissy about this while you pick out a wardrobe.”

The theme song was getting to her. Okay, so was the smile teasing his mouth. She crossed her arms to keep up the pissy facade. “Do you do this often?”

“Not anymore.” He put his phone in his pocket while the song continued to play. “I have to shower and get dressed. Will you be fine on your own?”

He hadn’t listened to a single objection. “So you’re that kind of man?”

“Aye.”

Quinton hadn’t even hesitated to agree. She dropped her arms to her sides. In a strange way she felt okay with him again. “You don’t even—”

“You want to know if I’m the kind of man you think I am. Pushy when I want to be. Charming when I want to be.” His mouth tilted up. “Cocky, always.”

She bit her lip to keep in the smile and walked over to a floor-length silk dress hanging on one of the many racks. The dark blue shade beckoned to her. After checking the tag, she could see it was her exact size. So he had an eye for detail. Probably explained his quiet intensity too. He took note of everything and sized it up. Too many emotions flitted through her to pinpoint how she felt about that.

And the dress kept calling to her, distracting Kate from very important things she should focus on. She moved away and picked up a simple black dress, one she could actually use.

“I still don’t know if I should,” she told him. “This is kind of extravagant and not at all what I expected from this arrangement.”

He moved behind her, smelling of sweat and man. No, she hadn’t ignored the fact he was shirtless. She just didn’t let herself dwell on the thick muscles in his legs or the rigid slope of his abs. And all that solid muscle was now pressed into her back. Her sigh came out more like a moan. The need to kiss him again welled up in her stomach, tightening it.

Maybe she’d just run her hands over him to triple-check he was real.

If she did that, she might do more than just kiss him. Kate had nothing against casual sex, but she didn’t want it to become a habit to have a sexual conquest in every country she visited. You know, sleep with every man who made her nipples tingle from the need to have his mouth on them. And Quinton’s mouth could do amazing things if his kiss last night was any indication.

She trembled as that memory crept up. She had pushed him against the wall to get a better taste of him. So, no, not shy about having casual sex. At all.

He plucked the blue floor-length dress from the rack. “Try it on,” Quinton coaxed in a seductive timbre. He was damn good at it, because suddenly she really, really wanted to try him on.

Kate snatched the dress out of his grasp and moved away from him so she could think clearly for three consecutive seconds. “I think you just like to turn a girl’s head.”

“It’s just clothes, Kate.”

She threw a steely glance his way, unmoved by the lie he’d delivered so effortlessly. “You wanted to impress me.”

“Aye.” He shrugged. “Did it work?”

She ran the silk between her fingers before shoving it back on the rack. “I need a black dress. So I guess you can say it worked.”

The song looped as Quinton took down the dress she’d discarded moments ago. “You want a blue one.” He held it out to her, his expression curious. “Take whatever you want, Kate. If you want everything in this room, it’s yours.”

“Do I need all this as your pretend girlfriend?”

Finally, he looked offended as his head snapped back. “No. I told you it’s complicated. I need you to ward off Angeline and to close a deal. How you look doesn’t matter for the next few weeks. What matters is that you’re there.”

She curled her hands around the black dress’s hanger just to ensure she didn’t take the silk one. Or the silver one right there in her line of sight. Maybe even the black one that had sequins. “You don’t even know me. Why would you do this?”

He didn’t speak until she grasped the offered outfit. “You only have one dress.”

It wasn’t that simple. Couldn’t be. She wouldn’t even be standing in his home if he didn’t want her there. Did she think he had nefarious motives? No.

Quinton held her gaze, nodded when her shoulders lowered, and then started to turn but stopped. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

He meant a kiss, and was pretty shameless in asking for one. “Go away.”

Quinton laughed as he left the room. Once he’d disappeared, she let the weakness in her knees take over. She plopped on the carpeted floor, right there. Putting a hand to her racing heart, she let her gaze scan over all the items in the room and tried to somehow take in the gesture, the kind of money behind the gesture.

Her family had bounced along the poverty line for most of her life. It’s why her father went from job to job across America—better pay, better benefits. They didn’t want for anything despite their nomadic lifestyle. She’d gone to a state university to get her registered nursing degree. She’d worked while going to school. Scholarships and student aid had kept her from starving to death on the streets.

So most of her life she didn’t have things; she had necessities. The only other person who spoiled her was her grams. Her grandmother had never cared about the need to pack light because they could move at a drop of a hat. The response to that argument had always been, “Fine. Then I’ll keep it at my house. It’ll be here when you visit.”

But this…Kate’s mind couldn’t take it in. He’d loaned her a store just because. She was so out of her depth with this man, and
he
wanted to impress
her
.

It wasn’t just for sex. A man could go to these lengths for pussy, but usually not one who could smile at a woman from across the bar—any room, anywhere—and get her to come to him. But maybe this meant nothing to him. He had the money to throw around.

Kate should leave, put her head down, and prepare to deal with Douglass Baird for the day. The man was a handful.

But…

Her gaze fell on the row of shoes. She wasn’t shallow and definitely didn’t see herself as an escort, or mistress, or any woman who saw this room as their due for being a pretend or real anything to Quinton. But there were three pairs of Jimmy Choos, so she could understand the allure.

Kate
could
leave Quinton’s house, stick to her original plan of collecting some checks to pad her traveling fund. While she did that, she’d be able to add St. Jude’s and Scotland as a whole to her resume and then move on to Inverness or just a straight shot to France.

Her adventure didn’t need a man or an affair to fulfill the promise she’d made of getting out of her shell, but this situation had all the earmarks of being unforgettable. An adventure she’d long to tell her Grams.

Her throat tightened. She fisted her hands in the dress as a wave of melancholy washed over her. No, Kate couldn’t leave. All her life she’d avoided risks. She’d turned to nursing not because it made her happy, but because the profession was stable. If she couldn’t get a job at a hospital, she could always pick up work in a nursing home or travel to do in-home care. She had enough schooling and work hours to get work visas and sponsorships on a different continent if it came to that, as it had.

Leaving Quinton’s home would be safe. Staying, letting him turn her head because he could was reckless, out of character—the adventure Kate had promised her grams she’d have, and…Kate kept her promises.

Reaching forward, she grabbed a pair of red Choos. She could and would do this. What would be the harm? He needed her for a simple purpose: to ward off his ex and close a deal. He wanted her for a primal, healthy reason also. And likewise. Although she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve—that’s how sarcasm became her superpower—that wouldn’t be a problem with Quinton.

Kate blew out a breath and gave in just a little. “If I’m going to be reckless, I’m going to look damn good doing it. For at least one day.”

*****

Kate grinned when the butler blushed and leaned against the stair’s railing. “Come on, you can tell me,” she said.

His brown eyes gleamed. “Ma’am, it is inappropriate to answer, but I can lead you upstairs if you want to ask Mr. Baird yourself.”

“Geoffrey,” Quinton’s voice came from the landing, “are you letting my guest flirt with you?”

The young man straightened away from the railing. She stayed on the steps while he planted his feet firmly on the first floor far away from her.

She let out a fake gasp. “And this whole time you’ve let me call you Alfred.”

His face turned beet red. “Ma’am,” he whispered.

She patted his flushed cheek before turning her attention to Quinton. He wore dark slacks and had left his gray shirt open. He’d played sports for a living so his physique made sense. Athletes worked out. No fanfare for that fact.
But sweet lawd
. The golden hue of his skin just made him seem lickable. She could run her tongue over the ridges of his abs just to see if he tasted as good as he looked. His stomach muscles were so defined they practically dared her to do it.

Kate blinked and realized she’d frozen at the sight of him. To play it off, she crossed her arms. “You left me in a room filled with shoes. How is it that I’m dressed before you?”

“Because I’m sure you’re going to talk me into letting you have the entire wardrobe.”

There it was again. The offer she didn’t know how to accept or even understand why he was giving it to her. “No. I’m trying to keep my luggage down to two bags.”

His brows furrowed for a moment, but just like that he let…whatever go. He crooked his finger, wearing a lop-sided smile. “Geoffrey go get the car ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

Instead of following the finger summons like she wanted, Kate faced the butler again. “Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t dare.” With a short nod, he excused himself.

There went her excuse to delay the inevitable. Plus enough time had passed that she could climb the stairs without it appearing as though she would come when he had called. The man didn’t seem egotistical, but she got the sense Quinton always got what he wanted when he wanted it.

When she stood in front of him, he gave her a long inspection. His slow, heated perusal started at her shoes and stopped on her breasts. Her nipples pressed against the soft material. His nostrils flared before he met her gaze. Her stomach did a little flip at the note of desire in his eyes. The man was potent in small ways. It was a wonder she hadn’t already jumped him.

“Nice dress,” he simply said.

The allure to have anything had kept on swaying her, and she’d picked a different blue one. It flirted with her knees. The sheer fabric on the top covered her arms and would keep her warm. The silver Jimmy Choos matched the outfit perfectly. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Not the way we say it. I’ll let you off the hook since I plan to ruin your lipstick later.”

She huffed at the possessive statement. “You—”

“Kitten, we have some ground rules to go over first.”

She glared at him over the nickname and the way he used it to knock her off her stride. “Ground rules?”

The laugh in his eyes disappeared. “Not a word to the press. They can snap our pictures all they want, but we don’t talk to them.”

She tilted her head sideways, taking in his calm, intense demeanor. This was news. He’d told her his situation was complicated. “Why would—how big is rugby?”

His mouth flattened into a thin line. “I should kick you out of my house for asking that.”

“So big enough you want to throttle me. Okay.” Holy crap. Her palms dampened. He had enough riches and fame to have press problems. What had she agreed to? “What else?”

His jaw had gone tight, deepening his frown lines. “Don’t answer any questions about me to anyone, and that includes family.”

He’d just put some serious conditions on their fun adventure. Not unreasonable but interesting. So her first impression of him had been correct. That interaction happened because he’d wanted it to. He also wouldn’t have any problems cutting her out of his life if she couldn’t follow these simple rules.

She bit her bottom lip, unsure of her next step. This was—she didn’t go for athletes or even celebrities. Normally, blue-collar, laid-back men revved her engine. Those men lived stable lives. Exactly what she liked in her lovers.