The Accidental Scot (6 page)

He took her hand, sat on the bed, and tugged until she was beside him. “And you watched over me.” He gazed at her as if he really liked what he saw. Perhaps he'd contracted that patient-grateful-to-caregiver syndrome.

Well, her sex-starved hormones didn't give a crank about some syndrome. Flames sizzled where he grasped her, causing tingles to zip up her arm. She gulped for air and stared at their linked hands.

Finally, she came to her senses and yanked her hand away. “As I said, 'twas
nothing
. Now, lie down.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. Either he was going to call her a liar or he was going to invite her into bed with him.

Before he could say anything, she added, “Miranda called.”

That chilled the mood.

He frowned.

“She's a dear, isn't she?” Pippa really wanted to ask about his relationship with his boss, but couldn't work up the nerve. What right did she have, anyway?

“What did she say?” Max said.

“She wanted to speak with you.” Pippa moved her cot to the far side of the room.

He rose. “I need to call her back.”

Pippa hurried over and blocked his path. “Finish yere tea first. Ye have to drink one more dose of the tincture.”

Halting, he screwed up his perfect face. “Seriously?”

She laid two hands on his shoulders, putting on the pressure, until he sat again on the bed. “Aye, now, take yere medicine like the big man that you are. And if you refuse, I'll sic Bethia and Deydie on you.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I know Bethia doesn't seem all that scary, but I assure you Deydie is.”

He smiled at her and swallowed his tea. Pippa handed him the goblet and he drank it as well. In a few minutes, his eyes drooped.

“Get further under yere covers.” She pulled them up and tucked him in as his eyes drifted shut.

He reached out and took her hand again. “Thank you.”

This time he let go and she was grateful.

Pippa had many skills, like sizing and designing control valves, but she had no idea how to squelch the stirrings the Yank caused deep inside her. She grabbed her briefcase and her coat, and headed home to check on her da and get ready for work.

Outside, the wind picked up and twirled fresh snow around her. She stopped at Quilting Central to speak with Bethia.

She found the older woman inside, arranging miniature garland wreaths on the tables.

“How is our patient?” Bethia asked.

Pippa brushed snowflakes from her sleeves. “Max thinks he's ready to take on the world.”

Bethia
tsk
ed. “Did you tell him I said to take it easy?”

“Aye. He's back to sleep. I thought it safe to go to the factory for a bit.”

Bethia nodded. “Not for too long, though. I want ye to keep an eye on him. Tomorrow he can sit with the McDonnell for his exercise. For today, though, you need to make sure the Yank stays in bed.”

Pippa grinned. “Since when do you advise a single woman to keep a man in bed?”

Bethia blushed, but Deydie, who had clearly overheard, clomped over, shaking a finger at Pippa. “Ye better keep yere panties on, missy. I'm afraid
that
one
could smooth talk a porcupine out of her quills.”

Pippa forced a hearty laugh. “Believe me. He has absolutely no effect on me or my undergarments. My panties are quite safe.”

Deydie's eyes narrowed and she scoffed. “Ye're a big liar.”

Pippa swiveled toward the door before her red face gave her away. “I better get home to Da.”

“Don't forget,” Bethia called. “Keep Mr. McKinley in bed.”

As Pippa walked into the cold, her belly warmed. Wouldn't she just love keeping Max in bed! It'd been such a long time.

But it was a risk she couldn't take. She needed to remember he wasn't there to be her boyfriend or to be the next man to see her naked. Max McKinley was in Gandiegow for one reason only: her Da's patents, and maybe to swindle the townsfolk out of their livelihood.

*   *   *

Max roused several times during the day just as someone was leaving. Or at least he thought so. He never saw anyone but a plate of dry toast would appear, or fresh tea, or more hot chicken stew. The fourth time he woke up, it was dark out, and Pippa was sitting in her chair with a pencil behind her ear, examining ledgers.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Hey.” It felt like he'd swallowed concrete dust. “How was work today?”

She glanced up. “Short.”

He pushed himself to a sitting position. “I'm sorry . . . was your day short because of me?”

“Don't fash yereself.” She held up the reports. “I brought work with me.”

The place between her eyebrows was pulled together. Apparently, whatever she'd found in those ledgers hadn't been to her liking.

“You know,” he said, trying to lighten her up, “they make accounting software for that.”

She wadded a piece of paper. For a second, he wondered if she might pelt him with it. Instead she tossed it into the wastebasket. “Being cheeky with me won't get you anywhere.”

“Boy, that's a shame.” He let his eyes freely roam over the curves of her snug blue sweater, trying to imagine what was going on underneath.
Yes, I'm definitely feeling better.

She kept her eyes glued to the page, though her cheeks colored. “Going over things by hand helps me process the information.”

Before he could goad her more, there was a knock,
and the door opened. Amy, the store clerk, was holding a tray filled with sliced meat, broth, and bread. “Pippa? Yere dinner.” She grinned at both of them, before placing the meal on the side table.

“It smells good.” A hell of a lot better than Bethia's foul tinctures.

Pippa handed him the mug of steaming broth and took the plate with the sandwich fixings away from him.

“Only broth?”

She set the plate on her chair. “Ye're not well enough for this.”

Did he need to remind her that he'd eaten Deydie's stew?

Pippa walked Amy out. Two seconds later, insistent whispering wafted through the crack under the door. When Pippa returned, she had a duffel bag in hand.

She tossed it on the cot, appearing a little put out. “Looks like ye'll have me as a roommate for another night.”

He grinned at her, thinking to tease. “I guess I can suffer through.” But his thoughts twisted on him.
I want to hold your hand again. I want you watching over me, too.
The gravity of it slammed into his chest. Where had those feelings come from? He did want her there with him. And he shouldn't. He cleared his throat. “You don't have to stay. I'm fine. Really.”

“I've been given my orders.” She tore off a small piece of bread, frowning at the cot. “As I understand it, the pub is going to keep it to a low roar again for you tonight.”

“It's not necessary.” His illness had sent a small upheaval through the town and he felt lousy about it. He wanted to endear himself to the villagers and instead
he'd been nothing but a pain in the ass. “It's a good bunch of folks who live here, isn't it?”

She offered him a napkin from the tray. “Oh, it's no kindness. They just don't want to be responsible if you meet with an early grave.” She walked to the end of his bed, chewing on her lip.

He laughed in midsip. “Good grief, it's only the flu.”

She adjusted the quilt at his feet, not meeting his eyes. “It killed my mother.”

Her words were a battering ram to his chest. “God, Pippa, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Sometimes I can be an insensitive jerk.”

She shrugged. “It's okay. I never knew her. Da, though, still misses her a lot.”

Pain sat in her eyes. Max wondered if it had more to do with her father than her mother.

She gazed back at Max. Some other worry seemed to be lingering there. “Can I get you anything else?”

He grimaced at the clear liquid in his mug. “Man cannot live on broth alone.”

She shook her head, with a hint of a smile developing at the corner of her mouth. “Drama queen.”

“You want me to keep my strength up, don't you?”

She gave him half her sandwich. “Eat. It's getting late and I have an early morning.”

“Thanks.”

When they finished, she took the tray and dishes downstairs. She returned, but it was only to retrieve her duffel bag and head to the bathroom. Within a few minutes, she was back, wearing green plaid flannel pajamas with her hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Not a word,” she said when she caught him ogling her.

He didn't tease her because that down-home-girl thing she had going on was sexy as hell. He really couldn't stop staring.

“That color makes your eyes . . . stand out. Not that your eyes weren't already beautiful, it's . . .”

She blushed, glancing down at herself. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That's a shame. But your eyes are stunning.”

“Save your bull for the boardroom, Mr. McKinley. It's time for bed.” She turned out the light and lay down on her cot, clear on the other side of the room.

Though he'd been out of it last night, he'd liked having her near.

“You're too far away,” he said into the night. “Do you want me to help move your cot closer?”

She snorted. “Like you have the strength.”

He could think of several things he had the strength for. One of them was turning the light back on and gazing into her sea-blue eyes while he peeled her out of those pajamas. She was tall and sleek as a jaguar, but downright prickly when it came to him. He'd like to tame her with a kiss, and smooth out her ruffled edges with his hands.

The cot legs scraping the hardwood floor brought him out of his fantasy.

She flopped onto her cot. “Better?”

“Not quite.” He reached for her hand. It was warm, slender, and soft. Since it was dark, his thumb braved a caress to her palm.

“Enough,” she said huskily.

Damn!
What would it be like to have that voice whispering in his ear? All sorts of images flooded him. But he stilled his hand to stop torturing himself and her.

She could've easily unlatched her hand from his, but she held on to him, too. She seemed relaxed. She must like being near him as much as he liked being near her, which gratified the hell out of him.

But not all of his thoughts were as innocent as holding hands. He could think of a hundred different ways he'd like to hold on to Pippa, and they all involved her being naked.

God, it was going to be a long night!

*   *   *

The next morning when Pippa woke, she was startled to find she was being stared at. Max was lying on his side, gazing upon her face.

She should've been incensed—there was something so personal and vulnerable about being watched while she slept—but she was more embarrassed than mad.

“Morning,” he said.

“What's the time?”

“Seven, I think,” he answered.

She jumped out of bed. “Why'd you let me sleep in?”

“I've been enjoying the view.”

“Stop enjoying, and get yere arse up. I need to get ready for work, and I need to get you to my house. Bethia said ye're to keep my father company today.”

“But I feel well enough to go to NSV with you.”

“Nay, Bethia is calling the shots. Besides, I need to get some things done without worrying if ye'll collapse on the factory floor.”

“That's sweet,” he deadpanned. “What things?”

“I have a call at nine I can't miss.”

“Are you negotiating with other companies to partner with NSV?”

She didn't want to tip her hand, even if her da said they could trust Max.

“Don't worry over what I need to do.” It was her last chance to convince the bank that North Sea Valve was good for the quarter-million-pound loan they needed to bring their subsea shutoff valve to market. If approved, they wouldn't need help from MTech or anyone.

Max sprang from the bed. “Give me a minute to get ready.” He grabbed some things and blew out the door.

Pippa straightened his bed and propped her cot in the corner, thinking to return it to the basement later. She wasn't happy with the twinge of regret that shivered through her. She had no reason to continue to sleep beside the Yank. He was going to be fine, and she was being absurd. Things had already gotten too cozy between her and her adversary.
Holding hands, indeed!
She needed perspective—and perhaps some distance from Max McKinley.

It didn't take long before he returned, clean-shaven and showered. Another stray thought landed in her belly and spread south—
Will I ever get tired of looking at him?

“Are you ready to head out?” She glanced toward the door to keep her eyes from giving her away.

He bundled up and grabbed his messenger bag.

As they trekked to her house, she should've kept her eyes straight ahead, but instead she focused on Max, making sure the exercise wasn't too taxing on him. When they arrived, Max went to the parlor and she went upstairs to get ready for work.

She meant to keep Max McKinley from her mind . . . she really did. But while she was showering, her subconscious wandered nakedly into his capable arms. Being all relaxed and soaped up was a dangerous combination—all sorts of fantasies playing out in her mind. When she suddenly realized how crazy it was to be dreamy-eyed over MTech's deal closer, she quickly rinsed off and got out of there.

Back in the parlor, she showed great restraint by keeping her eyes averted from their guest as she settled him beside her father. She made sure her dad had the TV remote and a fresh carafe of tea.

Pippa shoved items in her bag as she spoke to them both. “Bethia will be by to check on ye and bring something special for lunch. I expect Freda to stop by, also.”

Max wrinkled up his face. “I hope my lunch isn't another of Bethia's smelly goblets. I do believe she drugged me.”