The Great Scot (13 page)

He had no clue what to make of a woman like Erin. Had no idea what the rule book said, much less the stakes involved. She didn't wield sexuality like a tool. She didn't wield it at all. He couldn't imagine it had ever occurred to her that she even had that particular weapon in her arsenal. She was a woman entirely without artifice. Crafty and canny, yes, but also honest and direct about her intentions, her wants, her desires. With Erin there were no rules other than a call for forthrightness.

And he wanted her so badly he could taste it.

“Oh,” she gasped, stopping abruptly at a turn in the path. “Wow.”

Dylan stepped up behind her, knowing the exact scene she was gazing upon. Just beyond the turn, the path widened into a clearing that extended all the way to the large pool at the base of the falls. From this side, you could wade directly into the water and swim across the pool to the immense flat rock that sat squarely in the middle of the opposite side, tucked into the base of a sheer mountain wall. Or you could walk a short way downstream, and cross on foot where a heavy rock bed provided a natural bridge to the other side. The trees hid the view up to the top of the falls and Erin walked to the edge of the pool so she could take in as much as she could.

“It's beautiful. Powerful,” she added, having to raise her voice a little to be heard over the thundering roar. “Like a place out of time, totally untouched.”

He stopped next to her. “It's no' well known, only locals know of it.” He pointed to the right of the pool. “That trail leads up to the top of the falls. It's not a difficult climb, takes about half an hour. The view from the top is truly spectacular. If you like the site, you might consider—”

“It's perfect,” she said, and he could hear the excitement in her tone, even as he watched her expression change to that determined, all-business one he was coming to know well.

She'd already switched gears back into professional mode. He should be thankful. Relieved. Whatever it was she provoked in him was probably better left unexplored. But that didn't keep him from watching her every move as she set out to explore the immediate area. He caught up with her as she started across the rock bed. Without waiting to be asked, he reached for her elbow and braced her as she took small steps, balancing from one rock to the next. Other than a quick glance in his direction, she said nothing. But she didn't turn down the offer of assistance, either.

Such a pathetic sod
, he thought, so happy to have any continued contact with her at all. Clear proof how conflicted he was over what to do about her.

Erin paused just before reaching the other side, but before Dylan could adjust his footing, she made a leap for the bank, jerking him completely off balance when he didn't release her elbow in time.

“Sorry!” she called out as he swore and went splashing into the water.

Fortunately he kept his balance and didn't completely humiliate himself, but his shoes and the legs of his pants were soaked clear through.

“I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were holding on so tightly.”

He sloshed out of the water, up onto the bank next to her. “Not a problem.” He glanced at her. “I'm getting used to it.”

“Hey, I didn't lose my balance this time. I totally stuck my landing.” At his lifted brow, she shook her head. “I take it you don't watch much in the way of gymnastics.”

“Can't say that I do.”

She smiled and held out her hand. “Come on, we'll go sit on that rock and you can dry out a little.” He looked from her hand, to her, and got a raised eyebrow in response. “I didn't hesitate when you offered.”

“Yes, you did.”

Her lips quirked. “True. But for completely different reasons.”

“None of which included being afraid for your safety.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that. In fact—”

He took her hand and tugged her forward, catching her by surprise, but stepping forward just in time to take the brunt of the impact of her body against his, keeping her from stumbling into the water. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her against him. “You're in no danger with me,” he said, looking down into her eyes.

“If you believe that, you sorely underestimate your impact on the fairer sex.”

The corners of his mouth kicked up a little. “Really?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but just as he started to lower his head, she pushed free and strode ahead of him, back toward the falls, and the flat rock.

He followed, grinning like a loon, suddenly completely unconcerned with his water-filled shoes and sodden pant legs.

She clambered up onto the rock with more fortitude than grace and scooted across until she was facing the falls, her feet dangling from the other side. He hoisted himself up after her, and slid across until he was in the middle, before unlacing his work boots.

“It is truly a gorgeous spot. You can almost see the top from this side.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I really am sorry about getting you wet.”

He braced himself and stuck one foot in her direction. “A wee tug if you don't mind.”

She shot him a dry look. “And send me tumbling off into the water?”

He gave her his best, Who? Me? look, then waggled his foot. “Give a chap a hand, will you?”

She scrambled to her knees and took hold of his boot, taking no chances and wiggling it free rather than yanking at it. Once she'd gotten that one off, he stuck out the other one, earning another look, but she went at it with the same determination she did everything else.

“Thank you,” he said, once she'd freed him of the second one. He peeled off his socks and spread everything out off to the side where the direct summer sun was beaming through the trees.

“Least I could do,” she said, then returned to her spot, admiring the falls and the view.

True
, he thought with an inward sigh, given he'd already imagined her doing quite a few other things on this very rock. He shook those images free and rolled up his pant legs, before sliding next to her, letting his feet dangle next to hers. She didn't look at him, but continued her study of the area. She didn't scoot away either.

“So,” he said, at length, suddenly feeling a wee bit like a naff lad on his first real date. “Do you think this will suit the needs of your Prince Charming?”

“It's not his needs I'm concerned about.”

And just like that a certain part of his anatomy stood up and saluted. “Oh?” he managed to choke out, and casually shift a little on the rock to find a bit of comfort…and hide his reaction from view. Naff lad, indeed.

She sent him a sideways glance. “I'm fairly certain he'll be so happy with some alone time away from the tension in the house, that he won't care much where he is. Besides, who wouldn't love spending an afternoon here? A romantic picnic, followed by a swim under the falls?”

He held her gaze and the silence grew between them as awareness sprang to life again in her eyes. “Would that appeal to you, then? Are you a romantic?”

“Given what I do for a living, that seems rather obvious.” She'd said it easily enough, but there was the telltale shifting of her gaze, away from his and back to the falls.

He'd lay odds she wasn't really seeing anything at the moment. “No' so obvious, I don't think.”

There were a few moments of silence, then she said, “Do I come across otherwise? Like someone who doesn't appreciate the romance in life?”

“I didna say that.”

She looked directly at him. And he had to fight not to smile. Even when she was put in an uncomfortable situation, she couldn't hide from it for long. Direct confrontation was her style. “So, what are you saying then? I don't strike you as a romantic woman? Just because I don't polish my nails, or wear tight—”

He cut her off with a kiss. To his surprise, she let him. Which was likely why he gentled it almost immediately. For someone with a tart tongue, she tasted remarkably sweet. Like warm morning pastries. Her kisses were the only thing about her that weren't always determined and bold. The gentler he was, the more tentative she became, almost too willing to let him lead. It both aroused him and made him want to do something, anything, to get her to unleash the real Erin here, too.

When he lifted his head, they both had to take a moment or two to gather themselves. He spoke first. “I never said I didn't think you were romantic. I'm surprised you didna accuse me of it. I thought you might laugh when I brought you here.”

“Laugh? Why? It's perfect.”

“Given our conversations, given what you know of me, I'd have imagined you didn't think I had it in me. To know of such a place, much less consider it a romantic spot.”

She cocked her head slightly. “I don't know. You've struck me from the beginning as someone who is passionate about what he believes in, what he wants. You don't shy from commitment, or giving your all. Does that make you a romantic, no. But…” She trailed off, dipped her chin and broke eye contact.

He tipped it back up again. “But, what?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “You'll think I'm as big a sap as the women who come on our show looking for love.”

“So?”

She playfully swatted at him.

He smiled. “There's nothing wrong with being a wee bit sappy now and again.”

“Well, you don't strike me as the sort to be sappy, or appreciate it in others. But a man who is passionate about anything in his life, is probably, at least at heart, a man who understands the kind of passion I'm talking about, even if he's not the living embodiment of it.”

Dylan knew exactly what she meant, and knew that once again, she'd seen something inside him most people didn't. But there was something else in her tone, something…personal. “Aye, I'll agree with ye.” He caressed the length of her jaw with his fingertips. “But I'm no'so sure if you're talking about me…or yourself.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Good point.”

His smile was slow, easy. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so relaxed, so at peace. “I've been known to make one, once in a great while.”

Her smile was equally slow, equally easy. “Have you now?”

He slid his hand around the back of her neck, and tugged her closer, angling his body to press her back until she was lying on the rock beneath him.

“Dylan—”

“Shh.”

“We shouldn't—I don't have time to—”

“Just another minute or two,” he said quietly. “After all, reality will intrude soon enough, and this moment will pass. Don't we deserve a peek at the fantasy every once in a while, too?” He kissed the side of her neck, then the soft spot just beside her ear, then gently bit her jaw, making her gasp and her hips shift beneath his. It was a dangerous game he played, as his body continued its urgent insistence to go farther.

But entirely worth the risk when she reached for him and pulled his mouth down to hers.

“Y
es, Tommy. No, no I didn't forget about the phone conference at three.” Which was a total lie. She'd been so wrapped up in Dylan, she'd completely lost track of time. “Yes, I know, Daisy is helping me with site plans. I know it's not your responsibility to talk to—yes, I'll call her, too, just as soon as—” Erin broke off, scowled at her phone, and continued to listen in barely sustained silence, then her mouth dropped open. “They're coming in a day early? But we're not—yes, I know, I know. Yes, I've got that…situation under control.” She darted a quick glance at Dylan. Another lie. Probably. He hadn't said a word about his issues with the workers at Glenshire, nor had she. But she was certain that was only a matter of time. “I'm almost there, five minutes.”

Dylan already had the car flying along, hugging the tight mountain curves, his attention exclusively on the road. Erin had much preferred the way things were about a half hour ago, when his attentions had been exclusively focused on her.

“I'm sorry,” she said to him as she pocketed her cell phone when Tommy finally finished his latest rant. He'd called twice already, barking instructions and demanding information. It was a miracle they'd gone as long as they had without interruption. It was even more of a miracle that she'd let herself get so far off track. Her schedule was beyond tight and yet there she was, cavorting on a rock beside a waterfall…

Sure, she could tell herself she deserved some personal time now and again, and if Tommy hadn't called when he did, who knew what she'd be doing right now? Except that, whatever it was, she imagined it would have involved a lot less clothing. Dammit. “I wouldn't be surprised if we hear from him again before we get back.”

“Don't worry about it.”

She glanced Dylan's way, then back to the road ahead. He hadn't seemed particularly perturbed by the abrupt end to their impromptu interlude. In fact, it was hard to tell by the set expression on his face what he was thinking. Erin sighed in silence. As fantasy date sites went, Dylan had picked a winner. And thank God she had that much to give Tommy. The problem for Erin, however, was that, as a fantasy date, Dylan had pretty much been a winner, too. So much so, she'd actually let herself believe she could have the fantasy, at least for a few blissful hours. When she damn well knew she had no business thinking about anything but business.

Dylan hadn't said three words to her since they'd left the falls and climbed back in the Jag. Possibly because she'd spent the bulk of that time with her phone stuck to her ear. But possibly he'd also realized, as she had, that it was just as well things hadn't gone any further than that last kiss.

Sure, they were both consenting adults, but getting intimately involved with a client was never a good idea, and where Dylan Chisholm was concerned, most definitely asking for trouble. The things he did to her with hardly more than a smoldering glance were downright illicit and should be illegal. Probably were in a few states back home. He made her want to be reckless and to act with complete and total abandon. Which she'd been well on her way to doing before her cell had decided to play chaperone. And with her schedule? That was a surefire way to end up on the unemployment line.

She told herself their little interval this afternoon was a good thing. A learning experience. She'd been mooning after Dylan to some degree since she'd first laid eyes on him. She'd known even then the infatuation was silly and foolish, even if her attraction hadn't turned out to be wholly one-sided. A fact that still boggled her, but then the man had been holed up in a tumble down manor house in the middle of nowhere for almost two years. Probably anybody new—meaning anyone he hadn't grown up with—would have sparked his flame.

Didn't matter. Today had been proof positive that she couldn't handle anything close to hot sex on a flat rock while simultaneously trying to do her job. She'd blown both the conference call with the network and her meeting with Daisy. Completely out of character for her. And Dylan had been a major distraction even before he'd kissed her. If she'd gotten naked with him? Her mental lecture paused for a brief moment of highly visualized fantasy before she shut it down. Reluctantly. No. No flinging, highland or otherwise. She was definitely not cut out for it.

It was all fine to say she wasn't going to get involved with Dylan because he was a client, but the truth was more problematic than that. She'd known him such a short time, but realized after their talk today during the car ride that she already risked emotional involvement. Yes, Dylan drove her crazy, but she was undeniably intrigued by him. The more she got to know, the more she wanted to know. And that curiosity would only lead her on a path to total job destruction.

The sweaty, highly detailed, exceedingly erotic dreams she had of him every night proved she was already more than just a little invested. And after today? She had to press her knees together against the renewed ache that sprang to life between them. God only knew what lay in store for her when she finally closed her eyes tonight.

But that was between her and her decidedly sex-addicted subconscious. No one had to know about those dreams but her. Maybe she should be thankful for them. After all, they would have to fill the void she couldn't let Dylan fill for real. That she couldn't even let him dare try to fill.

Better for all involved that she'd learned her lesson now, before anybody ended up getting hurt. Namely her. While Dylan was hardly a player, she doubted he was looking for emotional involvement of any kind at the moment. They'd shared a few laughs, a few kisses. Now they'd go back to dealing with real world issues and put this firmly where it belonged. In the realm of a fantasy fairy tale that would never be told.

No harm, no foul.

She leaned back against the head rest. Who was she kidding? Her job required her to spend most of her waking hours thinking about fantasy fairy tales. Would it have killed the gods of fate to let her have just a wee bit of hot Scot sex? Hmm? She would have gotten over it. And Dylan. Eventually.

“Is there a problem?”

His sudden question startled her. “I'm sorry, what?”

“You've sighed quite heavily a few times and I was just wondering if everything was all right.”

“No, no—I mean yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking about…work.” She sat up straighter and risked a brief glance at him. She caught him doing the same with her, but before she could read anything in his eyes, he turned his attention back to the road.

“Is there a problem with the production? You said something to your boss about something happening a day early?”

“Oh. That.” Of course he wasn't thinking about her, or worried about her. He was thinking about Glenshire and the precious production crew presently nailing and hammering away at four hundred years of his family heritage. She wasn't going to compete with that. What happened back there by the falls had been a momentary blip out of time for him, too. An aberration caused by long hours, too much stress, and…and…opportunity. It wasn't like it was going to happen again.

“Aye, that,” he echoed.

“It seems the chartered flight bringing the women from London to Edinburgh, flew them all the way to the private strip we're using in Inverness.”

“So?”

“So, we had reservations for them and their handlers in Edinburgh for another few days, until filming started. We're not ready to move them into—”

“My house.” His jaw was definitely tighter now. His mind was definitely not on getting her naked any longer.

“Yes.” She sighed with regret, but forced herself to move past it. “And the hotel in Glenbuie is full with production staff.”

“What difference does it make where you put them?”

“Secrecy is key. We don't unveil the names of the contestants until just before the show actually airs. And that's not for four months.”

He glanced at her. “Four months? But you said—”

She smiled at him. “Now, don't get your kilt in a knot. Production is eight weeks. But there is a long post-production time when we actually go through all the hundreds of hours of film and put the show together. We have to decide on the story arcs for each contestant, how much air time to give them, who will fill what role—”

“What do you mean, ‘role'? I thought this was unscripted.”

“It is. But when you put a group of women under one roof, different personalities surface.”

“Such as?”

“Well, there are usually types, you know, like the den mother, the goody-two-shoes, the wild child, the girl next door, the bad girl, the repressed virgin, the girl with her biological clock ticking, the villain—”

“You mean the bitch.”

“Pretty much.”

He shook his head. “I imagine you putting a dozen women under one roof competing for the attention of one poor sod and they'll all have their try at that role at one point or another.”

“Well…” He shot her a droll look and she laughingly conceded. “Maybe you have a point.”

“I still say it's an unnatural way to find a mate, but it's no' of my concern. What is of my concern is how your men are handling some of the installation work—”

He was just pulling into the courtyard in the rear of Glenshire as he launched into that discussion, which was cut mercifully short when the Jag was immediately swarmed with crewmen and production assistants, all vying for Erin's attention, talking over each other. She raised her hand, and when that didn't work, she let out a shrill whistle. “Hold up, will you? Let me get out of the car, then I'll deal with you one at a time.”

She started to open the door when Dylan put his hand on her arm. “Erin.”

She looked back at him. “I'm sorry, but things look crazy and—”

“And you'll need to squeeze me into your busy schedule sometime today.” He said it in a flat tone that brooked no argument, but which definitely got the attention of several of the assistants standing closest to her door.

She immediately pasted on a professional smile. “Mr. Chisholm, I—”

“I believe I fulfilled some of your needs today,” he said, a very wicked gleam leaping to his eyes, clearly not willing to accept her attempt at pasting a professional, business-like face on their outing. “Now I believe it's time you address some of mine.”

He topped that off with a knowing grin. Much to the rabid delight, she was sure, of the same gossip-loving staffers. Ruddy bastard. Who'd have thought he had it in him? It would race through the entire staff in less than the time it took her to cross the courtyard. In fact, she turned and caught two staffers tapping away on their BlackBerrys. A direct glare had them both pausing. “Could one of you find Tommy for me?” she asked tightly. “I need to see him right away.”

Without waiting, she turned back to Dylan, tight-jawed smile firmly in place, though what he might have seen in her eyes, she wasn't entirely sure. That smile of his…well, having become only recently acquainted with it, she wasn't exactly immune to it just yet.

“This evening,” he reiterated, before she could say anything. “However late. I'm a night owl.”

It was a losing battle to continue this debate here and now. “I'll see what I can do.”

He drew his hand down her arm. “See that you do.”

She was doing fine until his fingers brushed her skin like that. She shivered. Her throat worked, but her brain didn't. “I—”

“Erin?” Despite his less than dominant stature, Tommy's strident bellow managed to rise above the collective courtyard noise.

Jerked out of her descent into the haze of Dylan lust, she didn't waste any more time and immediately got out of the car, not caring if he saw her scrambling retreat as cowardly. She'd deal with him later. Chances were he just wanted to talk about his concerns with the crew, which she knew he wasn't going to simply forget about anyway. He'd just been playing with her out there because…well, because he could. Probably. Most likely. What other reason could he have for willingly and knowingly putting her job in jeopardy by even suggesting there was anything else between them other than a purely business relationship?

What, indeed
? her little voice whispered. How did he know he was jeopardizing her job? She hadn't exactly been in any big hurry to stop him out on that rock. If Tommy hadn't called—

Mercifully, it was Tommy who cut her thoughts short.

“Where in the hell have you been?”

He knew exactly where she'd been, so she didn't bother to reiterate. He'd already taken hold of her elbow anyway, and was bodily propelling her through the rapidly dispersing crowd, and toward the rear of the house. The last glimpse Erin had of Dylan was him trying to navigate the Jag toward the garage while a half dozen female production assistants all but draped themselves over his car.

A totally uncalled for stab of jealousy shot through her. “Shouldn't they be working,” she muttered, but Tommy was deep into dictator mode and wasn't paying attention to her.

“All twelve of them, MacGregor, tomorrow. Here.”