Absolute Zero (9 page)

She turned into the parking lot of the field and back to the main road right after her stomach decided to give a loud growl.

She would stop back in town and eat at Connelly’s. The wine list she viewed last night while waiting the few moments for her meal looked extensive and very intriguing. Plus, the place was not nearly as packed as it was the night before she noticed when she drove past earlier. She would shop tomorrow.

Deep breath.

She would steel her nerves, calm her fear with a glass of wine and sit like a ‘normal’ person with the rest of the normal people and she would function just fine. She would read a book on her smart phone and shut the rest of the noise out, keep her head down and people would leave her be. She could do this. It was just
dinner
after all. And besides, what was worse, dealing with the public or the troll that just invaded her house?

Public it is…

*****

Haggis?

What restaurant in their right mind would put Haggis as their special for the night?

She perused the chalkboard quickly stepping toward the front door then stopping to look at it again. It wasn’t a misprint or poor handwriting, it truly said
Haggis
.

Needless to say, she would
not
be trying the special tonight.

“Hello! Back again?” The bartender stated with a broad smile as she removed her coat and placed it on the back of the stool moments later.

She seated herself and moved the stool closer to the bar, choosing the furthest location away from a few other patrons that were seated on the far side. As it was, the place was not nearly as jammed as it was the night before. Maybe the Haggis scared them away. Maybe Tuesday night wasn’t a big dinner out kind of night? It didn’t matter. It was a most welcome sight when she wandered in.

“What can I get you?” she heard the bartender ask as she grabbed the leather bound wine menu and read down the list of whites.

The Pouilly Fuissé looked incredibly appealing but the price tag for one glass did not. She was supposed to be budgeting her money carefully and yet here she was, spending triple the amount for a meal she could have easily made herself.

“I’ll have a glass of the Riesling and could you go ahead and order me the Chicken Marsala?” she asked, propping the menu back on the bar. She wouldn’t peruse the menu. She had exactly one hour and fifteen minutes to kill. She could sit by herself in a public place for a little over an hour. It wouldn’t kill her.

The door sounded with a soft ping before closing and her eyes shifted toward it involuntarily.

A small tremor coursed through her at the sight before she focused her gaze on the bar surface.

Correction: it
might
kill her.

It was fate. It had to be.

The dark blue Porsche parked on the street proclaimed her presence and there she was; seated by herself at the bar, as far removed from the rest of the patrons as possible, looking fresh and cute and…check that, looking slightly disgruntled with scrunched brows and eyes downcast.

Obviously she saw him. Obviously she was
not
pleased.

“Hello. Mind if I join you?” he asked as he pulled out the stool next to her.

“Actually…”

“Great,” he cut her off as he shrugged out of his coat and placed it on the back of the stool. Her mouth opened and closed before her eyes attached to the bar surface once again. Whatever response she might have had was lost.

“Mr. McClellan, welcome back! Don’t even bother ordering. Doug bought something just for you,” the young bartender stated with an enthusiastic smile before grabbing a bottle from under the bar. “Macallan 21,” he added as he opened the bottle and grabbed a glass.

Anne’s gaze shifted to the bartender as he poured a rather decent amount from the bottle and set it in front of her unwelcome companion. Her glass of wine appeared on the bar in front of her soon after and she stared at it for a moment.

“Do you drink Scotch?” she heard next to her as his hand reached for and grabbed the glass. His hand was large, strong, certainly not the hand of a pampered millionaire, maybe billionaire – who knew? Her eyes fastened on the wine once again.

“You going to drink that or stare at it all night?” she heard his amused tone a few moments later before a slight grimace appeared on her face.

“Would you like to try this? It’s 21-year-old Scotch. Very smooth. I’ll get you a glass…” he added.

“No. No…I’m fine,” she answered quickly before she grabbed the delicate stem of the wine glass and attempted to raise it to her lips without sloshing its’ contents everywhere. He was so close; his arm actually brushed hers when he placed his own glass back down. Her body immediately shifted ever so slightly to the left.

She took a rather large swallow before placing the glass on the bar as gently as possible.

“Am I crowding you, Anne?” his voice was lower, softer, close to her ear causing her body to automatically shift a bit more to the left. If she moved any more, she would be flat on her ass, she realized. It wasn’t so much uncomfortable as it was
odd
. It felt incredibly strange that instead of her normal response of constricted lungs, her body was actually assaulted by zapping nerves and a fluttering stomach.

“Yes. Actually you are,” she whispered as she kept her eyes trained ahead of her.

“Sorry about that. You’re such an odd bird, Anne. It’s like I can’t help doing that. Your reaction is priceless,” his soft brogue was probably intoxicating to most women. As it was, she wasn’t most women and his words were somewhat rude if she cared to analyze them any further. She took another sip of wine to stop the retort that formed in her brain.

If he wanted a priceless reaction, he wasn’t going to get one.

As if sensing her growing discomfort, he backed away yet she could still feel his eyes on her.

“So Anne, how do you like it here so far? How’s the job? Where are you staying?” his tone was louder, less intimate, but he asked the questions in rapid succession as her mind sped to catch up.

“It’s fine. Job’s fine. In a house,” she answered dully.

“Which house?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“Which house? Did you rent a house, buy a house or did they put you up in the company house?”

Why does he care?
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Are you always so…personal with your employees?” she blurted before clamping her mouth shut.

That caused a small laugh to erupt next to her.

“Personal?” he finally uttered.

“Intrusive? Is that a better word?” she muttered with her eyes still attached firmly to the swirled surface of the stainless steel bar top.

“Oh, so sorry, Anne. I didn’t realize these
probing
questions were so intrusive. It’s called small talk. The proper reaction is a polite answer. But then again, I don’t really expect a polite answer out of you. Of course, this is what makes you so damn compelling to me. You have the sweetest face and this tiny size and you look so demure and inviting and then you open your mouth and it’s like a thousand razor blades slicing through the air.”

His words caused her eyes to inadvertently snap to his. The stare he graced her with was so intense; it almost took her breath away. Almost.

“So…if I was nice…you’d leave me alone?” she asked and immediately regretted the words. They sounded stupid to her own ears.

“You could try,” he whispered with his eyes still firmly attached to hers. Amazing how the background noise sort of disappeared as she found herself completely immersed under his spell - a very unwelcome spell and something she hadn’t quite experienced before.

She cleared her throat before backing away and blinking. “Hmmm. Ok,” she pondered out loud before flashing him a smile.

“What’s that?” he asked as he placed his elbow on the bar and cradled the side of his head on his hand as he continued to watch her.

“That’s me being nice,” she stated through smiling lips and bright eyes. “So, Mr. McClellan, you’re from Scotland. That’s very nice and you own the company and that’s just great. Where do you stay? Do you have a house here in the States? How long do you plan on being here? What’s your favorite color?”

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked with a clearly amused expression on his face. “That’s the best you’ve got? Do you really care?”

“No,” she answered without a thought.

“Shocking,” he stated quickly. “That was strange. I think I like you better as a surly curmudgeon. You can drop the act.”

“Why? You’re so
fascinating
. I just
have
to know more about you,” she mimicked his lean on the bar surface, her eyes gazing up at him in mock interest. Something was there. Like a small spark to her subconscious. This was almost…fun. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the fact that his eyes held the promise of something much more than just a superficial conversation. His gaze was pointed and the effect was warming her considerably.

Completely unwelcome. Especially considering the fact that he
owned
the company she was working for. This wasn’t a red flag, more like a red
tarp
hanging over their heads.

“Right. Anne? I appreciate the effort, truly I do. You can go back to being…”

“Mr. McClellan?” the bartender’s voice interrupted him but Ian’s eyes remained on hers. “Doug wants to show you the kitchen,” he heard next to him but he was having difficulty looking anywhere but at the oddly beautiful colored eyes in front of him.

“Doug wants to show me the kitchen,” he stated in a low voice. “Come with me, let’s go see Doug’s kitchen.”

“Who is Doug and why would I want to see his kitchen?” she asked before breaking the eye contact and grabbing her glass for a sip of liquid courage.

“Doug is the owner and the kitchen’s been renovated. Come on,” he softly prodded. His hand automatically lifted and gently grasped her elbow causing a small jerk of her arm before she eased it out of his grasp.

“I’m fine. Go look at Doug’s kitchen,” she stated as her other hand unconsciously touched the elbow he just released. It felt burned from the contact and of course, to her rational mind, that was ridiculous.

He watched her profile for a moment before pushing the stool back. Her hand immediately touched the elbow he just released.
Curious.
She was unconsciously making herself all the more intriguing with her strange behavior. “All right then,” he stated. “I’ll be right back.” He leaned in toward her. “Don’t run off,” his quiet voice commanded and the look that accompanied it caused something to stir within her.

He turned and walked through the restaurant toward the back, all the while her eyes never strayed from his form. He was dressed in his work attire of dark dress pants and a crisp white shirt that was fitted perfectly to broad shoulders and a tapered waist. It was hard not to imagine that the body beneath the clothes was probably exceptional. Of course, thinking such things was completely inappropriate and not to mention, slightly disturbing to her subconscious.

He walked with such an air of confidence, stopping once to acknowledge a greeting from a distinguished looking middle aged couple on the other side of the bar. His head turned and his eyes caught hers from across the room before a small knowing smile played on his lips. She immediately focused her attention on the wine in front of her.

The door pinged softly in the background as she continued to stare at the light golden liquid shining within the confines of the delicate glass. Her eyes slowly traveled to where he was standing only a split second before as if there was something tugging them against their will. He was already continuing his trek to the back of the restaurant as she continued her study. He made an abrupt turn and disappeared from her view.

“Hi there. Is this seat taken?” she heard a male voice next to her causing her eyes to scan at least eight other empty stools in the general vicinity. He was obviously speaking to her as she was the only person near the front side of the rather narrow restaurant.

Nerves crackled, maybe remnants of her previous encounter, she thought, but no.  These nerves were not of the fluttery stomach kind, more of the apprehensive brain buzzing kind. Her space was being invaded yet again. A hand was now pulling the stool out from the area on the side opposite of the one McClellan had just vacated.
Wouldn’t this be cozy?
She thought as her mind quickly realized that when he came back she would then be flanked on both sides.

She needed to leave.

“So, you like Connelly’s too, huh? Are you a local? I’m here on business. Nice town,” she heard next to her. “Oh! I’m Justin, And you are…?”

Leaving
.

“Anne,” she stated instead. Her eyes snapped to the bartender as he poured a drink and passed it to an older man seated on the far side of the bar.

“Anne. Nice to meet you Anne. Are you here alone?”
Lovely, inappropriate, somewhat creepy question,
she thought as a slight grimace overtook her features. She kept her eyes locked on the bartender to hopefully get his attention.

No. No my boyfriend is meeting me here. He just got out of prison today. He will kill you if he sees you sitting next to me.  I’m sorry, he’s got a bit of jealous streak, you see…

“Umm…Oh hey!” her eyes brightened as the bartender must have taken her cue and wandered over to her.

“Another wine?”

“No! Just the check,” she stated before grabbing her purse and rooting through it to find her wallet.

“The check? But your dinner is almost ready…” he trailed off; his expression was somewhat confused on his boyish face.

“Can I get it to go? I ah…forgot I have something I need to do…” she stammered.

“Don’t leave on my account!” Justin quipped jovially.

The bartender continued to look at her; he was clearly dumbfounded by this new development. “Are you…sure? But…”

“Yes,” she interrupted him, “Yes, I’m sure. I really need to get going,” she placed her debit card in front of her. Her eyes darted to the rear of the restaurant hoping McClellan wouldn’t appear and ruin her sudden plan.

“Well, all right. I can do that, I guess,” he added as he grabbed for the card. He picked it up but placed it on the counter next to the cash register before continuing toward the end of the bar, clearing the other side and walking toward the kitchen.

That was dumb.

He was going to tell the chef to put her food into a take-out container and of course, McClellan was back there. Her debit card was being held hostage and the man next to her just said something else.

What did he say?
Her brain was buzzing too loudly to hear him. Maybe she had cash? She could put the cash on the bar, leave the card, come back for it tomorrow and leave before the food arrived. How strange would that look?

Who cared?

This was a disaster. She had a twenty dollar bill in her wallet. That was it - one lonely twenty and not nearly enough to cover both the meal and the wine.

Maybe I can write an IOU?

Maybe I can check myself into a mental ward?

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips.

“Are you OK?” she heard her unwanted companion ask.

“No,” she stated softly. “Yes,” she amended quickly, “Yes, I’m fine. I just really need to get going. I…” Her eyes immediately focused on what she assumed was the entrance to the kitchen as a thoroughly pissed off looking Ian McClellan turned the corner and walked with purpose toward her.
This may be why people hide from him
, she thought as she took in his displeased expression. Tension seemed to radiate from his form as their eyes held. As soon as he was in speaking distance, his expression changed in the blink of an eye.