KiltTease (11 page)

She eased back with a frustrated sigh. “You’re going to make me late for work.”

He hadn’t let go of her collar. Didn’t want to either. This would be practice for when he had to let her go in a few weeks. He let his hand drop down to her pussy beneath the shirt. A reflex action to having a half-naked woman sitting on his cock. So was parting the slick folds to find her hard nub with his middle finger.

A purely masculine satisfaction filled him as her eyes glazed over. She arched her back, giving him better access. He slipped one then two fingers into her tight pussy. Her lips felt swollen and puckered from the night before.

“Quinton.” She bit her lip and groaned, tilting her head back.

“Don’t worry.” He kissed her neck while she squirmed in his lap, already clenching his fingers with the first signs of a climax. “Geoffrey will happily take you to Baird’s on his new moped so that you aren’t late for work.”

He didn’t stop the languid in-and-out stroke until her pussy squeezed hard around his fingers and she shuddered her way through an orgasm. He closed his mouth over hers to quiet the sounds of her release.

Since he wanted so much more than for her to come on his fingers, he had to force himself to slip from inside her. She trembled, trying to catch her breath. Kate only shook her head when she met his gaze a few minutes later.

Good. He’d returned the favor of fucking up her morning.

She placed a hand to his racing heart, her face flushed and her eyes dreamy. “Make it seem like the moped was your idea when you talk to him.”

“You’re very meddlesome.” He let his fingers wander up her back and stroked her spine. He had to keep touching her. “Is there anything else
you
need?”

The haze remained in her eyes, but she frowned at the question. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“I do something for you, and you immediately feel the need to return the favor.”

He lifted his brows in surprise at her astute observation. He returned the favor because she wasn’t asking for anything in return. He couldn’t trust it. Couldn’t believe that was real, no matter how much he tried to let that doubt go. “Because I’m fully aware of what I’ve asked of you.”

Those shadows rose up into her gaze. “It’s noth—I made a promise to my grams that I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life taking care of dying people. I’d go on a date. Flirt with someone who was my age, and not as an ego boost to some older man who was on his deathbed.”

And just like that his passion banked, and his heart ached for her. “When did she die?”

Her laugh sounded bitter. “Six months ago. Something else we have in common.”

“Aye.” That was the reason for her shadows. He’d seen them, had known of her loss, but hadn’t known the depth of her grief. “That’s when you left America to travel?”

She sucked in a steadying breath. “I only left a few months ago. I was just in a daze after she died. I knew she was leaving me, but I still didn’t know how it would feel to wake up in a world where she wasn’t there.”

A wave of old grief slammed into him at her words. “It was like that with my mum. I was old enough to know what was going on when her kidneys failed.”

She brushed her fingers down his cheek. “Douglass told me about her. I get the sense she was there for him when his wife left. She helped him with his boys.”

He’d never thought of that. His cousins’ mother had just up and left one day, never looking behind. His mother would have never done that, and her heart would have broken for Douglass’s family.

“Aye. She was a good woman. I wouldn’t doubt it.” He shook his head and shook off the old hurts. “We got sidetracked.”

Her smile was sad. “From sex or this conversation?”

He just wanted to pull her closer into him until there was nothing that could make her sad anymore. “Both.”

From her dark expression, sex was out of the picture. “The short story is we learned French and Spanish together. I planned out the itinerary for this trip, but she kept getting sicker. This trip is for her.” She swallowed, her eyes starting to water. “I’ve tried to do everything she had planned, which she would have tutted at. The whole point of the path is to stray from it. So…it wasn’t until you asked me to be your pretend girlfriend that I finally strayed. There is no way I can pay you back for that.” She lifted her chin, proud and stubborn. “Stop trying to do that with me. I mean it when I say it’s nothing.”

She dropped her gaze. “But I’ll still make you reimburse me if I’m late for work.”

She was being stubborn, aye, but his heart squeezed at her vulnerability. How could she be that way with him? She didn’t know him. Quinton could take advantage of it and her. For fuck sake, at the end of this pretend relationship, he’d walk away with millions of dollars and a foothold to make more. And what would Kate get?

Because of that and so much more, he didn’t want the tears he saw brimming in her eyes to fall. “You want reimbursement because you’re mercenary.”

“I have a budget.” Her tone went haughty.

He lifted her chin with his finger, suspecting what he’d see. Aye. The tears had escaped. He brushed them away, his throat tight. After hearing the full story, her one rule clicked into place. It’s not that she hated the nickname, Kitten. Hearing it just hurt too much. With Kate, what you saw was what you got. If she made you a promise, she’d keep it.

I can trust her
, that smarter inner voice whispered. Could he, really?

He patted her arse. “Get on. I know how my uncle can be. Even though he doesn’t want you there to take care of him, he’ll bitch about you being late.”

After she rose, Kate hesitated and then kissed his cheek. “See you tonight at the stag party?”

“Aye.” After she left, he had to scrub a hand over his face. He would have wallowed if not for the “sir” that interrupted him.

Glancing up into Geoffrey’s eager face, he had to laugh. “Kate told you I wanted to speak to you, didn’t she?” Quinton asked.

The young man’s face reddened. “You didn’t need me, sir?”

She was so fucking meddlesome. He should have been annoyed. Maybe later he would be since she was uprooting his life, leaving her mark on everything. Yet all he could remember was how she cried. And her grief kept digging at him. His mum, those were old, remembered wounds. Kate’s were fresh.

So he stood with a soft sigh. “Follow me to the garage. I’ve got something to show you before you take Kate to work.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kate leaned against the doorjamb that separated Douglass’s flat from his pub. Even at the top of the stairs, she could hear the celebration in full swing. “I’m giving you five minutes, and then I’m coming into the bathroom to check on you.”

She couldn’t clearly hear his reply through the door but could guess it was full of foul language and threats. Kate had started to laugh when a pair of warm and rough hands slid up her skirt. She screamed, turning with her fists up only to come face-to-face with Quinton. His grinning, handsome face.

She lightly punched him in the chest. Her fist met the solid wall of him. “I’m starting to see why your nose was broken so often.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, unfazed by her show of violence. “Where’s Douglass? His waitress wants to know if she should pull down the entire stock of his whiskey for the party.”

He pulled away, and she finally got to see all of him. Her breath tangled in her throat. As usual, he’d left his shoulder-length hair wild. The strands brushed the black T-shirt he wore that had the words “The answer to your question is nothing,” which didn’t make sense until you saw he wore a kilt. Rugby had served his body well, because his calves were works of art. No question. She was going to lick them later…
all
of him later.

“The, um, yeah…” She tried to put coherent words together and couldn’t until he laughed at her reaction. There was nothing more irritating in the world than a man who knew his effect on women. “The last I checked, the pub was wall to wall with people, so I’m sure reinforcements are needed.” Her heart still raced and the reason had everything to do with him.

His gaze narrowed, his wicked intent clear. “Come down and help me get them.”

Oh, she wanted to. “So I can confirm the answer to my obvious question?”

“Aye.” He rubbed her shoulders, and it was a clear sign he just wanted to touch her.

The lines between them had blurred. Her confession that morning probably hadn’t helped matters. For the first time, she felt a pinch in her heart at the thought of leaving Glasgow. This was why she should have held out for that Parisian. He would have remained a fantasy, but this Scot who was sweet and a bit alpha-ish was real and caressing her. And wearing a goddamn kilt to torture her.

He was turning her brain into mush. She stepped away from him, toward the bathroom, to try to save herself. The door swung open.

The Baird wore a fierce glare. “Can a man get any peace?”

“I screamed, and you didn’t come out of the bathroom.”

“Auch. I heard your moan soon after and figured it was one of mine feeling up his lass.”

Her face flushed.
She’d moaned?
Actively ignoring that, she eyeballed him. Since he looked fine and had just changed his clothes for the party, she backed off. “I’ll give you peace after I take your vitals one last time. Then I’m clocking out for the day.”

Baird glanced at Quinton. “You should come around more often. She’s nicer when you’re here.” He chucked her chin as he passed her to the living room.

By the time she had all her equipment and charts, he’d rolled up the sleeve of his dress shirt. She patted his cheek. “I think you’re back to liking me again.”

“Auch, you’re taken. I can’t be bitter about it.”

Her fingers fumbled over her stethoscope. “Taken?”

He gave her a look that pretty much told her she was full of shit if she disagreed. Maybe Kate was. She could hear Quinton rummaging in the kitchen, waiting for her and trying his best not to be obvious about it. She packed light because her life called for it, and sometimes that meant not only leaving treasured things behind, but people too. And Quinton…Oh, boy. She was in so much trouble here.

Maybe it showed on her face, because Douglass’s expression softened. “Do you want some advice, lassie?”

She unwrapped the pressure cuff from his arm. “Depends on what it’s about.”

“You know.”

She started to put the cuff away, but he grabbed her hand. “Whatever is going to happen will happen. It’s how you react to it that makes the difference.”

Her heart thumped. What was happening with Quinton and herself? Did it really matter since, as the Baird said, she had no control over it anyway? She was pretending to date a man who genuinely made her stomach flip-flop, her palms sweat, and whenever he looked at her, his gaze filled with need, her knees wobbled.

It was something else she wouldn’t dwell on. She took off her stethoscope. “I’m giving you the clear to debauch the women in your pub as much as you want.”

He’d watched her face and had likely seen every emotion play across it. He only shook his head. “I planned to anyway. Quinton, get your lassie a drink.”

She turned to see his reaction to the
your
part of Douglass’s statement, and Quinton didn’t even flinch. Oh, but he crooked his finger. Maybe she was slowly turning into a weaker woman, because she actually took two steps forward before forcing herself to stop. His brows went up.

“Yes?” she asked. “Do you need something?”

He tilted his head back, his gaze taking note of her silent protest. “Is that how you’re going to play it?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she lied through her teeth.

He nodded and rubbed the pad of his thumb over his mouth. “We need to hand out some whiskey anyway.”

He could keep up with her, but she couldn’t always say the same. “What?”

“Baird and his waitress will need help,” he answered as though it was obvious. “The wedding planner has these fancy bottles of champagne. No one wants that shite, and it would only put them into a pish mood if they tried to drink it. Come on.”

He put his hand to the small of her back and led her to the door. “How did I get roped into this?” she asked.

“You didn’t leave before I roped you.”

Since that was fair, and she didn’t have any problem with helping, she went down the steps. The pub was packed. The planner had tried to fancy it up and put order to Douglass’s place. White fairy lights were strung along the top of the bar. Fragrant flowers and expensive hors d’oeuvres were laid out on the counter, but with so many people, the elegant effect was lost.

And that meant what should have been a ten-minute activity turned into thirty minutes of just getting through to the back. People stopped Quinton, wanting to talk to him or take a picture. She couldn’t make an escape because he’d hold her hand tight or pull her closer to be in a picture with him.

Kate played her part but couldn’t quite relax under all the attention. Yeah. There were plenty of questioning looks thrown in her direction, but no one asked outright about who she was to him. With that came the questions that hadn’t seemed important until her stomach started to knot at the thought of leaving him.

Before Angeline had done a number on him, how many women had he run through on a weekly basis? Could it all be placed on his ex’s feet, his choice to spurn love? She’d had plenty of heartbreaks, but no one had ever made her turn her back on love.

As the minutes ticked by, she could see how everyone wanted a piece of him. He gave them pieces without batting an eye. Who was Quinton, really? She liked to think he was different with her. How could she really know? Was he giving her a piece of himself, one he thought she wanted?

Her palm grew sweaty in his, but finally they made it to the closet. She opened the door, and he pushed her inside, closing it behind them. Light spilled through from the crack at the bottom. Still it wasn’t enough to see his face clearly.

“Um, what are you doing?” she asked.

“You’ve been tense since we entered the pub.” His words came out low, measured. “You’re a people person, so I know that’s not the problem.”