Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (16 page)

She tugged her velvet jacket tight around herself at the thought.

"Fish bite better at twilight."

"Is that true?"

He grinned.

Alastair put a fishing rod in her hands and stood behind her. He wrapped his strong arms around her until his hands covered hers. Rainne sank back into him. Delicious.

"You take the line like this," he was saying. "You swing back and flick as you go out, letting the line go as it reaches the arc closest to the water."

He may as well have been talking in Dutch. But the sound of his voice vibrating through her body was better than any fishing lesson, so she nodded like it was all sage wisdom.

"Your turn," he said, and stepped away.

"No," she protested. "Once isn't enough, show me again."

With a laugh, he did exactly that and Rainne heard exactly the same amount of nonsense as the first time. Instead, all she could think of was that smell. He was driving her crazy. Arms around her, but not holding her. Whispers in her ear, but they weren't romantic words. This was impossible.

"Okay, off you go." He stepped away again.

"One more time, Alastair, please." She batted her eyelashes at him.

He put his hands on his hips and smiled slowly at her.

"Rainbow, I get the distinct impression that you aren't listening to me."

"That's because you keep distracting me."

"With the instructions?"

"No, with the smell, and the arms, and the heat, and the hands, and that voice in my ear." She glared at him. "Stop it."

"Stop it?" He took a step towards her.

He leaned in really close, but didn't touch her. Infuriating man.

"Stop what? This?" he whispered against her ear. "Or this?" He wrapped his arms around her. "Or this?" He moved his mouth to her lips and kissed her softly.

Rainne felt lightheaded as she discovered the nerves in her lips were connected to all sorts of other places on her body.

"Should I stop?" he said with a smile.

"If you do, I'll get my brother to beat you up."

"We can't have that," Alastair said against her mouth. "I don't stand a chance."

Neither do I
, thought Rainne as the sun set over the loch and she found herself lost in the expert kisses of a Scottish boy.

"I'm so proud of you," Kirsty's mother told her again. "You really took a stand today. I wish your father had been here to see it."

"You wish he'd been here to see his daughter half naked in the high street?"

Her mum laughed through the tears that had been streaming down her face all afternoon.

"You always were a fighter," she carried on. "You never gave up. You make me so proud. I'll always be proud of you, no matter what you do."

Kirsty felt her eyes well up. Caroline came up beside them. She gave Kirsty a look that said she was there on a rescue mission.

"Really, Mrs Campbell?" Caroline said with an indulgent smile. "You're proud no matter what she does? I for one wasn't that proud when she French kissed the enemy in front of the town. Shame on you," she told Kirsty with a gleam in her eye.

"I am contrite," Kirsty said, and hung her head.

"Yep, you look all broken up about it." Caroline leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Harlot."

Kirsty barked out a laugh.

"I was proud when you took your first steps so early," her mum carried on with a faraway look in her eye. "All the other babies started months after you—by that time you were running."

"How much has she had to drink?" Caroline whispered.

"I'm thinking too much," Kirsty whispered back.

Caroline went into take-charge mode.

"Come on, Mrs Campbell. You can tell me all about it over a nice cup of tea."

"You go, Mum. I'll see you tomorrow." She gave her a big hug and heard her sob.

"I love you, Kirsty," her mum said.

"I love you too, Mum."

"Time for tea," Caroline said as she manoeuvred Kirsty's mum through the shop.

Kirsty mouthed "thank you" to her friend as she led her mother out into the street and along the road to her house. She was still smiling fondly after them when Jean sidled up to her.

"Kirsty?" she said out of the side of her mouth, so as not to be noticed. Although lowering her voice might have helped on that front too. "Where are the sex toys?"

Kirsty rolled her eyes.

"I told you before, I don't sell sex toys. I sell lingerie."

Jean looked confused, which led Kirsty to believe that she'd had about the same amount to drink as her mother. She took the half-empty glass of wine out of Jean's hand and looked around for somewhere to put it. Dougal appeared and took it off her.

"Dougal, you couldn't get Jean home, could you? She's a bit worse for wear."

"Kirsty won't let me look at the sex toys," Jean complained.

"Ah..." said Dougal.

Jean swayed as she bent over to look around Kirsty and talk to the bar owner.

"I've never seen a sex toy, I was really looking forward to it."

She waited for Dougal to say something important in reply.

"Would you like to see a snooker table instead?" he asked in the end.

"Oh yes, that'd be lovely."

Jean lit up like a Christmas tree as she took the bewildered Dougal's arm and let him lead her from the shop. Kirsty shook her head and helped the wait staff clear up the mess. It made her smile to think that the staff, food and caterer had all made their way over to her shop. She got to have the services Lake had paid for, and without going to the bother of arranging it. Dougal didn't seem to think it was a big deal. He told Kirsty it wasn't his problem that Lake couldn't keep a hold of his own shindig. Kirsty didn't feel guilty about the theft either. She thought it was the least she deserved for letting Lake mess around in her life.

"You stole my publicity and my party," said the voice from the door.

Kirsty turned to find Lake leaning nonchalantly against the front doorjamb. It seemed that all she had to do these days was think about him and he appeared. It was as though she had her own pesky Tinker Bell. Although hers was six foot two and built like a brick house. With his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets and his feet crossed at the ankles, he was obviously trying to appear non-threatening. It wasn't working.

"The least you could have done," he drawled, "was to keep on the underwear and the coat. I like the coat."

Men—they all seemed to have a thing about fur coats.

"You said fight back," she said with a shrug. "So I did."

"That you did," Lake said as he picked his way through the shop. "I see you made a decent amount of sales, too."

He nodded to the half-empty racks.

"Yes, and all it took was me getting half naked and you buying a full-size picture of yourself in a tux."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Your ego knows no bounds, does it?"

"Hey, I had more offers to buy that picture than I did sales of underwear. I could have made a fortune."

Kirsty bit back a smile.

"So why didn't you sell it?"

"I was worried what they'd do with it," he said with a shrug. "I don't know if you've noticed, but the women in this town aren't all that predictable."

Kirsty laughed.

"Aye, it could have been used for target practice," she said.

"Or—as one woman told me—a fantasy aid in the bedroom."

Kirsty couldn't control the giggle that erupted. She waved as the pub staff left for the night. It was just her and Lake—alone. And for the first time since she met him, he didn't look all that threatening.

"As it is, Betty took the picture home with her," Lake said, looking bewildered.

That was all it took to send her over the edge. She was laughing so hard that she had to clutch her side.

"That's priceless," she said at last.

"Glad you think so," he drawled, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "You're not the one who has to deal with Betty day in and day out."

Kirsty gave him a look that told him clearly that she wasn't buying his "poor me" act.

"One—I'm sure you can handle it. Two—I'm sure you deserve it," she said with a grin.

Lake ran a hand through his strawberry-blond hair.

"I'm not sure anyone deserves Betty," he said.

There was an awkward silence. Kirsty folded her arms and looked around her for something else to talk about. This wasn't the usual small-talk situation. This man was the enemy. The enemy who kept kissing her. The enemy who kissed her very well indeed. The silence stretched so far she couldn't stand it any more.

"Do you want a drink?" she heard herself ask.

"No, I'm hungry." The way his eyes darkened when he said that made her heart pick up pace.

"Going to the pub for some dinner?" she asked as she put some distance between them.

The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement and she got the nasty feeling he could read her mind. She inched towards the counter.

"Why? Do you want to join me?"

Kirsty shook her head. She cleared her throat. It was suddenly hard to speak. Lake didn't help. He studied her as though she was some sort of experiment. Well, she wasn't. She pushed up her chin. She was stronger than she looked. Hadn't she won the war today? She looked at his smiling lips and his clear blue eyes and suddenly didn't want him to go. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to do, but she didn't want him to leave. Not just yet, anyway.

"I'm making pasta," she said, disgusted that her voice had a quaver in it. "You can have some if you want."

It's only food
, she told herself,
no big deal.
Her insides churned in disagreement.

"It's not a truce or anything," she clarified. "Especially as I'm now winning the war. It's only dinner."

More twitching mouth. She wished the man would smile and get it over with.

"You're not winning," he said as he took a step towards her. "And it isn't only dinner."

For a minute she wondered if he knew that she'd never before asked a man up to her flat above the shop. His clear blue eyes focused in on her. Her mouth went dry. He took another step towards her and she fought the urge to run. Suddenly asking Lake to dinner was the most foolish idea she'd ever had.

"Look, you don't need to come if you don't want to," she said.

"Oh, I want to come," he told her in that deep, lazy voice of his.

He rounded the counter to stand in front of her.

"But I'm not eating with you, Kirsty Campbell," he said. Kirsty felt her shoulders sag with relief. Lake's eyes twinkled; he'd seen her relax.

"Well, that's a shame, but probably for the best," Kirsty said as she took a little step back.

"I'm not letting you off the hook either," he told her as he closed the gap between them. "We both know that if I go upstairs with you, I'll want a lot more than dinner."

Kirsty gasped. Lake smiled. He placed his palm on her cheek. She'd never realised that every nerve in her body ran through that exact spot.

"I'll wait until you're sure what kind of invitation you're issuing," he said on a whisper as he leaned towards her.

Kirsty's head began to fog up a little.

"Until then," he murmured against her lips, "how about I give you something to think about?"

His kiss was lazy, thorough and tender. And lasted forever. When he pulled away, Kirsty wasn't even sure she could spell her name. From the look in Lake's eyes, he knew exactly how she felt. He brushed his thumb over her kiss-battered lower lip and made her sway towards him. As much as her mind was in turmoil over the man, her body shared none of its confusion. Her body wanted him. Her stupid body didn't remember that she wasn't the woman she once was. But her mind did.

As Lake turned and walked towards the door, Kirsty felt a flood of adrenalin.

"I have scars," she blurted.

With his grip on the door handle, he turned and smiled. Usually his face was a mask of controlled emotion. Not this time. This time Kirsty saw the rawness beneath the surface. He wanted her. Kirsty's hand flew to her mouth. He. Wanted. Her.

"I know," he said.

And then he was gone.

CHAPTER NINE

Once the national papers hit the shops, an emergency town meeting was called. Kirsty wasn't surprised. The town hadn't had this much publicity since that hermit guy had blown himself up while making homemade bombs in the hills outside town. The television crews had raved on about how he was a terrorist. The town had ignored them. Everyone knew Jimmy used the bombs to blast fish out of the loch. The town had been trying to stop him for years. The man was too blooming stupid to fish with a rod. Anyway, the meeting was called and with a sigh, Kirsty closed up shop, wrapped her pea-green woollen coat tight around her and headed to the Presbyterian Church hall—the only place in Invertary big enough to hold everyone. And everyone would definitely come.