Outside The Lines:: Third Person Narration (31 page)

BOOK: Outside The Lines:: Third Person Narration

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Something in his voice jarred her memory. Her eyes narrowed. "And you are?"

As he stood, she half expected him to keep growing. He was tall. And built. And she was a sucker for dark hair, blue eyes, and a nice five o'clock shadow. That stubble and those wicked looking eyes gave him a bad boy—a
very
bad boy—appearance. Lucy swallowed.

He stepped around the desk. "Ian MacLaren." His hand caught hers in a warm embrace.

Good Lord, he had to be at least six inches taller than she was, making him around six-foot-four. Could he be anymore condom worthy?

The errant thought instantly set her face on fire. She suppressed the urge to look down and determine if he might be
Mammoth Man
material. Lucy squeezed her eyes closed. Gram and Kate were going to suffer for putting these thoughts in her head!

Feeling like a complete deviant, she withdrew her hand and found the nerve to introduce herself with the hope that the sooner she did, the sooner she could make a run for it. "Riley Brooks," the lie came out of her mouth so easily it took her a moment to realize what she'd done. Crap. She wasn't supposed to say she
was
Riley, just her replacement. "But my friends call me Lucy," she added, feeling miserable.

Just put her in front of a fine, rugged male specimen and she'd lose every bit of common sense she had.

In her defense though, he was really, really fine.

His head dipped in a slight nod. "And what should I call you, lass?"

Dear Lord. He did not just call me lass.

Unfortunately he had, and her inner fantasy girl was screaming in delight.

She wondered if he even realized how yummy he sounded. And the fact that he called her lass? Downright X-rated. No wonder she was acting like an idiot. A Scottish hunk, using Scottish words, in a Scottish castle. So not her fault.

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