Chapter Three

Chapter Three

“So we hit a bit of a snag…” Roxi’s voice sounded through my car’s Bluetooth as I drove home.

“What kind of snag?”

“The stepbrother guy I had picked out fell through. I have a back up…”

“Yay.” I spoke with as much sarcasm as I could possible use. “A backup… seriously I’m so done with these guys!” I heaved an exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes, even knowing she couldn’t see me.

“You have two types left. And I have two set up back-to-back, but you’ll need to travel. Is your passport valid?” She completely ignored my sarcasm.

“Wait. How did we get to the passport question? Where are you planning on sending me?” I narrowed my eyes at the road, waiting.

“You’ll love it! You’ve always wanted to go there and now you have the perfect excuse! And it will all be a tax write off as well as expensed so you’re golden!”

“You have way too much enthusiasm for me to believe you right now.”

“It’s Scotland, Mere. Scotland.”

“No. Freaking. Way,” I whispered. Number one on my bucket list… it was a carrot she knew I couldn’t resist.

“Wait… who is in Scotland?”

“The Stepbrother guy and the Millionaire.”

“Seriously, you couldn’t find either of those in America?” I spoke with thick sarcasm. “Not that I’m opposed to Scotland—”

“I’m not just going to set you up with anyone. I need credentials and—”

“And the backup guy is the one with credentials? Wait… I thought we were going for a billionaire?”

“Yeah… that changed too. I only had so many people volunteering—”

“And the last guy had volunteered? Yeah… not buying it.”

“He was… unique.”

“He was a masochist that makes me want to take a shower after thinking of his name,” I shrieked, shivering.

“He wasn’t that bad.”

“Says the spider to the fly,” I yelled inside the car, knowing my tone would carry through my Bluetooth.

“Are you going to go to Scotland or not.” She sighed heavily into the phone and I winced at the sound.

I paused, narrowing my eyes at the road. “Do I get first class?”

“No.”

“Do I get a nice hotel?” I twisted my lips.

“Depends on how fast you say yes.”

“Yes.”

“You’re booked at Hotel Indigo in Edinburgh. You fly out in three days, and I’ll have your first guy pick you up from the airport.” There was a victorious tone to her words that made me growl.

But I was getting Scotland out of the deal. And honestly, how much worse could the guys get?

I took a deep breath. “Who is this first guy… and why are you having him pick me up?”

“You’ll see. Don’t worry, he knows the city well. You’ll be in good hands.”

“So he’s my Allstate agent?” I responded cynically.

“Ha, ha, funny. No. But you’ll be fine. I gotta go. Keep up with the writing, it’s perfect, funny. I love it all, and the blog is booming from it. So keep it up! Bye!”

“Bye.” I sighed the word, arching a brow in suspicion.

At least I got something pretty awesome out of the deal.

Scotland.

Yeah, I could deal with a lot if I got to go there.

****

The flight was ten hours of red-eye nightmare. It was impossible to sleep with the amount of turbulence we experienced, and I wasn’t exactly a calm flyer anyway, so I basically white knuckled it for the entire time to Edinburgh International Airport. Then, as I was pulling out my carry-on, a wheel snapped off and smacked a kid on the head. And yes, I totally pretended it was the guy in front of me. Glaring at him, I shook my head and passed through the aisle as the mother of the child subjected him to a hard stare.

I never said I was mature.

The line for customs was blessedly short, which was good since my bladder was growing more impatient by the moment.

With the wheel broken off, my carry-on dragged along the floor, one pathetic wheel spinning freely while the other two rocked back and forth like a shopping cart from hell. As I passed a restroom I debated on whether or not to go in. Honestly, I didn’t want to see my own reflection. It would be rough… in the kindest sense of the word. Yet my cursed pride wouldn’t let me meet this mystery bachelor number four without at least trying to wipe the smeared mascara from under my eyes.

I had standards.

Had being the operative word. The last ten hours had made me almost abandon them all.

Grumbling, I hauled my wobbling suitcase to the restroom. I passed a few mirrors and glanced up.

It was bad.

Forget the mascara smears; it was like any makeup I had worn had melted off my face and dripped down two inches from where it had started. After taking care of the bladder situation, I found a diaper changing station and set my waddling carry-on on top of it. I laid it on its side, unzipped it, and retrieved my makeup bag. Time to go to work.

Fifteen minutes later, I was at least recognizable to myself. Tucking everything away, I straightened my shoulders and walked… directly to a coffee shop.

“Hi. Can I have black coffee with a splash of cream?” I ordered and pulled out my card.

“Course.” The Scottish brogue teased my ears, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I was in Scotland!

“But I have no cream. Will milk do?”

“No cream?” I asked, puzzled. Who didn’t have cream for their coffee? At a coffee shop no less!

“’Fraid not. Skim or part skim? Whole milk perhaps?” she asked politely.

“Whole.” I blinked, then handed her my company card.

“I’m afraid I canno’ accept that.” She handed the plastic card back to me.

“Pardon?” I glanced at the Visa Logo. Apparently they were not everywhere you wanted to be.

“No chip.” She shrugged. “Do you have a chip and pin card?”

“Uh… I have cash? But I haven’t exchanged it yet.” I was starting to sweat. The line behind me was growing and I really wanted that blasted coffee!

“I can do that.” She smiled, but it was less friendly.

I handed her a twenty in American dollars and watched in fascination as she counted back the change in pounds.

Five minutes later I was sipping on my coffee with milk — not cream — and heading to the luggage carousel. After riding an escalator up, I waited by the carousel and sipped my coffee. Soon I was pulling off my large black suitcase with the turtle strap. I rolled it to the side, and went to grab my carry-on that I’d left by the carousel.

Heaven forbid I set my coffee down.

After retrieving the carry-on, I half dragged it toward my other suitcase.

Just as a lady stopped beside it, pulled up the handle… and walked away with it.

“Wait!” I called, now fully dragging my carry on behind me as I rushed after the silver-haired woman. ”That’s mine!” I shouted, she turned, frowned at me, and gave me the finger.

“Why you—” The rogue wheel of my carry-on hit a hole in the tile, causing the bag to rock wildly, twisting the handle and causing me to stumble. Coffee sloshed from my cup as the lid popped off and landed beside my now soaked, once white, Teds.

“Shit.” I stomped.

I glanced up, blowing my bangs out of my face just in time to see a dark-haired man approach the woman who had stolen my suitcase. They were too far away for me to hear their words. But he pointed to me then lifted the nametag towards her.

The woman gestured wildly, but stalked off, leaving him with the suitcase.

I waited. Did he think it was his too? Or had he seen the whole thing and actually helped me out?

He pulled the handle up and started toward me. Several people walked in front of him, and I couldn’t see his face. I craned my neck, but others kept walking and blocking my view. As he came closer, I caught a glimpse that made my heart stutter to an almost halt.

He seemed familiar, but that could be because he looked like a stunt double for Gerard Butler. Strong shoulders flexed through his white shirt. Blue eyes met mine. Dark chestnut hair curled slightly, matching the week’s growth of a beard that accented a strong jawline.

Hello, Scotland.

My trip just improved one hundred percent.

Yet as he got closer… something seemed even more familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it… but it was almost as distracting as the grin he flashed me as he approached.

“I believe this is yours,” he spoke in a thick brogue.

My knees turned to butter… and he was a raging fire. Needless to say, I was melting more and more with every moment he trained those baby blues on me.

“Th-thank you.” I accepted the handle.

“Ah, American, eh?” he asked. “You wouldn’t be Roxi’s friend?” He tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Roxi?” I asked, and for the first time since starting this whole forsaken idea with her… I was actually thanking her. I mean, God bless my best friend. God bless Scotland, God bless EVERYONE. “Actually yeah. I’m Roxi’s business associate, Meredith.” I held out a hand, thankful I had not abandoned the standards and fixed my makeup.

He froze.

“Meredith?” he asked, his tone almost alarmed. He glanced to the suitcase and back to me, as if putting the name with the face.

“Yeah… Meredith Blane.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He took a step back. “I’m going to kill her.” He ran his hand through his hair, tousling it more.

“I’m sorry, but have we met?” I asked, my own hackles rising. I mean, what was wrong with me?

“Oh, yeah. We’ve met.” He turned to me and shook his head. “Bloody hell this is a disaster. Merry, your friend just signed you over to the devil.”

“In a foreign country with Satan… awesome. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?

He shook his head, let out a long sigh, and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “My stepsister is going to owe me a debt so large she’ll never pay it off.”

“Stepsister?” I stopped, my head spinning.

No.

No, No, No! Roxi wouldn’t do that to me.

She’d promised — okay, maybe we were in eighth grade when she promised, but still…

“Kirby?” I watched as he paused, the muscles in his shoulders tensed, and he turned and looked over his shoulder.

“No one, and I mean no one calls me that anymore.”

“No way,” I whispered. There was no way that… Kirby… Roxi’s stepbrother from her mother’s marriage number three was the Greek god in front of me.

“If I had known that, then I wouldn’t have—”

“Yeah, I bet that right now you’re putting a few things together in that pretty little head of yours.” He jerked the handle of the suitcase and started toward the parking lot.

“A few,” I retorted, staring at his back as my carry-on wobbled behind me.

“For the record. No. I haven’t forgiven you,” he spoke with an exasperated tone.

And there was nothing like being with someone from your junior high years that made you revert back to your immaturity.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t take it back even if I could.”

He stopped so abruptly I almost ran into his back.

His solid, warm back.

I had to stop this! It was Kirby for heaven’s sakes! The guy Roxi and I had pranked… well it was a bit more than a prank.

“Some people never change. You were petty and immature then… I can see you haven’t changed at all.” His eyes lowered to take in the outline of my body. And holy crap if I didn’t feel his gaze like a searing touch to my skin. “Nope. Nothing has changed.” He shrugged dismissively.

“Hey! That’s unfair.”

“Calling it like I see it. Victoria’s Secret can only do so much—”

“So can socks!” I shouted.

He stopped again. “Hmm… I guess the tables have turned. I don’t need any help in that department… and it looks like you can’t find enough help.” He yanked the handle and crossed the street, weaving around a bus and darting up the curb.

“Wait!” I called out as another bus passed me. His retreating back made me fume as I glanced to the cars approaching and rushed across the street, wincing as the horns honked. I ran as fast as my stupid bag would let me and caught up.

“I think we got started on the wrong foot,” I offered, panting and out of breath. Damn. Yoga wasn’t exactly cardio.

“No. I saved your luggage. As I see it, you owe me,” he replied, his brogue totally distracting me.

That and his eyes.

Shit, I had to get it through my head that this was Kirby.

Nemesis.

Bane of my existence.

The very reason I celebrated October fifteenth—the day he left for Scotland to live with his mom!

“Fine. I owe you. I’m big enough to admit that. What do I owe you?” I did air quotes with two fingers of my one hand as the rest were wrapped tightly around what was left of my topless coffee cup.

“I can’t think of anything I’d want from you, so it’s an IOU right now.” He shook his head as he approached a car in the airport garage. It was a black Mercedes SUV.

“Nice.”

“Unlike you.” He opened the trunk and effortlessly lifted my suitcase in. Pulling the carry-on handle from my hand, he all but tossed that into the back as well. “Wheel broke? That’s what you get for buying shit luggage.”

“Missed that,” I answered, heavy on the sarcasm.

“Get in.” He went to the left side of the car and opened the door. Naturally, I went to the right. “Like hell am I letting you drive my car, Merry.”

“Merry? Really? Are we twelve?” I asked. I hated that nickname! Which of course, he knew all too well. I glanced to the car and felt humiliation wash over me. Yeah, it was Europe. I wasn’t on the passenger side; I was on the driver side.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and walked around and paused. Kirby was holding the door open for me. “Are you being nice or will you try to shut it on my foot?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

“Just because you’re American doesn’t mean I have to act like I am too.” He gestured impatiently to the open door.

Sliding in, I whispered, ”Thanks.”

But just to be careful, I tucked my foot in quickly.

He settled into the driver seat and started the SUV. The engine thrummed with power as he whipped out of the parking spot and accelerated through the garage.

“Uh, in a race, NASCAR?” I asked, holding on the seat.

“Impatient to be rid of you? Yes.” He pulled up to the meter and paid the fare.

“Lovely.”

He pulled onto the road and I relaxed slightly. “So why did you even agree to this? I mean, last I knew, you and Roxi weren’t even actually related or acknowledging one another.”

“Yeah, well that changed last Christmas when my dad re-married her mom.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. History repeats itself and all that.”

“So, you’re her stepbrother again.”

“Yeah. Lucky me. Which in and of itself isn’t enough of a reason for me to do her any sort of favor, but let’s just say that I always pay my debts, and this is the last one I owed her.”

“For what?”

A scowl creased his forehead. “What is this? The Spanish inquisition? I’m sure as hell not telling you. Roxi isn’t as bad as she was years ago. It’s been good to have her as family again. My dad’s matured a bit more, and I think Miranda is in a better place too.”

“Miranda…” I shook my head. Roxi’s mom was both a wonder and a terror. “She could never quite get over your dad. Loved that brogue.” I shook my head as I smiled.

“Yeah. I think they’re happy. For the moment.” He shrugged, and the scowl eased from his expression. “So how did you get roped into this?”

“I... don’t know. Which is the usual answer for when Roxi involves me with anything.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

We rode in silence for a few minutes. But that silence was eating at my already shot nerves. “So what have you been up to? What do you do now?”

“I own a few businesses, pubs mostly. It works for me.”

“And I’ve gotta ask, since Roxi is involved and all, you do actually know she expects me to… uh, date you… right?”

“Yeah.” He gripped the steering wheel making the leather squeak slightly.

“Yeah,” I echoed. “This is not going to work. I’ll skew the results because I’m emotionally involved—”

“Emotionally involved? It’s the brogue, lass.” He wagged his eyebrows at me. “That and my tight arse.”

“Emotionally involved as in I have a predisposition to dislike you… strongly,” I corrected, narrowing my eyes.

“Yer loss.” He accented the words so thickly I almost missed them.

“I’ll have her re-arrange the schedule so that I meet the millionaire guy first. That will give her time to find a suitable replacement.”

“Listen to you… all professional and using big words. I’m not surprised. You always had the brains of the two of you.”

“Meaning that Roxi has the beauty? Yeah. That’s true,” I admitted with a soft sigh.

“In some ways, yeah… but Roxi is the driven, eat you alive or thrive type. You’ve always been a bit more perceptive.”

“Was… that a compliment?” I asked, slightly shocked.

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“I’ll try... so much praise is making my ego inflate.”

“I’ll be sure to take you down a notch or two.”

“Lucky me.”

I pulled out my phone and sent off an e-mail to Roxi, telling her about the change in plans. A few seconds later, I got a text with a phone number.

No apologies.

Nothing.

“If she wasn’t my best friend I’d…” I huffed out a breath, trying to think of something.

“You never were the cutthroat one.” He chuckled. “Of that we have something in common.”

“No apology, no ‘hey guys sorry I totally blindsided you.’ Nada.” I whistled.

“Typical.”

“This next guy better be good. She owes me after the last one.”

“What happened with these guys?” he asked in a mildly interested tone.

“Well, one guy was a local guitar legend. Think total urban lumberjack type. I don’t know where she found him, but let’s just say the only honest thing I wrote about was his eye color.”

“That bad, huh? What did he do? Take you to the forest and chop wood?” he teased.

“Ha, nope. That I could have handled. He took me to his urban farm. Key word. Urban. The cherry was when he asked me if I wanted to pet his cocks.”

Kirby coughed twice then turned to me. “You’re shitting me. Cocks? Plural?”

“Yup. Then he introduced me to his two Rhode Island Red roosters and six hens.”

“Ah… Cocks. Roosters. I get it. Weird, but I get it.” He shifted his shoulders as if totally uncomfortable with the topic.

“He tried to get me to kiss one — I kid you not — and when he handed one to me, it flapped wildly and I let it go, naturally. And did you know chickens could fly?”

“Uh, actually I rather assumed they could, at least a little bit.”

“They can. And when you have a chicken farm on the top of a twenty story building…”

“Damn.”

“You could say that. Of course, the date ended with him sobbing over a mutilated chicken carcass, and you know what?”

“I — no. Do I want to know?”

I grinned as he gave me a wary expression drawing his dark brows together over his blue eyes. “All I could think was KFC, and how good a bucket of extra crispy would taste about then.” I lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Naturally, I didn’t suggest we go get one.”

“Wise. Since he was in mourning and all.”

“Exactly. Needless to say, the last time I saw him, I was slowly backing away while he held the chicken in his arms, pressed against his flannel shirt, his beard brushing the feathers as the tears rolled.”

“No way.”

“You can’t make this stuff up.” I held up my hands.

“Was that the worst? How many of these guys have you, uh… researched?”

“Dated,” I corrected, shuffling my feet to keep from squirming in my seat. “I’ve had to actually date these guys. You know, at first, Roxi made it sound almost interesting. Fun and sexy. This is not sexy. Chickens? Not sexy. The Jock? Yeah, he was the best of the group, but he still had me checking my phone every few minutes to see if I could duck out.” I rolled my eyes. “The alpha male? Yeah, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.” I shuddered, thinking of Kurt.

His soft chuckle filled the suddenly too-small SUV. “I don’t look so bad now, do I?”

“Let’s just say you’re fitting right in,” I shot back.

“Kitten’s got claws. Too bad you won’t get to use them.” He blew me a kiss.

“Yeah, that’s always been a fantasy of mine. Oh, how you read through me,” I spoke with bored sarcasm. “Alas, Kirby! How long I have waited for this moment—”

“Shit, you have to stop calling me that,” he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“Huh?” I dropped the hand I had strategically placed to my forehead like the damsel in distress.

“Kirby. No one. And I mean no one calls me that. Ever.”

“Why?”

He glared at me as if to say, ‘must you ask?’

“Just asking!” I held up my hands in surrender.

“I hate that name. As soon as I moved I told everyone my name was Kirk. Then when I got to the university they started to call me Church, since Kirk is actually another name for a church—”

“Yeah I get that… but… Church?” I studied him. He didn’t actually look like a Kirby… but Church? I’d never really thought of that as a name. It didn’t quite fit. “I don’t think I can call you Church. You look anything but holy.”

“Believe me, I’m not.” He sent me a smoldering look then flicked his gaze back to the road.

Damn if it didn’t make my stomach tighten with awareness. I could easily imagine all the ways he was sinful. But that was last thing I needed him to know.

“I think I’ll stick with Kirby.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back on the car headrest. It was just a short moment, but I gripped the seat even as he glared toward the road once again. “No. You cain’t.”

“Yes, I cain,” I replied with an attempt at the Scottish Brogue.

“That was bad… don’t try that again. It’s an insult to my language.”

“You’re language is English.”

“Which you Americans butcher.”

“Which you Scottish—”

“Ah, nope. Stop right there. Remember you’re at my mercy. I’d tread carefully.” He gave me a dangerous grin.

“Not afraid. I have way too much dirt on you… Kirby. Just remember that.” I grinned mischievously and then turned to look out the window.

“Shiza.”

“Swearing in Dutch?” I tisked my tongue. “Aren’t you impressive.”

“Aren’t you a pain in my arse, and I’ve only been around you for twenty minutes,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

As we passed through far too narrow streets, I scanned through my e-mail, and a text showed up from the millionaire bachelor.

“Hello,” I whispered, scanning his short message.

“Talking to yourself? That lonely, Merry?” Kirby asked.

“Ignoring you.”

“Answering me is not ignoring me.”

“Grow up.”

“You first.”

I sighed and re-read the text.

Hello! How about we meet at the Conan Doyal? 8pm, tomorrow?

“What do you know about the Conan Doyal?” I asked Kirby.

“Decent pub, middle of the New Edinburgh. Why?”

“Millionaire wants me to meet him there.”

“Not bad. Pretty good whisky.”

“Ah… that’s right! Scotch Whisky! I need to try that while I’m here.” I spoke mostly to myself.

“Can you hold your whisky?” he asked with a challenging tone.

“You’ll never know.”

“Pity,” he spoke so softly I almost missed it. Then pretended to, because I didn’t want to explore just what that could mean.

Because behind the smoldering gaze, solid shoulders, nice ass, and killer smile, was my nemesis. And as much as I was tempted to look past it, history reminded me to never let my guard down.

Ever.

“I’m meeting him tomorrow at eight.” I sent off a text that confirmed everything.

“Don’t waste any time, eh?”

“Nope, I’m all about getting this done. Like a band-aid. Rip it off.”

“Romantic.”

“Believe me, nothing about this has been romantic. If anything it’s killed every stereotype, every fantasy, and every romantic thought I’ve ever had.” I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. The caffeine from my half-spilled coffee was waning and jet lag was slowly conquering.

“Wake up.”

“No.”

“You snore.”

“Do not.” I opened one eye. “Girls don’t snore. They purr.”

He barked out a laugh, coughing as he tried to control himself.

Ignoring his reaction, I closed my one eye and settled farther in to the leather seat.

So much better than airplane seats.

“Believe me, you snore. At least you used to.”

I sighed heavily, hoping he’d sense my irritation. “That’s only because you drugged Roxi and I with half a bottle of Benadryl and took pictures of us, drooling and in our full head gear. You’re lucky we didn’t need to call poison control.”

“You were fine. It was the perfect idea though…” he recalled, his tone wistful.

“You’re evil.”

“I needed leverage!”

I snickered. “Yeah… yeah you did.”

“Bloody hell!”

“In our defense… we probably wouldn’t have told everyone about your… uh… experiment.”

“Liar. I heard your master plan. Roxi’s room wasn’t exactly sound proof.”

“How did we get on this subject?”

“You said you purr.”

“Ah. Yes. I do.”

He shook his head. “You snore. Like a drunken sailor. Of course, if you weren’t single you’d know that.”

His words hit a soft spot, but I’d be damned if I’d let it show. “I’m exactly how I want to be.”

He rolled his eyes. “Says the girl who had the perma-pregnant Barbie—”

“What is up with you and Roxi and Barbies?” I shouted.

“Easy, lass… Dinna get yerself in a lather,” his brogue was thick as he spoke quickly, his eyes wary as if I might suddenly attack.

“You kill the accent for me.”

“What’s that?”

“You kill it. The whole sexy Scottish Brogue thing…”

“I thought I spoke it quite well… being Scottish… and having a natural brogue and all.”

“Not what I meant. Just another stereotype killer. Gone! All my girlish fantasies are officially dead.” I threw my hands up and glared out the window.

“Uh, okay.” There was a long pause. “You know you’re just as daft as you always were.”

“You know you’re just as irritating as you always were.”

“Touché.”

We traveled the last few blocks in silence as he wound through tall stone buildings and very narrow streets. Pulling up in front of a newer building, he parked and got out.

A blue flag blew in the crisp spring wind with the name “Hotel Indigo.” I reached out and leaned against the door handle but Kirby pulled at the same time, causing me to throw my weight against nothing but air and I caught myself between his shoulder and the open door.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Then I made the mistake of glancing up.

Shocked blue eyes met mine then softened. The color was the same as the Hawaiian ocean, and seemed almost as restless. But as soon as his expression softened, it closed off and he backed away, almost roughly setting me to rights.

“Ye never were graceful.” His gaze dipped to my lips, then he glanced away. “But dinna worry. The millionaire winna care,” he flirted, his gaze darting back to mine with a mischievous twinkle.

“Yay.” I did a small fist pump. ”Can’t wait.”

“Here’s your hotel. I’ll help you get to the front desk then the bell hop’ll get you settled.” His brogue lightened up slightly.

Why was I even paying attention?

“Thanks.”

He shut the car door behind me and pulled the suitcase with one hand, carrying my three-wheeled carry-on in his other through the large glass door.

Warm air rushed by me as classical music teased my ears. Large potted plants accented the very modern décor. I scanned the room for the front desk. Kirby was already there waiting, his expression one of impatience.

Just to piss him off, I took a very slow step. Then smiled. Then took another.

I heard a low growl and paused when he marched toward me. Without a word he slung me over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” I hissed, but before I could hit him with my purse, he put me down in front of the wide-eyed clerk.

“Checking in?” the lady asked, her amused expression darting between Kirby and myself.

“Yes,” we answered together.

“Name?”

“Meredith Blane.” I pulled out my company credit card, holding my breath till she accepted it with a smile.

“Ah, yes. I have you right here.” She typed a bit and started running key cards. “Newly Married?” she asked, her gaze smiling as she handed Kirby a card and then one to me.

“What?” I asked just as he started to laugh.

Her expression fell slightly.

“No.” I shook my head, turned to Kirby, then shook my head harder.

“Oh, I assumed—”

“She’s a little slow, so I try to help out a bit… bein’ the good Samaritan that I am.” He winked at her, and I swear I saw her sway a little.

I couldn’t blame her.

But I wasn’t mature enough to just stand by and watch either.

“His husband lets me use his brawn when I’m in town.” I patted his shoulder and collected my key card. “Room 403? Thank you!” I left my bags, signaling to an approaching bellhop as I made my way to the elevator.

“Merry!” Kirby’s angry voice called after me but I ducked around a corner, holding my breath as he passed.

“Damn female,” he growled. As soon as he was out of sight, I took a nearby staircase up a short flight then went down the hall. It was slightly odd, the floors weren’t actually floors like hotels back home, but little landings with several doors, then another short flight of stairs.

The only elevator I saw was in the main lobby.

As I took another flight of stairs, I slowly started to realize I was lost.

My gaze darted to the last flight of stairs I took, then to another one going up. According to the floor I was on, my room should be the next flight up, but the numbers weren’t in order. Room 404 was next to room 430. I was taking a chance, but it was lesser of the two evils, the first evil being Kirby downstairs, waiting to do… something.

After two more flights and not finding my room, I started back down, my ears perked just in case Kirby hadn’t given up and was waiting for me.

Some things never changed.

The hotel was almost too quiet. I hadn’t passed even one person as I’d escaped and gone searching for my room.

And I had an overactive imagination.

Not a good combination.

A stair creaked as I stepped down, and I gasped, spinning around ready to defend myself, but I was still alone. And I still had no clue where I was. All my surroundings looked the same. White walls, dark walnut doors, and a few windows; minimalist.

Was I going the right direction? I did go down this staircase, right? It couldn’t be that difficult! Irritated with myself, I straightened my shoulders and marched on, and on… and down another flight of stairs till I saw a large wooden door with a small window. Peeking out, I studied the room for any sign of Kirby, then I pressed it open. The scent of some sort of potato dish drifted through the air, making my stomach growl. It was another part of the hotel I hadn’t seen, and I took in the view of a large glass bar with hundreds of varieties of alcohol decorating the shelves behind it. Colorful chairs surrounded white tables and a large modern chandelier hung over the far corner.

“Not bad, Roxi,” I whispered under my breath, thankful that at least the hotel was nice.

Assuming my room looked half as nice as the bar, I was good to go. As I walked through the restaurant, I saw the front desk. Relief washed over me as I saw something that was familiar, yet I paused as I scanned the lobby for Kirby.

No sign of him.

Sighing with relief, I walked to the front desk. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t seem to find my room,” I admitted a little sheepishly, my gaze still making sure Kirby wasn’t going to jump out from some corner and make me scream.

“Oh! I tried to tell your friend, but he said you — never mind.” She blushed slightly. “It’s quite common for you to need a day or two to familiarize yourself with the hotel.” She smiled sweetly. “You see it was the town home of an English Lord that we purchased then modified into a hotel. We merged with a separate residence and that is why the staircases are quite short and somewhat confusing. It’s part of the eclectic feel.” She finished the explanation and offered a rueful shrug.

“Ah… so the fourth floor?” I held up my room key.

“Is actually up six flights of stairs, but you’ll be better off taking the lift to the fourth floor. Once you exit, if you go to the left, it’s the third door down.”

I thanked her, and made my way to the elevator, pushed the button and waited for the ding announcing its arrival.

Just as I entered, I remembered that I hadn’t checked on my luggage. “Oh! Did the guy bring up my suitcases?” I asked.

Her brow pinched with confusion. “ Actually I—”

The door shut on her last words, and I shrugged. The elevator sound system played Claire De Lune, lulling me into a more peaceful state. The doors opened and I strode out, noticing that my floor was decorated exactly like the others I had inadvertently explored.

No wonder people got lost.

“Four oh three.” I read the room numbers till I found mine, then I slid my card in, dreaming of a hot shower followed by whatever I could order via room service and a nice, long nap.

The light blinked green, and I opened the door. Bright orange pillows accented the cream-colored bed. Glass shelves lined the walls, and the room had a very LA trendy feel. I tossed my purse on the bed, and glanced around. The corner had a fridge, and I knelt down to inspect the mini-bar.

But there was no mini-bar. Rather, it was filled with snacks, milk, and shortbread.

“God bless Scotland.” I whimpered as I pulled out the plastic package and stood.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Ahhh!” I screamed, jumped, and dove over the bed, my shortbread flying as I quickly scanned the room for a weapon. Less than a second later, I realized that I knew that voice.

And the laugh that followed.

And the miserable excuse of a man currently bent over, laughing.

“I hate you.”

“You deserved that,” he said through his laughter.

“You could have killed me! My heart! It’s pounding so hard right now!” I held my hand to my chest, feeling the mad hammering beneath my palm. I glared, then searched the room for something to throw.

Seeing a pen on the desk, I grabbed it and chucked it at him.

He ducked and it hit the wall.

“You still throw like a girl.”

“How did you even get in here?” I growled, scanning the floor for my snack. My stomach was practically eating itself, especially after I’d smelled the food at the bar.

“The key, you eegit.” He shook his head, his expression one of amusement. His smile was almost blinding in contrast with the dark texture of his almost beard. His hands were on his hips, somehow accenting the way his shoulders trimmed down to a slim waist and long legs.

“Key?”

“Yeah, the woman at the front gave you one key and another one to me…” He let his voice linger.

“Shit.”

“And so, while you were getting yerself lost, I was in your room… eating your snacks and drinking your tea.” To accent his point, he held up one shortbread cookie and reached to lift a steaming mug I had somehow missed.

“I want it back.” I glared.

“No.” He lifted the mug and took an exaggerated sip.

“I’ll call security.” I nodded toward the phone.

“And I’ll simply tell them I’m trying to win back my lover.” He blew me a kiss.

“Not in this lifetime.”

“Not even if ye were the last lass on earth.” He shuddered and took a step back. “But that donna mean I’ll fight fair. Ye had this comin’, you did. And let it serve you as a warning that you shouldn’t tangle with the tiger.” He lifted the mug and walked to the door.

“One day, Kir…by.” I drew out his name.

He paused with his hand on the door handle. Shoulders tensing through his shirt, he glared over his shoulder. “I tho’ I told you that no one calls me that.”

“Kirby…” I sing-songed, thrilled at the pissed off expression clouding his expression. “Kirby…” I did it again, just to spite him.

“That’s it.” He set the mug down and twisted his neck slightly, as if cracking it, and then walked toward me.

I searched for an escape, but I had the bed in front of me — not good — and the window behind me.

How far up was I anyway?

He grinned, showing far too many perfect, white teeth. “Yer six levels up.”

Great. Now I could add mind reading to his list of annoying talents.

“Shit.”

I watched as he methodically approached me, studying me like a freaking lion stalking his prey. I waited till he lunged, and then I leapt onto the bed, hurling myself over it and landing on my knees on the hardwood floor.

“Not so fast.”

I pulled myself up but it was too much of a delay, and he caught up with me. Reaching around my body, he pulled me up onto the bed and pinned my arms down as he hovered over me.

“Don’t even think about it,” I ground out.

He smirked and started to clear his throat.

“No.” I shook my head and closed my eyes, turning my head away and pinching my mouth shut. He wouldn’t dare, would he?

“Mer-ry,” he harassed me, making a noise as if he was about to dribble spit over my head.

“What are you, seven?” I spoke quickly, then pressed my lips together, hoping he wouldn’t do what I thought he was going to do.

“Nope. A wee bit older,” he spoke like his mouth was full.

Not a good sign.

Desperate, I opened my eyes and glared at him then started to thrash. He might be bigger than me, but I was desperate. Bucking my hips, I tried to press against his thighs, wiggling against him and arching my back as I pushed his arms up against my pinned wrists.

“Easy, lass. You’ll hurt yourself.” He laughed but it was strained as his expression shifted, as if surprised by my strength.

“Or hurt you.” I lifted a knee, almost hitting his groin.

“Is that how you want to play?” He forced my arms down, glaring as he pressed his entire weight into me, pinning me completely.

And suddenly… it wasn’t so bad.

His warm body covered mine, sending my heart to pounding and my blood to surging through my veins as I heated with an entirely different emotion. Shocked, I met his gaze, knowing mine was unfiltered and not knowing how to hide my reaction.

His eyes changed from frustration to a new kind of frustration as they smoldered. His breathing changed, accelerated just like his heartbeat as I felt it through his skin and onto my own. His gaze shifted from my eyes to my lips.

Without thinking, mine parted.

Holy shit, I wanted him to kiss me.

Badly.

Worse than anything I could ever remember wanting before.

But I couldn’t move. I was at his mercy, and rather than hate it, it was exactly where I wanted to be.

It had to be a side effect of jet lag.

His head descended slowly, as if he weren’t quite sure of what he was doing, yet utterly powerless to stop it.

Warm breath tickled my lips a moment before his lips touched mine, sending a thousand lightning strikes through my body. His beard was soft as it teased my skin. The masculine scent of spice and lime provoked my senses, drawing me in as he leaned away. I opened my eyes, just realizing that at some point they had fluttered closed.

Then quick as it happened, he was off me and across the room at the door. Gone.

With me, staring at the door like it held the bloody secrets of the universe.

Because, the world just turned on its ear.

Kirby had kissed me.

And I’d liked it.

No.

I’d loved it.

Hell had officially frozen over.