Chapter 2
TWO
HEAT FLARED
Taylor
Kissing William McRae was a bad move, guaranteed to hurt more than just seeing him and walking away. But I never claimed to be smart. Only desperate.
And this man never failed to make me feel…everything.
Shock from the kiss zinged through my body, and my mind instantly went to my happy place. Somewhere dark. Hot. With this huge Scotsman using his powerful body on mine.
I hugged William like my life depended on it. Our lips moved together, his new scruff scratching my skin, and I gave a moan of pleasure.
This. Home.
William dropped the towel he’d brought, bracketed me with his strong arms, and returned my kiss. I melted onto him. No one else could do this—hold me up. Keep me safe. He couldn’t either, no matter what my body told me.
Then his tongue touched mine, and we both gasped.
“Wait. Fuck.” William reared back. He breathed in through his nose, and his muscles flexed under my grip. Then he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine. “I shouldnae have done that. This is wrong.”
Ever the gentleman—taking the blame for my lips on his.
“Probably. But I needed it.” Embarrassingly, my eyes were wet, and I wiped them, not wanting him to see. The pressure from the evening had already been immense, pre-explosion, but I’d owned it. I’d been in control. Seeing William had knocked my resolve.
“Your boyfriend…” William started.
“Don’t have one.” We were still hugging. My heavy, soggy dress pasted to his suit. I’d barely noticed the room we were in, save for the fact it was a workplace. A studio with rigging for lights.
No bed.
William’s shoulders lowered an inch, shadows deepening the furrow of his brow. He studied my face. “I read that ye were engaged. That it would be announced tonight.”
“Oh, that.” He was right. Didn’t that throw the mother of all wrenches into the works. “It might have happened. If someone hadn’t tried to blow up the Met.”
“Right.” He released me from his warm hold and moved away. “I’ll… Fuck.”
I gripped my fingers together, suddenly compelled to explain what I’d told no one.
My bag buzzed—a phone call.
William’s gaze shot to the clutch. “Go ahead, take it. Someone needs to know you’re safe. I’ll make coffee, then we’ll check out the news.”
He disappeared through a doorway, and I sagged gracelessly to the floor to collect my phone. Dad’s name screamed from the screen. I had him by his job title: Governor to the State of New York.
“Irene? Where the fuck are you?” he barked.
I winced, pulling the device from my ear. “I’m at a friend’s place. There was an explosion. We ran. Did you hear about it?”
“I heard. I’ve not been told what happened yet, but I’ll find out. Luckily I’ve only just landed so I wasn’t in the building.” The line went muffled, and he barked at someone. Probably his driver.
It didn’t bother me that he hadn’t worried for my safety. I knew my father’s priorities.
He came back. “Tonight’s plans obviously have to change. We’ll meet Linc and Theo at their hotel instead. I’ll be there in twenty, then I’ll send my car for you. Give me the address.”
I paused. For months now, Dad had been constructing this plan. A match between me and Theo Miller, twenty-six-year-old beloved son of the next president. Tonight would have put our name on the front pages. No wonder my father was pissed.
Through the doorway, soft light glowed, and a coffee machine whirred into life. William moved, collecting mugs, and I got caught up, staring at the broadness of his shoulders under his clinging, damp white shirt.
“Address,” Dad ordered.
“I’m soaked through,” I spluttered. I didn’t want to go. I’d never wanted this. Any of it. I needed to stall. “The road is closed off. Even if I could dry off, I’m only going to get drenched again.”
Dad paused. “You mean you look like shit?” He wasn’t wrong, but the insult stung. “Tomorrow, then. Brunch at the Four Seasons at eleven. Don’t be late.” Then he hung up.
William returned, placing a steaming mug in front of me. I clambered to my feet and landed on the couch, tracking him as he collected a laptop from what looked like luggage.
“Going somewhere?” I tipped my head at his bag.
William sat beside me and opened the machine. “Home. I fly in a few hours.”
He brought up a news site and, side by side, we gazed at the silent pictures. A scrolling banner told us what we already knew. The explosion. The mass panic. No reports of serious injuries, though. No arrests.
“I heard ye say on the phone that the street was locked down.” William pushed the laptop away and interlaced his hands, watching me. “Fifth Avenue might be, but this road isn’t.”
“That was my dad. We’ve been lying to each other since I could talk.” I picked up my coffee and took a swig. William had sweetened it, just like I preferred. Had he ever made me coffee? My brain fixated on the question, just as much as my skin fixated on the inches of distance between us.
Then I shivered. Hard. The hot drink sank into my chilled flesh.
“Christ, woman,” William said, his voice low. “You must be freezing.”
My teeth chattered. “For such flimsy material, this dress holds a lot of water. Do you have anything I can change into?”
“Aye. Hang on.” He leapt up and returned with his bag, pulling out a neat stack of clothes. “Long-sleeved t-shirt.” He handed me the item. “I don’t have any drawstring trousers. My jeans would dwarf you. Maybe keep your underwear then use the towel as a blanket for now.”
My mouth twitched. “I’m not wearing underwear.” At his outraged look, a shaky laugh burst from my chest. “What? You don’t with dresses like this.” I plucked at the ruined gown.
“Don’t tell me any more. Christ, lass. You’ll give me a heart attack.”
I grinned then unclipped the buckles from my heels and let them drop to the floor. Then I stood in front of William, bundling the borrowed shirt and the towel in my arms. He’d always towered over me but he was bigger still; the last few years had added muscle weight to his height.
I liked it, the brawn. The sheer masculinity of this mountain man.
William McRae, all grown up. How about that.
“When we met, there wasn’t such a height difference between us,” I murmured, stifling a full body shiver.
William’s green-eyed gaze held mine. “There’s a lot that’s different between then and now.”
Wasn’t that the truth? I left him and padded on bare feet to the room where he’d made the coffee.
I closed myself in and commenced the wrestling match that was removing my dress.
Couture was not meant to be soaked. It clung like it had been glued on, and I wanted to call for help, but William would blow a fuse at the sight of my boobs popping free.
I had nice boobs, but I didn’t want to inflict an injury on the man.
A rip came as I tugged the frock over one shoulder. I blew a damp tendril of hair from my eyes and tried not to think about the cost.
Finally, I was free. In William’s soft t-shirt, which fell to my mid-thigh, I returned to the studio floor.
“I have a small problem. The dress is dead. I don’t think I’ll be wearing it home.”
William had changed clothes himself, out of his suit and into jeans and a dry shirt, instantly appearing younger and sweeter.
“I’m sorry about the dress. It looked incredible on you.”
What a nice way of putting it—not that I had been enhanced by the dress, but the other way around.
What was strange was that, when I’d chosen the dress, William had been on my mind.
He had a thing for old movies, and it had reminded me of him.
Once, we’d been on the same flight together, and the airline had been showing Casablanca.
I’d watched it with him. And, alone, I’d watched other movies from the thirties and forties since.
“We’ll work something out,” he continued. “Where are you staying?”
“A hotel downtown. Later, when we’re sure nothing else is going to blow up, I’ll get a cab. There’s nothing unusual about a woman skipping around New York City dressed in oversized clothes and a towel.”
He pursed his lips but made no further comment.
Taking care not to flash him, I lowered myself to the couch and wrapped my legs with the towel. Nothing new had popped up on the news report. If the all clear was announced, I’d have no reason to stay.
A not-so-small part of me wanted the police to delay as long as they could.
“I just sent a message to my family to let them know I’m safe. Is there anyone else ye need to call?”
“No.” Mom wouldn’t have a clue where I was supposed to be. “The acquaintance you saw me with left with her date. They were outside.”
“Maybe we should report ourselves as safe to the organiser. Our names would be listed as attending.” He took up the laptop and typed something into a new search.
Idly, I raised my hands to my hair, sorting through for the pins that were tangled in the mess. “I must look like a drowned rat. I’m glad you got to see me at the beginning of the night.”
William frowned, his face illuminated by the screen. “Don’t be daft. If anything, I like you better now.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I’m not. You look more like the lass I remember.”
I giggled—God, when had I last laughed?—and extracted the last of the pins, freeing my hair.
William stared now.
“You always had a thing about my hair,” I said without thinking.
He rumbled a laugh. “Aye. And every other part of you.”
Another guy, and that would’ve come off as creepy. Not him. William was good. Good in bed, sure, but a good man, too. He loved his brothers, cared for his friends. I trusted him more than most people I knew, and I barely knew him.
“How long have you been in the States?” I asked, pushing past the unnerving thought.
He finished his message then sat back. “Six weeks. This was the final placement in my degree. I’ve been doing all the grunt work for Josie Addlestein but I’ve learned a ton.”
“I’ve heard of her. Is this her place?”
“Aye. I’ve slept on this couch every night.”
I scrunched my nose. It was a plush couch, but nowhere near long enough for William’s big body. “You must be killing it to get a job here.”
“Mathilda name-dropped a few times and got me the gig. I’m hoping it has given me enough of a profile for an agency to take me on.”
Mathilda was his oldest brother’s wife. His second brother, Gordain, married my best friend, Ella.
I visited her whenever I could, but I’d made a point of avoiding William on the past few trips to Scotland.
I knew where my path in life was taking me, and getting more hooked on him wasn’t going to do me any favours.
“And the beard, is that mandatory wear for a photographer?” I smiled, but it was weak.
His gaze took me to pieces. “If we’re doing question and answer, want to tell me how a single lass is expecting a proposal?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Aye. I really do.”
“It’s an arrangement my father is making.”
William froze. “Arrangement?”
I sighed, switching my gaze to the rain-splattered window.
The first time I’d met William had been after my original attempt at an arranged marriage.
One I’d organised to get away from my dad and obtain something else I badly wanted.
I’d been eighteen then and reeling from news I’d had.
That plan had fallen through, and since then, the situation had only gotten worse.
It made this second attempt even more important. “I know what you’re thinking—”
He gave a short bark of a laugh. “I’m not thinking anything. Other than how different my world is to yours.”
I felt it, then. The chasm between my life and that of this good, kind man, who came from a happy, boisterous family of brothers, who had nieces and nephews to spoil, a wild Scottish estate to roam. Who had love pouring at him from every side.
Utterly unlike being raised in a boarding school because my parents’ acrimonious divorce meant they couldn’t share me. Not that they’d wanted to.
I curled in on myself, suddenly unable to speak.
“Hey.” William lightly jostled me. “Come back. I’m not passing judgment. It’s none of my business.”
It wasn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s.
My gaze landed on the laptop again. New words appeared. “There’s an update.”
We both leaned in to view the screen.
The catering company’s use of pressurised gas canisters had not been sanctioned by the museum, and an investigation will look at the process that led to this chain of events.
To recap, the explosion that caused the panicked evacuation of a red-carpet event, moments before the arrival of Senator Miller and Governor Vandenberg, caused no injuries but damaged a number of works of art…
I stopped reading and blinked at William. “It wasn’t a bomb, then.”
“Christ.” He palmed his neck. Amusement danced in his eyes when he brought his attention back to me. “I’m not sorry, though. Seeing you has been the highlight of my trip.”
My laugh came unbidden. “You’re joking, aren’t you? All the people you must have photographed. All the places you must have been.”
His lips quirked, but he just watched me.
I knew he was being sweet, but I’d store those words away and keep them as comfort for the hard times to come.
Pressure ate at me. I stood and looked out at the flashing lights that still lit the night in the distance. There were fewer now.
It was time for me to leave.
“Wait,” William said. Like he knew I was about to bolt. “Sit down again, will ye?”
I hesitated. If I did, I’d probably do something stupid like throw myself at him again.
“In a few hours, I need to get a taxi to the airport. Stay here until then. I can drop you at your hotel on the way.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
His gaze caressed me. “I want to. That way I’ll know you got back safe.”
“What shall we do until then?” Heat flared, blazing along my nerves.
Everything was about to change. As soon as the announcement was made, my low profile as the little-photographed daughter of a politician would be obliterated. The press would expose every secret that hadn’t already been buried, and my private life wouldn’t exist anymore.
I had one chance left to do something for me alone.
William rested back on the couch, his arms behind his head making his biceps pop. “Get your thoughts out of the gutter. We can chat. Catch up.”
“Or,” I dropped the towel and advanced, straddling him with one bold swing, “we can do something more fun instead. Just like old times.”