Chapter 5

“Meet me here at the B&B tomorrow. We’re swapping out. It’s time you learned the sucky side of the tour guide business.” Joanna put her cellphone on the nightstand and tapped the speaker button. “I mean it, Lucia. This latest bunch is way worse than the newlywed group that got caught screwing in the castle gardens.”

The guerilla grannies had gone too far this time. Before getting on the bus to ride back to the bed-and-breakfast for the night, they’d baited Grant about how a proper gentleman would never allow a woman he cared about to go on her daily run alone. Especially not at night. His me warrior; you helpless woman act had kicked into overdrive and he’d nagged the living piss out of her until she’d finally agreed to let him come along. Her alone time, her time to relax and get as close to her personal nirvana as her fucked-up life would ever allow, had been effectively shot to shit by seven interfering old women.

“What are you talking about? They’re a group of sweet old ladies.” Lucia Banks, Joanna’s best friend and foster sister, sounded entirely too damned amused. Sounded like Lucia knew exactly what the Alverest Knitting Chicks were capable of and fully endorsed their antics. “They’re perfectly harmless,” she added, an irritating giggle sneaking into her tone. “Besides—you said this group would be a cakewalk.”

“Cakewalk, my ass. I’m pulling the plug on this round. I refuse to be manipulated by a bunch of nosy old ladies and a bossy Scottish Neanderthal.”

“Now, Joanna…” Lucia paused a half second. “Wait. Who’s the Scottish Neanderthal?”

“You know damn good and well who the Scottish Neanderthal is.” Joanna knew Lucia’s tone. Her foster sister was about to kick into reasonable-lecture mode and Joanna wasn’t in the mood to hear it. Lucia was the rock. The dependable one, while Joanna was…well, Joanna was more like the wind, always changing direction. They’d bonded in junior high school when Lucia’s family had fostered Joanna and they had been inseparable ever since. Their opposing temperaments weirdly balanced each other out perfectly. “And by the way, when were you going to tell me about you and Taggart?”

“There is nothing to tell…yet.” Lucia made a motherly clucking sound and Joanna could just see her friend smiling and shaking her head. “And seven old ladies with enough grandchildren between them to populate this end of North Carolina can’t be managed? You’re going to let them beat you? You’ve got this, Joanna. Just think one step ahead of them. Like you do with Tyler. You keep him in line without any problem.”

“Tyler is seven and he loves ‘Auntie Jo.’ ” Joanna shucked her jeans and T-shirt, then pulled on the skintight insulated running gear that would keep her warm no matter how low the evening temperatures dipped.

“He also knows Auntie Jo will bust his ass if he gets out of line,” Lucia replied. “Get your bluff in on the group.”

“Too late.” Joanna bent and yanked her shoelaces tight. “They’ve already gotten their bluff in on me. That’s why you and I are switching places. I need a break from the matchmaking mobsters. You’re a mother and you also took care of Granny Maxie until she died. You know how to handle irritating childish behavior whether it’s coming from someone who’s seven or seventy.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have your people skills and gift of gab when it comes to chatting up all the vendors and reenactors the groups meet. I’d never be able to score them all those discounts and freebies that you do. Just think back, how many pharmaceutical reps achieve the kind of numbers you hit your first two years on the job? You’ve got a PhD in bullshitting, sister.”

“This isn’t the same as pitching pills and that’s ancient history—almost three years ago.” As far as Joanna was concerned, three years was forever ago, and that part of her life was a never-to-be-reopened chapter thanks to Dr. Matthew Tasker and his lies. “And stop trying to shut down this conversation by bringing that up. You know better.”

“Sorry, sweets. Guess that was hitting below the belt.” The cellphone fell silent for so long, Joanna thought Lucia’s call had been dropped.

“You still there?”

“I’m here,” Lucia answered with a long, drawn-out sigh. “If you really want to swap places with me tomorrow, I’ll do it. But Tyler has a class trip and I volunteered to go along as teacher’s helper.”

“I’ll take second graders over this bunch any day.” Joanna smoothed down her running shirt, adjusted her thumbs through the holes in the cuffs, and strapped on the belt she always wore that held her keys and identification. She pulled her shoulder-length red hair up into a ponytail, then smoothed the wide fleeced headband in place snugly over her ears. “Where’s the class going?”

“Highland Life and Legends.”

Joanna stared at the phone, waiting for Lucia to end her bad joke and say Tyler’s second-grade class was really going somewhere else on their trip tomorrow. When Lucia remained silent, Joanna plopped down on the side of the bed, still glaring at the phone. “Seriously? Highland Life and Legends?”

“Yep. ’Fraid so, sweets.”

Well, isn’t that just freakin’ lovely? The white reproduction French mantel clock on the nightstand beside her phone caught Joanna’s attention. The chipped gold-leaf second hand of the small, boxy clock and the tiny dented pendulum were happily ticking her life away and about to seal her fate with a tinny bong at the bottom of the hour. It was nearly nine thirty. Time to go downstairs and meet her running partner—the kryptonite to her self-control.

Joanna blew out a despondent breath. “I’ve gotta go.”

“So, we’re good then? Keep the status quo as is?”

Stretching as high as she could reach, then bending at the waist and flattening her palms on the floor until the backs of her legs felt a renewed rush of blood, Joanna groaned. “Yes. We’re fine.”

“Jo…really? You know I don’t want you miserable. Not after all you’ve sacrificed to help me and Tyler.” Lucia’s voice grew so soft that Joanna had to pick up the phone and turn up the volume to hear her.

“How many times do I have to tell you that we’ve helped each other? We’re family.” Joanna did her best to speak with renewed energy and determination. Lucia and Tyler had helped her get over the tanking of her career and the revelation that the man she’d planned to marry already had a wife—and also didn’t have a problem beating the living shit out of her when she’d finally decided to challenge him. She’d helped Lucia and Tyler get past Jason’s death and piece together a fledgling tour-guide business to help them all survive.

She took Lucia off speakerphone and held the phone to her ear. “Really. I’ll be fine. I just needed to talk it out. You know how I am.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Lucia’s voice tapered off, her tone clearly saying she wasn’t convinced that Joanna really meant it.

“I’m sure.” The metallic bong of the clock on the nightstand sounded. Joanna rolled her shoulders and grabbed the doorknob. “I’ve got to go. I’ll look for you and the pack of second graders at the park tomorrow. Tell ‘T’ that I love him.”

“Will do,” Lucia replied. In a lighter tone, she quoted one of Tyler’s favorite superheroes. “Remember, young one. You are fearless and wise. Believe that you can do this and it will be so.”

Joanna punched the off button on the phone and belted it into the holder strapped to her upper right arm. “Fearless and wise, my ass,” she grumbled as she locked the door to her room, then stuffed the antique skeleton key into the slender bag strapped around her waist.

She rolled her shoulders again, then shook out her arms as she trotted down the hall and jogged down the steps. Grant MacDara was a fine-looking man and seemed…so…dammit. She blew out a frustrated breath, unable to settle on the word that accurately described the male trait he possessed that caused such an unsettling assault of emotions and severe case of take me until I scream your name more and more each time she was around him. She’d never been this attracted to anyone—not even Matthew, and she’d supposedly been engaged to that liar’s sorry ass.

All her postpubescent life she’d been a loser magnet and fallen for the wrong guy. If she was this attracted to Grant, something had to be really wrong with him. Super wrong—like he-hid-the-bodies-of-his-enemies-in-the-mountains-behind-Castle-Danu kind of wrong. She just hadn’t figured out what it was yet or seen any reason to avoid him—other than the danger of sabotaging a potential lucrative contract with Highland Life and Legends. She’d heard rumors about him. Moody. Loner. Asshole. So far, that’s all they’d been. Rumors.

So what was wrong with him? She’d never fallen for a legitimately “nice” guy before. She’d always paired up with jerks. It was like she had the word gullible stamped on her forehead and unsuspecting tattooed across her ass. Had to be a damaged recessive gene she had or something carried over from childhood. Abusive father. Cowering mother. Well…cowering and passive until Mom got a gun and brutally ended the abuse and then took her own life after she’d shot her husband. Joanna shook away the dark memories, forcing yet another chapter of her life back into lockdown.

“Maybe he’ll change his mind and not show up,” she mused aloud as she rounded the last corner and hit the final landing with both feet. “He doesn’t exactly look like he’d run—even if a bear was chasing him.”

“Aye, lass. Ye ken the right of it there. I ne’er run from anythin’.” Grant’s deep, sexy voice surrounded her, triggering a series of shivers starting right between her thighs. “But ye’ll also find I ne’er break m’word, either.”

Damn, damn, dammit. Already panting for air and she’d just jogged down the stairs. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t the jogging that had gotten her out of breath. That Scottish brogue of his is deadly. “You were supposed to meet me on the porch. Remember?” Joanna rounded the corner, then froze in her tracks. Holy shit. The sight before her was just too…She’d seen lots of “eye candy” during the stops at Highland Life and Legends and Grant was always number one on that list. In fact, as far as she was concerned, kilted hotties were the main attraction at the park. But she’d never seen him like this. “Holy shit” didn’t begin to describe the effect of this look…especially since she’d stolen a peek at the package under his kilt—words just couldn’t begin to cover it.

“And there you are,” she finally squeaked out with a wave of one hand. She blinked hard to make sure that she hadn’t slipped into one of her favorite fantasies outside of the bedroom rather than in the privacy of her bed. “Uhm…I know it’s late March, but it’s still kind of cold at night. You know?” She ran a finger around the high neckline of her running shirt and blew an imagined strand of hair out of her eyes. She sure as hell wasn’t cold, but it had nothing to do with the weather or the thermostat in the hotel.

Grant MacDara, standing there in his bare-chested, kilted state, generated more heat than a roaring bonfire. He wore what looked to be soft brown moccasin-like ankle boots with the leather straps wound tight up and around his muscular calves. This kilt was different from the one he’d worn earlier. It was fashioned from a faded, nearly threadbare tartan and hugged low about his hips. The drape of it was a good deal longer in the back than the front, but the soft material settled across his body perfectly so Joanna could totally appreciate the delicious outline of the man’s fine ass and his hard, corded thighs. He’d tied back his dark blond hair with a strip of leather, then tightly wrapped the ends around the ponytail that hung down between his shoulder blades.

The white globed sconces in the hallway created the most enticing gleam on the smooth, hard planes of Grant’s chest. His laddered abs looked as though they’d been sculpted of marble, then dipped in bronze. The pale triangle of blondish brown hair starting between his pecs shimmered into a quicksilver trail all the way down to his navel, then disappeared under the waistline of his kilt.

Joanna’s fingers itched to trace their way down that tempting trail and reach the grand prize at the end. She silently scolded herself. No! Can’t risk the contract.

Grant looked tanned…kind of. How the hell could he be tanned just coming out of the dead of winter? A spray job, maybe? Nah…she very much doubted that any of the MacDara men were the type to go with a faux tan. He must work outside stripped down. A lot. That thought triggered another shiver and made her swallow hard.

Joanna finally realized she was standing there in the middle of the hallway with her mouth hanging open. She covered her mouth and feigned a cough. “It’s March,” she repeated. “Aren’t you going to get cold?”

Grant’s lopsided grin became a full gleaming smile. “ ’Tis a mild night.” He winked and added, “And I’ll be runnin’ beside you, ye ken?”

Yeah…I ken all right. I’m going to ignore that little comment for both our sakes. Casual flirting had suddenly become dangerous—serious even. She felt it with every aching throb from the waist down. Joanna pushed past him and opened the door. Leaning back against it, she gallantly motioned toward the porch. “After you, sir.”

“Och…nay, lass.” Grant grabbed the edge of the door just above her head, then slid in so close beside her, he nearly nudged her with his made-for-stroking chest. “A MacDara always puts his lady first and ensures she’s well pleased.” He proffered his hand toward the porch and smiled. “After you, m’lady.”

Ensures she’s well pleased—oh shit. Biting her lip to keep from commenting, Joanna walked out, skipped down the steps, then while jogging in place, turned back to Grant still standing on the porch. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You coming or not? I’ve still got some work to do when I get back to my room tonight. We need to get this five-miler started.” Please let him change his mind. Joanna repeated the silent chant over and over, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Grant looked entirely too tempting up on that damn porch. Hands on his hips. Smart-ass grin. He needed to go away. He might not look like a mistake right now, but the innocent-looking ones tended to morph into a shitload of trouble when you least expected it.

“I’m merely waiting to see which direction ye choose,” he said with another wink. “After all, my stride is about twice the length of yours.” He sauntered off the porch and walked up beside her with the fluid, seductive grace of a panther stalking its prey.

“How do they say it here?” he asked, scowling as he appeared to search his thoughts. “Ah! I remember now.” He looked at her with a smile that made the heart rate monitor on her fitness tracker start beeping. “I was givin’ ye a head start.”

Joanna stopped jogging in place and tapped the annoying monitor strapped to her wrist. Her heart rate had already revved into the damn target zone as soon she’d seen Grant, and keeping it in the zone wouldn’t be a problem as long as he was around. “Look—this isn’t a race…at least not against each other. I’m trying to do this run in a certain amount of time. Kind of like racing against myself.”

“Then by all means, lead on, m’lady.”

M’lady? Again? The last time she’d brought his strange way of talking to his attention it had ended in one hell of a kiss. Let it go, Joanna. You are weak, my child. Too weak to fight off another kiss like that. Joanna sucked in a deep breath and took off down the street, once again thankful for the chilly night air.

Grant appeared beside her, silently loping along in a ground-eating run. He pointed to a path up ahead. A restricted path, closed off by three heavy chains hanging between two thick posts and a sign advising that trespassers would be prosecuted. “That path goes by a ridge overlooking the river if ye’d like a view along with yer run this evenin’.”

Moonlit night. Secluded path through the woods. Promise of a great view. Joanna’s libido alarm bells sounded and so did the heart rate monitor on her wrist. This is so not a good idea. Her judgment and self-control weren’t great under the best of circumstances—but a man like Grant in a place like this, after this morning’s kiss? Hell—nobody could pass this test.

Her fitness tracker beeped even louder with the tone that said her heart rate had peaked and needed to slow down. Again, Joanna punched the buttons and silenced it. “I’m taking this thing off. It must need new batteries or something.” She ripped the band off her wrist and shoved it in the bag at her waist.

Grant turned them toward the path but Joanna hung back on the main road, jogging in place on the pavement. “I really like running on asphalt better than gravel. Why don’t we just stick to the roads here in town.” What a lame excuse. It’ll be a miracle if he swallows that one. He’s seen me run on gravel before.

“ ’Tis a good, smooth path. Ramsay and I worked on it most of the winter.” Grant twisted what looked like three large bolts drilled into the gate post. The bolts were aligned with the end of each chain stretched across the path. After he’d turned all three of the bolts, he reached through the chains, gripped the gate post, and unlatched a thick strip of metal from the main pole. The chains that appeared to be attached to the pole were actually welded to a hidden metal strip that could only be released by correctly positioning the three bolts.

Impressed at the ingenuity but even more impressed by the way Grant’s muscles rippled with every move, Joanna watched him closely as he took the chain gate, walked it across the path, and piled it in the grass beside the opposite post. When he turned around and grinned at her, she struggled to think of something intelligent to say. “Uhm…pretty ingenious. Kind of like a combination lock or something.”

“Aye.” Grant nudged the gate with his foot to clear it completely out of the path. “Easier than keeping up with keys and such.” He turned and held out a hand. “Are ye comin’ or no?”

Joanna stared at the safety of the well-lit and slightly populated road she was currently on, eyed the extremely private and secluded path, then looked at Grant. The smartest thing I could do is run back to my room.

“Are ye scairt?” Grant’s brows drew together as though he couldn’t believe that possibility might even exist. “I ne’er thought ye’d be one t’be afraid. What d’ye fear if ye take the path instead of the street?”

He would have to say that. “I’m not scared of anything,” Joanna said, a searing hot rush of defensive adrenaline making her wish she could peel off her shirt and run in nothing but her sports bra. Nobody calls me scared. Ever. I am not my mother. She sprinted up the path, slinging gravel behind her.

Grant easily caught up and padded along beside her. Fast. Silent. Like a relentless hunter staying near her until the perfect moment to strike.

Joanna shook the thought away and dug in, increasing her speed. This is nuts. He’s just a guy. I’ve got this. The only thing she needed to keep in mind was that whatever she did, she could not under any circumstances jeopardize Carolina Adventures’ potentially permanent year-round contract with Highland Life and Legends.

“Right up ahead.” Grant pointed to a widening curve in the path and a break in the thick pines filling the hillside. The evening clouds had disappeared, leaving a gap of blue-black night sky spattered with winking stars showing between the trees. “Ramsay and I are still working on the lookout platform, but the view is already grand.”

“You’re not even winded,” Joanna said between gulps of air, feeling the incline of the path more than she cared to admit. She’d been running for years. Why the devil is this run so hard?

Grant slowed to a fast walk, turned and took her hand, then led her to the edge of an unfinished wooden observation deck looking out across the valley. “Máthair says the gods wound me too tight. I’m rarely still.” He laced his fingers through hers and hugged her hand to his chest with a wink and a grin. “Maybe that’s why I rarely lose m’wind.”

Joanna had no idea what the hell Grant had just said. All she was aware of was the heat of his body against the back of her hand. Skin to skin. And the steady thump of his heartbeat. Strong. Tickling. Making her want to snuggle against him and feel it with the rest of her body.

Concentrate on the view. Stick. To. The. View. “It’s beautiful here. I see now why you wanted to show it off.” Joanna vaguely waved with her free hand encompassing the vista before them. A sapphire river snaking through the woodland, the ridges of its gentle ripples sparkling with moonlight. Endless velvet of evening sky exploding with stars. Night-muted greens and browns of sprouting fields, quilted together in lopsided squares across the rolling dips of the valley. Stick to the view, my ass. I’d rather stick to him.

“Aye,” Grant said softly, pulling her closer while still holding her hand against his chest. “And yer the first ta see it from here.” He easily curled her into his embrace, shifting her so she stood in front of him with his arms hugging her back against him.

“Such beauty,” he whispered, the heat of his breath tickling just behind her ear. “Lethal beauty,” he repeated in a lower tone.

“Why lethal?” Joanna whispered, greedily giving in to the urge to melt into the divine expanse of muscle warming her back. No harm in being friendly. Gotta keep that contract. I can handle this. She closed her eyes and snuggled her ass against the delicious hard ridge that made her want to rip off Grant’s kilt and ride.

Can’t do that, she silently advised herself, but a hot wetness and insistent throbbing trapped in her running pants begged to differ.

“Lethal because…” He gently turned her, sliding his warm, callused hand along her jawline and lifting her face to his. “Yer a grave danger t’me, Joanna. One taste of ye and a man’s hunger is ruined for all others.”

“Oh…I don’t know,” Joanna said with a light teasing rub of her bottom lip back and forth across his. “I think I’m pretty harmless.” Damn. Me ruin him? How ’bout him ruin me? “Why don’t you sample me again and see?” she dared. I’ve got this. A kiss. No more. And the contract’s still safe. She ignored the voice of warning at the back of her mind, snuggling up tighter against Grant as her libido captured the ever-weakening warning voice and duct-taped its mouth. Just one kiss.

Grant needed no further coaxing. “Aye, m’sweetling,” he said, his voice a deep, rasping whisper. He lowered his head, tightened his arms around her, and covered her mouth with his, exploring and tasting until she thought she’d surely burst into flames.

This was no innocent, ordinary kiss. Grant’s urgency vibrated through her. He was a man starved, determined to devour her. He clutched her against him as though he feared she’d somehow disappear.

Stretching on tiptoe and arching against him, Joanna wrapped one leg around him and squeezed, grinding inward, wishing her clothes would evaporate and get the hell out of the way. One kiss, my ass. We’re gonna christen this platform properly.

Grant finally raised his head, his breath coming hard and fast as he stared down at Joanna with an unreadable expression on his face.

Joanna smiled. Grant MacDara was finally “winded.”

“Aye…quite lethal, I fear.” Slowly and ever so gently, he set her away from him. He was silent a long, painful few moments before he finally spoke. “Ye said ye had much work yet to do this evenin’. We’d best be gettin’ ye back to yer room, ye ken? I dinna wish t’have ye think ill of me.”

“You want to what?” Joanna blinked. Surely, she hadn’t heard him right. She stared at him, her entire body humming and ready to shift into overdrive. It had been a long dry spell since the last time she’d had a good romp with something that wasn’t battery operated. Grant wasn’t getting off the hook that easy—precious contract or not. “Would you mind repeating that and telling me why?”

“Aye, I would mind verra much,” Grant said, still backing away. “ ’Tis no’ the proper time—yet. I dinna wish for ye t’think ill of me. Come. We’ll go back the way we came so we’ll come out closer to the bed-and-breakfast. I’ll see ye safe to yer room and bid ye good night.”

“Tell you what, I’ll make this easy for you.” Joanna jabbed her thumb in the direction Grant suggested. “You go that way. I’ll take the other direction.”

Grant shook his head. He glanced down at the ground with a heavy sigh, then lifted his chin and locked a scowling gaze on her. “Nay. I canna let ye run alone. Ye should ken that well enough by now.”

“You can and you will. Do you ‘ken’ that?” Joanna unzipped the running pack buckled around her waist. She held up a tiny black spray can, shook it in his face, then shoved it back in her bag. “I’ve got pepper spray. Trust me. I’m fine.” She zipped the waist pack shut with a frustrated jerk. Asshole alert. Maybe this is just the tip of the loser iceberg.

“Ye canna run alone.”

“The hell I can’t.”

He had no right. She turned and took off.

This race was on.