Kerry ducked his head when he realized every face in the restaurant had turned in their direction. To a pair of older women whose eyes were fairly bulging from their skulls, he said, “Sorry to disappoint, madams, but I’m no gentleman of the evening, no light-kilt for hire.”

Though they gasped and sputtered at him, they grinned as they turned away, confirming he’d read their thoughts aright.

He chuckled and turned back to a red-faced Jordan. At least she was still there. “Pardon me, lass. They were beggin’ for a tease. Embarrassing ye was not my intention, aye?”

Apparently, she hadn’t been paying strict attention and waved away his apology. “Don’t worry about it.” With both hands out of her pockets again, she stared at her fingers and toyed with the edge of her napkin, all that confidence gone. “I, uh… I hadn’t planned to…” She sighed and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Maybe you’d better give me your hourly price. Three hundred dollars is only a little over two hundred pounds, and that’s about all I can afford.” Her eyes widened. “Please tell me three hundred isn’t your hourly rate.”

“Ye wish to pay me hundreds of pounds simply to pose for ye—”

“I know. It’s probably not worth getting all dressed up like this, but… Shooting you might really make this trip a big success for me. Even if it’s just for an hour or so.”

“An hour or so.”

She gave him the most winsome smile, like a wee pup hoping for a treat.

He shook his head. “I will give ye my price, lass. And if ye cannae agree to every term, ye must find another model, aye?”

She sighed and nodded, as though she expected to hear something she could never afford. But she forced another smile, folded her hands over the front of her knee, and waited. They sat at right angles to each other, so close that their knees would have knocked had she not sat sideways in her chair. He lifted his chin to avoid staring at the short hem of her skirt.

Thankfully, her legs were covered with thick black stockings that went all the way up to… Well, they at least covered what the skirt did not.

“I will allow ye to shoot me to yer heart’s content on the morrow. And in return…ye shall feed me a traditional Scottish breakfast, share a simple afternoon picnic, and feed me supper at a place of yer choosing. If ye should weary of my company at any point, ye need only say so and our bargain will be at an end. No feelings hurt. No further obligation.” He finished off his pint and pushed the glass away. “What say ye, Jordan Lennox?”

She considered her lap for a moment before looking him in the eye. “I would rather pay you and keep it professional if you don’t mind. You said you could show me the Scotland I’m missing, and that would be wonderful—if there is time. But the shoot needs to be a business transaction.”

It was the silliest thing he’d ever heard. But he wouldn’t injure her feelings by voicing that opinion. There was something else underlying her words. They’d grown rather comfortable with each other, and she suddenly seemed to regret it. Unfortunately for her, he had no intention of letting her erect a wall between them now.

If Soncerae had other plans for him, it was too late. He was invested in Jordan Lennox, photographer. She’d been a lion to chase him down, now a mouse when he was willing to donate his time and attention.

“Why?”

His simple question caught her off guard and she blinked half a dozen times. “Why?” She opened her hands as if she hoped the answer might fall into them. “Why do I want to keep it professional? Because… I’m a professional. I don’t mix business with pleasure.” She worried at her lip as if searching for a better explanation. He knew the second she landed on something. “I don’t take pictures of people with whom I have relationships.”

He chuckled. “Ye mean to say that, if we were to become friends, ye couldnae take my picture?”

Her head bobbed. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Why?”

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, then braced her hands on the table as if to keep them from flapping about while she explained. “If I know someone well enough to…know what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling, it blinds me. I can’t see past it, to the composition.”

“Explain this composition.”

She looked pleadingly at the waiter, who had returned with her card, but the man was eager to move on to the next table and was unaware of her struggle. So she signed a wee paper, accepted another from him, and stuffed both paper and card into the pocket of her camera bag.

“Composition is the placement of all the elements in the shot. Lighting, shadows, background, foreground. I need to be as detached from the subject as possible, or the subject is all I see.”

“Detached.”

“Professional.”

He shrugged and got to his feet. “Then sadly, Miss Lennox, our involvement is at an end. I wish ye great success in any case, and hope that some of the pictures ye’ve already taken will be helpful.” He offered his hand, and when she took it, speechless, he pulled her out of her chair and pressed his warm lips firmly against her skin. “Farewell, lass,” he murmured as seductively as he could manage.

“You… You don’t…” She shook her head and allowed her hand to drop. “Thank you anyway.”

He remained where he was and stared, trying to see what she was so desperate to keep to herself. Eventually, she dropped her gaze to the floor and pulled her skirt against her bum as she sat once more.

Pity. She will just have to get up again when she comes running after me.

~ ~ ~

Jordan couldn’t believe the guy was walking away! She’d offered him good money for an hour-long photo shoot, or at least she thought she had. Over the years, she’d hired only a few models in the U.K., but she didn’t remember the rate being much different from fees in the States.

His offer had boiled down to a good old-fashioned will work for food, but that made no sense at all. Why work for three meals when he could eat well for weeks with what she was willing to pay?

The answer came like a smack in the face with a frying pan.

Gah! He doesn’t need the money!

The guy was probably rich as could be—some Scottish noble or something who didn’t have to do anything for a living. On the path, he’d said he had two free days. He probably had a couple of free lifetimes.

He’d had photo-shoots before?

Yeah, probably—to have his own portrait painted or something. So, posing for her would just be for fun—more enjoyable, he’d said. Made perfect sense.

He was probably laughing at her now as he smiled and bowed his way out of the small building. He hadn’t even looked back to see if she’d changed her mind.

“Go ahead,” she whispered. “Toddle off to your castle now and tease some more tourists.”

She glanced around the dining area to see if some of the locals were used to this kind of thing, but all she caught was pity.

There’s the idiot that let him get away…

What if she was wrong? What if he wasn’t rich at all? Though she’d offered it as payment for posing at the tunnel, he’d allowed her to pay for dinner. And he’d been hungry enough to eat half of hers, too. Was he just pretending to enjoy the food, or had he really thought it was special?

Jordan shook her head. A couple of kisses on the hand and she couldn’t tell up from down anymore. For all she knew, the guy had been hitting on her, and when it became clear she didn’t intend to get close to him, he’d cut bait.

A picnic was more important than money?

Of course, he’d been hitting on her. But still… He really was too perfect of a subject to let get away. She needed some great shots, and he could sell Scotland to anyone—the pot of gold at the end of every Scottish tourist’s dream.

And all he wanted was three meals.

He hadn’t suggested she sleep with him. She didn’t have to hold his hand. She didn’t have to get involved. She could keep him at arm’s length, stay professional—and feed him. That didn’t mean she had to let him into her head. She wouldn’t have to bare her soul or listen to him bare his.

Jordan jumped to her feet. I can do this. I need to do this.

But he was getting away again!

She glanced around the table to make sure she had everything, then strapped her bag on her back as she headed for the door Kerry Mather had gone through.

“There’s a clever lass,” someone called out. “You go get ‘im!”