Chapter Eight
While he brought out plastic-wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, I struggled to rationalize my behavior with him. I was lonely, nothing more. Ever since losing my job, I'd spent three months alone in the woods in a secluded cabin with only puppies for companions. Even before that, I'd avoided getting friendly with men because of my unwanted, illegal marriage. The idea of hanging out with Aidan, engaging in strange and oddly enjoyable conversations with him, made me feel almost normal again, not like a fugitive from the law.
I could enjoy kissing him. Talking to him. Basking in his sensual aura. Didn't mean I'd be tempted to sleep with him. Certainly didn't mean I'd fall for him. No way. In a week or so, the novelty would wear off and I'd send him on his way. No harm done.
You will fall for me, he'd said. Ye willnae be able to help it.
Aidan handed me an unwrapped sandwich. Our fingers nudged each other when I accepted the sandwich, and awareness shimmered through me.
Okay, I was attracted to him. Wildly, hotly attracted. But I had self-control. Really, I did.
No sex, no love, no marriage.
I should've told him to take a hike. Should've gone back to my hermitage. Why couldn't I tell him to give up and go away?
Maybe I couldn't speak the words, but I did have a way to discourage him.
"Listen," I said after swallowing a bite of sandwich, "there's something else I need to tell you about me."
He bit off a chunk of his sandwich, chewing with deliberate slowness, swallowing and dragging his tongue across his lips. "I'm listening."
I picked at the crust of my sandwich to avoid looking at him. "Even if I wanted to marry you, which I don't, I can't do it. I'm already married."
Daring to glance up, I found him still as a boulder, eyes unblinking. He held the sandwich an inch from his mouth.
"What?" he asked. "But you don't wear a ring. And you're a virgin."
"I am married, Aidan. Filed for divorce, but still married."
"Filed for divorce?" He set down his food. "Then you're separated. Legally."
"There's no such thing as legal separation in Michigan. But yes, I started the divorce process." I flashed back to my conversations with Rade in the hotel and on the phone earlier. "My husband has been trying to delay the proceedings."
"Are you still in love with him?"
"I never loved him."
"Donnae understand." He glanced at his sandwich, his lip curled, and he set it down. "You don't love him and you've never slept with him. Why did you marry the man? Why not get an annulment instead of divorce?"
"It's a long story." I held up a hand when Aidan opened his mouth to speak. "Please don't ask any more questions. That's all I can tell you, for your own protection."
He squinted at me, lips pursed. "Protection? Why would I need to be protected from knowing about your relationship with your husband?"
"It's complicated."
"Has he abused you?"
"No, nothing like that."
"All right." Aidan picked up his sandwich and devoured another bite. The playful gleam had returned to his eyes. "Then we can kiss and I'm free to seduce you, since you're not really another man's wife anymore."
"Maybe you should go home. I'm bad news."
"You've already been good for me. I haven't had this much fun in a long time."
I stared at him, still holding my sandwich. "Aren't you worried I'm a criminal wanted by the FBI? Or that I'll try to con you into murdering my husband for his life insurance?"
Aidan laughed, shaking his head, and went back to eating his lunch.
If he wouldn't take me seriously, I had no other option except to order him to go away. But I still couldn't make myself say it. Didn't want to. Because I hadn't had this much fun in a long time either.
"Tell me," Aidan said, "can your husband stop the divorce?"
"No. Michigan is a no-fault state, which means the divorce will happen. He can argue about the terms and bring in his team of lawyers to slow things down, but it will go through eventually."
"His team of lawyers?" Aidan's brows lowered. "Is he wealthy?"
I absently drew lines in the sand, my gaze on the lake. "Yeah, he's rich. Inherited a fortune from his parents."
"Does he want to keep you from getting any of his money?"
"No." I dived my fingers into the sand, sinking the tips down through the warm top layer into the cool, damp sand beneath. "I already told him I don't want any more of his money. I want nothing from him except a divorce."
"Any more of his money?" Aidan asked. "He's given you — "
"Yes and no. It's complicated, please don't ask me to explain."
"If that's what you want." He stroked the back of one finger along my upper arm, a faint smile on his lips. "Speaking of what you want… Since I don't want to overstay my welcome, would you rather I go back to Chicago tomorrow?"
My head wanted to say yes, but the rest of me longed to say no. What the hell, urged my mischievous inner voice, have a little fun. For five years, I'd denied myself anything close to fun out of fear and guilt. About time I took Tara's advice and cut loose.
I would not sleep with Aidan. Couldn't fall for him, not in the short time I had in mind.
"Okay," I said, "stay for a week. We can reevaluate at that point."
Aidan smiled, lighting up his face and igniting a brilliant flare inside me.
I might regret my decision later, but for now I planned to enjoy the warmth he engendered in me. I planned to enjoy the company of a sexy man who made me feel wanted.
"Have dinner with me," Aidan said.
My reply came without any hesitation. "I'd love to."
*****
I rested my hands on my lap, spreading my fingers over the floral fabric of my sun dress as I surveyed the restaurant around me. Picture windows overlooked the Portage Canal and the lift bridge, with its two blue towers spanning the narrow waterway. Though it was seven o'clock in the evening, the sun still glowed in the teal sky.
Aidan had received another mysterious call just as we walked into the restaurant, but he'd dismissed the caller with a gruff "can't talk now."
Seated across the table from me, Aidan relaxed in his chair, his focus on my face and a faint smile on his lips.
I fidgeted, a bit unnerved by his undivided attention. "You look pleased with yourself. Are you concocting some kind of plan to get me into bed?"
"No." He picked up his water glass and took a sip, but his gaze stayed on me. "Just wondering how long you'll keep pretending we're not dating."
"We aren't. Dating implies a desire to advance the relationship." I plucked at my dress, resisting the urge to chew on the inside of my cheek. "There will be no advancement."
His eyebrows lifted, his smile ticking up a little higher. "We share meals, we talk about our lives and our plans, and we kiss. That's dating."
I growled my frustration. "We. Are. Not. Dating."
"What are we doing, then?"
"Hanging out."
Shrugging one shoulder, he swallowed another mouthful of water. "Call it whatever you like, if it makes you feel better."
"Thank you. I will." Did I sound like a person desperately denying the truth? Maybe I did. Hardly mattered, though, because I could not go down that road. A change of topic was in order. I wrapped my hand around my glass of fizzing pop, the cold firming up my resolve. Sort of. "You've mentioned having five siblings, brothers and sisters. How many of each?"
Aidan leaned back, eying me with curious amusement. "Are you sure you want me to answer? This sort of question might lead to accidental dating — or sex."
"Very funny." I gulped a mouthful of pop and set my glass down a little too hard. It thunked on the tabletop, splashing the fizzy liquid inside. "I'll risk it. Hearing about your family won't make me wild with desire for you."
"In that case, I have two brothers and three sisters."
"Wow, big family. Do you get along with them?"
"Aye," he said. "Lachlan used to be the most uptight person you'd ever meet, until Erica softened him up. He's annoyingly happy these days. My brother Rory has always been serious, but he hasn't found a woman to loosen him up yet. My sister Catriona is the most American of us, because she went to university here and came back to take a job at a museum. Fiona's a spitfire and Jamie doesn't know what she wants yet."
The affection in his tone told me he loved his family.
A pang pierced my heart, triggered by memories of events I'd tried not to think about for years, memories of my own family. I swallowed against the thickness in my throat.
"My parents," he went on, sitting forward to brace his elbows on the table, "they're embarrassingly in love after forty-five years together."
The start of tears burned in my eyes. I cleared my throat, sucked down a third of my glass of pop, and coughed at the sudden onslaught of carbonation.
Aidan stretched a hand across the table to clasp mine. "What's wrong? You look unwell."
"I'm fine." I took a slower sip of my drink, allowing his hand to warm mine despite the unsettling intimacy of it. "I drank too fast, that's all."
His fingers caressed my skin, more comforting than any words. The memories faded into the background of my hand, supplanted by the presence of this man.
"I blethered on and on about my family," he said. "Should we talk about something else?"
"Actually," I said, my stomach fluttering at the sensation of his fingers on my hand, "I'd like to know more. Like who's the oldest and where you fit into the hierarchy."
"Make us sound like a royal family." He sat back, withdrawing his hand and the lovely warmth it imbued into me. He rested an arm on the table. "Lachlan is the oldest. He's forty-two. Rory's next and he acts eighty even though he's thirty-eight. Then there's Fiona who's thirty-five, followed by Catriona who's thirty-one. I'm the youngest son, but Jamie's the baby of the family at twenty-six."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight." He tapped one finger on the tablecloth. "Tell me about your family."
I shifted in my seat, suddenly feeling like I'd sat on a rock. "I have one brother, Gavin. He's eight years older and very overbearing at times."
"You don't get along?"
"Oh no, we do. He's bossy because he loves me and all we've got is — " I clutched my glass in both hands, but the cold no longer calmed me. It chilled me to the core. Unable to look up at Aidan, I stared at the bubbles in the liquid. "All we've got is each other. Our parents died in a car accident five years ago."
Aidan wrapped his hand around both of mine, still clamped around the cold glass. "I'm sorry. Cannae imagine how awful that must be for you."
"Not like it happened yesterday."
He peeled my hands away from the glass, enveloping them with his own. "But it still hurts, I can see it in your eyes."
"Sure, it hurts once in a while. But it was a long time ago and I'm okay with it." I'd recovered from the body-slam shock of their sudden deaths, but the secrets exposed afterward still haunted me. Then there was Rade and his role in the aftermath.
"Is there more?" Aidan asked gently.
"Yes, but I'd rather not talk about it." I slid my hands out from between his. "I hardly know you. Need a little more time before I share all my secrets."
He nodded, seeming not the least bit irritated. "Maybe one day you will tell me. When you feel comfortable enough with me."
I studied him for a moment, my nosiness rearing up again. "May I ask you a personal question?"
"Ask anything you like."
"Why are you really here? In America, I mean. You say you're looking for a wife, the way your brother found his, but my intuition tells me there's more to it than that."
His gaze drifted to the windows and the view beyond them. The smile faded into a somber expression. "I need to change my life."
"Fleeing to another country seems a bit excessive. You could've changed your life in Scotland."
"Had to be somewhere else." He sank into his chair, still staring out the windows. "I've been selfish and that has to change. I have to change."
I had no idea what to say. He'd confided more than I'd expected, so much that I wasn't sure I should respond. My insatiable curiosity pushed me to ask how he'd been selfish, but I couldn't pry into his secrets when I refused to let him pry into mine.
He looked straight at me. "I took a hard look at myself and realized what I really want. It's what my parents have. Love, commitment, family — children, I mean. I'm looking for the right woman and the moment I saw you I knew you might be the one I need."
Stunned, I couldn't move or blink. When my eyes began to sting from dryness, I finally blinked again. "Aidan — "
"We're virtually strangers, I know." He fiddled with his napkin, gaze downcast, then raised his eyes to look straight into mine. "I trust my instincts. And they tell me you could be the one I've wanted. I'm only asking for a chance to find out if you are."
This conversation had gotten way too serious.
I straightened, stretching my fingers out on my lap. "So, what do you do for a living?"
He picked up his fork and twirled it around his fingers like a gunfighter practicing his quick draw. "I have a company. General contracting. I like the work and I like being in control of my own destiny."
"What's your company called?"
"MacTaggart Construction. Afraid I'm not very imaginative."
I leaned back against my chair. "Oh, I suspect you have plenty of imagination when it counts."
He smiled, setting down the fork. "With you, I'll harness every bit of my creativity."
An inventive man with a roguish streak? I might be in deep trouble here.
"Are the boss in the office," I said, "or a hands-on type of guy?"
"Hands on," he said, steepling his fingers. "Always."
I'd guessed as much from his hands — the strong, callused hands of man unafraid of hard labor. Skilled hands, capable of much more than hammering nails.
"What about you?" he asked. "What do you do?"
"Nothing exciting. I'm a librarian, got a master's degree and everything." A useless scrap of paper, my degree.
"Librarian?" He bent forward, moistening his lips. "A bonnie, sexy one for sure. Where are you working? I saw a library a few streets over."
"Haven't started my next job yet." Because I didn't have one. Maybe I should've confessed, but I didn't know him very well. Besides, I'd been trying to steer the conversation to lighter topics.
"You haven't told me," he said, "if you'll give me a chance to find out if you're the woman I've been looking for."
Elbows on the table, I dropped my face into my raised hands. "Aidan, please, stop wasting your time here. I'm way too damaged to give you any of the things you want. Go back to Chicago or Scotland or wherever and find a girl who's right for you. I am not."
I heard rustling and the scrape of his chair as he moved around. When I lowered my hands, he was beside me, having realigned his chair to sit next to me.
He laid a hand on my forearm. "Let me decide if I'm wasting my time."
"You are so pigheaded."
He smiled, his hand lingering on my bare skin. "Lachlan told me the same thing when I said I wanted to come to America. He tried to talk me out of it, but I'd set my mind to it." He bent closer, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. "I've decided this too. I want to spend time with you. Give me four weeks, it's all I ask."
"I agreed to one week, with the potential for extensions."
"Make it four weeks. Please. You can always boot me out after the first week."
I gazed into his blue eyes for a long moment, the intensity of his attention and the feel of his hand on my arm tempting me to surrender. "You win, I give up. But let's not assign a time limit to this, forget one week or four. Stay as long as you like, and if I get sick of you, I'll say so."
"Thank you, Calli."
"Don't thank me. None of what you're hoping for is going to happen."
He stroked his fingers over my skin, light and tempting. "At the very least, I'll have gotten to know a sweet lass and gotten to see a new place."
The waitress arrived with our food order, ending the discussion. Aidan moved his chair back to where it belonged. While we ate, we talked about innocuous things like tourist attractions and the weather. But I knew, in a visceral way, something very bad had just happened. We'd gotten… intimate. Discussing our families. Sharing deeply personal things.
Shit. We were dating.
Not that I would ever admit that to him.
Across the table, Aidan smiled that sweetly sexy smile, as if he'd heard my thoughts and knew I'd slipped a little closer to the line I'd sworn never to cross.
I shoved a huge chunk of broccoli into my mouth and chomped on it.
Slippery slope, here I come.