A Dog and a Diamond (9 page)

Sophie gave him a look that said, Is now really the time or place? But he ignored it. Sometimes you had to follow your gut.

Lachlan leaned back in his seat and considered. “A restaurant?”

“You'd be in charge.”

“I always wanted my own restaurant. Do you really think the distillery can support one?”

Callum shook his head, speaking honestly. “I'm hoping this restaurant will support the distillery, but it could be really good for you too. Being the boss will give you much more flexibility in your cooking. Say you'll give it some thought.”

Lachlan gave a quick nod. “I definitely will.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “And do the rest of us get any say in this new venture? If we're struggling, shouldn't we be focusing on what we already do well? Improving that even more? We're supposed to be about whiskey, not food.”

“I love the idea,” Annabel said. “Lord knows this town needs more good places to go eat.”

Quinn glared at her. “You could always learn to cook.”

Annabel shrugged. “And why would I want to do that when there are people, like Lachlan, who do it so much better?”

Nora piped up, a tight smile on her face. “As much as I love the distillery, let's leave business to after Thanksgiving, shall we?”

“Sorry, Mom,” Callum said, secretly stoked by Lachlan's initial response.

At that moment, Hamish squealed in delight and everyone looked to him.

“Are you feeding that dog under the table?” Lachlan asked, his tone half amused, half reprimanding.

“I love him,” Hamish exclaimed, shattering the tension brought on by discussing business at the table.

“That accounts for why he's been so quiet,” Chelsea said. “I did think he was being unusually good.”

Everyone laughed and then dug into the dessert.

“I can't eat another mouthful,” announced Blair later, when only a few crumbs were left on the serving plates. Desserts didn't stand a chance when the McKinnel clan got together.

“Me neither,” agreed the twins, speaking as one as they were frequently prone to do.

“Shall we go into the living room and get on with the fun and games?” Sophie added.

All agreed this was a good idea, so, after a joint effort of clearing the table and stacking the first load into the dishwasher, they retreated into the other room.

“Are you a movie or a board-game person?” Callum asked Chelsea.

She looked confused.

“It's our family tradition,” he clarified. “Some of us play games and the others watch a movie. The choice is yours. I'll do whatever you want.”

She chose the movie and so he led her over to the sofa and tugged her down beside him. It was so easy to pretend she was his date; half the time he forgot it was an act. Muffin collapsed at her feet, also full from lunch and Hamish, still besotted with the dog, sat beside him on the floor at Callum and Chelsea's feet. As usual, Hamish chose the movie—
The
Avengers
—and Callum couldn't help but notice and admire the way Chelsea listened intently to his rambling commentary. Although he and Chelsea didn't speak much, Callum found himself playing the part by stretching out and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She gave him a brief surprised look and then leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. It fit there perfectly.

As the credits rolled up the screen, Nora announced, “It's time to Skype Granddad. Quinn, can you go grab my laptop and set it up?”

“Is that your mom's dad?” Chelsea whispered as everyone soon gathered around the coffee table, the computer perched on it, while Quinn placed the call.

“Yep.” Callum nodded.

“Where does he live?”

“He's permanently cruising with a bunch of old friends these days it seems. He lived in the cottage here until my grandma died a few years back. He couldn't bear the emptiness and hasn't lived anywhere as such since.”

“That's sweet,” she said, then added, “in a sad way. If you know what I mean.”

“I do.” He squeezed her hand again as Granddad's face appeared large-as-life on the screen.

“He's quite a character,” Chelsea said quietly to Callum when everyone had taken their turn speaking to the older man. “I can see where you all get it from.”

“Are you calling my family eccentric?” he asked, not at all offended.

Before she could reply, bagpipe sounded across the room and she turned her head to follow the sound. There Blair stood, his elbow heaving and his cheeks red and puffy as he played. “Let's just say I don't know many people who can play the bagpipe, but I'd say cool rather than eccentric,” she said.

Quinn heard her and came over to butt in to their conversation. In typical Quinn fashion, he flirted. “We are indeed a family of many talents. Well, some of us are—” he dug Callum in the side “—but you've chosen the wrong brother. Callum is as boring as they come. Do you want me to tell you what
my
talents are? Or maybe I could show you?”

“Or maybe you could take a hike.” Callum glared daggers at his brother and then whisked Chelsea away.

“Sorry about Quinn,” he said when he had her safely across to the other side of the room. “He thinks himself amusing and is the biggest flirt ever.”

“I'm sure he's harmless.”

Maybe, maybe not.
Quinn had flirted with Claire before and after she and Blair got married and still did now that they were divorced. He'd been the same with Bailey—always leaning in to kiss her cheek or say suggestive things, trying to provoke Callum into explosion. Strangely, it had never bothered him as much when Quinn tried it on with Bailey, but today he'd seen red.

He'd kind of wanted to punch Quinn in the face.

As if his thoughts of Bailey had conjured her into existence, the doorbell rang again. This time Nora flitted off to answer it—more than a little tipsy after her fair share of whiskey—and returned a few moments later with Bailey and her parents, Marcia and Reginald, in tow.

Dammit. What were they doing here?

Of course, Callum guessed the answer. He hadn't told his mom till this morning that he was bringing a date, and she and her best friend had obviously been plotting to get him and Bailey back together. If it weren't for their moms' meddling ways, they'd probably never have become a couple in the first place.

“Who are they?” Chelsea whispered. At the same time Bailey glanced over and saw them alone in the corner.

He swallowed. Talk about awkward. Things were about to get interesting indeed.

Chapter Seven

“A
s in Bailey
Sawyer
?” Chelsea tried to stop the wild beating of her heart but this was very, very bad. No wonder the woman was now glaring daggers across the room at them. Even if she had been the one to end the relationship, no female liked to think she'd been replaced quite so easily, and so quickly, as well. Chelsea only hoped Bailey wouldn't find out exactly who
she
was. “As in Bailey your ex-
fiancée
?”

Callum cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes. I assumed you two would have met, but I'm sorry. I didn't know Mom had invited her.”

Chelsea felt sick—as if she were in danger of losing the massive lunch she'd devoured. “She's beautiful.” In fact, Bailey was the absolute definition of perfection in a classic Audrey Hepburn kind of way. The big bright blue eyes that were still staring at them were framed with the longest, blackest eyelashes ever and set in a milky, blemish-free complexion. Ms. Sawyer had perfectly shaped eyebrows and the same could be said about her body, which was neither skinny nor fat. Curvy, that was the word—totally the opposite of the beanpole that Chelsea was.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.
It would be fine—she and Bailey had never actually met, they'd only spoken on the phone, so hopefully the other woman wouldn't put two and two together. “She doesn't look very happy to see you with me.”

“Hmm.” Callum put his hand gently on her arm and gave her a distracted smile of apology. “Look, do you mind if I go over and have a quick chat?”

She found that she minded immensely, a spark of jealousy she'd never felt before kicking up inside her, but she nodded all the same. “I think that would be a good idea.” He started to go and she reached to grab him back a moment. “If possible, could you not mention exactly who I am? My business reputation is on the line.”

“Of course not.”

He strode to the other side of the room where Hamish was currently wrapped around Bailey, offering an exuberant hug. And here Chelsea had been thinking she was special. Torturing herself, she watched as Bailey let go of Hamish and then stepped into Callum's embrace. The hug was quick, perhaps a little uncomfortable, and he kissed her on the cheek in a purely perfunctory manner, but still the action tore at Chelsea's heart.

“This is fun,” said a droll voice coming up beside her. She turned to see Mac, looking on with a bemused expression. “The old and the new under one roof.”

“So you do actually speak?” Chelsea blinked at him, trying to feign an apathetic attitude.

“When it amuses me.” Mac took another sip from the glass that appeared to be permanently in his hand.

She'd lost track of the number of times he'd refilled it. Strange thing was he didn't have that smell of booze that had permeated her father's and grandfather's skin. And apart from his three-day stubble, he looked like he cared more about his appearance than either of them ever had. He wore his long chocolate brown hair in one of those man buns that were all the rage these days and, although they weren't her cup of tea, Chelsea had to admit that on him, it worked.

She couldn't help herself. “How long were they together?”

“Too long. Maybe since he was two and she was a few hours old.”

When Chelsea's eyes widened, he elaborated, amusement twisting his lips ever so slightly upward. “It was practically an arranged marriage between our 'rents. Mom's handling the breakup a lot better than I thought.”

Until Bailey's arrival, Chelsea had been enjoying herself far more than she'd imagined possible, enjoying the fantasy that she was part of this world, this family, actually someone Callum might look twice at. But Bailey
looked
a part of this family, as if she belonged here and had only briefly lost her way, and everyone, except maybe Callum and Mac, appeared happy to see her. Chelsea felt like an intruder, standing in the corner with Mac. She wanted to leave and regretted not bringing her own vehicle so she could do so. Wasn't the first rule of first dates to have an escape plan? Not that this
was
a first date, but she should have thought of all the possibilities.

Turning again to look at moody Mac, she considered asking him if he'd drive her home but decided she didn't want to crash at the hands of a drunk driver.

Finally Callum made his excuses to Bailey and her parents and returned to Chelsea. “Sorry,” he said, his soulful eyes searching hers. “You okay?”

“Yep.” She held her chin high as she nodded. “But I think Muffin is ready to go home. Could you take us now, please?”

Before Callum could reply, Quinn spoke loudly enough that everyone heard him. “Bailey, Callum tells us he has you to thank for an introduction to Chelsea. How exactly did you guys meet?”

And right then Chelsea wished the floor would grow teeth and gobble her up. Bailey looked over at Chelsea, meeting her gaze head-on for the first time, her impeccable eyebrows coming together in a frown. And at that moment Chelsea knew Bailey knew. So much for maintaining her professional reputation. What must Bailey be thinking? That Chelsea took advantage of clients' exes, swooping in to prey on the poor men when they were heartbroken and vulnerable. Not that Callum had seemed either of those things, but perhaps he was a very good actor.

“Um...we have a mutual friend,” Bailey said, totally contradicting what Callum had said earlier about them knowing each other through work. She tossed Chelsea a phony smile and then turned her attention back to the game she was playing with Hamish. The other McKinnels frowned and looked from Chelsea to Bailey and then back to Chelsea as if wondering what was going on.

“Muffin,” Chelsea called softly, and he awoke from his post-prandial meal slumber and trundled across to her. Then she turned to Callum. “I'll go thank your mom and Lachlan for lunch.”

She started across to where Nora was sipping whiskey with her two old friends and could feel Callum and Muffin following her.

“Excuse me, Mrs. McKinnel? I'm going now, but I wanted to say thank-you for a lovely lunch. Happy Thanksgiving.” She dared not even glance at Bailey's parents.

Nora rose from her armchair and pulled Chelsea into a hug. “It was lovely to meet you. And please, call me Nora. I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of you in future.”

Chelsea smiled through gritted teeth—she doubted that very much. Next she said a speedy goodbye to Lachlan and, although she felt bad escaping without talking to Hamish, he was still with Bailey so she snuck out with Callum into the icy, early-evening air.

“Your jacket,” he said, when she shivered on his mom's front porch. In her haste to escape she hadn't even thought of it and he'd been distracted also. “I'll just go get it.”

“Thanks.” She waited on the porch, stooping to hold Muffin close for warmth and comfort. How lethal could Bailey's spreading rumors be for her business? Not wanting to think about that, she forced her thoughts to the McKinnels and had to admit they weren't what she'd expected. It was hard to reconcile the warm, friendly, playful tribe with a family whose name was famous for its world-class bourbon. Each and every one of them had drunk their fair share, yet no one had gotten rowdy or abusive.

“Here you are.” Callum's voice was warm as he stepped close to her and held out her jacket. She lifted her arms and slipped them inside. Although she couldn't see his face as he lowered the jacket onto her, she felt his warm breath against the back of her neck and prickles of awareness flared in that spot. She had a crazy urge to turn around, knowing that if she did so, she'd be perfectly positioned to kiss him on the mouth. How she could think such thoughts after what had just occurred inside she had no idea, but it was like her hormones and her brain were two entirely separate entities.

They stood there, glued to the spot a few moments, and then Callum put his hands on her shoulders, before slowly sliding them down her arms and capturing her hands. “Thanks for playing my date today,” he whispered right into her ear. It was freezing outside but her insides sweltered. “I'm sorry for Bailey's unexpected arrival.”

“It's fine,” she lied, her whole body rigid like a statue. What
was
going on here?

“I really enjoyed your company,” he continued, still holding her hands, his body still pressed against hers. Her eyes widened as she felt a hardness pressing into her back.

“Yes,” he breathed, reading her thoughts, “I don't think my libido got the memo about this being pretend.”

She swallowed. What was she supposed to say to that?
How about I give myself to your libido on a platter then?
Her nipples tingled and tightened at the thought—thank God for the cover of her jacket. “Oh,” she squeaked.

He chuckled, the sound flowing through her body like hot chocolate through her veins. “
Oh?
Is that all you have to say?”

She turned her head so she could look at him properly. “What exactly...do you...want me...to say?”

He released one of her hands and then lifted a finger to touch her chin. His touch felt soft and hard all at once, exactly how a man's touch should. “I was kinda hoping you might agree to taking this charade a little further.”

Her mouth went dry, but she managed to ask, “How much further?” She wanted him to spell it out so she didn't make a fool of herself.

“To your bedroom.”

Those three words were like a match against her skin. This would be a gift to herself. An early Christmas present that she very much deserved. Bailey no doubt already thought the worst, so the damage was already done; doing this couldn't ruin her reputation any further. Still, she wanted to set Callum straight—she wasn't about to enter a relationship with a man who made whiskey. “It can only be once. And no one can know. It's bad enough already that Bailey—”

He interrupted before she could finish. “Honey, that's more than fine with me. I'm not looking for a rebound relationship. My priority right now has to be the distillery. And don't worry about Bailey. I'll talk to her. I'll explain I asked you to lunch to do me a favor. She's a good person and she knows Mom so she'll understand. She won't tarnish your name.”

Although part of her wondered why he didn't seem that broken up about their breakup if Bailey was such a good person, another part of her didn't much care right now. All that mattered was the desperate need coursing through her. She was crazy, utterly, certifiably insane but she wanted this more than she'd wanted anything for as long as she could recall.

“Okay,” she whispered, then leaned forward and pressed her lips against his to seal the deal. His mouth melded to hers, Callum spun her around so their bodies were also pressed against each other. There was no hiding the desire in his jeans and as Chelsea opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue inside, the illicit taste of him fueled her own desperate need even further. He tasted of the sweet desserts he'd eaten but also of what she guessed must be the whiskey he'd consumed over lunch. He hadn't drunk as much as the others as he knew he'd be driving her home, but the taste was still there and she found it strangely appealing. Intoxicating. Surprisingly delicious. Dangerous.

His hand slid down her back, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. Pleasure flowed through Chelsea and anticipation built within her—if her body reacted this way with a simple kiss, she could only imagine the fireworks that would explode once they got naked together. That couldn't happen fast enough.

As if reading her mind, Callum pulled back slightly and she saw heat and desire in his eyes as he spoke. “We'd better make a move, before we make a scene right here on my mom's front porch.”

Chelsea gasped and bit her lower lip. She'd almost forgotten where they were; being around Callum affected her senses, primarily her common sense. The sooner she got him out of her system the better.

“Relax,” he whispered, smiling down at her as he brushed his thumb against her cheek. “They can't see us out here, but let's get going anyway. I'm tired of sharing you.”

More shivers slid down her spine at his words. She nodded, letting him take her hand and lead her over to his SUV. Tired from all the eating and socializing, Muffin didn't object to sitting in the back. He sprawled across the seat and fell promptly asleep, unaware of the sexual tension buzzing in the air around him. Callum drove the whole way back to her place with his hand on her knee, drawing tiny circles on her skin with his thumb. The material of her leggings did little to numb the effects of his touch and by the time they arrived at her house, she was a writhing bundle of need, desperate to rid herself of her clothes and jump his bones.

Alarm bells sounded in her head—getting involved with Callum McKinnel wasn't a good idea on a number of levels—but she ignored them because this wasn't getting involved. This was getting off. Just once.

She almost whimpered when he parked the car and removed his hand to open the door and climb out. He let Muffin out next and although she knew he would come around and open the passenger door for her, she couldn't wait. Didn't want to. As Muffin bounded up toward her little house, Chelsea met Callum in front of the SUV and took his hand, sending another jolt of desire right to her core.

They didn't speak as she fumbled with her key and let the three of them inside, but their eyes spoke volumes. She could almost see the chemistry that sparked between them. Chelsea switched on the hall light, and the moment he shut the door behind her, Callum's hands were on her waist, spinning her to face him again. For a few long moments they stared into each other's eyes and Chelsea found herself admiring his cheekbones. She wanted to touch them, she wanted to touch every little last bit of him.

And then they were kissing. Kissing like she'd never kissed or been kissed before. His hands were in her hair, caressing the base of her neck as his lips and tongue rid her of her ability for rational thought.