Echoes of Edinburgh (3 page)

“Point taken. And it's Harrison, if you please.” He thumped the top of the car with one hand and leaned close, his face inches away. “By the way, Auld Reekie means Old Smoky.”

“All covered with snow?” Shelby clamped her mouth shut, recalling the song was about courting and false-hearted lovers. Or something like that. Best not to go down that road.

A small grin tipped the corners of his mouth. “It's a nickname from the days when Edinburgh was full of smoke from coal and wood fires. The more flattering nickname is Athens of the North. I hope I get the opportunity to show you why.”

When he straightened and pushed away from the car, his eyes never leaving hers, something inside Shelby shifted. Harrison was a charmer she didn't need in her life. A handsome, alternately compassionate and irritating man. With a great accent and equally terrific hair that seemed to have a personality all its own.

“So I can fall in love...with the city?” She ignored his obvious amusement. Sad fact was, she was falling over her own two feet and blabbering like an empty-headed fool.

“Exactly.”

What were they even talking about? This conversation was as strange as it was exhilarating. Shelby's pulse revved faster. “I guess we'll see about that,
Harry
.”

“Until tomorrow then.” With a wry chuckle, he waved and started to walk away.

Driving away from the curb, Shelby resisted glancing in the rearview mirror. Why risk anything? With her track record, she just might have an accident.

 

 

 

 

3

 

Saturday Morning, Day Two

Shelby spied Harrison immediately after she stepped off the elevator. Dressed in a medium blue polo tucked into well-fitting jeans and wearing the same leather boots, he caught the attention of several women as he strode across the hotel lobby. Confidence most likely had a lot to do with it, and he seemed no stranger to that arena. Although she'd never really liked facial stubble, it worked well for him. No “pretty boy,” this man. He practically
oozed
the kind of raw masculinity that attracted any female within range. Precisely why she needed to resist him.

As he approached, Harrison's admiring gaze made Shelby thankful she'd left her hair in loose waves falling over her shoulders instead of pulling it back into a bun like she normally did for work. Nothing bothered her more than her hair falling around her face when she needed to concentrate on spreadsheets and reports. Conversely, she loved how her long hair whipped behind her in the breeze while riding a powerful thoroughbred—free and uninhibited. How she cherished those moments.

After going through her rather sparse travel wardrobe, she'd finally decided on a light blue, sleeveless blouse with white cropped pants and low-heeled, comfortable sandals. She'd splurged on a last-minute pedicure—her first ever—before leaving Chicago. A pretty, dainty silver necklace and her insanely expensive silver watch—given to her by the firm when she'd achieved senior level status the previous year at age twenty-seven—completed her ensemble.

Surprising her, Harrison planted a quick kiss on one cheek and then the other. Again, she caught the soap-and-water clean scent of him.

Oh, my
. She needed to keep in mind this meeting was only lunch, not an invitation for romance. Not a date, although they'd flirted a bit in between the more serious talk about Robert the day before. Of course, he'd also saved her from falling flat on her bum on that slick walkway.

Harrison was well-traveled and sophisticated. How could a man like this not have female “friends”—the polite way of putting it—in any given city of the world? He'd most likely greet any woman in the same manner. She needed to stop analyzing everything like it was a stock trade.

As they walked the short distance to Abernethy's, Harrison kept the conversation light and told her he worked for a private family foundation. “I have meetings in Edinburgh and Glasgow this trip before moving on to London. Although it's an American foundation, my work takes me all over the world.”

“Do you ever tire of traveling?” she said as they reached the restaurant, and he held the door for her.

“I'm starting to.”

She puzzled over his answer as the buzz from the noonday lunch crowd engulfed them, lively and mixed with the clatter of silver and glassware. A young hostess greeted them with a bright smile, and Robert rose to his feet and waved from a table by a side window.

“This is charming,” Shelby said as Harrison helped with her chair. A small bouquet of purple and pink flowers sat in a crystal vase in the middle of the white linen-covered table. “Is that thistle?”

“Aye,” Robert said. “The national flower of Scotland.”

Harrison nudged her arm. “Catch up on your tour book reading last night?”

“A bit.” She grinned. “Truthfully, I spent more time writing in my diary about a chivalrous hero named Harry who saved me from falling off an extinct volcano to certain death.” Where did
that
come from? Something about Harrison apparently brought out her inner flirt from wherever it'd been hiding the last few years. Well, make that pretty much her entire life.

Surprised delight flickered in Harrison's eyes as servers brought three glasses of water that Robert must have ordered.

“Fair warning. You keep calling me that, I'll find a way to retaliate.” Harrison's tone was light and teasing, but that all-too-dangerous smile seared straight through her.

“Call you what? Hero? Last time I checked, it was a flattering term.”

He chuckled. “Harry.”

“I'm shaking in my flats.”

“Then I'd better stick around to catch you if you fall down a slope.”

“Yes, well,” she said, “been there, done that. Next time, I'll try to do something more original.”

Both Harrison and Robert laughed.

“Your sense of humor is infectious,” Harrison said, raising his glass in a toast, and Robert followed suit. “Wry and borderline British in your employment of sarcasm. It's difficult to do well. They'll make a local out of you yet.”

“Don't know about that.” She watched as Harrison swirled the ice in his glass. “But what you're doing now is making what little ice you have dissipate faster.” She took a sip of her tepid water. Ugh, although it was better than nothing.

“Now, you see?” Harrison laughed. “That comment is exactly why I find you so fascinating, Shelby. Why say melt when you can say dissipate?”

The way Harrison looked at her, it was as though he could see everything about her—the good parts as well as her many faults—yet he liked her in spite of them. For a woman known for her tenacity and forthrightness, she was quickly becoming absentminded and fanciful. From across the table, Shelby glimpsed Robert's obvious approval of their unabashed flirting.

Boisterous laughter came from behind the swinging kitchen door, and a woman nearly as wide as she was tall navigated her way toward them, weaving among the scattered tables. A grin stretched across her round, pleasant face. “Why, it's me American friends and their bonnie guest.” Wearing a neatly pressed tartan plaid apron over a puff-sleeved, white cotton dress that skimmed her knees, she blew a wayward wisp of graying hair away from flushed cheeks. “What strikes yer fancy today?”

“We haven't had a chance to check the board yet,” Robert said. “Nessie, this is Shelby Harmon.”

Nessie? When Shelby raised a brow, the middle-aged woman laughed. “Me parents named me Vanessa, but some of the hooligans call me Nessie and find it amusin' because of that ole legend of the monster in Loch Ness. But me guid frein here”—she patted Robert's shoulder—“is me protector.” She tweaked his chin. “Aye, the handsome fellas are always comin' ‘round for me guid eatin'.”

“True enough, but that's not all.” Robert chuckled when Nessie gave his shoulder a light shove.

“Enough of ye flirtin' with an auld
hen now,” the woman said with a wave of her hand. “Got to feed this lovely young lass.” Nessie's gaze, rich and warm as roasted chestnuts, fell on her. “It's your first visit to oor braw toun, is it now?”

Shelby smiled. “I was here as a little girl, but it's good to be back.”

Nessie beamed. “Where in America are ye from?”

“Kentucky.” Harrison gave her a curious look. Probably because she hadn't answered Chicago. Even though she lived in the Windy City now, she'd forever be a girl from Kentucky. No matter where in the world she lived, that would never change.

“Frae what I know, Kentucky's like oor Scotland except ye'd be tradin' oor sheep for yer horses.” Nessie focused on Robert. “Wud ye like a round of bannocks and crowdie to start?”

“Sounds guid,” Robert said. “Did Laird make his famous hotch-potch or cock-a-leekie soup today?”

“Aye, he made them both.” Nessie smiled. “I'll bring ye some samplings.”

Shelby listened as Robert and Harrison ordered, but it might as well have been in a foreign language. In a way, it was. Nessie wrote nothing down but listened and repeated each request.

As they waited for their food, Robert told her more about the castle. “It's the most popular attraction in Scotland. In medieval days, it served as the seat of royalty but then transitioned into a military center down through the centuries.”

Harrison offered a few comments here and there, and she enjoyed the banter between her two companions. She'd always envied the ability to make friends easily, to share that kind of warm, natural camaraderie.

When the first round of food arrived, Robert offered a prayer.

“Oats are a staple here,” Robert said, holding out the plate of starters to her. “Bannocks are cakes made from oats.” He waited while she selected one and put it on her plate. “And this is crowdie, more or less the Scottish version of cream cheese. They're often eaten together. May I?” When she nodded, he put a sample on her plate.

“Crowdie is a little crumbly and tastes slightly sour,” Harrison added. “It also helps alleviate the effects of whiskey, which here in Scotland is spelled
w-h-i-s-k-y
.” When she laughed, he shrugged. “Not that it matters much, I suppose. A fun fact to know and tell.”

Shelby twisted her lips. “So, is Abernethy's your
usual
watering hole?”

“Hardly.” Harrison laughed. “Learned that lesson a long time ago. A little goes a long way, my friend.”

“This tastes really good,” Shelby said as she sampled the bannocks and helped herself to another. “Better than I anticipated.” Trying the crowdie, she found it palatable but more of an acquired taste.

Assisted by a young male server holding a tray, Nessie placed steaming bowls of soup and a small loaf of homemade bread on the table. Shelby breathed in the wonderful aromas. “This all looks and smells great. So,” she said, addressing Harrison, “tell me more about your work with the foundation.”

“I work with the individuals and organizations who apply to sponsor programs.” From the spark in his eye, Harrison's love of his work was readily apparent. “I take photos, gather pertinent information, conduct interviews and order background checks, financial statements, that sort of thing. Then I assimilate everything, write up my reports, and present my recommendations to the foundation board.”

“Not everyone who applies to be a sponsor is accepted?” Shelby said, knowing her surprise must be evident.

Harrison shook his head. “The short answer is no. For one thing, we never accept funding from a company that supports causes contradictory or anathema to Christianity. It's important to investigate the company's policies, personnel, political funding, overall reputation in the community, and world standing. Sometimes I need to dig deep to find some of their...activities. To suit their own purposes, they can keep them well-hidden. And,” he said, blowing out a sigh, “that applies to individuals as well.”

Shelby paused her spoon halfway to her mouth and noted the set of Harrison's jaw, the firm line of his lips. “It sounds almost like…I don't know, some kind of spy game, and you're the lead detective.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Take me out of my office, and my imagination runs amuck with crazy ideas.”

“You're closer to the truth than you know.” Harrison lowered his voice. “It's my responsibility, and my honor, to uphold and protect the interests of the foundation.” Truly, this man was a knight in shining armor with an uncommon dedication to his work.

“I'm impressed. That's very admirable. It's not just a job to you, is it?” In contrast to what she did—making rich people richer—Harrison did something to benefit those who really needed help. How could such work not be incredibly soul-satisfying and rewarding? In an odd way, it humbled and almost shamed her.

“It's in my lifeblood, and I'm blessed to do something I love,” he said. “But so are you, Shelby, and there's a place for it all. We can't all be out saving the world from itself.”

“Harrison's being much too humble, Shelby,” Robert said as she pondered that last comment. “He actually...”

An older gentleman called out a greeting and planted a hand on Robert's shoulder. After introducing them, Robert turned to speak more privately with his friend. The close proximity of the tables made for easy exchanges between patrons. From his constant smiles and gregarious manner, Robert must know a number of the other patrons.

“What do you think Robert started to say?” she said to Harrison. Maybe that was nosy, but her interest was piqued.

Harrison took a long drink of water before answering. “Oh, I'm sure he was going to mention the foundation's primary focus is helping special needs children.”

Talk about humbling. “That must be very gratifying.”

Draping one arm over the back of her chair, Harrison shifted to face her. “It is, and a big reason why I love it. Ever heard of the Scottish-American industrialist, Andrew Carnegie?”