Kilted Lover (3 page)

“I’m not
his woman
.”

“Oh. Okay.” He sounded doubtful.

“Not like a piece of property.” And besides that, Fletcher was not possessive enough to call her his woman.

“Anyway, about the two men who stole your purse, they mentioned that your amulet is ancient and worth a hefty sum. I think they could be right.”

He looked more like a jock than a scholar. “How do you know?”

“Oh, how would I know anything? I’m just a big, dumb log-tosser, right?”

Prickling heat suffused her face. “I didn’t say that.”

“I’ve studied Celtic history and spent a fair amount of time in Scotland.” He glared into the rearview mirror. “Hell.”

“What?” Behind them, car lights rapidly approached. “Is that them?”

“That would be my guess.” The accelerating truck clung to the curves of the winding road, rocking her back and forth.

One deep curve flung her against Scott. She tried to shove herself off him without success.

“Hang on.” He jerked the steering wheel, and the truck careened to the right. The motion plastered her so tightly against his hot muscles that she couldn’t right herself until they bounced through several potholes. Her teeth jarred together.

Why didn’t I put on a seatbelt?
The momentum of another hard right turn tumbled her toward him again. Her head thumped against his ribs and her hand landed on his thigh.
Oops.
She slid down. Locking her hand onto his wide leather belt, she anchored herself so she wouldn’t go flying again.

Abruptly, he slammed on the brakes, backed up and turned onto a tiny, overgrown road.

“Where are we?” She peeled her fingers from his belt and sat up.

Once behind a thicket of dense bushes, he cut the engine and the lights. “In a hiding place.”

Headlights approached and the SUV flew by with a roar.

“Why do they want the amulet so badly? How valuable is it?” she asked.

“The British man believes it’s worth at least a million.”

“A million
dollars
? That’s insane! It’s been sitting in my jewelry box for fifteen years, since my grandmother gave it to me.” She brushed her fingertips over the smooth stone that glowed slightly in the dimness.

Scott cranked the engine, backed up, and tore out of their hiding place, retracing their tracks.

“I shouldn’t have worn the amulet. I mean, who would’ve thought? How old do you think it is?”

“It might be from the medieval period or earlier.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It would be that old if what the British man said is true. He believes it’s a companion piece to the Ring of Glaminy.”

“What is that?” she asked.

“A legendary ring with mystical powers and a blue stone. It was stolen from a Scottish museum a few years ago.”

“But my amulet isn’t blue. And it has never been in a museum.”

“I know. Maybe it isn’t the Glaminy Amulet, but the men chasing us believe it is. So that’s what’s important at the moment.”

“True.” She would have an expert examine it when she went back to Columbia.

Approaching lights from behind lit the truck’s interior.

“Shit! They’re getting too close. Must be them.” Scott sped up.

Heart hammering, Leslie stared back at the two menacing high beams. They were almost ramming the bumper. Facing front again, she slid down.

“Fasten your seatbelt,” Scott said.

She yanked it around her and snapped the buckle into place. “We have to call the police.”

“I will when I get these bastards off our tail and find a phone. One of the local deputies is a friend of mine.”

Something bumped the truck. “Ack! Can you lose them?”

“I’m trying.”

A distant pop drew her attention.

“Damn! They’re shooting at us,” Scott said. “Get down!”

Kilted Lover: Chapter 2

Gunshots.

Dear God! Someone wants to kill me! Leslie loosened the seat belt and slid down enough to hide her head. “What about you?” Scott couldn’t duck and drive at the same time.

Another shot rang out, and almost simultaneously, something
thunked
through the back window and into the dash.

“Oh, my God! A bullet.”

“That sonofabitch!” A straight stretch of nearly deserted country road came into view. Scott accelerated to a dangerous speed and passed one car. She was afraid to look at the speedometer, so she closed her eyes and prayed he knew what he was doing.

“Hold on.” He braked severely.

The road bisected three other paved roads. Scott swung the truck into a hard left and the tires squealed on pavement. The truck roared and the main road disappeared behind them.

She turned back but saw only darkness. Air puffed through the small bullet hole in the rear window. “I can’t believe they shot at us. Do you think you’ve lost them?”

“With any luck.”

Leslie’s insides trembled and the draining adrenaline left her cold. She’d never been in such a terrifying situation.

They rode for a few minutes in tense silence as the night grew darker. Her breathing evened out. Still, she couldn’t think what to do next. The chaos had jumbled her thoughts.

Scott’s big hands on the steering wheel and his muscular forearms proved a calming influence. He was like a rock, so confident and sure of himself. He’d saved her life. While putting his own in danger. Would Fletcher have attacked a man with a gun, even if he were capable?

***

A short time later, Scott took Leslie to his friend Paul’s house, where he called the police to report the gunshots.

Leslie’s stomach knotted, both because of the danger they’d been in and because now she needed to call Fletcher. “Could I use your phone to call my boyfriend?” she asked Paul, an attractive blond man who was smaller and shorter than Scott.

Paul darted a puzzled glance at Scott. “Sure.”

Scott moved toward the kitchen area of the rustic great room with Paul, but that didn’t give her much privacy. Too unnerved to sit, she paced behind the brown leather sofa while dialing Fletcher’s number.

“Fletcher here,” said a surly voice on the other end of the phone line. Fletcher never got surly.

“Fletcher, thank God!”

“Leslie?” The pitch of his voice rose. “Where are you? I’m outside the locked gates waiting for you. They’ve closed up. Why didn’t you call me?”

She filled him in on the purse-snatching, attempt to steal her amulet, and shots fired at them. “A nice man saved my life and helped me get away from them. I’ll meet you at the plantation gate as soon as I can.”

“We’re not going back there,” Scott interrupted from across the room. “Tell him to go home or back to your hotel.”

Leslie scowled at Scott’s loud, bossy tone and signaled for him to be quiet with a wave of her hand. But he did have a good idea. “Fletcher, you should go back to the beach house. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Who is this man you mentioned? I want to talk to him.”

“The tall guy who helped me before when the jerk tried to snatch my amulet.”

Scott approached her, pausing in front of the huge rock fireplace. “What was in your purse?”

She covered the receiver, wondering why he’d asked that. “Everything. My phone, wallet, credit cards, license, money, keys.”

“Information about the beach house you rented? The address?”

“Oh crap, the rental agreement!”

“Where are you?” Fletcher demanded for the third time in her ear.

Quick thoughts zipped through her head. Not that she could tell him how to get to Paul’s house anyway.

“He wants to know where we are,” Leslie whispered.

Scott shook his head. “Don’t tell him. After the thieves lost us, they might have circled back to the Games. They could be standing nearby and he wouldn’t even know it. If that’s the case, they’d follow him here.”

“Listen, Fletcher. We’ll both be safer if I don’t tell you where I am. The rental agreement and the key to the beach house were in my purse. The thugs will know the location of the beach house. It won’t be safe for you to go there.”

“I’ll call the police and have them check the place out.”

“That’s a great idea. Be careful! Go to a hotel for the night. I’ll call you later. Bye.” She clicked the phone off.

“What did he say?” Scott asked.

“Fletcher’s going to call the police and have them check the beach house.” She set the phone in the charger and suddenly felt the need to get away from Scott and his overpowering magnetism. “Can I use your restroom?” she asked Paul.

“Yeah, it’s down there.” Paul pointed toward a short hallway.

Once inside the bright, clean room, she splashed water on her face. Dear God, she’d just been shot at during a high-speed car chase, and now two men were yanking her in opposite directions. Her brain was overloaded and on the fritz. Tears burned her eyes.

The thieves had her driver’s license and keys. Her blood chilled. If they wanted, they could go to her condo in Columbia and tear the place apart. Dammit, she’d have to get a new license and cancel her credit cards. She felt violated and nauseous.

Her only security at the moment, her only peace of mind, came from Scott. Apparently his shoulders were strong enough to carry her problems as well as his own. She felt safe with him, far safer than she would’ve felt with Fletcher in this situation. That unnerved her as well. Relying on another man seemed to her like a type of infidelity. Fletcher wouldn’t appreciate her lack of confidence in him.

Nor would he appreciate her disturbing, irrational attraction to Scott.

***

“Scott, I have an idea.” Paul strode toward the front door.

“What?”

“Outside, bro.”

Scott sighed, and then followed Paul out, across the lighted front porch and into the driveway. Night had fallen, and clouds hid the moon.

“You and Leslie should hide out on my motor yacht ‘til things cool down,” Paul said in a low tone. “You’re staying there anyway.”

“It’s too small and cramped.”

“That’s what makes it perfect. Besides, Uncle Don and Aunt Edna are staying here for the next week. Even I’m tempted to leave. They’re gone out to dinner right now but they’ll be back soon.”

Scott had to agree they were annoying and nosy, which was why he wasn’t staying with Paul this trip. Besides, he only had one extra bed.

“Why are you giving me that snide look?” Scott asked.

“So, she’s got a boyfriend. Big deal. She didn’t tell him she loved him before she hung up.”

Scott shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“She wanted off the phone with him ASAP. Know what I think? She wants a new boyfriend. And you like her a lot. Don’t you?” That question was more like an accusation.

“You’re jumping to a hell of a lot of conclusions.” Interesting conclusions. If Paul’s words held any truth, Scott wasn’t ready to face them yet. Sure, Leslie did end the call with Fletcher rather abruptly and without much emotion, but that didn’t mean squat. She’d been through hell the past couple of hours. She was bound to act a little strange.

On the other hand, some deep, hidden part of him hoped Paul was right. That Leslie didn’t have much of an emotional connection to Fletcher. She’d given Scott more than one hot look filled with sensual interest.

“I’m glad you’re getting over Isabel,” Paul said. “At least you’re not long-faced.”

Scott scowled, hating the reminder. Isabel’s desertion had been like a kick in the balls, and his pride had smarted a good long while. Hell, nobody liked being lied to and cheated on, especially by a beautiful woman who’d found herself a more refined man.

“Got to admit,” Paul continued with a grin, “Leslie has to be hot with all that red hair.”

“Don’t,” Scott warned. “Just don’t even go there.”

“Oh, this goes deep. No hope for you, my friend. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Like hell. I’m not getting involved with her. She’s in danger, and I’m helping her. That’s all.” Why did he protest so forcefully? Because his body buzzed with awareness when she was near.

“Protect her on the yacht, at least for tonight. No one will find you. Your clothes are already there. The galley is stocked with food and you can take more from here.”

“I can’t leave. The thieves know my truck. If we drive to Patriot’s Point, there’s a chance they’ll see us.”

“Oh, yeah.” Paul frowned and scratched his chin for a moment. “I know. We’ll hide your truck in the garage here. I’ll take you and Leslie to the boat in my car. Tomorrow, Deputy Murphy can come here and check the bullet holes. If the thieves discover where you are on the boat, you can cruise out. They don’t have a boat, do they?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“It’ll be perfect.”

“All right, fine, but I’m a complete idiot for letting you talk me into this.” He really shouldn’t be alone with Leslie. He didn’t trust himself.

***

“Um, Paul, news flash. There’s only room in your car for two people,” Scott said. The three of them stood in Paul’s driveway twenty minutes later, staring into the Corvette.

“Nah, man. Leslie can sit on your lap.” Paul’s deadpan expression was so straight that he had to be holding back the biggest Cheshire-grin of his life.

I don’t freakin’ believe this.
Scott let out a harsh breath and narrowed his eyes at Paul.

“What are you worried about, caber-man? She can’t weigh more than ninety pounds dripping wet.”

Scott’s glare intensified.
Dripping wet?
How could Paul say such a thing and put sexual images of a wet, aroused Leslie into his head?

“Thanks for the compliment, Paul, but I weigh more than ninety pounds,” Leslie said.

“What’s ten pounds, give or take?”

Her weight was certainly
not
the issue. Scott’s cock had been on standby alert for the past several hours. And there was no way in hell Leslie could sit on his lap without giving him a major hard-on. And she’d know it, too, since she’d be sitting on it.

“I’m sorry, man. It’s the best I can do.” Paul gave an exaggerated shrug.

Scott released an irritated breath and turned to Leslie. “Is that all right with you?”

“Yeah, I suppose. What other choice do we have?”