Love Came Just in Time (21 page)

He smiled and shrugged. “I've come to realize quite suddenly that there is more to life than work.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

“I've been distracted by freckles.”

“Freckles?”

“Yours.”

“Oh,” she said. Then she froze and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Mine?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, with a nod. “Enough to make a man rethink his priorities.”

“Oh, really,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat and dredged up the most uninterested expression she could. “Well,” she said, her nose in the air, “there is more to me than my freckles. Attractive though they might be.”

“You have my full attention.”

“Hmmm, well,” she said, quite at a loss for words. This about-face by a dyed-in-the-wool CEO was very hard to believe. “I would elaborate on my other desirable qualities if I had the time,” she said finally.

“You have the time. It's too wet to go out right now.”

She wanted to argue, but couldn't. It was just as nasty outside today as it had been when she'd walked to the inn and she had very vivid memories of that soggy trip. “I suppose it is a little on the rainy side,” she said reluctantly.

“You can go after Christmas. The castle will keep until then.”

He had a point. “All right,” she conceded. “I'll wait until then.”

“Good,” he said. “Interested in breakfast?”

“If you stir.”

“Done.”

And then Megan watched as he took her by his comfortable, companionable hand and led her toward the kitchen. And she went with him, partly because it was too wet to go to the castle and partly because she had to see more of the Gideon-on-vacation side he seemed to be showing. And, lastly, she went with him because there was something about a man with bouncing purple curly cues on his toes that was just too much to resist.

Gideon stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and looked around, seemingly perplexed.

“I must admit, I haven't the vaguest idea where to start,” he said, scanning the area.

“Clean-up first, then cooking,” Megan said. “Here, I'll show you what to do.”

Organizing was definitely one of her strong points and she used it to its best advantage. Once the kitchen was tidied, she turned to Mrs. Pruitt's notes. She flipped through until she found something she thought they might manage.

“Ever had bannocks?” she asked.

“They're tasty enough. I think we could manage.”

“All right, here goes.”

Megan did her best to decipher Mrs. Pruitt's scrawl while Gideon sifted and stirred to her specifications. Megan looked into the bowl.

“I think they're supposed to look like pancakes,” she said, tipping the bowl this way and that. “This is too runny.”

Gideon looked at her helplessly. “Should I stir more?”

“It says not to stir them too much.” She looked at the bowl and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I think maybe we should add . . . um . . .”

“A wee bit more flour.”

Megan squeaked and whirled around. The red-haired, kilted ghost from upstairs was standing directly behind her. He took off his bonnet with the feather stuck under the badge and clutched it in his hands. He made her a small bow and then straightened and smiled shyly.

“Hugh McKinnon, at yer service,” he said, with another bow.

Megan backed into Gideon, hard.

“Megan?” he asked, putting his arm around her waist.

Megan shook her head with a jerk. “I'm okay.”

Hugh scrunched his cap all the more. “I was quite the cook in me day,” he offered.

Megan gulped a nodded, then turned and looked at Gideon. “A little more flour,” she said.

Gideon added more, then stirred. “Well,” he said, looking astonished, “that did the trick.” He looked at her and smiled. “I'd say that time at McDonald's wasn't wasted at all.”

“If you only knew,” Megan said, under her breath.

“Well, now all we have to do is cook them,” Gideon said, firing up the stove.

“Heaven help us,” Megan said. She stole a look at Hugh, who had moved to stand behind Gideon. He leaned up on his toes to peer over Gideon's shoulder.

Gideon shivered and brushed off his right shoulder, as if trying to rid himself of an annoying fly. Hugh didn't seem to notice; he only peered more intently.

“Och, but he'll burn 'em with the fire up so high,” Hugh said, casting Megan a look of concern.

“Maybe you should turn the heat down,” Megan suggested quickly.

Gideon did so, then poured some of the batter into the pan. He waited, studying it intently. Then he eased his spatula under the flat cake and flipped it. The cooked side was a beautiful, golden brown. Megan peeked over Gideon's left shoulder. She exchanged a quick look with Hugh, who was leaning over Gideon's right shoulder, and received a nod of encouragement.

“I think it's done,” she announced.

Gideon flipped it onto a plate.

“Perfect,” Hugh said, beaming his approval on her. “I always ate them with a wee bit o' butter and a smackerel o' jam.” He smiled crookedly. “Always had a sweet tooth, did I—”

“
HUGH
!”

Hugh gulped, plopped his cap on his head, made her a very quick bow and then turned and fled through the pantry door. Megan didn't even bother to go after him to see if he was lurking inside with the tins of vegetables. She had the feeling he wasn't.

She took a deep breath and smiled up at Gideon.

“I hear butter and jam are good with these.”

“Sounds delightful,” Gideon said, holding out the plate. “Shall we share the first fruits of our labors?”

The bannock was very tasty and Megan put her newfound kitchen skill to good use by overseeing Gideon while he cooked more. Megan stole looks around the kitchen as she did so, but saw nothing else out of the ordinary. Hugh must have been able to escape the watchful eye of that distinguished ghost for only a few minutes.

“Megan, what are you looking at?”

She looked at Gideon and put on her most innocent smile. “Nothing.”

“You're supposed to say,” he said, plopping another bannock on her plate, “that you can't tear your eyes from me. You aren't thinking business thoughts, are you?” He looked at her closely.

“Not a one.”

“A day or two's holiday won't hurt you.”

“My, how the leopard has changed his spots.”

Gideon smiled ruefully as he sat down with her at the table. “I like to believe I'm intelligent enough to recognize a better course when it comes along.”

“And that better course would be?”

“The holidays spent with you, of course.”

Megan rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her fists. “So,” she said, “what do you have in mind, since we're stranded together in this haunted inn in the middle of nowhere?”

He smiled dryly. “I don't believe in ghosts.”

A pot lid went sailing across the room and landed at the back door.

Gideon sat bolt upright in his chair.

Megan only smiled serenely. Maybe Hugh McKinnon had taken exception to that last remark.

“Just the wind,” she said soothingly.

“Of course.” Gideon jumped to his feet. “How about a fire in the library?”

“No talk of work? No fixing?”

He shook his head as he pulled her to her feet. “You don't need to be fixed.” He cupped her cheek with his hand, leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “I won't talk about my work either. We'll sit and gaze dreamily into each other's eyes.”

Megan suppressed the urge to tell him he was starting to make her crazy. She'd come to the U.K. to be a success, not to find herself captured in the arms of some renegade CEO who for some unfathomable reason had decided that a couple of days' vacation really would be good for him. What would happen when he snapped back to reality?

She would never see him again, that's what would happen. He would go on his merry way accompanied by his business toys and she would be left with her heart in shreds. Too many more looks into those aqua eyes would just do her in.

“Megan?” He looped his arms around her waist.

It was too much. What could he possibly want with her? He was probably used to dating very successful, very rich women who could keep up with him at parties and things. She couldn't even keep a job for more than three months. How would he introduce her, “this is my wife, the queen of pick-up-your-paycheck-on-your-way-out-the-door”?

As if he'd even stick around long enough to decide he wanted her for a wife!

“I need to clean up the kitchen,” she said, pulling away from him. “I can't look at this mess any longer. You go on ahead.”

She turned to the table and started stacking plates, bowls, and utensils.

Gideon didn't say anything. Instead, he merely worked beside her as she scraped and washed and dried and put away. And when all she had left to do was twist a dishtowel into unrecognizable shapes, he took the cloth away from her, then pulled her into his arms.

It was the last place she wanted to be.

Unfortunately, it was suddenly the only place she wanted to be.

She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn't make a fool out of herself by either crying or blurting out that she wasn't the kind of girl for a fling.

“I'm scared,” she whispered instead.

She felt him swallow.

“So am I,” he said, just as softly.

She jerked her head back so fast, it almost gave her whiplash. “You are?” she asked incredulously.

He looked as helpless as she felt. “Of course I am. You weren't exactly on my agenda.”

“I didn't have an agenda. But,” she added, “if I'd had one, you wouldn't have been on mine either.”

“I see.” He paused and looked at her solemnly. “I don't date, you know,” he said, finally.

“Really? Me neither.”

He continued simply to stare down at her. Well, maybe he'd said all he was going to say and it was her turn.

“I don't fling,” she announced. She watched him closely for his reaction.

“Neither do I,” he stated. He frowned suddenly. “If you don't date and you don't fling, when do you kiss?”

He asked it so earnestly, Megan couldn't help but smile.

“I like you,” she said.

“I like you too,” he replied. “And I feel certain a small kiss would be entirely appropriate at this point, but you seem to have a schedule about these things.”

Megan slipped out of his arms. “Actually, I think there's an application involved.”

Gideon blinked. “What?”

“And a resume,” she added, heading toward the dining room door.

“You can't mean that.”

“And I'll have to check your references,” she said, pushing open the door.

“You've got to be joking!” he exclaimed, hurrying after her. “You've applied for too bloody many jobs; it's ruined you for romance!”

Megan only smiled. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, but he didn't date and he didn't fling. As for anything else, she would just wait and see. At least they were on the same shaky footing. Time would sort out the rest.

She was halfway through the dining room when she heard an
oof
, then a substantial
whump
behind her. She turned to find Gideon flat on his face.

“Damned shoes!”

Heavens, how could she resist such a man?

THE NEXT MORNING Gideon sat in an enormously comfortable overstuffed chair in the library and watched Megan do marvelous things with the pitiful decorations Mrs. Pruitt had left behind. And as he sat there, he came to two conclusions: Stephen didn't read because he liked books, he read because he was basically a hedonistic blighter who liked overstuffed chairs; and, Megan MacLeod McKinnon was a magical creature who had completely stolen his heart.

After his abrupt reunion with the floor after breakfast the day before, she had tied his toes into little knots so they wouldn't tangle anymore. She had drawn from him his innermost secrets and dreams during a rousing game of Truth or Dare, then she had taken those words in her hands and crossed her heart as she vowed not to repeat them to anyone—especially Stephen, who might poke fun at him. She'd beaten him at chess, exacting a kiss for every man she took—and he hadn't even had to fill out an application or cite references.

They had explored most of the inn the previous afternoon. Gideon had watched in amazement as Megan had identified obscure works of art, styles of furniture and patterns of lace and china. Her employments might have been short-lived, but they hadn't been failures.

And when he'd walked her to her door very late in the evening, he had been completely surprised by how wrong it seemed to have her go inside alone and shut the door, leaving him outside. He'd stood there with his arms around her, gazing down into her lovely, befreckled face and wondered what she would do if he proposed on the spot.

Likely have dashed off for the thermometer.

So he'd kissed her sweetly, then retreated to the library to read for most of the night.

No wonder Stephen buried himself in books.

“Well, I've taken this about as far as I can. We'll have to go to town if I want to do more.”

Gideon blinked at Megan. Those were almost his exact thoughts. Though whilst she no doubt spoke of Christmas decorations, his thoughts were more along the lines of procuring a marriage license.