Page 16 of Scotlander

‘The Princess Leia look suits you,’ he said, settling into the armchair across from her.

Instinctively, her hand rose to touch one of her fastidiously whorled braids. They’d taken ages to get just right. She stopped her fingers from tracing the tingly bit of skin his lips had brushed and curled her hands into little balls in her petticoat-augmented skirt.

This was not going to plan.

Instead of enjoying being in first class with a finger-lickingly delicious Gabe (read: her body was lit up like the long-time, unlaid, horn dog), Willa was crackling with annoyance that he hadn’t shown up in full regalia.

Why risk her professional welfare at TiTs to honour her best friend’s memory if Valentina’s own brother wasn’t going to do the same?

‘You read the notes, right?’ Willa snipped, giving him a superior look over the rim of her champagne glass as she took a sip, then promptly choked when the champagne bubbles went up her nose. (Class in a glass.)

Gabe bit back a smile.

A low growl surged up her throat.

Just because he looked like a GQ model and she looked like something out of Historical-Re-enactments-R-Us was no reason to laugh.

She scraped her teeth along her lips. Hard.

Gabe’s long legs were bossing some cranberry-coloured cargo pants no one had any business looking good in. His immaculate white T-shirt was spread across his chest like butter on warm toast and, over that, a half-buttoned green corduroy shirt made those amber eyes of his pop even more brightly than they had the day they’d first met. To cap it all off (ha ha) he was wearing a slouchy beanie hat that should have made him look like an idiot poser, but actually made her want to tease her fingers underneath it for the express purpose of running her hands through his oil-slick-coloured hair and say something ludicrous like, Take me, tiger. Show me what a beast you really can be, even though she already knew from one humiliating phone sex experience that erotic bantz was not in her toolbox.

‘Gabriel?’ she asked, as if he were a naughty schoolboy who’d shown up for soccer practice wearing non-regulation kicks. ‘Why are you not in a flowy white top and a kilt?’

He smiled at her and gave his carry-on bag a friendly pat. ‘It said we were “kindly requested to be in costume in the arrivals hall . . .”’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘In Scotland.’

Oh.

Had it?

Her cheeks burnt with embarrassment.

Maybe it had. She’d been running round like a headless chicken at TiTs and hadn’t had brain space for much else.

Without Gabe – her smooth-talking, favours-owing wunderkind by her side – Willa had been piled high with four billion ‘tiny little jobs’ before she’d left including (deep breaths moment) . . . including bringing newly minted junior producer, Bryony Stokes, up to speed.

It hadn’t just been a cringe moment. It had been soul crushing.

Not only was Bryony a willowy twenty-something whose studio exec father had landed her the post, she was also a shark. Ambitious, over-confident and prone to say things like, ‘Yeah, babes. I’m all over that like gloss on a pucker.’

She was the girl Willa had always wanted to be. The one who knew exactly who she was, what she wanted and how she was going to get it.

‘That’s us.’ Gabe pointed at the ceiling where a soft spa-like voice was gently suggesting people flying to the UK might want to consider making their way to the plane.

Did she want Gabe?

Val seemed to want her to.

But if he was flirting with her? It was so subtle her Spidey-senses weren’t picking up on it.

‘Can you even believe we’re doing this?’ she asked, gathering the endless yards of fabric in her skirt before she stood.

‘Now that I’ve met you?’ He extended a hand to help her up from her seat. ‘I can.’

Wow. Thanks, bud. ‘Which means . . . what exactly?’

He smiled a soft, closed-lipped smile. ‘Tranquillo, chica. It means I can see why my sister was friends with you. Good friends are hard to come by in a place like LA. Val always was up for an adventure and I’m glad she had someone to have them with.’

‘I’m glad I—’ Willa’s voice cracked as the sting of tears scraped the back of her throat. This was an adventure they should’ve shared.