Page 87 of Scotlander

He nodded, parked his hands on his hips, eyes searching for some invisible thing on the floor. He looked like a sexy Scottish cowboy. She wanted to jump him so much she ached.

When he looked back up at her his expression was resigned. ‘I guess you’ll be looking forward to getting back to LA and your real life.’

She barked a laugh. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘No. You’re working on your vacation.’

‘This?’ She pointed at the courtyard beyond the door. ‘This does not feel like work. Being at work feels like work.’

He spun his finger round indicating he would finish her corset.

‘I don’t follow what you’re saying.’ Tug. Tug.

She dug her heels into the ground, trying to stay balanced, her brain fuzzing periodically as his fingers made contact with her skin.

What was she saying? She wanted him to see how flimsy her professional life felt in contrast to what he was fighting for. ‘You spent half the night fixing tractors and preparing them to harvest dozens of hectares of potatoes that will feed people and your family. I spent half the night talking someone through a Top Ten Tchotchkes for the Alpha Generation segment.’

‘I understood about two of the words you just said.’

‘Exactly.’

Finn tied the knot at the small of her back, then ran his thumbs up along the criss-crossed ribbons before coming to rest on her shoulders. Her body was on fire. ‘There you are, lass. All done.’

They stood, silent for a moment. She could feel his breath upon her neck. His height. His strength. The intensity of his curiosity about her. It was like living through a rewind of the Jamie and Claire wedding night when Jamie, the virginal groom, painstakingly slowly, undressed his new bride, wanting to ensure that everything he did made her feel beautiful, desired, and most of all, cared for. Safe.

Her breath caught in her throat. This was Finn’s version of preparing her for his world, for the life he lived, and asking her to tell him just how much of herself she was willing to give to him.

She wanted to tell him that she believed in him. In everything he was doing. And that even though her plan was to leave, it didn’t diminish the power of what he was doing for Balcraigie or, indeed, the time they were spending together. And then it hit her. She wanted him to ask her to stay.

The handful of centimetres between their bodies felt electric. Charged with an energy that lay taut, coiled between them as if their proximity to one another created another life force.

More than anything she wanted to lean into his touch and tell him she was falling for him. Instead she blurted, ‘What I do is made of glitter. Stardust. It’s inconsequential.’

‘According to Gabe, what you do is highly commoditable.’

‘You grow food, Finlay. That’s highly commoditable.’

‘You make entertainment. People pay for entertainment. Food? Not so much.’

‘Why are you devaluing what you do?’ When he said nothing she pressed, ‘If we can get the worlds of entertainment and farming to collide this week? It’ll start a new trend. Like . . .’ She sought something he could relate to. ‘A week-long Field of Dreams experience. With kilts.’

‘That was corn.’

She flicked her hand. ‘Whatever.’

‘What if no one comes?’

Ah.

Her heart dropped.

There it was. The real reason he was here. He’d sought her out to get reassurance, not to play sexy, sexy with her corset ribbons and convince her to stay.

She realigned her features and flicked her thumb in the direction of the main drive where they’d asked people to gather. ‘You haven’t been out there yet?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah.’ He did the cap-and-head-scratch thing. ‘Too embarrassed.’

‘Embarrassed? Why?’ Embarrassed was the last thing he should feel. She ached to pull him to her. Soothe away the worry lines on his forehead. But she was Kevin Costner in this scenario. She’d built a dream. Now it was time to prove to Finn that he was right to have put his faith in her.