“You may have my bed,” she whispered, half asleep, not even opening her eyes as if that might wake her up too much, but evidently he’d awakened her, or she had not quite drifted off. Probably felt the change in the temperature of the room as he stood next to the bed. Most likely smelled him with the breeze and night salt air on his skin. “’Night,” she added softly, confirming that the one-sided conversation was over.
He stood staring at her, not wanting to leave. Wanting to see what she looked like, how she felt underneath the covers. “Are you certain?” he asked. “These beds look pretty good about now.”
She still didn’t open her eyes, but she smiled her brilliant smile. “Good night, Duncan. I’m not moving downstairs now that I’ve got the bed nice and warm, and I’m not wearing anything. So run along like a good wolf, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re not wearing even a string bikini?” he asked, not taking a step from the room. Now he was really trying to envision all that tanned skin perfectly naked.
This time, she opened her eyes, a smile lingering as if to say that surely he knew she wouldn’t be wearing anything. “Most of us sleep in nothing.”
“Aye, but I don’t care what most do about sleeping.”
He swore she was fighting back a laugh.
“Good night, Duncan,” she said dismissively, her voice sounding amused.
He shook his head, grumbled something about how hard she was on him in a mostly teasing way, and headed back down the stairs.
Shelley chuckled as he stomped down the stairs. She loved his sense of humor and how honorable he was, and she felt like a good Samaritan for ensuring that he would have a restful night in a bed built more for his size.
Very early in the morning, she smelled ham and eggs and cheese cooking, and even a pot of coffee brewing.
“Hmm,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. Then she sat up abruptly in bed. He went grocery shopping without her? Not that she was upset about the circumstances—and she truly was glad he was making breakfast because after playing in the surf and having had no dinner, she was starving—but she still wanted to go to the grocery store.
She grabbed her shortie floral satin robe off a chair, the only robe she’d brought, figuring it would just be her here and no problem. She slipped it on and belted it, then hurried down the stairs. If she weren’t so hungry, she would have gotten dressed first. But she didn’t want the food to get cold so she wasn’t wasting any time in joining him.
Dressed only in a pair of black briefs, Duncan wore a shadow of a beard but still looked as sexy as the devil as he folded an omelet with melted cheese and ham and chives in a skillet in the kitchen. “Look good?”
She looked from him to the eggs. She kept thinking about how he looked—damned good, hot, wolflike, wearing only the pair of black briefs—with his perfectly muscled arms and chest, and bare legs. “Yeah, real good,” she murmured.
He smiled at her. “I meant, did the eggs appeal. Or would you like me to fix you something else?”
“No, what you’re fixing is fine.” She thought again about his clothes. He had the ones he’d worn the night before when he went in search of Silverman. So was he just showing off some more? She could handle it.
She studied the way he was working on the omelet, really impressed. No man she’d ever known cooked. “You can cook.”
“If you have a chance to speak with Ian, don’t ever let him know the truth.” Duncan’s gaze met hers, and she got the impression he was serious. “My brothers and I stick to the principle that unless it’s frozen pizza, we can’t make it. As long as he believes that, we’re happy.”
“Or he makes you cook for the clan?” she guessed.
“For him and his new mate when Cook or our cousin Heather is unavailable, aye.”
She laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He looked down at her and smiled appreciatively. “First one’s for you. I’ll make another right away.”
“Thank you.” She took the plate to the kitchen table. “You went to the grocery store without me this morning.”
“I had to. You were sleeping so soundly that I figured you’d have quite an appetite when you woke, so I picked up a few items. If you want anything else, we can go out again.”
“I’d like that.”
“It was the least I could do when you gave me your big bed to sleep in. I had really hoped you might change your mind and come down to join me once I warmed up the sheets a little.” Duncan didn’t even glance in her direction; he just looked all sexy and forbidding. Getting too close to the flame was definitely going to get her singed.
She had just raised another bite of the cheesy eggs to her lips, but she paused to comment. “I’m afraid it might have gotten a little too hot.”
He winked, a look that promised he would have heated her up well and good. “That’s what the air conditioner is for.”
She laughed, loving his sense of humor.
He finished cooking his omelet and joined her at the table. “I also changed out the rental car early this morning.”
A frisson of alarm shook through her. “You didn’t have trouble last night when you were investigating Silverman, did you?”
He hesitated a fraction too long for her liking in answering her. “No. I just thought it prudent to swap out cars. Just in case.”
“Are you certain?”
“Aye, I am, but I wish to err on the side of caution.”
She finished her eggs and set her plate aside, leaning back in the chair and ready to have a serious discussion. “I overheard you talking to your brother about missing a lead in your investigation.”
“Aye. A lady said her boyfriend works for Silverman. I must have looked like I was ready to kill the bastard, and she quickly quit talking to me.”
That didn’t sound good. Shelley sighed and looked at the omelet he’d nearly polished off. “You’re a wonderful cook.”
“Thank you, but remember it’s our secret.”
That made her want to meet his brothers, including the laird, and see their interaction for herself. Since she had no siblings of her own, she was curious to see Duncan and his brothers in action. Her friend, Wendy, had four brothers, but Shelley thought that Duncan’s family would be different since they were nobility of sorts and owned a castle. And were Scottish.
She smiled, then turned serious. “Are you sure I can’t help you in any way with your mission?”
“Nay. I don’t want you involved in this. No telling what might happen.”
Partly relieved—because she wasn’t into spy and criminal apprehension scenarios—but disappointed that she couldn’t help him in any way, she looked back at the egg carton, cheese, and ham still sitting out. She was still hungry from swimming and not having eaten any dinner, and she was craving more of Duncan’s omelets. Not wanting to sound too greedy, she proposed, “If I promise to clean up after you, will you… fix me another omelet?”
He gave her the biggest boyish grin, and she smiled back, loving that she’d made his morning.
“Aye, it’ll be my pleasure.”
But he didn’t just fix her another omelet. He also mixed her champagne and chilled orange juice. The mimosa was a delightful drink, and she wondered why she’d never tried it before. He also helped her clean up, letting her put the groceries away while he handled the manly task of scrubbing the stubborn eggs off the skillet. She was ready to drag one hot Highlander home to Texas and keep him. Then she’d tell Wendy she was right. Shelley was a sucker for strays—but what a stray. Only he wasn’t really a stray. He had a whole pack relying on him to do right.
Afterward, they both dressed, and when she came downstairs to join him, she eyed his soft pair of faded jeans and black T-shirt, which had no logo, no design, nothing to take away from his sexy wolfish appearance. He didn’t need a smart remark emblazoned across his chest. His whole presence screamed hot male. She liked that she was the one who got to keep him for a while.
Within the hour, he had dropped her off at the trailhead of the Mastic Reserve. She felt the whole world beyond this one place vanish as she quickly immersed herself in taking pictures and notes of the lush, green vegetation. Wearing olive-green capris, a short-sleeved leafy shirt over a peach tank top, and black sneakers to navigate the muddier areas, she carried a lightweight canvas pack on her back filled with a couple of chilled bottles of water—courtesy of Duncan—insect repellent, and sunscreen.
Armed with a notebook and pen in one hand and a camera in the other, she was all set. She made her way slowly through the black mangrove forest. The long-leggy trees dipped into brackish water with their roots sticking up out of the wet soil, gasping for air, while ferns clustered together in the moisture. Vines crawled up tree trunks, reminiscent of where the ape man had swung through the jungle doing his Tarzan yell.
Snapping shots of all the plants, she was falling in love with the whole place. Normally she would have thought of nothing else, but at the back of her mind, a niggling concern about whether Duncan was all right kept worrying her. The fact that he’d changed out rental vehicles meant he’d been concerned about something. She hadn’t wanted to pry, considering he hadn’t wanted to involve her. She worried about his continued investigation today, though, and what trouble he might get himself into.
Having opted to take the self-guided tour, Shelley found herself blissfully alone, snapping a picture of a strangler fig, each of its snakelike tentacles like a boa constrictor wrapping around its prey. Not only was observing the vegetation a real treat, but the colorful parrots—with their iridescent green feathers, red cheeks, and white-ringed eyes—caught her attention as they nested in tree holes and twittered about in the foliage. Suddenly one took flight overhead, and she witnessed its brilliant blue wing feathers spreading out as it flew away while a cacophony of birds’ chattering filled the air.
