Off Kilter (8 page)

“What?” she asked, when he looked surprised. “I know you asked her to double check my choices. Do you honestly think anything stays secret around here? I haven’t met a single soul other than you since setting out on this hike, but I’m fairly certain someone could probably tell you the color underwear I have on right now.”

Bad example,
she thought immediately, when his gaze drifted over her. There’d been nothing remotely lascivious about it. More a casual cataloging. Like he’d done with her career highlights—which annoyed her, but for all the wrong reasons. Surely she didn’t care what he thought of her? As a photographer, or as a woman.

“We’re a tightly knit group. We rely on each other,” he said as his gaze returned to hers. “It’s like that on a wee island. Has to be.”

“I understand that, but correct me if I’m wrong—in the grand scheme of things, you’ve only known Katie McAuley slightly longer than you’ve known me.”

“Aye, ‘tis true. But … it’s different with Katie. Spend any time with her, and it’s like ye’ve known her yer whole life. Everyone here feels it.”

“Good people skills, then,” she said dryly, and earned a smile.

“Something like that. We’re all close, but we’re not close-minded. We have our differences here, but we’re accepting of new people, new ideas. We’d never have survived otherwise. We respect and hold each other in high esteem, or we certainly try to.”

“Yes, I believe I witnessed a whole raft of that esteem the other day, while you were undressing for me.”

She’d meant the comment to be amusing, but perhaps her delivery was even rustier than she’d thought. He folded his arms and rocked back a little on his heels. How it was that all the mud and muck made him look sexy, she had no idea. She had a lot of personal experience with mud and muck and there was usually nothing remotely attractive about it.

“What was it that put you off me?” he asked, sounding surprisingly sincere, like it really mattered.

“Is it so hard for you to take, having one less woman giggling and blushing when she’s around you?”

He grinned. “I’m a likable guy. What can I say? Except to you.”

She smiled briefly. “You’ll get over the loss, I’m sure. Since you seem to have pretty much the same impression of me, I can’t imagine why my thoughts on you matter one way or the other.”

He lifted a shoulder, continued to regard her with that dimple-flashing, half smile of his. “I don’t know that they do. Although I admit I’d be interested to know if you’ve got a giggle in you.” He just laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Mostly, I’m … curious. It’s no’ an ego thing. You’re right, it’s healthy enough, with or without your admiration of my manly bits.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. More like a snort. But still.
Dammit.
“Yes, well, given I chose your manly bits exclusively as potential daydream fodder for women everywhere from ages sixteen to sixty, I’m fairly certain your ego is fully intact, if not additionally inflated. If you do make the calendar, your throngs of admirers will merely grow to an international level. World domination is surely only a centerfold away after that.”

She paused because he was frowning. “What?” she asked. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not going to eat that up. You’re a red-blooded man who is quite well aware of his charms.”

“Aye. Believe it or not, I’d rather my charms, as you call them, weren’t put on display for the masses. The idea of hanging
on walls in places ye dinnae even know of, being ogled by God only knows who … that’s a wee bit odd to contemplate, now isn’t it?”

“Are you honestly telling me this was some kind of sacrifice for you?”

“Did I, at any point, look like I was having a good time? Was I encouraging you in any way, other than to mercifully get it over with as soon as possible?”

“You loved playing the crowd and—”

“I was trying to get them to leave!”

She thought about that for a moment, and realized he had a point.

He walked closer to her, until she could see his green eyes quite clearly through all the muck still splattering his face and neck. It must have been the contrast with all that mud that made them seem so … mesmerizing.

“You don’t know what to think about me, do you? Because you already had your mind made up on what kind of man I was before we even got started. I’d have expected you, of all people, with your background, to be more open-minded, to get the facts first. At the very least, consider that simply because I’m male and might enjoy charming a smile or two from folks I’ve spent my entire life around, doesn’t necessarily mean my ego and identity are linked directly and only to what’s under my kilt.”

“I was just—”

“Being condescending, patronizing, and a wee bit narrow-minded. After seeing your work—I did look at a fair share of it—that mentality doesn’t seem to fit. But what do I know? Maybe you’re great behind the camera, but face to face with people …” He shrugged, then turned around and started toward his bent-up motorbike, apparently done with the conversation. And with her.

“You’re right.”

He stopped, and turned back to look at her.

Why … why was she prolonging the conversation? She held
his gaze with equanimity, then finally sighed, and felt the starch go out of her just a little. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway? Well, besides the obvious. “I have seen a lot. More, maybe, than anyone should. And … I’ve developed some very strong ideas and opinions. About a lot of things. And … people, as well. I’m not shy about expressing them.”

He held her gaze with seeming ease, but rather than looking disgusted with her—which would have been understandable, because she was a little disgusted with herself at the moment—he appeared … amused. “So,” he said, a flicker of that devilish twinkle sparking into his eyes. “How is that working out for ye?”

He was relentless with the charm. And it was working. A smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “Well, at the moment, I’m here shooting photos for a Highlander hotties calendar. Not to be patronizing or condescending, but that’s not my usual caliber of assignment.”

He nodded. “I thought you were here on vacation.”

“I did the shoot as a favor for a friend, true,” she said, purposely not responding directly to his comment. “But … I didn’t need to be pompous about it. Or take my frustration out on you.”

“You were frustrated because you deemed shooting those photos to be that far beneath you? Even as a simple favor? Were you afraid to have word leak out? Your name attached to them? Now who has the unhealthy ego?”

“No, of course not. I stand by all my work. Though it’s not something I’d have ever imagined myself doing, I was happy to help Kira. I’m frustrated because I can’t—” She managed to cut herself off just in time. She waved a hand, striving for the insouciance she used to have, but had lost over the past year. Actually, longer ago than that, if she were honest. She felt the sting of Roan’s casual observations once again. The sting of truth.

“Because you can’t relax and enjoy time off?”

“Something like that.”

“I imagine there are always stories that need telling somewhere. That kind of urgency must be hard to turn away from.”

His insight caught her off guard. She wouldn’t have pegged him as a man who bothered to notice much beyond his own charming influence on others. Clearly her powers of observation had completely failed her where he was concerned. She was seeing what she wanted to see—which was the worst possible thing. But then … that was what she did. She just hadn’t realized it was who she’d become.

Instead of blowing him off with some smartass answer, she decided his sincerity at least warranted an honest response. It bothered her, more than a little, that she had to work at it. And not because it was him. She hadn’t been able to talk to Kira, either.

“Let’s just say that I haven’t taken a vacation in a while. Perhaps I should have been better about scheduling them into my assignments.” That was about as much as she was willing to share. His savoir faire with the opposite sex might make him seem somewhat superficial on the surface, but she was quite aware there were greater depths to him than she’d anticipated. She didn’t want to encourage any more of his curiosity. To that end, she lifted the camera from where it hung around her neck, and continued before he could say anything else. “So, if you’re sure you don’t need or want my help with the bike, or”—she made a general gesture in the direction of his mud-coated self—“I guess I’ll get back to what I was doing.”

“Which was?”

“Taking vacation photos,” she said dryly. “For fun.”

He flashed a grin and the dimple winked out through the drying muck. “You know anything about that? Fun, I mean.”

She opened her mouth, fully prepared to shoot back an equally smart-ass answer, but instead just let the whole damn thing go and laughed instead. That’s what he made her feel like doing, and it felt surprisingly good. “I used to have a passing acquaintance with the idea, but possibly it’s been a while.”

“With the kind of work you do, that’s not surprising,” he said, sincere, but not somber about it.

She appreciated that, and felt shamed again for her rather shabby treatment of him. “Perhaps my journey today will reintroduce me to the concept.” Not true, but at least the intent was to be friendly. The last thing she would have told him was that she was technically on assignment … and while she was energized at the idea that she might have discovered the first step toward mental redemption, she would hardly call the day she had planned fun. Terrifying, portentous, intimidating, maybe. The day’s agenda was nobody’s business but her own.

“Maybe,” he replied, but sounded dubious. “Where are you headed?”

“To the shore.”

“Ah, the abbey and the tower?”

“In part.”

“I’m sure you’ll do them better justice than most.”

The compliment—sincere by the sound of it—caught her off guard. “I—thank you.”

He shrugged. “Just because we started off on the wrong foot, doesnae mean we have to stay wrong-footed. Does it?”

There was no charming smile or mischievous twinkle, just a plain, sincerely asked question. So she lifted a shoulder—casually—which belied the sudden pounding of her heart, and said, “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

He laughed.

“What?”

“You’re a tough one, Tessa Vandergriff.”

That stung a little, deserved or not. She was all done being under Roan McAuley’s microscope for the day. “Having seen my work, you’d understand that a softie would never make it out there, doing what I do.”

He walked closer again, almost too close. He studied her for an unnervingly long moment, but she let him, determined not to allow him to get to her. Damn her racing heart. He’d rattled
her good, but as soon as she moved on with her day, that moment in time would be forgotten—by her mind if not her body.

“But you’re no’ as much a hard-arse as ye think.”

Rather than bristle, she found herself swallowing a bit stronger than was absolutely necessary. “What makes you say that?”

He lifted his hand toward her. She instinctively flinched away—and hated giving him even that much of a glimpse at just how messed up her instincts were. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Far from it, if his expression was any indication. His eyes widened momentarily, but he let his hand drop rather than push it. “Because you needed this vacation. Or break, or whatever this time here really represents to you. A real hard-arse … the time off wouldn’t have mattered, so why bother?”

“Maybe that’s why I’m frustrated, because it’s precisely a bother.”

“And maybe you just wish you were more a hard-arse than you actually are.”

That was far too dangerously close to the truth she’d been forced to confront the past year. She definitely didn’t appreciate hearing it, ever-so-dismissively, from him. “As you said to me, you have no idea who I am, or what motivates me to do the things I do. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be continuing on with my hike. I hope things work out for you getting into town and getting the bike fixed. I’ll be happy to contribute to the latter, since I was partly responsible. You can leave a message with Kira.”

She walked around him, with no intention of looking back, no matter the provocation.

“I’m glad you did, you know.”

Dammit.
She kept on walking, then swore under her breath and stopped. Without turning around, she said, “Did what?”

“Took a break. You picked a good place for it. We’re happy to take ye in, Tessa. You’ll always be welcomed on Kinloch. No matter what.” Amusement entered his voice as he added, “We’ve a thing for misfits.” Then, a beat later, with humor still clear in his tone, he added, “I should know.”

She wanted badly to turn around. How could he think he knew anything about being a misfit? He’d been born and raised in the bosom of a loving, tightly woven community. As far as she could tell, he’d flourished under that umbrella of adoration and support, and seemed quite happy with himself and content in his life, whatever it was he actually did around there. Misfit? She didn’t think so. And she did know. She was an expert on the subject.

She managed to hold her tongue and continued walking. “Good,” she called back, without looking over her shoulder. “Then, one misfit to another, you won’t be insulted if I just walk away now.”

She heard him chuckle. And damn if she wasn’t smiling as she continued on her way.

H
e couldn’t stop thinking about her.

For the first time since she’d moved back to the islands, the woman on Roan’s mind wasn’t the hazel-eyed, sweet-hearted Kira. The eyes in his thoughts of late flashed aquamarine, and were paired with wild red curls and a lanky body that did things to his pulse that made no sense to him. Especially given that the entire package came coupled with a cranky attitude and a smart mouth.

A smart mouth that made him laugh. Made him think. And made him want things he had no business wanting. Not with her, anyway.

But he did. Want. All the time, it seemed. He woke up hard and spent half his days trying not to get hard again, which was an issue every time he thought about Tessa. He thought about making those aquamarine eyes flash for entirely different reasons, thought about what those lanky legs would feel like wrapped around his waist, and wondered just how smart her mouth would be if it were wrapped around his—