“You're American,” he pointed out.
“No,” Chloe said, then quickly corrected herself when he arched a dark eyebrow at her. “I mean, yes. But I meant, that's where I'm going. Scotland. My first-ever real vacation, and the first time I've ever traveled outside the States, and who do I run into at the airport? A man from the very place I'm headed!”
“Well, you certainly picked the best place to go.” Closing his eyes, he laid back down.
“Where are you from?”
He snorted. “You wouldn't have heard of it.”
“I'm going to St. Abbs,” she continued happily.
This time both his eyebrows arched. “I stand corrected.” As if sensing he wasn't going to get any more sleep, he sat up and scooted down to the middle seat, politely leaving one seat's space between them. Holding out his hand in greeting, he introduced himself. “Hamish MacDowell.”
“Chloe.” Grinning, she shook his hand. Her skin tingled at the contact, a sensation that went straight to her nipples. She really shouldn't have read that book.
“That wouldn't be Chloe Hardt now, would it?” he asked, bracing his hand on his knee in what her all-too-imaginative brain immediately tried to see as a disciplinary pose. Prime scolding position, that. He looked like he was ready to deliver a spanking, minus the stern look, that is.
“You’ve heard of me?” If he knew her from one of her paintings, she was going to do a full-on Snoopy happy dance, right here in the middle of the airport, god, and everyone.
Chuckling under his breath, he scrubbed a hand through his short brown hair. “I own the B&B you rented. It's why I cut my vacation short. So I can hand you the keys and answer any questions you might have regarding the area.”
Her smile fell. “Oh. I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be. I've been here two weeks already. My sister,” he explained. “Her wee one decided he couldn't wait to join the world and came early. I've been helping with child care so she could get as much rest as possible.”
“That's so nice of you.”
“I'm not a baby kind of person. They cry all night. I don't think I've slept since I got here.”
“I'm sorry,” she said again, only to have a chill tickle up her spine when he shot her a side-eyed look. That look seemed almost disapproving, though she couldn't imagine why. Trying to school her wayward sensations so they wouldn’t get worse, she brightened again. “Say what you will about babies, but I still think you're a wonderful brother for doing what you did. Did you do a little light housekeeping too?”
“I wouldn't call it light, but yes. Elspeth is a neat freak. I sincerely doubt she'll survive motherhood.”
Chloe giggled. “Well, here's to hoping she doesn't stress too much.”
He snorted again. “Amen.” Groaning slightly, he pushed himself to stand. “I need coffee. Want one? I'll even fetch and carry it.”
God, did she ever. Jumping at the offer, Chloe snatched her wallet out of her carry-on and dug out a five, but he refused to take it.
“It's on me if you'll let me sleep a little longer. Maybe even wake me if I don't hear the boarding call.”
Tickled to be of help, maybe even more tickled to get a free coffee from this handsome man, she grinned and put her money away. “You got it.”
Nodding, he headed for the nearest airport coffee shop, leaving Chloe practically bouncing in her seat. This right here was what vacations were all about: making new friends and experiencing all the new things Scotland had to offer. Maybe if she ran into him upon occasion, she could ask him to suggest a few places she could visit. In between working on her paintings, of course.
See what the power of positive thinking could do? Already her vacation was looking up.
Chapter Two
Hamish awoke with a start, grabbing onto the slender wrist of the hand gently shaking him awake. With the sound of gunfire still ringing in his ears, he almost threw a wild punch.
Chloe jumped, her soft smile snapping into a look of shock at his reaction.
God, his eyes were burning and his brain fuzzy, and she was not an enemy soldier hunting him in Afghanistan. As if unsure he could trust her not to morph into one once he was fully awake, he grudgingly let go of her wrist.
“My pardon,” he mumbled and rubbed his face.
“We're boarding,” she said, just as, over the intercom, the first group was called to the head of the line already forming near the gate.
