I had thought we’d covered families and friends. Maybe it feels different now and he wants more.
“I don’t know. Maybe something that I can’t find by Googling Katie Carlson. Something you would only share with those closest to you.”
My heart pounds to the beat of one of those slow love songs you hear at the end of a Hallmark movie.
I tuck in closer to his body. His question reminds me of the day we ate lunch on his deck in Cornwall and he asked about my family. But this time, it feels different. It’s me he wants to know about, and it’s my secrets he wants to share in.
“Okay, let me think.” I look up the street, and the towering thick solid stone walls of Edinburgh Castle are just visible. I begin slowly. “When I was little, I wanted to be a princess when I grew up. Living in a castle like Edinburgh with a handsome prince. I had every Disney princess costume hanging in my walk-in closet. On weekends, I would choose a princess dress, and for that day, I would be that princess.”
He laughs. “Please tell me you made your brothers dress up with you. I could just see you insisting they wear princess dresses.”
“No way. They were all too big and would have ripped my dresses.” I pretend to shudder dramatically, and he laughs harder.
“The most shocking thing about your story is that as a kid, you had a walk-in closet.”
“Would it be shocking if I told you I still have all my princess dresses packed away in storage?”
“Aye, that is shocking. And I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there’s no royalty in my family history, so no Scottish castles. The Stewarts were the monarchs who once owned Edinburgh Castle. The Campbells were more into pillaging and feuding with other clans. It made us very unpopular. There are even some parts of Scotland today where, as a Campbell, I’m not welcome.”
“Really? I had no idea. But that’s not a properly shocking personal story.”
He grins, and it’s so sexy I’m swooning like the ladies waiting at his book signings. Maybe we should turn around and walk back to the hotel so I can get him naked again.
“All right, prepare to be shocked. You know my friend Aaron and I joined the Royal Marines together when we were eighteen. Anyway, there was one night shortly after arriving back from a deployment in Iraq that we stupidly decided on a night off to wear our kilts out on the town. We got steamin’ drunk and ended up flashing the entire crowded pub our bare arses and everything else.”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “What? How? I need more details.”
Laughter dances in his eyes. “One of our friends bet that we wouldn’t stand on the table and do the highland fling. It was an easy bet, and the pay in the Royal Marines wasn’t that great.”
“But how did you flash everything? Did you drop your boxers?”
He bursts out laughing, and it’s a few minutes before he can speak again. “Baby, a true Scotsman doesn’t wear anything under his kilt.”
My mouth drops open when a visual of Drew wearing only a kilt pops into my head. That is something I’d love to see. “Umm. Do you still have a kilt?”
“Aye. I have a couple.”
Reaching up, I drag his lips down to mine and kiss him hard. Right there on the sidewalk, with tourists walking around us and Edinburgh Castle in the background. Who needs a prince when I have my own hot Scot?
I run my hand over the short, spiky hair on the back of his head. It reminds me of last night when I held his head between my thighs.
“Can we go back to the hotel room now?”
“Aye, my love. That we can.”
The glint in Drew’s eye tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Chapter twenty-six
Drew
BackinLondonatthe end of the book tour, Katie slips her key in the shiny brass lock of her front door and turns it. Pushing the heavy black gloss door inward, she steps over the threshold. I follow behind, carrying our bags.
She throws her keys into a bowl on a hall table, then turns, smiling. “Welcome to my home.”
I look down the long, polished wood hallway to the staircase going up and the staircase going down. I walk a few steps farther inside and poke my head around the open doorway on my right. The room screams luxury. Heavy brocade cream drapes tied back with gold tasseled cords partially cover large double sash windows. It wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a glossy designer home magazine. But the more I look, the more I realize this is a warm, cozy room rather than a staged picture. The book on the smoky glass coffee table is well thumbed, and there’s a half-burned candle beside it. Two large cream sofas that even I could lie on full length are arranged facing a white marble fireplace, and scattered on each sofa is an abundance of cushions in a variety of colors and fabrics, still holding imprints from having been leaned on. The cream carpet throughout looks thick and soft. I swear if you dropped something small on it, you’d never be able to find it again.
I turn back to her. “Shit, Katie, this place is huge. I mean, I knew your family was wealthy, but I thought you were more my kind of rich. Not this. Sorry, that’s rude.”
