Love Came Just in Time

  “Not a one.”

  “A day or two’s holiday won’t hurt you.”

  “My, how the leopard has changed his spots.”

  Gideon smiled ruefully as he sat down with her at the table. “I like to believe I’m intelligent enough to recognize a better course when it comes along.”

  “And that better course would be?”

  “The holidays spent with you, of course.”

  Megan rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her fists. “So,” she said, “what do you have in mind, since we’re stranded together in this haunted inn in the middle of nowhere?”

  He smiled dryly. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  A pot lid went sailing across the room and landed at the back door.

  Gideon sat bolt upright in his chair.

  Megan only smiled serenely. Maybe Hugh McKinnon had taken exception to that last remark.

  “Just the wind,” she said soothingly.

  “Of course.” Gideon jumped to his feet. “How about a fire in the library?”

  “No talk of work? No fixing?”

  He shook his head as he pulled her to her feet. “You don’t need to be fixed.” He cupped her cheek with his hand, leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “I won’t talk about my work either. We’ll sit and gaze dreamily into each other’s eyes.”

  Megan suppressed the urge to tell him he was starting to make her crazy. She’d come to the U.K. to be a success, not to find herself captured in the arms of some renegade CEO who for some unfathomable reason had decided that a couple of days’ vacation really would be good for him. What would happen when he snapped back to reality?

  She would never see him again, that’s what would happen. He would go on his merry way accompanied by his business toys and she would be left with her heart in shreds. Too many more looks into those aqua eyes would just do her in.

  “Megan?” He looped his arms around her waist.

  It was too much. What could he possibly want with her? He was probably used to dating very successful, very rich women who could keep up with him at parties and things. She couldn’t even keep a job for more than three months. How would he introduce her, “this is my wife, the queen of pick-up-your-paycheck-on-your-way-out-the-door”?

  As if he’d even stick around long enough to decide he wanted her for a wife!

  “I need to clean up the kitchen,” she said, pulling away from him. “I can’t look at this mess any longer. You go on ahead.”

  She turned to the table and started stacking plates, bowls, and utensils.

  Gideon didn’t say anything. Instead, he merely worked beside her as she scraped and washed and dried and put away. And when all she had left to do was twist a dishtowel into unrecognizable shapes, he took the cloth away from her, then pulled her into his arms.

  It was the last place she wanted to be.

  Unfortunately, it was suddenly the only place she wanted to be.

  She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself by either crying or blurting out that she wasn’t the kind of girl for a fling.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered instead.

  She felt him swallow.

  “So am I,” he said, just as softly.

  She jerked her head back so fast, it almost gave her whiplash. “You are?” she asked incredulously.

  He looked as helpless as she felt. “Of course I am. You weren’t exactly on my agenda.”

  “I didn’t have an agenda. But,” she added, “if I’d had one, you wouldn’t have been on mine either.”

  “I see.” He paused and looked at her solemnly. “I don’t date, you know,” he said, finally.

  “Really? Me neither.”

  He continued simply to stare down at her. Well, maybe he’d said all he was going to say and it was her turn.

  “I don’t fling,” she announced. She watched him closely for his reaction.

  “Neither do I,” he stated. He frowned suddenly. “If you don’t date and you don’t fling, when do you kiss?”

  He asked it so earnestly, Megan couldn’t help but smile.

  “I like you,” she said.

  “I like you too,” he replied. “And I feel certain a small kiss would be entirely appropriate at this point, but you seem to have a schedule about these things.”

  Megan slipped out of his arms. “Actually, I think there’s an application involved.”

  Gideon blinked. “What?”

  “And a resume,” she added, heading toward the dining room door.

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “And I’ll have to check your references,” she said, pushing open the door.

  “You’ve got to be joking!” he exclaimed, hurrying after her. “You’ve applied for too bloody many jobs; it’s ruined you for romance!”

  Megan only smiled. She wasn’t sure what his intentions were, but he didn’t date and he didn’t fling. As for anything else, she would just wait and see. At least they were on the same shaky footing. Time would sort out the rest.

  She was halfway through the dining room when she heard an oof, then a substantial whump behind her. She turned to find Gideon flat on his face.

  “Damned shoes!”

  Heavens, how could she resist such a man?

  Chapter Seven

  THE NEXT MORNING Gideon sat in an enormously comfortable overstuffed chair in the library and watched Megan do marvelous things with the pitiful decorations Mrs. Pruitt had left behind. And as he sat there, he came to two conclusions: Stephen didn’t read because he liked books, he read because he was basically a hedonistic blighter who liked overstuffed chairs; and, Megan MacLeod McKinnon was a magical creature who had completely stolen his heart.

  After his abrupt reunion with the floor after breakfast the day before, she had tied his toes into little knots so they wouldn’t tangle anymore. She had drawn from him his innermost secrets and dreams during a rousing game of Truth or Dare, then she had taken those words in her hands and crossed her heart as she vowed not to repeat them to anyone—especially Stephen, who might poke fun at him. She’d beaten him at chess, exacting a kiss for every man she took—and he hadn’t even had to fill out an application or cite references.

  They had explored most of the inn the previous afternoon. Gideon had watched in amazement as Megan had identified obscure works of art, styles of furniture and patterns of lace and china. Her employments might have been short-lived, but they hadn’t been failures.

  And when he’d walked her to her door very late in the evening, he had been completely surprised by how wrong it seemed to have her go inside alone and shut the door, leaving him outside. He’d stood there with his arms around her, gazing down into her lovely, befreckled face and wondered what she would do if he proposed on the spot.

  Likely have dashed off for the thermometer.

  So he’d kissed her sweetly, then retreated to the library to read for most of the night.

  No wonder Stephen buried himself in books.

  “Well, I’ve taken this about as far as I can. We’ll have to go to town if I want to do more.”

  Gideon blinked at Megan. Those were almost his exact thoughts. Though whilst she no doubt spoke of Christmas decorations, his thoughts were more along the lines of procuring a marriage license.

  “Hey, look at this.”

  Gideon wanted to get out of the chair, but it seemed reluctant to let him go. “I fear I’m trapped.”

  Megan walked over to him, her eyes glued to a document she’d picked up from off the desk in the corner. She held out her hand and hauled Gideon to his feet.

  And then she started to shake. She looked up at him. “I can’t believe this.”

  Gideon looked at her blanched face and immediately threw his arms around her. It seemed like the proper precaution to take when your beloved looked as if she might fall down in a dead faint.

  “Read it!” Megan exclaimed, shoving it in his face.

  Gideon read. And then he rere
ad. And then he shook his head in wonder.

  “I’ll be damned.”

  “This can’t be legal!”

  “It certainly looks as if it is. All you need do is sign. I can witness it for you.”

  “Gideon, Mrs. P. left me the entire inn! What am I going to do with a haunted inn? I don’t know the first thing about cooking, or cleaning, or advertising—”

  Gideon pulled her close and rubbed his hand soothingly over her back as she continued to list in great detail all the things she could not do. He smiled into her hair as he scanned the rest of the deed. It was all quite legal and quite binding. And he knew without a doubt that Megan would do a positively smashing job at all of it.

  “I’ll be stuck out here all by myself for the rest of my life with the rain and the ghosts—”

  Gideon paused, then stroked her back more thoughtfully. That was a problem. After they married, she wouldn’t be able to be here full time. In fact, he didn’t know how she could spend more than a week or two here during the year. His business was in London. AE, Inc. would collapse without him overseeing it every day. Good heavens, his vice presidents couldn’t tie their shoelaces without Gideon giving them a memo on it!

  Well, there had to be a solution to the dilemma. Gideon was known for his creative solutions to impossible tangles. He’d fixed other things, he could fix this too.

  “—probably doesn’t even have a washing machine. I’ll be washing things on a rock in the river. All right, so my nails aren’t in great shape anyway. Can you imagine what they’d look like after a few months of that?” She pulled back and looked at him. “Well? Can you imagine?”

  Gideon took her by the hand and led her over to the desk. He put the deed down, found a pen and handed it to her,

  “Sign,” he commanded.

  “Oh, I just don’t know—”

  “Sign, Megan. It will all work out for the best.”

  She leaned over the document, then looked at him from under her eyebrows. “Will you,” she paused, then cleared her throat and looked away, “will you come visit me now and then? When you take another vacation?”

  “Oh, Megan,” he said, surrendering his heart to her all over again. “Of course I will.”

  She started to cry. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes and looked at the deed. “You know, I’ll probably end up just as batty as Mrs. Pruitt. At least she was a Mrs. She hadn’t been stuck here alone her entire life.”

  “Megan, sign the deed,” Gideon said, forcing himself not to blurt out his intentions. He wanted his proposal to have the proper romantic setting ; popping the question while his bride-to-be sniffled liberally into her sleeve was not it.

  Megan signed, then buried her face in her hands and wept. Gideon witnessed her signature, then pulled her into his arms and held her.

  “Megan, you just acquired a lovely little getaway. These should be tears of joy.”

  “Oh, I’m just thrilled!”

  “The place could stand a little sprucing up, of course.”

  “I’m broke!”

  “You’re forgetting whom you’re drenching. I’m the extremely powerful CEO, remember?”

  She froze, and then looked up at him. “But, I don’t want your money.”

  “I’m not going to give you any money.” You’ll just take it out of our joint account, he added silently. “I’ll just help you get a business loan,” he lied.

  She worried a loose thread on his tunic. “And you’ll show up now and then?”

  “Probably more than you’ll want,” he said, fishing heavily for a compliment.

  “I could use help with the cooking,” she said, looking no further up than his chin. “And maybe the decorating. You know, British input and all that.”

  He laughed softly and tipped her face up to kiss her. “Of course, Madame Proprietress. My proper British tastes are at your disposal.” He smiled down at her. “Well, shall we go ransack Mrs. Pruitt’s room and see what other surprises she left for you? Then perhaps we should head down to the village and stock up for the Christmas feast.”

  “It will be a quick trip,” Megan said as he pulled her toward the library door. “My savings account isn’t exactly padded.”

  “I’ll buy—”

  “No, you won’t” she said, digging in her heels.

  Gideon frowned down at her. “Megan—”

  “No, Gideon. I don’t want your money.”

  “Ah, but seeing my hands prune up from too much dish washing appeals to you.”

  She smiled up at him so brightly, he almost flinched.

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “Are you going to be this stubborn for the rest of our lives?”

  She blinked. “The rest of our—”

  The front door slammed, making them both jump. Gideon pulled her behind him. “Let me go first.”

  “Oh, brother. It’s not a burglar.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Maybe it’s another guest,” Megan said suddenly. “Hurry, Gideon. Maybe he’ll pay in cash up front.”

  Gideon stumbled out into the entryway, thanks to Megan’s hearty push. It was a good thing his toes were tamed, or he would have embarrassed himself.

  A young man stood there, soaked to the skin. His jaw dropped.

  “We’re in costume,” Gideon said, gritting his teeth. No sense in pummeling any of Megan’s potential customers.

  “I was sent for Lord Blythwood. Is he—?”

  “I am he,” Gideon said, swallowing a feeling of dread. “What is it?”

  “An urgent message from a Mr. MacClure. The phone’s out up here so I was sent to give it to you. Lord Blythwood,” he added in a tone that said volumes about his opinion of Gideon’s manner of dress.

  “What was it?” Gideon demanded. Heaven only knew what kind of disaster Adam had landed them in. Gideon cursed himself thoroughly. He never should have given up so easily on staying connected with the company.

  “He said it was something of an emergency, and a long, expensive one at that. They need you in London as soon as you can get there.”

  “I knew it, damn it,” Gideon said, dragging his hand through his hair. This was what he deserved for thinking to take a holiday. And when the company collapsed, Gideon would personally hold Stephen responsible.

  “All right,” Gideon said, striding to the door, “let’s go. Are there any cars for hire in the village? I suppose the train might be just as fast. Or maybe a flight from Edinburgh. Well, come on, lad. Don’t just stand there.”

  Gideon strode out the front door into the pouring rain and swore. The boy had come up on a motorbike. Well, perhaps it was fitting to end his ill-fated holiday soaked to the skin, since it was how he’d begun it once his car had caught fire. The car likely would have exploded if Megan hadn’t been so quick with the fire extinguisher.

  Megan.

  Gideon froze in mid step, then turned around. Megan was standing in the doorway.

  Gideon strode back to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll ring you soon.”

  “Sure.”

  “I will,” he promised, “And I’ll arrange for some help to come up. I’m sure there is someone in the village who’ll hire out for the holidays.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, pulling away.

  “I’ll send a decorator too. Maybe a chef to get things rolling. We have an advertising division at AE. I’ll have someone ring you after Christmas with some ideas—”

  “Gideon?”

  He closed his mouth on the rest of his plans. “Yes?”

  “I’ll be okay on my own. Really.”

  “But I can help,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want your money.”

  “But—”

  She backed away. “Just go do your business thing.”

  “Megan—”

  “It was fun.” She smiled, but her eyes were too bright. “I’ll see you around.”

  And with that, she shut the door in his face.

  G
ideon stood there on the porch and felt worse than he’d ever felt in his entire life. Not even blowing the entire U.K. telecommunications market had left such a sinking feeling in his gut.

  “My lord?”

  Gideon turned. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other.

  He climbed onto the back of the motorbike. It was an unpleasant ride to the village, but it was probably just what he needed to bring himself back to his senses.

  He would straighten things out in London and ring Megan the first chance he got. He would fly her down and they could resume their relationship in town. He could come home earlier at night, in time for a late supper, perhaps. Maybe he would give thought to taking a few hours off on Sundays to devote to her. Things could work out remarkably well.

  He had Adam on the line within moments of arriving in civilization.

  “What?” he barked. “Were we robbed? Scooped in the Far East? Did the infrastructure of the company collapse?”

  “No,” Adam said, sounding confused, “but the stock was off ten points today in New York.”

  “And?”

  “What do you mean ‘and’?” Adam exclaimed. “It was off ten points, Gideon!”

  “Stocks dip.”

  “What?” Adam gasped. “The last time it dipped two you dragged us all out of bed for an emergency board meeting!”

  “It will bounce back.”

  “It will bounce back,” Adam echoed, disbelief plain in his voice. “Gideon, have you lost your mind? This is a disaster!”

  “Adam, relax—”

  “Relax?” Adam bellowed. “I’m sprinting through the halls, bloody frantic about this and all you can say is ‘relax’?”

  Gideon whistled softly. “I think you need a holiday.”

  “What did they do to you up there?” Adam yelled.

  Gideon paused, wondering where to begin. Normally he would have gone on about equipment failures and the time it had cost him, but now he saw clearly that business went on in spite of him. Even the few hours he had spent fretting and stewing had been nothing but a waste of time.

  And then quite suddenly a most amazing thought occurred to him.

  “Adam, I think I understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “What she wants.”