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Authors: Allie Mackay
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pity.”
“I know—” Kendra broke off as a heavyset woman hurried past, carrying a large platter of fish and chips. The delicious smell made her mouth water.
The Laughing Gull Inn truly was her idea of heaven.
There was even a small hearth against the back wall, its glowing peat fire adding to the coziness.
Her table couldn’t have been more perfect.
Tucked by the corner window, the small table looked out over the street and marina. Just now, thick sea haar pressed against the windowpanes, but the mist only made the view more atmospheric.
As if all time stood still within the quaint confines of the little pub.
She could stay here, too.
Surely, there were worse fates.
Especially with a resident hunk like Graeme MacGrath living just down the road. Even if the sexy Scotsman seemed more keen on seeing her leave Pennard than on having her hang around. He’d certainly hurriedher from his house, closing the door in her face the instant he’d thrust the car keys into her hand. She hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye.
Kendra frowned, heat beginning to creep up her neck.
She wasn’t that bad.
She wouldn’t exactly call herself a head turner, but no man had ever given her such a brush-off. And wasn’t it typical that, despite all, she still found him so damnably attractive. His accent so divine she’d almost be willing to beg him just to stand and talk to her for hours.
He could read her the telephone book or the impossibly thick instruction manual for her newest digital camera. It wouldn’t matter.
Anything at all would do. As long as she could listen to his rich, buttery-soft burr washing over her like verbal silk, melting her.
Kendra touched a hand to her breast, trying not to think about him.
“Would you rather have a table by the fire?” Iain was looking at her, clearly mistaking her hesitancy for a wish to sit elsewhere.
“No, no…” Kendra quickly removed her heavy jacket and draped it onto the back of an empty chair before settling onto the window seat. “This is ideal.” She glanced over her shoulder at the mist rolling down the street and the blurry yellow halos cast by lights from a few of the fishing boats in the marina.
“I was hoping for just such a table.” She turned back to him, enchanted.
“Right, then.” The innkeeper’s smile returned. “I’ll have Janet bring you a menu.” He flicked a look after the bustling woman who’d delivered the tray of fish and chips to a nearby table. “We’ve fine sea bass on special tonight. Our pepper steak is also popular.”
“I know what I want.” Kendra reached to touch his arm when he turned to move away. “The fish and chips smelled so good going past just now. I’ll have that.”
“Fine choice.” Iain Garry nodded, not looking surprised.
No doubt every American tourist ordered fish and chips.
And that was fine, considering she was supposed to be one. Besides, if the Scots—or any Brits, for that matter—didn’t want tourists always asking for the tasty dish, they shouldn’t make it so irresistible.
Still…
She was sure she’d caught a few of a locals smirk at her choice.
“And, Iain…” She sat up straighter, flashing her most confident smile. “I’ll have a pint of Black Isle Brewery Hibernator stout.”
She’d seen the almost-black ale on the neighboring table.
It looked potent enough to fell an elephant, and she could smell its richness from here. After the cliff road from hell and the force of nature that was Graeme MacGrath, she wouldn’t mind something that packed a bit of a punch.
“That’s strong ale, lass.” Iain sounded skeptical.
But the locals who’d chuckled at her dinner choice had lost their smirks.
And for that reason alone, she’d drink the stout. She’d just be sure to temper its kick with several large glasses of water.
“I’ve heard Hibernator is excellent.” Kendra smiled at the staring locals. “I’d like to try it.”
“You might prefer a nice
“I know—” Kendra broke off as a heavyset woman hurried past, carrying a large platter of fish and chips. The delicious smell made her mouth water.
The Laughing Gull Inn truly was her idea of heaven.
There was even a small hearth against the back wall, its glowing peat fire adding to the coziness.
Her table couldn’t have been more perfect.
Tucked by the corner window, the small table looked out over the street and marina. Just now, thick sea haar pressed against the windowpanes, but the mist only made the view more atmospheric.
As if all time stood still within the quaint confines of the little pub.
She could stay here, too.
Surely, there were worse fates.
Especially with a resident hunk like Graeme MacGrath living just down the road. Even if the sexy Scotsman seemed more keen on seeing her leave Pennard than on having her hang around. He’d certainly hurriedher from his house, closing the door in her face the instant he’d thrust the car keys into her hand. She hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye.
Kendra frowned, heat beginning to creep up her neck.
She wasn’t that bad.
She wouldn’t exactly call herself a head turner, but no man had ever given her such a brush-off. And wasn’t it typical that, despite all, she still found him so damnably attractive. His accent so divine she’d almost be willing to beg him just to stand and talk to her for hours.
He could read her the telephone book or the impossibly thick instruction manual for her newest digital camera. It wouldn’t matter.
Anything at all would do. As long as she could listen to his rich, buttery-soft burr washing over her like verbal silk, melting her.
Kendra touched a hand to her breast, trying not to think about him.
“Would you rather have a table by the fire?” Iain was looking at her, clearly mistaking her hesitancy for a wish to sit elsewhere.
“No, no…” Kendra quickly removed her heavy jacket and draped it onto the back of an empty chair before settling onto the window seat. “This is ideal.” She glanced over her shoulder at the mist rolling down the street and the blurry yellow halos cast by lights from a few of the fishing boats in the marina.
“I was hoping for just such a table.” She turned back to him, enchanted.
“Right, then.” The innkeeper’s smile returned. “I’ll have Janet bring you a menu.” He flicked a look after the bustling woman who’d delivered the tray of fish and chips to a nearby table. “We’ve fine sea bass on special tonight. Our pepper steak is also popular.”
“I know what I want.” Kendra reached to touch his arm when he turned to move away. “The fish and chips smelled so good going past just now. I’ll have that.”
“Fine choice.” Iain Garry nodded, not looking surprised.
No doubt every American tourist ordered fish and chips.
And that was fine, considering she was supposed to be one. Besides, if the Scots—or any Brits, for that matter—didn’t want tourists always asking for the tasty dish, they shouldn’t make it so irresistible.
Still…
She was sure she’d caught a few of a locals smirk at her choice.
“And, Iain…” She sat up straighter, flashing her most confident smile. “I’ll have a pint of Black Isle Brewery Hibernator stout.”
She’d seen the almost-black ale on the neighboring table.
It looked potent enough to fell an elephant, and she could smell its richness from here. After the cliff road from hell and the force of nature that was Graeme MacGrath, she wouldn’t mind something that packed a bit of a punch.
“That’s strong ale, lass.” Iain sounded skeptical.
But the locals who’d chuckled at her dinner choice had lost their smirks.
And for that reason alone, she’d drink the stout. She’d just be sure to temper its kick with several large glasses of water.
“I’ve heard Hibernator is excellent.” Kendra smiled at the staring locals. “I’d like to try it.”
“You might prefer a nice
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