A Highlander Christmas Page 9

  Chapter Nine

  Camry walked down the beach at a brisk pace, her head feeling like it was going to explode from the tears she desperately fought to hold back. So much had happened this morning, she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover. She’d been hit with so many lies and half-truths about so many things—not the least of which was silently walking beside her.

  He was Lucian Renoir, the man of her dreams and nightmares of over a year.

  In her dreams, she had worked side by side with a fantasy version of the handsome physicist, sharing their scientific passions by day and indulging their sexual passions at night.

  But she’d also had a recurring nightmare involving an equally handsome Dr. Renoir, where he was standing at a podium as she sat cowered before him wearing nothing but her underwear. He was lecturing her in front of an assembly of their peers, expounding at length on her inability to solve even the simplest equation. Her mother and father, and all her brilliant, successful sisters sat in the front row, their heads hung in shame.

  But all her dreams and nightmares combined were nothing compared to Lucian Renoir in the flesh. He was even more handsome than she’d imagined: definitely taller, a heck of a lot leaner, and more rugged-looking than the man in the grainy photo she’d found on the Internet. It was the long hair and ripped body, she guessed, that had prevented her from being suspicious of having bumped into a fellow physicist in the unlikely town of Go Back Cove.

  That’s why it felt as though she’d taken a punch in the gut this morning, when she had read the name on the card Fiona had left him. Having grown quite fond of Luke as they’d recuperated together, and finding herself more and more sexually attracted to him with each passing day, she had actually started weaving fantasies of following him home at the end of his sabbatical. She better than anyone could handle being ignored when he got involved at his lab, and she had hoped his passion for his work might actually rub off on her, and maybe even nudge her back into the game.

  But he wasn’t good old Luke Pascal, was he?

  He was Lucian Renoir. Which brought her right back to her nightmare of sitting cowering on a stage instead of realizing her dream of spending her days in his lab and her nights in his bed.

  They reached the porch steps, and Luke picked up the gaily wrapped box that Fiona had left with the cards on the kitchen table, before the girl had vanished as mysteriously as she had appeared only a week ago.

  He held the gift out to her, but Camry shoved her hands in her pockets. “It’s addressed to both of us,” she said. “You open it.”

  He tucked it under his arm, gathered up the cards that had blown into the tall grass, then walked up the stairs and held open the door. Camry preceded him inside and went directly to her bedroom, closed and locked the door, then threw herself down on the bed and burst into tears.

  Luke stood leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping his third beer from the six-pack he’d found in the fridge, and stared at the box he’d placed on the table along with Fiona’s two cards. He just didn’t feel right opening the gift without Camry.

  He hadn’t felt right about reading the note Fiona had left her, either, but since he was already flying down the slippery slope of deceit, he’d read it anyway. He’d actually chuckled, despite feeling like hell, when he discovered the romantic teenager had left Camry a note almost identical to his.

  Just as short and idealistic, the young girl’s note had asked Camry not to give up on him, and she’d echoed that they were each other’s miracle. The only deviation had been that Fiona had finished Camry’s note by saying that she’d see her favorite auntie next week, on the winter solstice.

  Luke twisted off the cap on another beer and took a long swig. Christ, the house felt empty without the brat and the mutts. The gut-wrenching sobs coming from the bedroom—which hadn’t stopped until he’d heard the shower turn on twenty minutes ago—were the only reminder he wasn’t alone.

  He honest to God didn’t know what to do. His heart ached to see Camry happy, but he couldn’t figure out how to make that happen. And he didn’t have a clue what he could say to help her find the courage to face her parents. Hell, he was about as much help as were the cryptic notes that Fiona had left them.

  A miracle? What in hell did the girl mean, they were each other’s miracle? They’d screwed up their own lives so badly, he questioned if they were even competent to babysit the dogs.

  Luke straightened when he heard the bedroom door open. He quickly shoved his empty beer bottles back in the holder and put everything back in the fridge except the one he was drinking. But then he grabbed one of the full bottles and set it on the table, and had just made it back to lean against the counter when Camry walked into the kitchen.

  She sat down, folded her hands on the table, took a deep breath, and looked at him. “Okay, I’m ready. You can begin,” she said, her voice husky. She suddenly held up her hand when he tried to speak. “Only I wish you’d keep it under an hour, because I still have some thinking to do.”

  “Um . . . begin what?”

  “The lecture you’ve been dying to give me ever since you arrived in Go Back Cove,” she said, her tone implying he was a bit dense for making her state the obvious.

  “I’ve been dying to give you a lecture?” he repeated, feeling dense. “About what?” He suddenly stiffened. “You want me to lecture you about the mistake in your equation? Camry, I told you, I don’t give a flying damn about that anymore.”

  She gaped at him.

  He sighed. “Okay, look. If you want to talk about it we can, but some other time. Right now I’d rather hear from you.” He took a swig of liquid courage, then looked back at her. “I really need to know how things stand between us, because I really need for you not to shut me out.”

  She snapped her mouth closed, opened it several times, as if she were searching for words, then finally whispered, “Are you for real?”

  Luke shifted uneasily, then suddenly flinched when she shot out of her chair and rushed up to him. He sucked in his breath when she just as suddenly shoved on his belly at the same time as she pulled out his belt and looked down his pants!

  He sidestepped away in alarm. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking to see if you still have your balls.”

  “My what!” he yelped, stepping even farther away.

  She walked back to her chair, sat down, and folded her hands on the table again. “Don’t worry, they’re still there. So let’s get on with it, okay? I told you, I still have some thinking to do.”

  “Get on with what?” he growled, tugging one pants leg.

  “Your lecture.”

  Luke sighed, long and loud and heartfelt. “Will you please tell me what I’m supposed to be lecturing you on?”

  “On what a selfish, inconsiderate daughter I am. While you’re expounding on what a no-good rotten liar I am, you might as well get in a few licks on my cowardice.”

  The lightbulb finally clicked on, and Luke went utterly still, then collapsed into the chair opposite her. “Camry,” he said softly. “There is nothing I can or would say to you that you can’t or haven’t already said to yourself.”

  She was back to gaping at him.

  He shook his head. “You’ve obviously been beating yourself up over this for an entire year; I’m not about to beat up on you, too.” He covered her hands with one of his. “But I can be a damn good team player. You do as much thinking as you need to, but while you’re at it, try to think of how I can help you. Whatever course of action you decide on, I’m with you one hundred percent.”

  “Why?”

  He reared back, not having seen that particular question coming.

  “Why don’t you just walk away?” she elaborated. “Because you said it yourself, this really is none of your business.”

  “Well, it isn’t,” he agreed, choosing his words carefully. “Or it wasn’t until . . . sometime around Tuesday, I figure.”

  “What happened on Tuesday?”

 
“I fell head over heels in lust with you.”

  It was her turn to rear back, and, yup, she was gaping at him again.

  Luke reached in his pants pocket, pulled out the condom, and set it on the table. “Do you know what this is?”

  “It’s a condom.”

  “And do you know what it’s used for?”

  “Preventing unwanted pregnancies and venereal diseases.”

  He nodded. “Not bad for a used-to-be scientist. Tell me, have you ever actually seen one out of its packet?” he asked, ripping open the foil.

  She leaned back in her chair even farther.

  “I only ask because while you were in the bedroom this past hour thinking, I was doing a bit of thinking myself. And you know what I was thinking about?” He slid the condom out of its package, then lifted a brow, waiting for her answer.

  “N-no,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to the condom again.

  Luke rolled it open, then left it sitting on the table between them as he picked up the unopened bottle of beer, twisted off the cap, and leaned back in his chair. “I was thinking about how you’ve perfected the art of satisfying a man in bed so well, he doesn’t even realize he’s not having intercourse.”

  She paled to the roots of her beautiful red hair.

  He leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. “I think you should know,” he continued softly, “that this morning when I realized what had actually been going on the last two days, I wanted to wring your pretty little neck. But sometime in the last hour,” he said, motioning toward the bedroom, “everything suddenly made sense.”

  He leaned even closer, looking her directly in the eyes. “You’re a virgin,” he said, stating a fact, not asking a question. “You’ve been so afraid that having a child will steal your passion for your work, you’ve never been able to go all the way.”

  “I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “You are such a passionate woman, Camry, in and out of bed. Everything you do is full speed ahead, no holds barred, one hundred and ten percent.” He leaned back in his chair again. “So to answer your question as to why I don’t simply walk away, it’s because I can’t. For the first time in my adult life, I’m letting my lower brain make my decisions. I’m in lust with you, Camry, and I’m asking you to do what Fiona also asked, and that’s for you not to give up on me. Let’s solve our problems together.”

  “I-I don’t do commitment well,” she whispered, her gaze back on the condom.

  “Sure you do,” he contradicted, which certainly brought her eyes up to his. “You commit yourself completely, just not long-term. You hit hard and fast, and then you take off before a guy realizes what’s happening . . . or rather, what isn’t happening.”

  That got the paleness out of her cheeks. She set her hands on the table and stood up, presumably the better to glare down at him. “If you think I’m going to let you blackmail me into having sex, think again, buster.”

  “Blackmail you!” he said on a strangled laugh. “With what? Hell, I’m the one who should worry about being blackmailed. You and your mother have enough dirt on me not only to ruin my career, but to get me thrown in jail for destroying a multimillion-dollar satellite.”

  She collapsed back in her chair. “My mother knows you were eavesdropping on Podly?”

  “From the beginning, apparently,” he admitted. “And she also knows that I caused it to crash. Hell, she’s the blackmailer. She guilted me into coming after you.”

  Camry buried her face in her hands and thunked her head down on the table. “What are we going to do?” she muttered. “How am I ever going to face her again?”

  Luke nearly jumped up with a shout, he was so happy to hear her speaking in terms of we. He did stand up, though, and went to the fridge, pulled out the last bottle of beer, and waited until she’d finally sat up before he handed it to her.

  “I have no idea what we’re going to do,” he said, sitting down again. He slid the gaily wrapped box toward her. “But maybe we should start by opening Fiona’s gift. It’s possible the meddling little brat left us another cryptic clue. I mean, seeing as how she’s so magical that she can be five months old and sixteen at the same time.”

  Camry spit her mouthful of beer all over the gift, the table, and Luke. “Oh God, don’t tell me you believe in the magic!” she cried, her horrified gaze locked on his.

  Luke wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “What in hell are you talking about? I was kidding, Camry. Fiona—if that’s even her real name—obviously found out you had a niece named Fiona Gregor, and decided to mess with your head. She’s a teenager; it’s her job to drive adults crazy. Believe in the magic,” he muttered. “What is it with you MacKeages, anyway? I don’t believe in magic, serendipitous coincidences, mother’s intuition, or miracles. I’m a scientist, and I only believe in what I can back up with cold, hard facts.”

  Camry absently toyed with the ribbon on the gift as she watched him out the corner of her eye. “So you don’t believe it’s astronomically impossible that my mother’s satellite crashed near her home, or that you arrived at Gù Brath at about the same time Fiona was mailing her card to my parents? And it doesn’t seem like a strange coincidence to you that you ran into me within minutes of arriving in Go Back Cove? Or that we ended up in bed together your very first night here, or—”

  He held his hand up to stop her. “The odds of all those things happening are huge, I’ll admit, but not impossible.”

  “Okay. Then how about calculating the odds of Podly’s crashing into Springy Mountain at the exact time of the summer solstice? Which also happens to be the exact moment—right down to the second, I feel compelled to point out—that Fiona Gregor was born.”

  He frowned. “That’s pushing things a bit much, I think.”

  She slipped the ribbon off the box, carefully unwrapped the gift, then lifted the cardboard lid just enough to look inside. At first she frowned, then her eyes suddenly widened. She looked up at Luke, spun the box around, and pushed it across the table. “Okay, then explain that to me using cold, hard facts.”

  Luke lifted the flap on the box and also frowned, not quite sure what he was looking at. But then his eyes widened just as Camry’s had. He reached in and, as carefully as if he were handling the Holy Grail, he lifted out the slightly charred, fist-sized instrument . . . that actually had the words STARSHIP SPACELINE etched in tiny letters on its side.

  “Come on,” Camry said smugly, “explain what that piece of Podly is doing in my kitchen, or how a five-month-old teenager got her hands on it in the first place, when it should be buried under three feet of snow somewhere on Springy Mountain.”

  His hands trembling because he was afraid to drop it, Luke carefully set what appeared to be the satellite’s transmitter down on the table. “Please tell me I’m dreaming.”

  “I’m sorry, Luke, I wish I could,” she said just as softly. She reached over and picked up the transmitter, which caused him to flinch. She chuckled. “It’s already survived a rather long fall,” she drawled. “I think it can survive my handling.”

  She turned it over to study it, and the tiny instrument suddenly chirped.

  Camry threw it down as they both jumped in surprise.

  The transmitter rolled off the table, and Luke made a lunge for it at the same time she did. But they fell into each other trying to catch it, and the precious instrument clattered to the floor. It rolled across the linoleum, smacked up against the stove, and softly chirped.

  Sprawled on their bellies, they both stared at it, utterly speechless.

  The damn thing chirped again.

  “It’s still functioning?” Luke whispered. He looked at her. “Do you suppose there’s . . . could more of the satellite have survived, do you think?”

  She didn’t respond right away, apparently unable to tear her gaze from the transmitter. She finally looked at him, her eyes shining intensely—quite like they did when she was about to rip off his clothes. “I think w
e’re going to have to go to Springy Mountain to answer that question.”

  “Excuse me?” he whispered, not daring to hope—but hoping anyway.

  She straightened to her knees, grabbed their bottles of beer off the table, and handed one to Luke once he sat up to lean against the cupboards. She settled down on the floor beside him and took a long chug of her beer—swallowing this time—then suddenly grinned. “The way I see it, we have three choices. We can break into my family’s ski-resort maintenance garage and steal one of the snowcats; we can steal some horses from my cousin Robbie; or we can snowshoe the forty miles to Springy Mountain. Your choice, Dr. Renoir.”

  She was going home!

  And she was taking him with her!

  “I have a fourth choice,” he carefully offered, not wanting to dampen her spirit—or get himself thrown off her team. “You can go home and tell your parents how much you love them, then ask them if we could borrow a snowcat. I’m sure they’ll be so happy to see you, they will gladly lend us one.”

  She glared at him.

  “What?” he asked, his hopes waning.

  “I thought you said you’d do anything to help me.”

  “I will. I am.” He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if his lower brain wasn’t going to be the death of him. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure you and I have both deceived your parents quite enough already. Stealing from them is more or less adding insult to injury, don’t you think?”

  “Okay then, we’ll steal from Robbie,” she said, rolling onto her hands and knees and crawling toward the transmitter. “Riding horses into Springy will be colder, but it beats the hell out of snowshoeing.”

  He grabbed her arm to stop her, then urged her to turn to face him. “Camry, you’re going to have to deal with your parents eventually.”

  “I will, just as soon as we find Podly.”

  He tightened his grip. “You think you can’t go home unless you’re bearing gifts?” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Take it from a world-class ass of a son and stepson—parents don’t want anything from their children but love. And the lesson it took me six stubborn years to learn is that loving them means trusting them.”