Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt (Hot Scots #4)

Chapter Sixteen

Gavin claimed Jamie's hand, despite the annoyed slant of her lips when he did it, and led her out of the bedroom. She'd slipped into her raincoat again and tugged her high heels on. Her hair was mussed in that post-coital way he loved. He guided her through the living room and out the front door, ignoring Iain's raised eyebrows as they passed by the Scot reclining on the sofa. Gavin eased the door shut. When Jamie moved to walk away, he laid a hand on her arm to stay her.

She aimed a quizzical look at him.

He cradled her face in both hands and kissed her sweetly. Not his forte, but for this woman, he would do anything. He could do anything. She imbued him with a certainty no possibility was out of bounds as long as they were together.

Even getting over his issues seemed possible. With hard work. And — yech — bromancing.

By the time he peeled his lips away from hers, she'd gotten that glossy-eyed, soft expression. It made him ache in ways that had nothing to do with sex. When she looked at him like that, he knew she loved him. One way or another, he'd earn back her trust. Then, he might deserve her love.

To get her to trust him again might become the most arduous task he'd ever undertaken. After all, it required him to cozy up to the Three Macs.

He skated his lips over hers one more time. "Tomorrow, you can go back to saying 'sex only.' I won't bitch about it, but I won't stop trying to change your mind either."

Oh yeah, he had lots of ideas for how to convince her nothing between them would ever be "sex only." He'd shown her some of that tonight when he made love to her in a way he'd never made love to any other woman. The intimacy of the act had affected him too. While they lay pressed against each other, bound in body and heart, gazing into each other's eyes, he'd realized how much he loved and needed this woman. He'd win back her trust.

Whatever it took.

"Nothing you say," she said softly, "will change my mind."

"I don't have to say a word." He let his hands fall away from her face, his fingertips trailing down her cheeks. "I showed you tonight, and I'll keep on showing you. Whether it's hot and heavy or intimate and tender, sex with us is always more."

Her bottom lip quivered so faintly he almost didn't see it. Her eyes glistened with newly formed tears.

She blinked furiously, snapped her shoulders back, and cleared her throat. "Good night, Gavin."

Jamie pivoted on her heels and stalked toward Rory's Mercedes parked behind Iain's beat-up Range Rover.

"Good night, Jamie," Gavin said. "Call you tomorrow."

She did not look back but climbed into the car and drove away.

Gavin watched until the Mercedes disappeared into the encroaching fog, then he went back inside the house. Iain still lounged on the sofa, one arm draped across the back, his legs stretched out with his bare feet on the coffee table and his ankles crossed. The TV played a documentary show that featured a serious male voice with an English accent talking about ancient Roman weapons. Actors onscreen shouted and clashed swords in a reenactment of some long-ago event.

Iain occupied the exact center of the sofa, and the only chair in the room had magazines piled on its seat.

"Don't have many guests, do you?" Gavin said, indicating the stack of magazines in the armchair with a roll of his eyes. "There's no place for anybody to sit except you."

"You are my first houseguest." Iain scooted sideways to sit at one end of the sofa, making room for Gavin. "Have a seat."

Gavin flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa and propped his bare feet on the coffee table too.

Peripherally, he noticed Iain observing him with an amused expression.

"What?" Gavin asked, swinging his head in Iain's direction. "You look like you know a big secret and you're waiting for the perfect time to drop that bomb on my head."

"Not a secret." Iain turned partway toward Gavin and rested his arm on the sofa back. "It sounded like you and Jamie reconciled. Several times."

Gavin linked his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Sorry if we made too much noise."

"Don't apologize. Glad to see things are working out."

"I wouldn't go that far." Gavin dropped his hands and scratched his cheek. "Jamie still thinks she wants sex only. Not that I mind being her love slave, but I was hoping she'd give up her dopey plan."

"Ahhh," Iain said in a tone that conveyed deep understanding, "you thought shagging her mindless would make Jamie fly into your arms and declare she forgives you for everything and would you please marry her tonight."

"Uh… maybe." Okay, yeah. Part of him probably had hoped for that result.

"Regaining the trust of someone you've hurt grievously takes more than one night and more than rollicking great sex. I have no personal experience with winning back the love of the only woman who matters, but I'm certain it's no easy feat." Iain sighed, and in that moment, he seemed older and graver as if the weight of memories had exhausted him. "I know what it feels like to lose such a woman forever."

"How do you know you've lost your girl forever? Have you tried to find her?"

Iain twisted his mouth into an irritated expression not unlike the one Jamie had made a few minutes ago. "It's been thirteen years. She might be married, have children, or…" He shut his eyes. "Want nothing to do with me."

"Come on," Gavin said, "you convinced me to do whatever it takes to get Jamie back. You oughta try to get your girl back too."

Iain opened his eyes, and his lips quirked. "I'm meant to be your Zen master, not the other way round."

"I'm no wise man, but maybe I can inspire you to go after your girl."

"Afraid I'm too old for second chances."

"Sorry-ass excuses." Gavin canted his head, studying his roommate. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Fifty."

Gavin felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously? You don't look it."

Iain shrugged one shoulder. "Can't say it was clean living that kept me young."

Though Gavin considered asking what Iain meant by that, he decided to let it go. If the guy wanted to share, fine. Gavin had pestered him for enough details, and he wouldn't wheedle Iain into saying more. So, he changed the subject.

"Do you think," Gavin said, "I have a chance in hell of getting your cousins to accept me?"

"Only if you honestly want them to."

"I'll do anything to make it happen."

"Anything?" Iain leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. "Best be careful making vows like that. Rory has an unusual sense of humor."

"Rory's got a sense of humor? Believe that when I see it."

"Oh, you'll see it." Iain sat back, and his lips curved in the faint smile Gavin had come to associate with the odd Scot. "You may wish you hadn't discovered Rory's humorous side once he lets it loose on you."

"Are you trying to scare me? Thought you were on my side."

"I am."

Gavin folded his arms over his chest. "Well, when Rory starts wailing on me because you said he has a sense of humor, I expect you to step in to help me out."

"My brawling days are over."

"You were a brawler?" Gavin regarded Iain with a new appreciation. "Can't picture that. Seems like not much upsets you."

"Doesn't anymore. I've learned through hard experience getting upset has no value."

Gavin reined in his curiosity about Iain and let the comment go. Iain could keep his secrets. They weren't best friends or anything, though he liked the guy.

But he had to say one more thing before he shut his trap.

"You should look for your girl," Gavin said. "You'll never know if you've got a shot with her until you try."

"Aye." Iain contemplated the view out the window, his expression somber. "Maybe I will try. Someday."