“Funny. How’s Boudica?”
Con twisted his lips into a knot and jerked the whole mess to the right. “We’re, em, not seein’ eye-t’eye at the present moment.”
“What did you do now?”
“Nuttin’! Now why would you go assumin’ our problems are my fault?”
“Oh gosh. I can’t imagine what would give me that idea. Other than knowing you for about two hundred fifty years.”
“Now come now, lass, you know that’s not a long enough time to leap to such hurtful assumptions.”
“My bad. I don’t know what I was thinking. So why are you here, really?”
Con dipped his finger in the pool. “Got word from the angels I was to report. Pleased to find you here.” Con turned his head and pretended to spit as he said the word angels. “Guessin’ it wasn’t Michael’s idea to choose me for this assignment, as he knows lettin’ you get too close to me could be bad for him.”
Anne chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll be terrified when he hears.”
“Aye, no doubt.”
Anne stood and walked past Con toward the house. “Where are you staying?”
“Here.”
“Here?”
“So I’m told.”
Anne frowned. The idea of listening to Con and Jeffrey bicker didn’t improve her mood.
“Well, I suppose there are enough rooms. Pick one as far away from Jeffrey’s as possible.”
Con grinned and she recognized the troubling glint in his eye.
“Do not take whatever room Jeffrey already picked.”
Con frowned. “You’re no fun.”
She grinned. “You know that’s not true.”
Con strode forward and threw an arm around her, pulling her close to kiss her sloppily on the lips, cheek and neck as she struggled.
“Let go of me you idiot.”
“Ha! Oh, I missed you, Red. Which room is yours if ye don’t mind me askin’?”
“Don’t even think about it.” She pulled away from him and looked at her watch. “I have to run an errand. You’ll be good?”
“You have whiskey?”
“Probably. Check the bar.”
Con’s infectious grin spread across his face like the sun peeking through the clouds. “Then I’ll be quiet as a church mouse.”
“Good. And don’t give Jeffrey any trouble when he gets back.”
Con grunted and headed in to find the bar.
Anne went inside and opened two wrong doors before she found the one that led to the garage. Jeffrey had left the mechanical door open and the sun filtered in, illuminating the one remaining car, a black Land Rover.
He must have taken the Bentley. Brat.
She found the keys folded up the visor and headed for Parasol Pictures. When she arrived at the studio’s large front parking lot, she immediately spotted the Jeep she’d been told to look for and marveled at her luck.
Good. The girl is here.
She was about to get out of the Rover when a movement inside the Jeep caught her eye. It looked as if people were wrestling inside.
Alarmed she’d arrived during an attack, Anne jumped out of her vehicle and sprinted with inhuman speed across the parking lot, coming to a screeching halt about twenty steps from the Jeep.
She could see inside much better now.
There were two people, as she suspected, but they weren’t wrestling.
They were kissing.
Or trying to swallow each other.
It was hard to tell.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Catriona felt as if her blood had been replaced by fiery lust juice.
If that was a thing.
It has to be.
Restrained by the limited space in the Jeep, she was about to demand Broch get out of the vehicle and march directly to her bed, when she heard a rap on the window. They both jumped.
A striking redhead stood outside the driver’s side, smiling, alternately waving and motioning for them to roll down the window.
It took Broch a moment to find the right button, but soon they found themselves face-to-face with their visitor, both of their chests heaving and Broch’s hand placed firmly over his lap.
Catriona frowned, feeling half-embarrassed, half-annoyed and all still eager to continue the lovefest upstairs. After all, they were married, right? For now?
I’m going to hell.
“Hi, I’m Anne.” The redhead thrust her hand through the window to shake. Broch looked down at his lap, where his right hand rested, and awkwardly took her hand with his left.
“Hullo.”
“Hi.” Catriona reached to shake the woman’s hand, hoping to help Broch through his awkward situation. Though, she wasn’t exactly sure why they were letting the stranger barge into their private space. They just did. Maybe it was because she was gorgeous. Strawberry-blonde hair tumbled around her fine-boned face so full and radiant it seemed to blow in a non-existent wind. She had alabaster, flawless skin, except for the freckles splashed so perfectly across the bridge of her nose. They looked as if Michelangelo had dabbed them there.
Is it me or does she smell really good?
Catriona realized she was staring and forced herself to talk.
“Do I know you?”
Anne retracted her hand. “No, but you’re going to.”
Catriona grimaced.
Ah. That makes sense. A studio wannabe. She’d been approached before by pretty girls hoping to get a foot in the door at Parasol.
She sighed. “Look, I can’t help you break into show business. I don’t have any pull at the studio. But with your looks and...” She glanced at Anne’s torso and the word rack bounced through her head. “...figure, you shouldn’t have any trouble—”
Anne laughed, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth. That’s when Catriona became aware her own mouth stung, probably thanks to Broch’s stubble. The whole area around her lips was probably pink with irritation.
Ugh.
She rubbed her lips with the back of her hand as Anne watched without reaction.
Is she some kind of alien sent to this planet to make me feel like an ogre?
“I’m
