Chapter Seventeen

The light was dimming into a dusky twilight when they crossed over the Skye Bridge. James glanced at Andrea to ask if she was ready for supper and saw her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths.

“I’ll try not to be insulted that I put you to sleep, love,” he said with a smile.

She was softening toward him. He hadn’t been sure she would allow him to even hold her hand, but she’d gripped it tight while they walked. For a time, her serious expression had lightened to one of pure delight. And yet their single not-quite-kiss had sent her scrambling back behind her excuse of professionalism.

Was it all due to Logan? What could the man have done to her that it colored everything in her life? Cassandra had been no prize, for certain, but James had moved on. Andrea, on the other hand, had walled up an entire part of her past to avoid the pain and simply built on top of it.

James sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. This was madness. Why her? Why now? He’d sworn he’d never fall into this trap again. If he were going to have another relationship, it would be with someone quiet and demure, the type of woman who was willing to let him take the initiative in a relationship. The kind who wouldn’t balk if he wanted to buy her gifts, or see strings attached to every gesture. Not an obstinate businesswoman who challenged him on every point.

And what had made him start thinking about a relationship anyway? He wasn’t looking for one. He’d been completely satisfied with his life, the casual acquaintance of pretty women . . .

Ones who hang on your every word. Ones who are far more interested in your status and wealth than you as a person. And you’ve been happy to exploit the fact.

The thought made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He’d never thought of himself as shallow. Just . . . pragmatic.

Or did that make him heartless?

Andrea had been surprised to find he actually took an interest in Kyle. She’d obviously thought the program was founded out of guilt or obligation, not out of a genuine desire to help these teens. And why would she think otherwise? If he’d spent half as much time fund-raising for the program as he spent in the spotlight, he probably could have already expanded beyond London. It wasn’t as if that city had cornered the market on troubled youth with dim prospects.

The thoughts chafed like a badly tailored suit. No wonder Andrea was so reluctant to take things beyond the professional.

The truth is never comfortable, is it?

He exhaled heavily and flexed his hands around the steering wheel. Melancholy served no one. He’d promised to show Andrea a good time in Scotland, and that was what he was going to do.

He navigated toward his favorite seafood restaurant, perched in a row of similar buildings above Portree’s quay. Andrea would enjoy the views and the food. Her staunch determination not to lose her heart to his country was weakening by the hour. He saw it in the delighted smile that crossed her face now and again, the spring in her step when they explored something new. Andrea had Scotland in her blood already, even if she couldn’t yet admit it.

He parked on the street outside the restaurant and sat silently for a minute, watching her sleep. She looked younger and more vulnerable, long eyelashes fanned prettily atop those high cheekbones, her full bowed lips drawn up in the beginnings of a smile. If she dreamed, it was a good dream.

He brushed hair back from her face, allowing his fingers to linger against her cheek. For one mad moment, he imagined waking her with a kiss, but he’d promised he wouldn’t do anything of the sort. Instead he rubbed her arm lightly. She stirred, but she didn’t wake.

“Andrea,” he whispered. “We’ve arrived.”

Andrea’s eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him before she was fully conscious. Then her expression shifted to a frown, and she sat up straight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d dozed off.”

“You’ve had a long week. We can go back to the hotel if you’d prefer.”

“No, of course not. Give me a minute to wake up.” She stretched with the sinuous movements of a cat and combed her fingers through her windblown hair. “How bad do I look?”

“You always look beautiful.” The words spilled out before he could consider them, and he rushed on. “Don’t worry, this isn’t an elegant restaurant, but the food is wonderful.”

“I always trust you when it comes to food.”

“You can trust me on more than that, Andrea.” He got out of the car before he could see her reaction.