Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(18)
“Aye, lass. Ye ken the right of it there. I ne’er run from anythin’.” Grant’s deep, sexy voice surrounded her, triggering a series of shivers starting right between her thighs. “But ye’ll also find I ne’er break m’word, either.”
Damn, damn, dammit. Already panting for air and she’d just jogged down the stairs. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t the jogging that had gotten her out of breath. That Scottish brogue of his is deadly. “You were supposed to meet me on the porch. Remember?” Joanna rounded the corner, then froze in her tracks. Holy shit. The sight before her was just too…She’d seen lots of “eye candy” during the stops at Highland Life and Legends and Grant was always number one on that list. In fact, as far as she was concerned, kilted hotties were the main attraction at the park. But she’d never seen him like this. “Holy shit” didn’t begin to describe the effect of this look…especially since she’d stolen a peek at the package under his kilt—words just couldn’t begin to cover it.
“And there you are,” she finally squeaked out with a wave of one hand. She blinked hard to make sure that she hadn’t slipped into one of her favorite fantasies outside of the bedroom rather than in the privacy of her bed. “Uhm…I know it’s late March, but it’s still kind of cold at night. You know?” She ran a finger around the high neckline of her running shirt and blew an imagined strand of hair out of her eyes. She sure as hell wasn’t cold, but it had nothing to do with the weather or the thermostat in the hotel.
Grant MacDara, standing there in his bare-chested, kilted state, generated more heat than a roaring bonfire. He wore what looked to be soft brown moccasin-like ankle boots with the leather straps wound tight up and around his muscular calves. This kilt was different from the one he’d worn earlier. It was fashioned from a faded, nearly threadbare tartan and hugged low about his hips. The drape of it was a good deal longer in the back than the front, but the soft material settled across his body perfectly so Joanna could totally appreciate the delicious outline of the man’s fine ass and his hard, corded thighs. He’d tied back his dark blond hair with a strip of leather, then tightly wrapped the ends around the ponytail that hung down between his shoulder blades.
The white globed sconces in the hallway created the most enticing gleam on the smooth, hard planes of Grant’s chest. His laddered abs looked as though they’d been sculpted of marble, then dipped in bronze. The pale triangle of blondish brown hair starting between his pecs shimmered into a quicksilver trail all the way down to his navel, then disappeared under the waistline of his kilt.
Joanna’s fingers itched to trace their way down that tempting trail and reach the grand prize at the end. She silently scolded herself. No! Can’t risk the contract.
Grant looked tanned…kind of. How the hell could he be tanned just coming out of the dead of winter? A spray job, maybe? Nah…she very much doubted that any of the MacDara men were the type to go with a faux tan. He must work outside stripped down. A lot. That thought triggered another shiver and made her swallow hard.
Joanna finally realized she was standing there in the middle of the hallway with her mouth hanging open. She covered her mouth and feigned a cough. “It’s March,” she repeated. “Aren’t you going to get cold?”
Grant’s lopsided grin became a full gleaming smile. “?’Tis a mild night.” He winked and added, “And I’ll be runnin’ beside you, ye ken?”
Yeah…I ken all right. I’m going to ignore that little comment for both our sakes. Casual flirting had suddenly become dangerous—serious even. She felt it with every aching throb from the waist down. Joanna pushed past him and opened the door. Leaning back against it, she gallantly motioned toward the porch. “After you, sir.”
“Och…nay, lass.” Grant grabbed the edge of the door just above her head, then slid in so close beside her, he nearly nudged her with his made-for-stroking chest. “A MacDara always puts his lady first and ensures she’s well pleased.” He proffered his hand toward the porch and smiled. “After you, m’lady.”
Ensures she’s well pleased—oh shit. Biting her lip to keep from commenting, Joanna walked out, skipped down the steps, then while jogging in place, turned back to Grant still standing on the porch. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“You coming or not? I’ve still got some work to do when I get back to my room tonight. We need to get this five-miler started.” Please let him change his mind. Joanna repeated the silent chant over and over, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Grant looked entirely too tempting up on that damn porch. Hands on his hips. Smart-ass grin. He needed to go away. He might not look like a mistake right now, but the innocent-looking ones tended to morph into a shitload of trouble when you least expected it.
“I’m merely waiting to see which direction ye choose,” he said with another wink. “After all, my stride is about twice the length of yours.” He sauntered off the porch and walked up beside her with the fluid, seductive grace of a panther stalking its prey.
“How do they say it here?” he asked, scowling as he appeared to search his thoughts. “Ah! I remember now.” He looked at her with a smile that made the heart rate monitor on her fitness tracker start beeping. “I was givin’ ye a head start.”