Terms Of Engagement. Kathryn Ross

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      ‘People like Brian?’ His tone was sarcastic. ‘Let me give you some advice. Don’t trust him around your livestock unless he’s well supervised.’

      ‘I don’t need any advice, thank you,’ she said stiffly.

      ‘Suit yourself.’ He shrugged. ‘When you get fed up playing farm, get in contact with me. I’d be interested in buying the place. I could use the extra land.’

      ‘It’s not for sale.’

      ‘I’ll offer you a good price.’

      ‘It’s not for sale,’ Emma repeated firmly.

      ‘Whatever you say.’ He shrugged again, and glanced at his watch. ‘Do you want me to walk with you back to the house? See if I can sort out your electrical problem before I go?’

      Emma was sorely tempted to say yes, but that would be admitting she needed a man’s help, and she wasn’t about to do that. ‘No, I’ll manage. But thank you.’

      He nodded. ‘You know, you remind me a lot of your uncle Ethan,’ he remarked.

      With that he swung himself into the driver’s seat of his Land Rover and started the engine.

      ‘See you around,’ he said, without glancing at her again.

      Emma watched as he drove away. What had he meant by that crack about being like her uncle? she wondered. Men were the most irritating of creatures, she thought with exasperation.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE watery afternoon sunlight filtered through the damp haze hanging over the fields.

      Highland cattle lifted their heads as Emma’s small car disturbed the peaceful sound of the birds and the gurgle of the freshwater stream. They watched with curious eyes as she drove past them on the narrow road.

      For once Emma didn’t notice the magnificent animals; their shaggy coats and melting brown eyes were lost on her. Emma’s eyes were firmly on the road, which twisted and turned through the mountain scenery, but her mind was on the phone call she had made last night.

      What had possessed her? she asked herself, for what had to be the millionth time. After Frazer McClarran had left last night, she had been filled with a fighting spirit. She would show him that she was well able to cope up here, she had told herself firmly. And in that mood of determination she had fixed the problem with the electricity with surprising ease. Then, fired by her success and a feeling of confidence, she had picked up the phone and rung her ex-husband.

      Tori was right. Why not use her contacts if it would help her to stay here? It didn’t matter that her contact was Jonathan; their feelings for each other were in the past. They had both moved on now.

      That bold spirit had been short-lived. Just hearing Jonathan’s voice had set a lot of poignant emotions into play. She didn’t love him, but she couldn’t hate him either. He had sounded so happy…but then why wouldn’t he be? Emma had seen pictures of his wife in a glossy magazine. Gina was incredibly beautiful…and they had a child now, something Jon had wanted above all else. Firmly Emma turned her thoughts away from that raw subject.

      She wished her ex-husband well in his new life, but she didn’t want to know about it. When he had informed her on the phone that he was accompanying his location manager up to Scotland, and that he would personally call and take a look at her property, she had been taken aback—and totally horrified. But it had been too late to back out by that point, so she had found herself offering to book some accommodation for them both at the local inn. They would arrive tomorrow afternoon.

      Emma’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. A feeling of ominous foreboding lay heavy in her heart.

      She slowed her car as another vehicle came into sight. She recognised it as Frazer McClarran’s Land Rover. He looked as if he was having problems because it was positioned off the road with the bonnet up. A smile curved Emma’s lips. This might be fun.

      She brought her car to a halt behind his and got out. ‘Morning, Mr McClarran,’ she said brightly.

      Frazer stuck his head up from underneath the bonnet. ‘Good morning.’ His eyes moved over her slender figure. She was wearing faded jeans and a silky knit beige jumper which clung to her womanly curves. ‘Almost didn’t recognise you without your ballgown and boots.’

      She hid her irritation behind a smile, and went to peer over his shoulder into the grimy depths of his engine. ‘Having problems?’ Her voice was light.

      ‘No, I like standing here with my head under the bonnet of my car. It protects me from the fierce Scottish sun.’ He flicked her an amused glance.

      She smiled at him innocently, batting wide blue eyes, and then, pushing a well-manicured hand through the luxurious length of her hair, enquired, ‘Can I be of some assistance?’

      ‘I doubt it.’ He grinned. ‘Unless you carry a spanner in your handbag.’

      ‘Sorry.’ She smiled, as if unaware that he was being sarcastic. She watched for a moment as he tinkered about unsuccessfully.

      He was wearing blue jeans teamed with a blue crew-neck jumper. His body was well toned, not an ounce of spare flesh on him, a hard, flat stomach, powerful shoulders. She wondered if he worked out.

      ‘Don’t let me detain you.’ He glanced around at her again.

      ‘That’s OK. I’m not in a hurry.’

      She watched for a little while longer, then suggested softly, ‘Maybe you’ve got some dirt in the carburettor?’

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Have you checked it?’

      He glared at her.

      She ignored the look and smiled provocatively. ‘Or perhaps it’s just a loose connection?’

      ‘Look, I suggest you get off to do your shopping,’ he muttered. ‘And leave me to fix my car in peace.’

      ‘If you want.’ Then with another smile she reached into the engine. ‘I’ll just have a look before I go.’

      Frazer stood back, staring at the back of her red-gold head with barely concealed impatience. He could smell her perfume, a flowery, feminine scent, not unappealing. Then his eyes moved to the shapely line of her bottom in those jeans. ‘Look, Mrs Sinclair, do you mind getting out of my way?’ he grated.

      ‘Fine.’ She straightened and bent to wipe her hands on the damp grass verge. ‘I’ll think you’ll find that it’s all right now,’ she said with quiet confidence.

      ‘What do you mean?’ He stared at her as if she had suddenly grown another head.

      ‘I mean if you try the engine it should start.’ She smiled. ‘That is unless you really like standing with your head under the bonnet, sheltering from the fierce Scottish sun?’ She couldn’t resist the jibe, before sauntering back to her own car.

      Frazer McClarran got back into СКАЧАТЬ