Highland Kiss(10)

She shoved her sandals on, took one last scan around the room to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, and left, dragging her large suitcase behind her.

Awkwardly, she ran toward the main building and struggled into the reception area with her suitcase in tow. As she came in, the first thing she noticed was the man standing near the front desk. He was very masculine and tall, dressed in jeans and T-shirt. His clothing fitted him so perfectly, she could, even from the distance, see the shape of his hard, muscular body. She involuntary shivered in response.

Was he watching her? She couldn’t tell because he was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore him. He was so masculine and dominant.

She nervously walked toward the front desk. As she did so, she could feel his eyes on her. She stopped at the counter and smiled pleasantly at the receptionist, the woman whom, she assumed, she spoke to on the phone just moments before.

“Hi, I’m checking out, thanks.”

The receptionist glanced at her for the briefest of seconds. She took out some papers, did some number punching on the keyboard, glanced at the hunky man standing near the desk, smiled sweetly at him, fluttered her non-existent lashes a few times at him, and did more number punching.

“’Ave ya got yer credit card?”

Ruby could only understand the words “credit card.” The rest sounded like a mumble of incoherent noises to her. She nodded and took out her wallet from her handbag, swiping the card on the machine.

“Thank ya. Would ya like yer receipt?” the receptionist asked, glancing at the man.

“Yes, thanks,” Ruby said, taking the receipt.

“That’s yer man there,” the receptionist said.

“I’m sorry?”

“The man I phoned ya ‘bout. That’s ‘im.”

“Oh.” Ruby turned and scanned the room, purposely bypassing the hunky stranger with his arms folded across his chest. She did that for two reasons: a) because he was too handsome for her to handle having eye contact with; and b) because she really couldn’t believe a gorgeous stranger like that man—the type who looked like he was on top of the world and could even own the world—might possibly be her driver.

Taking a good look around the room, she saw no one else, and turned back to the receptionist. The woman raised an eyebrow at her, and Ruby knew what she was thinking.

Really, how any woman could miss a man as outrageously handsome as this one in such a small room, not to mention, he’s the only male in here, was beyond her.

Ruby knew the woman must have thought she was either blind or a lesbian.

Lesbian—she was not! But blind, perhaps just a bit, since she was shortsighted and could not see without her glasses or contact lenses on. Somehow, the stranger reminded her of the kind Scotsman who helped her in the airplane. She had to admit, however, she never really got a proper look at him either, and of course, being so sick and worried about her condition, eyeing up a handsome stranger was hardly foremost in her mind. But somehow, he had the same effect on her. She felt a sense of safety and excitement; that was also mysterious and forbidden.

The receptionist nodded her head toward the stranger, and Ruby got breathless just looking at him. He was so tall that she had to tilt her head to view at him entirely. She cleared her throat and said, “You’re here to take me to Brian?”

He abruptly stepped forward, causing her to jump, as he grabbed her suitcase and strode out the door.

Ruby frowned, wondering if she would be safe in the car with him. But seeing as he was Brian’s man, that had to mean she could trust him. The problem arose when she suddenly sensed a nagging feeling, which told her something wasn’t right. She realized she hadn’t seen his eyes yet. Eyes, being the windows to the soul, told a lot about a person.

He didn’t smile or say hello either. Most taxi drivers back home would have had the common courtesy to say hello when you met them, or entered their cars.

Outside, she found him putting her suitcase into the boot of the car. She walked over to him and said, “It’s not a taxi car.”

He slammed the boot shut and strolled to the passenger side. “Nay, it’s not,” he said, opening the door for her.

She could understand him! Ruby had to blink at that revelation. His voice was deep and resonated with a deliciously nice Scottish brogue. She felt a delightful tremor rushing through her body. Then she remembered the Scotsman back in the plane who had a similar voice to this man; and she wondered if she were going mad for thinking they could be the same person. How could they be? This man worked for Brian as a driver. The handsome Scotsman? Well, she didn’t know what he did, but he certainly was not a driver.