Love Came Just In Time Part 21

"It says not to stir them too much." She looked at the bowl and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I think maybe we should add... um..."

"A wee bit more flour."

Megan squeaked and whirled around. The red-haired, kilted ghost from upstairs was standing directly behind her. He took off his bonnet with the feather stuck under the badge and clutched it in his hands. He made her a small bow and then straightened and smiled shyly.

"Hugh McKinnon, at yer service," he said, with another bow.

Megan backed into Gideon, hard.

"Megan?" he asked, putting his arm around her waist.

Megan shook her head with a jerk. "I'm okay."

Hugh scrunched his cap all the more. "I was quite the cook in me day," he offered.

Megan gulped a nodded, then turned and looked at Gideon. "A little more flour," she said.

Gideon added more, then stirred. "Well," he said, looking astonished, "that did the trick." He looked at her and smiled. "I'd say that time at McDonald's wasn't wasted at all."

"If you only knew," Megan said, under her breath.

"Well, now all we have to do is cook them," Gideon said, firing up the stove.

"Heaven help us," Megan said. She stole a look at Hugh, who had moved to stand behind Gideon. He leaned up on his toes to peer over Gideon's shoulder.

Gideon shivered and brushed off his right shoulder, as if trying to rid himself of an annoying fly. Hugh didn't seem to notice; he only peered more intently.

"Och, but he'll burn 'em with the fire up so high," Hugh said, casting Megan a look of concern.

"Maybe you should turn the heat down," Megan suggested quickly.

Gideon did so, then poured some of the batter into the pan. He waited, studying it intently. Then he eased his spatula under the flat cake and flipped it. The cooked side was a beautiful, golden brown. Megan peeked over Gideon's left shoulder. She exchanged a quick look with Hugh, who was leaning over Gideon's right shoulder, and received a nod of encouragement.

"I think it's done," she announced.

Gideon flipped it onto a plate.

"Perfect," Hugh said, beaming his approval on her. "I always ate them with a wee bit o' b.u.t.ter and a smackerel o' jam." He smiled crookedly. "Always had a sweet tooth, did I-"

"HUGH!".

Hugh gulped, plopped his cap on his head, made her a very quick bow and then turned and fled through the pantry door. Megan didn't even bother to go after him to see if he was lurking inside with the tins of vegetables. She had the feeling he wasn't.

She took a deep breath and smiled up at Gideon.

"I hear b.u.t.ter and jam are good with these."

"Sounds delightful," Gideon said, holding out the plate. "Shall we share the first fruits of our labors?"

The bannock was very tasty and Megan put her newfound kitchen skill to good use by overseeing Gideon while he cooked more. Megan stole looks around the kitchen as she did so, but saw nothing else out of the ordinary. Hugh must have been able to escape the watchful eye of that distinguished ghost for only a few minutes.

"Megan, what are you looking at?"

She looked at Gideon and put on her most innocent smile. "Nothing."

"You're supposed to say," he said, plopping another bannock on her plate, "that you can't tear your eyes

from me. You aren't thinking business thoughts, are you?" He looked at her closely.

"Not a one."

"A day or two's holiday won't hurt you."

"My, how the leopard has changed his spots."

Gideon smiled ruefully as he sat down with her at the table. "I like to believe I'm intelligent enough to

recognize a better course when it comes along."

"And that better course would be?"

"The holidays spent with you, of course."

Megan rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her fists. "So," she said, "what do you

have in mind, since we're stranded together in this haunted inn in the middle of nowhere?"

He smiled dryly. "I don't believe in ghosts."

A pot lid went sailing across the room and landed at the back door.

Gideon sat bolt upright in his chair.

Megan only smiled serenely. Maybe Hugh McKinnon had taken exception to that last remark.

"Just the wind," she said soothingly.

"Of course." Gideon jumped to his feet. "How about a fire in the library?"

"No talk of work? No fixing?"

He shook his head as he pulled her to her feet. "You don't need to be fixed." He cupped her cheek with his hand, leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. "I won't talk about my work either. We'll sit and gaze dreamily into each other's eyes."

Megan suppressed the urge to tell him he was starting to make her crazy. She'd come to the U.K. to be a success, not to find herself captured in the arms of some renegade CEO who for some unfathomable reason had decided that a couple of days' vacation really would be good for him. What would happen when he snapped back to reality?

She would never see him again, that's what would happen. He would go on his merry way accompanied by his business toys and she would be left with her heart in shreds. Too many more looks into those aqua eyes would just do her in.

"Megan?" He looped his arms around her waist.

It was too much. What could he possibly want with her? He was probably used to dating very successful, very rich women who could keep up with him at parties and things. She couldn't even keep a job for more than three months. How would he introduce her, "this is my wife, the queen of pick-up-your-paycheck-on-your-way-out-the-door" ?

As if he'd even stick around long enough to decide he wanted her for a wife!

"I need to clean up the kitchen," she said, pulling away from him. "I can't look at this mess any longer.

You go on ahead."

She turned to the table and started stacking plates, bowls, and utensils.

Gideon didn't say anything. Instead, he merely worked beside her as she sc.r.a.ped and washed and dried and put away. And when all she had left to do was twist a dishtowel into unrecognizable shapes, he took the cloth away from her, then pulled her into his arms.

It was the last place she wanted to be.

Unfortunately, it was suddenly the only place she wanted to be.

She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn't make a fool out of herself by either crying or blurting out that she wasn't the kind of girl for a fling.

"I'm scared," she whispered instead.

She felt him swallow.

"So am I," he said, just as softly.

She jerked her head back so fast, it almost gave her whiplash. "You are?" she asked incredulously.

He looked as helpless as she felt. "Of course I am. You weren't exactly on my agenda."

"I didn't have an agenda. But," she added, "if I'd had one, you wouldn't have been on mine either."

"I see." He paused and looked at her solemnly. "I don't date, you know," he said, finally.

"Really? Me neither."

He continued simply to stare down at her. Well, maybe he'd said all he was going to say and it was her turn.

"I don't fling," she announced. She watched him closely for his reaction.

"Neither do I," he stated. He frowned suddenly. "If you don't date and you don't fling, when do you kiss?"

He asked it so earnestly, Megan couldn't help but smile.

"I like you," she said.

"I like you too," he replied. "And I feel certain a small kiss would be entirely appropriate at this point, but you seem to have a schedule about these things."

Megan slipped out of his arms. "Actually, I think there's an application involved."

Gideon blinked. "What?"

"And a resume," she added, heading toward the dining room door.

"You can't mean that."

"And I'll have to check your references," she said, pushing open the door.

"You've got to be joking!" he exclaimed, hurrying after her. "You've applied for too b.l.o.o.d.y many jobs; it's ruined you for romance!" Megan only smiled. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, but he didn't date and he didn't fling. As for anything else, she would just wait and see. At least they were on the same shaky footing. Time would sort out the rest.

She was halfway through the dining room when she heard an oof, then a substantial whump behind her.

She turned to find Gideon flat on his face.