She licked her bottom lip. Shame and guilt sapped all the amus.e.m.e.nt from her eyes. "I made a mistake, and I have to prove myself. Good enough?"

"I'll take it." He pushed off the door, restless at her answer and his need to know more. Now would be the perfect time to head inside and let go of all the things that intrigued him about her. Victoria started to tense up again in the silence and the shame continued to darkened her brown eyes.

Sweet Mary. He needed a knock to the head sometimes. "But now I'm going to wonder what you did. Got p.i.s.sed at work and hit on your boss. Slapped your nosy coworker. No." He tutted. A woman like Victoria wasn't defensive because she wanted to be; she was defensive because she'd learned to be. "A man."

She blinked, and he knew he hit the mark. He nodded. "Your m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic tendencies make sense now. You must hate all men, but you just can't help yourself when around them."

"What do you know about S&M?"

"Enough to know it's not my kink, but I'm willing to be curious with you."

"Really. It's a miracle." Her face flushed with anger.

He took the obvious bait to get to the answers he wanted. "What's a miracle, la.s.s?"

"No woman has punched you in the throat yet."

Callan caught the laugh in time but he had to break their gaze until the need pa.s.sed. When it had, he stepped forward. "Most women are too busy wondering how big my c.o.c.k is." He talked over her shocked gasp. "So this man who f.u.c.ked you over..."

"You are-" She just sputtered for a second. "He didn't. I did it to myself."

"Auch." He hated the way shame had filtered into her voice again. "What a p.r.i.c.k. I would never let you do that to yourself."

An expression filled with exasperation crossed her face but she said, "Unless I ask because you're polite like that."

She'd caught on to him being an a.r.s.e and was teasing him back. He liked her more for it. "Who made the actual mistake?"

She crossed her arms over her stomach. "You're not going to let this go?"

Listening to her voice fluctuate through almost every emotion was riveting. They washed over him and staved off the cold. "I'm curious now."

She sighed. "We were in a relationship."

His shoulders tightened. "Colleague or a boss?"

"My boss," she said in a very matter-of-fact way. "It was a small business, but well-respected. Anyway, he needed me to sign off on something. I hadn't seen it, but I trusted him so I did. Turns out the item was an impressive forgery."

Understanding settled into him down to his bones. He narrowed his gaze. "He blamed you. Awright. A p.r.i.c.k."

"Yeah." She gave him a self-deprecating smile. "He threw me under the bus, but I made that mistake."

He frowned. "You didn't make one."

"I trusted him. I believed he'd take care of me if the s.h.i.t ever hit the fan. He didn't. I chose him. I loved him so that's on me." She shrugged.

Her every action made sense now. She threw up boundaries because of his cousin's rules. That was logical and admirable. But if Ian said she could f.u.c.k Callan six ways to Sunday, she'd find another excuse to say no.

The problem now was it felt like a challenge to be the one she'd risk the consequences for, to be the one she trusted. A woman like Victoria didn't break, but she'd bend and it would be a thing of beauty.

A rush of need strummed through him. He preferred ordinary women. Digging into her motives and inspecting her make-up made it clear Victoria would be anything but...They should go inside and end this.

He took another step, dropping his hands at his sides.

She held her ground, lifting her chin. "More questions?"

He balled his hands to keep from brushing his knuckles across her stubborn chin. "Know now I'd never ask you to risk your integrity."

"Ask, no." Her breathing quickened. "Demand, probably. s.e.x with you would be-"

"Would be complicated. I'm not asking you to sign off on forgeries. I'm not asking for anything, to be honest."

"Someone told me recently there are always strings attached when dealing with a Baird."

He wished he could like her less for throwing his words back at him. Callan inhaled and let his attention wander away from her intense stare. The sky had darkened and that promised a harder rain than a drizzle. Normally, he'd have welcomed it, but not when the soft sunlight almost turned her eyes amber.

This entire situation would be better if he could just not like her. "I'd break your heart before I'd ask you to give your everything to me. Your work is your everything. That much is obvious. The truth is, I don't want to want you."

Surprised lifted her brows for a second. She jerked her hands from her pockets and motioned between them. "I've noticed you keep getting closer despite that."

He blanked his expression. "I don't want you to wonder about size."

She glanced down and scoffed. "About four inches between us. After all your big talk, I expected to find out why Scottish men wear kilts. Can't fit it all in pants, can they?"

Amazed that she could make him blush, all he could do was shake his head. "You are a Scot at heart. You dirty-mouthed la.s.s."

"b.o.l.l.o.c.ks." Her dimple deepened.

Instinct propelled his movements, just bypa.s.sed his brain and signaled his body. He grabbed her and dragged her up against him, to his mouth. Claim her. Even before he'd known the true taste of grief-bitter and unyielding, unending-he'd never wanted to make a woman his, but Victoria...

Callan wanted to taste what made her different, let it sink into his bones and make a home. He wanted to lay claim to that part of her and do with it what he willed. He teetered on the edge of taking her on his uncle's porch. Kissing her was giving in to the need that rushed through his veins.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sank into his embrace with a moan. At her submission, Callan lost what was left of his common sense. He turned, pushed her against the door and let the need take over. He cupped one full cheek of her a.r.s.e and pressed her against his c.o.c.k. There. She could feel every inch. He almost smiled at her gasp, but he was too busy laying claim to her mouth until she opened for him, and then he drank in the taste of her sweet, mysterious and addictive bouquet.

She kissed him back in the same frenzied way his heart pounded. Hunger pitted in his gut and the only thing that would sate it was her naked in his bed. Her coming on his d.i.c.k. Victoria wet and warm and bare.

He grazed his teeth over her full bottom lip and was rewarded with a half moan, half curse. Sweet Mary. He ached to have her right there against the door but a laugh built in his sternum. He nipped the corner of her mouth and lavished her with soft sucks on her tongue just to hear her curse again. Cute as a f.u.c.king pixie but with a mouth of a Scot. Aye. He wanted to lay claim.

Grinding his c.o.c.k into that warm and likely wet s.p.a.ce between her legs, he pounded in the point he wanted to make. He hadn't had four inches since before p.u.b.erty hit. "I like the way you moan, Burke."

"You growl," she accused but sounded aroused.

Callan let loose the laugh because he couldn't fight it anymore. He released her and she slid down him. A hiss whispered between his lips as her stomach brushed along his d.i.c.k.

"That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble, la.s.s."

She licked her swollen lips. "I'm still not sleeping with you."

"You will," he promised.

"No." She pressed her shoulders into the door and glared at him with defiance. "If I'm sleeping with you, how is my integrity not being called into question? I have to vet your work. I have to make sure you don't turn a $3,000 antique into a $20 table."

It would have been easy to deny the truth of her words. Unfortunately he saw her point. He'd met many in his field who screwed up more than they fixed. His craft was just that, a craft. With her past she couldn't blindly trust him. Didn't stop irritation from taking hold, but he understood.

He also refused to ignore the truth. "You'll be in my bed. Mark my words."

"Saying I'll never be in your bed would be a challenge to you. You'd go after me with a mindless intent just to spite me. So I'll just say I don't need to be there."

Anything else she could have said would have been exactly that, a challenge, but those words undercut him. He dropped his hands away from her lush form and gave her the room she quietly demanded. He played the part of Neanderthal but wasn't actually one.

But he couldn't leave it at that. He'd opened his mouth to tell her exactly the choices she had and what she was missing, when the door opened. He grabbed her to make sure she wouldn't fall. Dougla.s.s Baird scowled at him and then noticed the company.

"Finally," Dougla.s.s boomed. "If I wanted to be celibate, I'd have become a priest."

Callan shook his head. "Too many nuns to corrupt. Dougla.s.s, this is Victoria. She's to be your...caregiver for the next two months." He added but knew the warning would go unheeded, "Behave."

Dougla.s.s grinned, his blue-gray eyes lighted. "What a pleasure to meet you, la.s.sie."

The older man took her offered hand and kissed the knuckles. Victoria's eyes widened in shock at the brazen act.

Auch. So it began.

CHAPTER SIX.

At first Victoria thought the Baird was putting on the incorrigible Scot act to snow the tourist. His words whipped by with an accent so thick she couldn't cut it with a chainsaw. The Baird even called Callan "laddie."

After thirty minutes, she realized he was every inch the Scot. He was the kind they sat in front of a castle to weave tall tales of Highlanders fighting against the English with nothing more than a dirk and a kilt.

And wasn't she a pretty Yank.

The old man was a problem. More silver than gray, his hair fell in soft waves around the crown of his head. The neatly trimmed beard only accented his full lips. Ian inherited those beautiful gray-blue irises from his father, and Tristan had gotten his charm. And currently Baird was doing his d.a.m.ndest to use that charm to talk his way out of cleaning.

She swallowed back a sigh and scrubbed a stubborn spot on the kitchen floor. Yeah. She welcomed the shift in focus. Her mind wanted to replay the stupid mistake on the stoop. A stupid mistake her hormones had happily partic.i.p.ated in.

Who knew a man whose lips curled so easily in anger could make her melt?

She gave the mysterious brown spot another good scrub before sharing the frustration. "You know, Callan called you elderly."

He was older but like a well-aged Scotch. He'd be eighty and still be a silver-fox. And all hands.

"I know what my boys say about me. Let's dance." He avoided the still wet part of the floor and ploughed toward her. "You don't look like you do that often."

She didn't but that wasn't the point. She was in neck deep. Callan grumbled something inappropriate as he cleaned the old ashes in the hearth. His forearms had streaks of soot mixed into the fine hairs. She sighed again since this wasn't the Baird's first attempt at a distraction. The flat, as they had insisted it be called, flowed from one room to another. Even though she stood in the kitchen, Victoria could see the front door in one direction and his bedroom in the other.

A song played in the background. A sad beat that you'd slow dance to. The music fit the frayed furniture. Well, what she could see of it. Newspapers, take-out boxes and other a.s.sortment of clutter covered most of the s.p.a.ce in the large flat. It had apparently taken the man two weeks to collect all this junk. She had hoped they wouldn't be here all day and that Callan had only exaggerated the time needed. Nope. She glanced around again. He'd underestimated the work.

Not to mention the Baird.

There was a reason why a maid or nurse wouldn't work. He'd s.e.xually hara.s.s them and not feel an inch sorry for it. And to be honest, maybe the woman wouldn't be so adverse to his seduction-a problem in and of itself. That all came down to no one sane or weak-willed would volunteer to corral the Baird.

She pressed the end of the mop handle to his chest. "Stay right there. I warned you, old man. Touch me and I'll pop you. And I still just might. I've seen the inside of your refrigerator and that's next on my list." She reached for the rag he'd tossed aside and threw it at him. "Help Callan. The pictures on the mantle need to be dusted."

He caught the rag with a huff. "None of the others made me clean."

"And none of the others are here." She gave him an extra poke. "Go help and let me do my work. If you behave, I'll make you something delicious. Your freezer and pantry are loaded."

"You know-"

"Baird, some things are best left unsaid." Callan didn't turn as he spoke.

The Baird gave his nephew a leveled look and then nodded. "Aye, I see." He turned to grin at her. "So it's not me you're after, but Jacob."

She chose to avoid that trap. "He likes to be called Callan."

Dougla.s.s laughed. "My apologies. His mum called him Jacob."

Another trap and she couldn't avoid it because curiosity got the better of her. "His mum?"

Callan sighed as the Baird grabbed a picture off the mantle. Dougla.s.s wiped the coating of dust off the gla.s.s before handing it to her. The woman looked very young. She had a pert nose, wide blue eyes and a warm smile. Freckles decorated her heart-shaped face. His mother had a sparkle in her eye like she'd be the kind of mom who'd bake cookies in the middle of the night and start pillow fights. Her own mother had that same sparkle. So she could only imagine the grief Callan must feel.

Victoria stole a glance at Callan. His expression had turned to stone as he scrubbed harder than necessary on the grate.

"From what I hear labor is pretty tough," she said, her throat a little raw now. "By rights you get to call your kid whatever name you want."

The mischievous light in Dougla.s.s' eyes dimmed. "Giving birth doesn't make you a mother."

She'd stepped into a minefield. It was obvious these men didn't have many female influences in their life. "No. It doesn't, but it says a lot that you still have your sister-in-law's picture on your mantle." She hesitated. "You called them your boys. Tell me about them."

"Is he yours?" Dougla.s.s asked.

The point-blank question made heat rise to her cheeks. "No. I'm just nosy."

"Awright," the Baird said. "So what was that kiss on my stoop?"

Callan looked on with interest. "Aye. What was that?"

He'd seen that? Not surprising the man was a peeper. "You're not behaving." She lifted a brow.

They both sighed, but Dougla.s.s said, "You had to bring a feisty one. She won't let me flirt with her or touch her. And she's making me clean."

Victoria pointed out, "Which I've noticed you're not actually doing."