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  “I was having you on.” She smiled as proof. “I meant that Dallas is a star and seems to like things just so. Being her boss couldn’t have been easy, especially since you’re friends.”

  “The whole show was a bit of a bear, but it’s successful and informative.”

  “Good journalism.”

  “Yes.”

  “Enough that she’s inviting a hundred more people than my cousin?” Her eyes came up to meet mine. “I’m just grousing.”

  “I can take care of the rest. If I’m late to work tomorrow, no one will bother me.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “Sometimes.”

  She must have noticed something in my tone. “And others?”

  “Others, I long for the days of a small show with a small budget and small personalities.”

  “You’d get lots of that in Scotland.” She grinned her Head of Scotland Tourism grin.

  I chuckled, trying to imagine myself moving from one of the best cable news networks in the States to a small station in Scotland. It might actually be a wonderful break from all this stress. Completely unrealistic, but a nice break. Not that it would be necessary. I was counting on going back to enjoying my job once all the wedding stress was over.

  Thirteen

  She was even better tonight than she’d been at the last lecture. I got there just after the start and sat fascinated through the whole thing. If she was this good in her own classes, she’d be the most popular professor in all of the U.K.

  That fantastic hair of hers was pulled into a twisty bun tonight. Last night, she’d let it flow free and I’d wanted nothing more than to run my fingers through it. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, thinking about someone who clearly couldn’t stand me. I must be a glutton for punishment.

  Now here I was stalking her. Yes, we were supposed to meet up later, but I certainly didn’t need to leave work on time just so I could make it to her symposium. Tori almost decided not to let me out of her sight tonight. She wanted to know what held my interest enough to leave work early two days in a row.

  The question and answer period was going well enough until a student toward the front asked, “How did you vote on Scottish independence?”

  I recognized the flash of annoyance that crossed Ainsley’s face. I’d seen it aimed at me plenty of times, but this time I shared her annoyance. Only a self-involved grad student would ask a renowned Scottish professor whose specialty was Scottish history to proclaim how she voted on one of the most controversial issues in her country in recent times. She’d been interviewed by the newspapers in Scotland about the historical significance of the vote, but no one would be tacky enough to ask her outright how she voted. No one but an egotistical American grad student.

  When the student’s professor didn’t cut him off or jump in to keep Ainsley from being put on the spot, she was forced to respond. “I’m clever enough to know that I’d be daft to answer that publically, lad.”

  “She’s amazing,” the guy next to me said when the crowd laughed at her diplomatic reply. He looked like every grad student I’d ever seen. Mid-twenties, needed a shave, novelty t-shirt that tried so very hard to be ironic, and beat up jeans. If he’d showered this morning, I would have been surprised. “Our professor practically begged to get her here once he found out she was going to be at Georgetown. I think he’s got a hard-on for her.”

  “Nice,” I muttered. Yep, typical grad student. At least he didn’t ask her about her politics in front of hundreds of people.

  “I’m just spelling it out.” He wraggled his brow at me. “She’d better be ready for a handsy goodbye tonight.” He got up and shuffled his way out of the aisle as everyone else was giving Ainsley a standing ovation.

  I joined the applause while the professor who’d invited her in was practically genuflecting next to her. When the applause died down he started talking about how wonderful it was to have her here, blah, blah, blah. He did sound like a Fan Boy.

  It took another twenty minutes before most of the students had left the auditorium and gotten their questions answered or put in their butt kissing time in front of their professor. I started to make my way up to the front and caught what the grad student next to me predicted. The professor had placed his hand on Ainsley’s back as she finished with the last student. He made it seem like he was guiding her back to the podium but his hand slipped down closer and closer to her shapely rear-end. Ainsley took a step away to stop the hand’s progress, but he managed to keep his hand at her hip.

  “Ainsley,” I called out and watched the handsy professor jerk in place.

  Her eyes darted over to meet mine. For the first time ever, she looked happy to see me. “Hi, darling. We’re just finishing up. You ready?”

  I didn’t lend any credence to the endearment. She called almost everyone “darling” and, based on her unease with this professor, she was lacing it with meaning to get him to back off.

  “Sure am. We’ve got to get moving if we’re going to make that appointment.”

  “Quite.” She turned to the guy. “Thank you for the opportunity. You have a great program here.”

  “You’re welcome anytime. If we’re ever lucky enough to keep you for any length of time, please know you’d have a home here at American University.”

  “I appreciate the offer.” Ainsley looked like she was going to vault off the stage but noticed the stairs off to the side and hurried over to them. When she joined me, she placed her hand at my lower back and propelled us out of the auditorium.

  “One of his students mentioned he had a thing for you,” I said once we hit the street.

  “Creep.” She shuddered and glanced around to make sure he hadn’t followed us out. “I got here early and spent the majority of our prep time pushing his hand off my knee.”

  “He probably has a passel of undergrad freshman sleeping with him for better grades.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a comfort to know things are the same at universities throughout the world.”

  I smiled and pointed to where I’d parked the car. “Ready for some music?”

  “Sure am. Is this a band or a DJ?”

  “It’s the quartet for the ceremony. We’re seeing the bands tomorrow and the DJs next week.”

  “Both?”

  “They want music for when the band isn’t playing, so they’re getting a DJ, too.”

  “I may need more Chinese for this.”

  “There’s a British pub not far from here if you’re getting homesick. Can’t say they’ve got all the Scottish favorites, but they have the usual British fare.”

  Her blue gaze swept over me. “That sounds lovely.”

  We spent the next hour in a British pub filling up on shepherd’s pie and bangers and mash then playing darts. I found myself wondering why we hadn’t gotten along well when we shared an apartment. She was fun to spend time with and intelligent, which made her interesting. I must have been a lot more unsure of myself than I remembered to let her antagonistic comments get to me so much back in college.

  After dinner, we went to a practice studio a few miles away. The musicians were ready with their instruments, and within moments, robust music filled the small space. Instantly, I relaxed, forgetting about the monotonous day at work and that we were here because I’d soon have to be part of a church wedding and photographed for posterity. It was too bad Dallas and Colin only planned to have them play at the church not at the reception. I’d much prefer this music all through dinner than whatever a DJ could do.

  Next to me, Ainsley closed her eyes and her shoulders swayed slightly. The musicians played more of their favorite selections longer than they needed to, but it felt like we were getting our own private concert. No one seemed to mind. Ainsley’s eyes opened and widened when she saw me watching her. I turned away before the blush hit my face.

  “Was that enough to get an idea of what we can do?” The cellist asked when they finished their piece.

  “Yes,” I said. “T
hey’ll have some requests, but the rest we can leave up to you.”

  “Can you play through dinner?” Ainsley must be reading my mind.

  “We’d be delighted to extend the time.”

  “It’ll be at a different location,” I let them know.

  “We’ll need set up time there, but we can do it.”

  Ainsley’s smile grew. “Any chance one of you plays the bagpipes?”

  I groaned. That was exactly what Dallas didn’t want. I crossed my fingers that they wouldn’t have bagpipes in their repertoire. It shouldn’t be too much to hope for. They were a classical group.

  “We know someone who does.”

  “Superb.” Ainsley flashed that amazing smile again.

  “Wait.” I turned to her. “Dallas was pretty specific about the kind of music she wanted.”

  “She probably didn’t know that bagpipes would be an option.”

  Last week I would have thought she was trying to irk me with this suggestion, but I could see the sincerity tonight. “Even if she did, I don’t think it’s what she had in mind.”

  “Will you excuse us for a minute?” Ainsley looked at the musicians and stood, dragging me up with her.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed as she pulled me out the door. “Bagpipes don’t exactly blend with classical music.”

  “We don’t need it to. More than half of Colin’s attendees will be coming over from Scotland. It would be nice to show them that he hasn’t forgotten his heritage.”

  “He lived in the U.S. his whole life.”

  “Except for the summers he spent in Glasgow where he embraced his mother’s family and traditions. Bagpipes are a big part of that.”

  “It’s like you’re trying to push me to the absolute limit. You know Dallas will freak about this, and I doubt Colin would care one way or the other.”

  “She’s getting her way on everything else.”

  I blew out a cleansing breath. If this was my wedding, I’d compromise all over the place. Without Dallas here to decide, I was left to fight for what she really wanted. Especially since Colin didn’t seem all that interested in the planning to begin with.

  “This isn’t your wedding, Ainsley.”

  She snorted. “I know that. There’d be a lot more pink involved if it were.”

  I laughed, remembering the significant amount of pink she used to have in her wardrobe. She hadn’t shown as much since returning, but she clearly still liked it. Enough to want it as one of her wedding colors. “That’s not in your tartan.”

  She flashed a bright smile. “It is in the ancient version. Pink, black, light blue, and green.”

  “Pink and black would be a nice combo, but like I said, it’s not your wedding.”

  “Yeah, I’m reminded of that every time we go into one of these places and all the pictures are of a man and a woman getting married.”

  That was a little disheartening to see. “What you think might be nonnegotiable, your cousin might think isn’t worth the effort.”

  “And your friend might think likewise.”

  “You don’t know Dallas very well.”

  “I know her well enough to know that she wants to make Colin happy. If Colin’s relatives are happy and proud, Colin will be, too.”

  She had Dallas right on that. “So what do you propose?”

  “A single bagpiper to escort everyone from the church after the ceremony.”

  “But they’ll be playing.” I waved my hand toward the doorway.

  “He’ll be outside. Other than my relatives, it’ll ensure that people leave the area and get over to the reception right away. My clan will most likely linger for a bit.”

  “And he’ll be in a kilt, no doubt.”

  “Of course.”

  I shook my head and sighed. “Fine, but you’re the one who tells Dallas.”

  She beamed. Despite losing the argument, I felt my lips tug at the corners.

  Fourteen

  Ainsley’s smile was brighter than a welding torch. She’d practically been humming the entire way over from the office. If not for the skip in her step, her enthusiasm would have pushed her pace past what my overworked, under rested body could handle.

  “You’re happy,” I noted.

  “I’ve been waiting for this from the moment Colin announced he was going to wed.”

  “What?”

  “Cake.”

  I chuckled. “We could have ordered cake at any one of the restaurants we’ve been to.”

  “It’s not wedding cake, and it’s not going to be hundreds of choices all just waiting for us.”

  My chuckle moved into full blown laughter. “It won’t be hundreds.”

  “Don’t diminish my fantasy, Skye.”

  “You’re surprisingly easy to please.”

  She turned to me, stopping her march toward ecstasy. “Surprisingly? Are you saying I’m difficult?”

  “Are you saying you’re not?”

  “Everyone’s difficult, darling. It’s just a matter of degree.” Her eyebrows wiggled.

  “I’m not.”

  “Shall I count the ways?”

  “You’ve done so many times, thanks.”

  “I must say you’re not nearly as social as you used to be.”

  Now I stopped walking and faced her. That was probably an insult. “Not nearly?”

  “You had people over every night back in college.”

  “Grad school,” I reminded her and watched the tick in her jaw click again. She hated that she’d been a year older and in her last year of undergrad when I was in my last year of grad school. “And it wasn’t every night.”

  “Nearly.”

  “They were study groups. You seem to forget that. Unlike a history degree, a MBA requires most of its work be done in a group so as to prepare students for what they’ll be facing in the corporate world.”

  Skepticism flared in her expression. “You had group projects and therefore needed group study sessions every night while the rest of us studied alone?”

  “It wasn’t every night and group study is a proven technique for enhanced memorization and exam prep.”

  “Is that how you graduated before you were legally an adult?”

  My eyes rolled on their own. “I was twenty-one when you last saw me. I’d been an adult for three years.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Was I in denial about that, too?” I goaded then clapped my mouth shut. Why had I brought that up again?

  The sly smile she flashed made my stomach tighten. “Might have been.”

  Thankfully we arrived at the bakery before she could start with the sexuality thing again. She’d been a professed lesbian since she was thirteen or so her tales to our roommates had gone. While I never saw her date anyone in the year we’d lived together, it didn’t mean she wasn’t having flings left and right. My libido didn’t fire on all cylinders until after I’d gotten the job that would pay the rent and ease every financial worry I had. In undergrad I’d experimented with both genders, but relationships were the furthest thing from my mind. All that mattered was that I’d finally settled on one gender.

  “You must be Skye and Ainsley.” The older guy behind the bakery display waved us over to a table in the small shop. It looked and smelled like a working bakery, not at all like Gary’s other recommendations. I wondered if his usual cake designers had been booked leaving him to call random bakeries for an opening. “We have samples to taste and books to look through unless you know exactly what you want.”

  “We don’t,” Ainsley almost shouted.

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “Someone’s hungry, huh?”

  “We’ve apparently been looking forward to this appointment for weeks,” I supplied.

  “Samples, please,” Ainsley told him.

  “I’ll bring them right out.”

  “Do you do scones?” Ainsley asked as he got up from the table.

  “We do. I’ll bring a sample of those as well.”

  Ains
ley clapped her hands in giddy excitement. No matter how annoyed I got with her, I always liked that she wasn’t afraid to show her excitement for something she adored. It was rare, especially in a jaded city like New York where we met. Washington D.C. wasn’t much better, come to think of it.

  “He’s not British. His scones might disappoint,” I warned her.

  “Doesn’t it smell divine in here? The worst we can expect is for them to be too moist.”

  Two wedges of cake were placed in front of us. Two others followed closely behind. Cakes of all colors so far, and the parade wasn’t stopping. The baker returned to the kitchen for more options.

  “Chocolate,” Ainsley murmured, reaching her fork at the brown slice in front of her.

  “Easy now,” I joked. “Don’t inhale it all at once. I want a taste, too.”

  The baker chuckled as he plopped two more slices onto the table. “These are the standard cakes flavors we offer. We can do a specialty. A bride from Hawaii once requested pineapple. Tasted rather nice, actually.”

  Ainsley’s face pinched in distaste but smoothed out as she forked a sizable chunk of cake into her mouth. Only the presence of the baker kept her from moaning aloud.

  “You must taste them all, even if we have a winner on the first round.”

  I smiled at the man. He knew his way to Ainsley’s heart. I reached for the nearest cake. A white angle food if I had to guess. Vanilla icing, and it tasted wonderful. The best thing about tonight was that Dallas enjoyed cake as much as Ainsley, so there’d be no arguments.

  “What’s this one called?” Ainsley asked looking at the red sponge cake to the left of her.

  “Red velvet.”

  “Very good,” she managed after she’d swallowed the bite she took. “Can’t beat chocolate though.”

  “We can layer or add a groom’s cake. Cupcakes are in these days, too.”

  I could only imagine the disappointment Dallas would show if we ordered cupcakes instead of a real wedding cake. “She’ll want a cake, tiered, traditional. We just need to decide on the flavor.”

  “Your partner knows you pretty well, huh?” he asked Ainsley.

  “Not her partner,” I said because Ainsley had dug into a German chocolate cake nearby.