Page 2 of Love Bomb

It had been the worst day of her life.

Unbidden, an image of her parents popped into her mind. They’d woken her early that morning to share the cheery news that her life was about to change forever.

“Guess what, darling?” her mother had said, while her father stood silently by her side. “We’ve sold the castle to a lovely modern couple from London who plan on updating the place, and we’re moving to Edinburgh. And you get to have two bedrooms instead of one because we’re separating. Now gather what you need because we’re leaving today. The movers will pack up everything else and you’ll get the rest of your things in a few days.”

Before Rona could reply, let alone process the news, her parents had closed her bedroom door and moved onto the next item on their agenda.

A couple of hours later, she was heading out of town and far away from the people who’d cared about her—the librarian who’d helped with her homework, the women who’d taught her to knit and sew, the hotel owner who’d taken her in when her parents had been too busy socializing to remember they had a daughter.

Most of all, they’d taken her from Bain.

Which had been more than her teenage heart could bear.

She winced at the memory of the poetry her heartbreak had inspired and made a mental note to have a bonfire once she returned to Edinburgh.

Of course, she suspected Bain hadn’t mourned her loss at all. To him, she’d just been an irritant. The younger girl who got in the way of him bedding half the town. He’d been an extraordinary flirt, a born playboy who could charm any girl out of her underwear. Well, any girl except Rona. According to Bain, she was too young, too weird, and too much like family to tempt him.

“You’re the little sister I never wanted,” he’d told her more than once. “Now go away.”

Oh, yeah, he’d be thrilled she was back.

Well, tough. This was business. It wasn’t personal. She needed an explosives expert, and he was the only one she knew. Sucking in a deep, icy breath that stung her lungs, she lifted a purple mittened hand and banged the door.

Her heart raced as light suddenly illuminated the tiny windows in the door, and heavy footsteps sounded in the hall.

Breathe, just breathe.

You stopped adoring Bain MacGregor years ago. You’re a mature woman now. Who cares what he thinks of you? All you care about is getting his professional help.

Yeah, tell that to her roiling stomach and quickly drying mouth. It took all her strength not to flee into the snow. She stopped breathing all together when the door swung open.

And there he was.

Her teenage crush, all grown up and sexy as hell. His lanky frame had filled out, but he was still lean and muscled and perfectly proportioned for his height—which at five ten made him the shortest of the MacGregor brothers. His black hair was casually tousled, and his features were sharper than they’d been as a teen, but his eyes were still as blue. And lined with thick lashes that made her want to weep.

A slow appreciative smile curved his lips when he realized there was a woman on his front step. His eyes crinkled at the edges and warmed at the sight of her. And then recognition hit.

His expression froze.

Then his face went blank and his eyes turned hard.

“Hell no,” Bain said before stepping back into the house and slamming the door in her face.

Rona stared at the door for a second before she realized her nerves had evaporated. She no longer felt trepidation at meeting her former crush.

Now, she just felt mad.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the set of lock picks Bain had given her when she’d turned twelve.

And then she calmly set about unlocking his door.

CHAPTER TWO

The demon was back.

Bain ran a hand through his hair and contemplated his options. Running seemed the smartest move, but it was cold outside and Invertary was small. Rona would just find him.

He leaned against the kitchen sink as a series of memories flooded his mind, like a clichéd montage from a bad romcom movie. There he was, seventeen and horny, desperate to seduce any pretty face that came his way. And there was Rona, orange frizzy hair and braces, telling every girl she met that he was a walking petri dish of sexually transmitted diseases.