Free Some Like it Scottish by Patience Griffin

She peeked inside.
    His naked chest registered with her first—chiseled with hard muscles. Next, she saw his feet—hanging off the end of the bed. Then she noticed how the sheet rested low on his hips.
    Oh, God, he’s naked under there!
    But she couldn’t turn away. She liked hair on a man’s chest and Ramsay had the perfect amount trailing downward to the edge of the sheet.
    His eyes opened halfway. “Could you think a little quieter? I have a wee bit of a headache.” He didn’t pull the sheet up. Either his near-nudeness didn’t embarrass him or he didn’t know that he was giving her quite a show.
    She stood there, feasting her eyes on the rest of him. Even the angry scar on his arm was sexy. He really was a Scottish god.
    He seemed to rouse more, studying her for a long moment. “Are ye wanting to join me? I can make room.” He slid toward the wall and the sheet slipped farther south.
    She put her hands up. “I was just wondering if you were up yet.”
    â€œI’m getting there,” he drawled.
    That’s when she saw his growing interest poke at the sheet. Her cheeks burned.
    â€œI’ll be waiting downstairs for you.” She backed out of the door quickly, but couldn’t help taking one more peek. The man was beautiful, and infuriating, and laughing at her.
    â€œCome back, lass,” he called out. “I
need
yere assistance.”
    â€œNot on your life.” She spun around and found she had an audience. One of the inn’s guests was in their doorway, giving her a blurry-eyed stare. “Sorry about the noise,” she mumbled, and headed downstairs, rattled that she’d been caught lusting over her driver.
    Too soon Ramsay joined her. She was afraid to look at him, afraid she might be visualizing that chest of his all over again.
    She sipped her tea and grabbed an oatcake from thecontainer set out for the inn’s guests. She couldn’t help herself. “Isn’t the day half over to you fishermen?”
    Ramsay went to the coffee carafe and poured himself a mug—no sugar, no cream, no response to her jab. He gulped it down.
    She opened her day planner and pulled out the image of her grandmother’s quilt, laying her hand over it while she studied her itinerary on the other side. Then she looked up at him. “You don’t look well.”
    â€œI’ll be grand. Why are ye so perky this morning?” His eyes dropped to her chest.
    He was goading her and she was going to give it right back to him.
    She stood and spun in a circle with her arms wide. “So?” She waited for the compliment, testing him. She knew her navy shorts and cute sandals were very feminine—fun and flirty. But it was her fitted striped sailor’s top that should have been sexy as hell to a fisherman.
    Ramsay shook his head, apparently not taking the bait. He motioned to the computer in the corner. “I glanced at yere website last night.”
    â€œReally? What did you learn?”
    â€œYou know where ye give tips to yere clients? You should add something about how
unattractive
it is for women to fish for compliments.”
    â€œVery funny.” She would’ve lobbed her oatcake at his head, but he’d probably tell her to add
throwing food
to her Must Not Do list. “So did you find any of my suggestions helpful?”
    â€œIt’s not ladylike to hound a man when he’s a little under the weather.” He seemed to be perplexed. “It was loud in here last night. Really loud—how can you be so painfully chipper this morning?”
    â€œI feel renewed and rejuvenated. I’m confident we’re going to sign up three bachelors today.”
    â€œ
We’re
not,” he groused.
    â€œOkay, but
I
am.” She looked in his eyes. “Are you sure you feel up to driving today?”
    â€œWas that an offer to go back to bed?” He held her gaze as he took another drink of his