Her stomach only held it down for an hour before it wanted back out again.
And Thane was knackered. There was nothing worse than holding your wee girl in your arms while she cried and begged you to make her feel better. Thankfully, after throwing up a few more times, she fell asleep. She woke early and seemed as full of beans as ever.
While her father felt like he’d been dragged through a hedge backward.
The whole thing had thrown him off, and before he knew it, despite Regan being there to take care of everything else, he found himself running out the door, late for work.
After parking his car in the underground garage, Thane dashed into the lift that would take him up to the company’s floor. The building was new and modern, and it stood out in the small city center with its black tinted glass.
Pre-twentieth century architecture mostly made up the skyline of Inverness with an eclectic (and unsuccessful) mix of midcentury brutalism. Just a few minutes’ walk from the train station, right in the center of town, his architectural firm rented the eighth floor of the new building.
To his growing impatience, the lift stopped at reception to let more people on. One of those was Keelie Tanner. The attractive brunette smiled, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him as she practically pushed two men out of the way so she could stand next to Thane. He tried not to show his amusement.
“Keelie,” he greeted her.
“Good to see you. How are you?” She studied him as if he were the most fascinating man on earth.
And Thane wasn’t entirely immune to that. What man would be? It was flattering as hell. Keelie worked as a financial advisor on the floor above his. She’d started chatting one day in the elevator and sometimes she’d stop by his car when he was leaving at night to see how his day had gone. Through those small interludes, he’d learned a fair bit about her. She was a single mum after going through a divorce three years ago, and it was nice she understood the trials of single parenthood. And something he hadn’t really thought about but seemed to stick in his mind now as he looked at her, Keelie was his age—thirty-seven—though she’d just turned it in June, and his thirty-eighth was in two weeks. Lachlan’s birthday was a mere six days before his, so the family had planned a birthday dinner for them both next weekend.
Still, less than a year between him and Keelie.
That was appropriate.
Not that he was thinking of dating Keelie. As nice as she was, and as much as they got along, Thane wasn’t in the mood for dating anyone.
“So what do you think?” she queried just as the elevator stopped at his floor.
Thane had no idea what she’d asked. “I’m sorry, Keelie. Eilidh was ill last night. I’ve barely slept, I’m like a zombie, and I’m running late. I’ll catch you later, yeah, and we can talk then.” He got out of the lift as Gary from payroll did. Thane hadn’t even realized he was on the lift with him.
“How are you?” He gave the payroll admin a polite smile.
“That was brutal,” Gary answered in return.
Thane tensed. “Excuse me?”
The young man smirked. “How you blew off the MILF on the lift.”
“MILF …” Thane scowled as he realized who Gary was referring to. “Keelie?”
“Aye, her. I might use that trick to let down a bird in the future.”
“Wait, what?” Dread filled Thane’s gut.
Gary’s eyes widened. “You actually weren’t listening to her, were you? Mr. Adair, she asked you out. In front of everybody.”
Fuck.
Cursing himself, Thane bristled all the way to his office. He didn’t want to date Keelie, but he couldn’t believe his woolgathering had mortified her in front of a lift filled with people. He’d have to find her later and apologize.
Something else to look forward to.
Five minutes later, his day grew worse when Thane realized he’d left his portfolio and 3-D model at the house. “No, no, no.” He needed the damn thing for an important meeting with their client in forty-five goddamn minutes. He pushed away from his desk and groaned. While he had most of it on his computer, the folio was filled with hand-drawn additions to the digital files, as well as notes and photograph clippings. The visuals helped with the presentation.
“To hell with it.” He’d have to reprint the digital drawings and do what he could.
His desk phone rang, the blinking red light telling him it was reception. What now? “Adair,” he answered abruptly.
Brian, the company receptionist, answered, “Good morning, Mr. Adair. I have a Regan Penhaligon at reception. Shall I send her along?”
What was Regan doing here? Was Eilidh okay? His heart raced. “Yes, yes.” He slammed down the phone and hurried to meet her halfway.
As he spotted Regan rushing down a corridor, checking left and right, searching for his office, his heart slowed at the sight of his portfolio and model in her hands. She’d come all the way to bring them to him?
“Regan?”
Her head turned toward him, and he ignored the way his gut twisted when their eyes met.
Regan heaved a sigh of relief as they drew to a stop before one another. Her light, floral perfume tickled his nose. When she was working, she’d taken to wearing a uniform of jeans and a sweater now that it was chillier outside. Today she wore a long, camel-colored wool coat over her jeans and somehow made it look chic with her Converse. Her hair spilled around her shoulders in perfect, silky red-gold waves. Thane realized over the weeks that she was just one of those women who looked well put together, no matter the occasion.
“Your phone is switched off,” she said, her eyes big and round, lashes fanning with the almost accusatory doe look.
“It is?” Fuck.
“Yeah. I spotted your model on the dining table about twenty minutes after you left and tried to call you to come back for it, but I went straight to voice mail.”
“Who’s watching Eils and Lewis?”
“Robyn. She took them to school. Don’t worry, Eilidh is much better and insisted on going because she didn’t want to miss the Halloween party tonight.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” he said, marveling that she’d driven all the way to Inverness. Regan was still wary of the roads here. Though familiar with Ardnoch, she hadn’t driven farther afield.
“I thought you had that meeting?”
“I do.” Thane took his work from her, their fingers sliding together with the transfer. He placed the model on the floor at his feet. “I’ll worry about you driving back now.”
Her expression softened. “I’ll be fine. I got here, didn’t I?” She frowned. “Though I’m pretty sure I’m parked illegally.”
Thane grinned. “It’s Lachlan’s car. He’ll get the ticket.”
Her laughter filled the space between them, and his gut tightened again.
Bloody hell.
“Adair.” A booming voice made him wince seconds before a hand came down hard on his shoulder.
Christ. He knew who it was without looking.
Paul Urquhart: mediocre architect and arsehole extraordinaire.
“Paul.” He sent an apologetic look to Regan, and she frowned in confusion.
“And who is this?”