"Isn't that what Serena told Logan a few months ago? Now they're married."
"That was different. My cousin is a good man, but you… You're a limey louse."
I chuckle. "Yes, Logan already told me about all the charming little nicknames you've made up for me. It's nice to know you still care enough to despise me. If I were out of your system, you wouldn't bother confronting me this way."
Never mind that every time she calls me one of those names—the British Bastard, the Limey Louse, the Soulless Sassenach—my throat goes thick and acid burns in my gut. It's probably the apple fritter I ate for breakfast. Normally, I eat a decent meal at home, but today I rushed to campus and grabbed a fried breakfast in the cafeteria. Had I been in a hurry because I knew Cat would be on campus today?
Of course not. I have no soul. How can I feel anything?
I sit back in my chair, folding my hands on my lap. "Would you like to punch me again?"
She grabs a paperback book off my desk and smacks me on top of the head with it. Three times. Whack, whack, whack.
"For real impact," I say, "try a hardcover."
The lovely lass bares her teeth at me and growls.
"My, but you are beautiful when you're incensed."
She spins around and stomps out of my office.
Well, at least she hit me with my own book, the one I'd written five years ago. I'm awfully proud of that book.
A few months ago, when Logan invited me to a family gathering, I said yes. Why? The entire MacTaggart clan hates me, or so I thought. Now, most of them tolerate me, though Catriona's brothers still glare at me every time I see them. Not as much as her sister Jamie, though. That woman has the most searing glare I've ever seen, not including Logan's. The former spy has intimidation down to an art.
When I'd turned up in Scotland, at the MacTaggart Highland games, Cat's first reaction was to punch me in the gut. That sort of passion doesn't arise without a reason. She must still want me. Maybe she even loves me. Seducing her has become my obsession.
Do I love her? Heaven only knows.
Not that it matters. I'm toxic.
Chapter Two
Catriona
I slam the door to Alex's office and stop. I can't show up at the dean's office for my first day of work like this. My heart pounds, my breathing is unsteady, and I feel like I might vomit any second. Why do I let Alex get to me? I've seen him at several family events since the day Logan brought Alex to the Highland games nine months ago. I'd been furious with Logan for that, but later, I realized he had done it because he cared about me. Maybe I had needed to confront Alex one more time, to get this anger out of my system. If that was the goal, I failed to accomplish it. Just looking at Alex still makes my blood boil.
Anger doesn't suit me. It makes me feel sick. Not because I have residual feelings for Alex, but because I'm not the sort who gets boiling mad, or who shouts at people, or who curses like a sailor. My brothers do all of that. My baby sister, Jamie, learned to curse from Aidan, Lachlan, and Rory, but I always resisted the urge.
Why, then, did I invent obnoxious names for Alex? Why had I kept spouting them every time someone mentioned his name? For twelve years?
I turn to face the door, staring at the words etched on it: "Dr. Alex Thorne, Archaeology and Ancient History." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly chilled. Because Alex is a lying bod ceann, that's why. Arguing with him hasn't made me uneasy for any other reason.
My thoughts rewind to that day nine months ago when I saw him again for the first time. When I spotted him, a storm of emotions had raged inside me, driving me to lash out.
No, that's not entirely true. When I got my first glimpse of him, my heart raced, and my stomach fluttered. A thrill shivered through me, tingling on my skin, raising every hair on my body.
Then the storm had struck.
"You bastard!" I screamed, and barreled toward him, roaring like a wild animal.
While my entire family watched, I slugged Alex. Aye, he had deserved that. When I tried to hit him again, he caught my fist and wouldn't let go. The feel of his hand wrapped around mine affected me in ways I hadn't expected. Why should one touch make my pulse race even faster? Gazing into his eyes, those pools of molten dark caramel, brought back memories I never wanted to relive.
Alex kissing me. Alex smiling at me. His strong arms around me. The look on his face when we made love.
With my fist contained in his, I howled like a banshee.
"Now, now," Alex said in that wryly patient voice, the one that used to make me want him but now infuriated me. "Let's behave like adults, Catriona. Did you honestly expect I'd let you hit me again? One punch, I deserve. Two is a bit much."
That's when I kicked him in the shin.
He winced, but only for a split second. "If I let go, will you promise to end the violence?"
I called him a bod ceann right then, though labeling him a dickhead didn't seem to affect him at all. Aye, I remember that about him too. He can conceal his emotions better than anyone. How could I have ever loved him? He's a bloody liar. His scheming had gotten me arrested, and all these years later, I still have no idea why.
But standing here at his door, I can't help reminiscing about the old days with him.
The first time I met Alex, he'd been sitting on a bench under a tree, on the campus of the university where he was a professor and I was a grad student. Coming to America to study had sounded like a great adventure. This was before my brothers, my sister Jamie, and several of my cousins met and married Americans. Iain had lived in the US before, but he never talked about it. So, when I announced I'd been accepted to the PhD program at an American university, no one complained. They were happy for me.
On my eighth day in America, I saw Alex.
He was the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on, with those warm brown eyes and short hair that seemed almost the same color. His face belonged on a Michelangelo statue, so angelic and yet with full lips that seemed made for sin. I'd loved that about him, the juxtaposition of the angelic and the sinful. The first moment I saw him, I wanted him, but I've never been the kind of woman who approaches a strange man.
I'd been about to walk away when he looked up from the open book on his lap and noticed me.
Those lips curled into a sweet, tentative smile, and he waved at me. "Hello there."
A shy smile was all I could manage.
"You must be new here," he said in a British accent, his voice so sexy I'd wanted to kiss him right then and there. "You have that slightly dazed look about you."
I nodded, still unable to speak.
He closed his book and scooted over on the bench, then patted it. "Have a seat. Maybe I can help you with that confusion."
And then he smiled. Really smiled.
My heart stuttered. When Alex smiles, it's like the sun beaming its warmth and light straight into your soul.
I scuffled up to the bench and settled onto it.
He held out his palm, as if for a handshake. "I'm Alex Thorne."