Can't Stop the Feeling: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  “Donna?” He looked so vulnerable that it was hard to look at him.

  She brushed imaginary fluff from her blouse, keeping the smile on her face. She’d taken care of him for two years, and she would give him this too, because it was what he needed. And she always gave Duncan what he needed.

  Decision made, she looked back up at him. “I’m going to take all of the worry out of this for you. If the problem is you taking away my control because of your position, then I’ll take the control back.” She took a shaky breath. “Duncan, would you like to go out for dinner with me?”

  His eyes swirled with warmth. “Aye, Donna, I would like that very much.”

  It felt like a set of jumping beans had taken up residence in her stomach. “Okay, then. I’ll make a reservation at that nice Italian place in town.” If they went out that evening, it would have the added benefit of getting him out of the mansion while the women were setting up. “How does tonight suit?”

  “Tonight would be perfect. Seven-thirty?”

  She nodded and turned towards the door, frowning in consternation when her legs felt weak. This was the right thing to do. She would get Duncan out of the mansion and away from the set-up, and she’d help him take the next step in getting over his wife. It didn’t have to mean anything. She could keep her distance. After all, she’d been doing it for the past two years.

  “One more thing before you go.” Duncan’s deep voice made her stop at the door.

  She pressed a hand to her stomach as she looked back at him. “Yes?”

  “I want to be clear. This dinner is a date, right?”

  “Yes, this is a date.” Wasn’t that what this whole weird conversation was about?

  The look of triumph that flashed in his dark eyes made wariness creep up her spine. It was the same look he got when he talked her into firing someone.

  “Good.” He nodded. “Then, during this dinner, this date, do I have your permission to touch you? I’d like to get it all out in the open before we go out, so we’re not stopping every five minutes for me to get consent. Just to be clear, you understand.”

  She licked her lips as she looked up at Duncan. “You have my permission to touch, but I think we should set limits, don’t you?”

  His eyes were molten. “Aye, that sound like a right modern idea. We wouldn’t want to colour outside the lines. Would holding hands be permitted?”

  “Yes.” It came out far breathier than she’d intended.

  “And kissing?” His voice lowered, and the sound resonated throughout her body, waking up nerve endings and making cells vibrate.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat.

  Dark eyes held her captive. “A hand pressed to the small of your back? Perhaps some nuzzling of your neck?”

  The image hit her hard, and her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, and Duncan’s eyes snapped to the gesture, watching it with dark intent, making her remember the kiss they’d shared.

  “And, of course, a man would like to hold his date. To wrap her in his arms while he kissed her and feel her soft curves against him. Would that be okay with you?”

  The only sound that came out of her mouth was a needy whimper that embarrassed her, but she could no longer tell if her cheeks were burning from humiliation or desire. She now understood what the phrase ‘putty in his hands’ meant.

  “What’s your answer, Donna?” His voice was a seduction. “It would be best if these things were crystal clear between us.”

  She shivered at his tone even though it made her feel hotter. “Yes, that would be fine.”

  She turned on shaky legs and almost staggered from the room.

  As she left, Duncan said, “Oh, I think it will be more than fine.”

  Closing the door softly behind her, Donna leaned back against it and wondered how she’d survive their date, when even the negotiations had turned her knees to jelly. So much for keeping her distance.

  Chapter 15

  Duncan didn’t even bother saying hello when his brother answered the phone. “What do I wear on a date? Has it changed? Do I wear a suit? Jeans? What are the rules now?”

  “And to think I missed your phone calls,” Hamish said. “Isn’t there a lassie you can ask about this crap?”

  “My first instinct was to ask Fiona, but that didn’t seem right.”

  There was a silence for a beat. “And it would scare the crap out of you if she answered.”

  “Aye, that an’ all.”

  There was a sigh. “Where’s this date then?”

  Duncan was grateful his brother didn’t say anything about him getting his head out of his arse long enough to ask Donna out. The process had been agonising enough without dissecting it. Thank the Lord they were men. If he’d had a sister, he would have been talking about feelings by now, and he’d rather have all of his teeth pulled—without anaesthetic.

  “The Italian place in town,” he said as he looked at his ties. Did men still wear them for anything other than a funeral or a job interview? “It’s a nice restaurant, but it isn’t expensive.”

  “Jeans and a nice shirt,” Hamish said decisively. “And have a shower.”

  “I’ve had a shower. I can do the rest.” He tossed the tie he’d been holding back into his closet. “Thanks.” He hung up.

  A second later his phone rang. He answered by growling his name.

  “How are you, Hamish?” his brother said, his tone sarcastic. “How are the kids? What time is it over there? Is it the middle of the night? Did I disturb you doing anything? Well, now, funny you should ask, Duncan. It’s five in the morning here, and I was sound asleep. You selfish bastard.” The line went dead.

  Duncan burst out laughing as he pulled a fresh pair of jeans from the shelf. Turning to toss them onto his bed, he caught sight of the drawing he’d done of Fiona during their honeymoon. It was a simple pencil sketch of her with her face turned up to the sun. His humour disappeared, and he sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. He leaned forwards, elbows on knees, and put his head in his hands.

  “What am I doing?” he asked the silence.

  He wasn’t ready to spend an evening with another woman. No matter that she knew him inside and out and kissed like an angel with fire in her blood. He remembered Fiona’s kisses. Her lips had been thinner than Donna’s and her touch more confident. Fiona had thought nothing of climbing into his lap and demanding they make love. He’d had to wrestle for control with his wife during their lovemaking. It was a challenge he’d more than enjoyed. Donna would never tell him what she wanted. She would wait for him to initiate anything between them. If he was ever able to take that step. Right now, he was struggling to get dressed for a meal in a restaurant.

  He glanced at the clock and forced himself to his feet. The question he’d asked his brother rang in his head: How do you let go? How did you move on when you’d had everything you’d ever wanted? And how did you stop loving someone just because they weren’t there to touch?

  He reached into his closet and tugged one of his blue tartan shirts off the hanger before stilling. Hamish wouldn’t consider it a nice shirt. He tossed it aside and reached for the white long-sleeved T-shirt hanging beside his many tartan shirts. He’d never worn it, but Donna had kept it ironed and fresh, ready to wear. The least he could do was show her the effort had been worth it.

  After tugging on his shirt and jeans, he reached for a pair of brown dress shoes and then grabbed the navy blazer he’d worn years earlier for a gallery opening. His jaw was smooth, his hair—well, his hair was as good as it got, and he was dressed in something that wasn’t covered in paint. He was good to go.

  As he reached for the door handle, a gleam of light caught his attention, and he stared at the wedding ring on his left hand. It was like a shot to the heart. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. As he draped his arms over his knees, his eyes were still on that ring, and he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

  ***

  Donna smoothed down the skirt of h
er mint green sundress as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror on her wardrobe door. Behind her, on the bed, was a pile of clothes. She’d spent the past two hours trying on everything she owned, which wasn’t much, so she’d tried them all twice. She slipped on a pair of white sandals and grabbed the yellow knitted handbag she’d bought at the summer fair.

  You look lovely, Ron Weasley’s mother said from beside her.

  “That would mean a whole lot more if you were real,” Donna muttered.

  I remember Ginny being this nervous when she first went out with Harry and look how well that turned out.

  Donna didn’t want to break Molly Weasley’s imaginary heart by telling her Harry should have ended up with Hermione.

  You’ll have a lovely time, Molly said.

  “Yeah. Right.” She was crossing so many lines. Blurring boundaries between her and her boss. And risking her heart. Her fingers brushed her lips as she remembered Duncan’s kiss. He’d swept her away from herself, from everything. There had only been him. Her body had been on fire with the need to get closer to him. To touch him. To know him. To claim him. But he wasn’t hers to claim. He belonged to his long-gone wife. He would always belong to Fiona.

  She straightened her shoulders and patted her hair. As long as she remembered that, she would be fine. This was just dinner. Nothing more. She could do dinner. She’d eaten with Duncan before now, and this evening was no different.

  Then why did it feel like there was a kaleidoscope of butterflies trying to fight their way out of her stomach? She pressed a hand against it. She was fine. Everything was fine. She was overreacting. Her heart wasn’t involved, and that was all that mattered.

  Are you completely deluded? Hermione appeared beside Ron’s mother. This is a date, and you plan to kiss Duncan. You can pretend your heart isn’t involved all you like, but we know the truth.

  “You don’t count because you aren’t real.” Hermione was wrong. Donna wasn’t deluded. She was a realist. She wasn’t going to risk her heart with a man who didn’t have one to give in return. “I’m just distracting him so that the women can prepare for the ball.”

  Can you even hear yourself? This is a very bad idea. You need to call Duncan and back out. Before you regret this. Hermione turned to Molly, who nodded her agreement.

  Donna frowned at Molly. “You were just telling me this was great.”

  She shrugged, wiped her hands on her apron, and ran off to get something out of the oven.

  Donna glanced at the clock. Six forty. It was time to meet Duncan in the foyer. She patted her hair, wondering if she should tie it back. No, there wasn’t time to struggle with her hair. With one last glance at the mirror, she hurried out of her bedroom and through her living room to her front door.

  Only she didn’t make it.

  Her feet stopped moving halfway across the room, and she felt as though they’d become encased in fast-setting concrete. She couldn’t do this. She and Duncan could forget one kiss. They could chalk it up to confusion and write it off as a mistake. But a date? There was no getting past that. If she went out with him, their relationship could never go back to what it was. She would lose him. Wait. What was she thinking? She was flustered—she’d meant that she would lose her job. That was the problem. She was risking her job, her home, everything. And for what? Another kiss with a man who was still hung up over his dead wife?

  Hermione was right—she had to call this off.

  Donna tossed her bag onto the settee, kicked off her shoes and walked to the intercom on the wall beside her door. She pressed the button for the foyer, but no one answered. With a frown, she tried Duncan’s office. Still no answer. In frustration, she pressed the button that was used to page people through all the intercoms in the house.

  “Duncan? Are you there? I need to talk to you.”

  And then she waited for him to answer.

  ***

  Duncan knew he had to cancel their date. He glanced at the clock. Almost ten to seven. Donna would be making her way downstairs to meet him. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. How had his life gotten this screwed up? Once he’d been the toast of the art world and the envy of every man he knew because Fiona was at his side. Now, he was too scared to go out for a meal with a woman who intrigued him, and the art world had forgotten about him.

  “Duncan? Are you there? I need to talk to you.” The intercom blared above his head, and he swore loudly.

  Donna must be standing by the front door, wondering where he was. Feeling like his bones weighed a tonne, he got to his feet.

  “Man up,” he muttered to himself before he pressed the answer button. “Donna, I’m sorry, but…” But what? He’d had a meltdown?

  “Duncan, this date is a really bad idea. I think we should, maybe, you know, leave it for a while,” she said in a rush. “Until we’re sure it’s a good idea.”

  There was silence. Duncan cocked his head to the side and stared at the intercom as her words sank in. She was dumping him? Before they’d gone out? Was that even possible?

  “Duncan?” She sounded worried.

  He frowned as he jabbed at the button. “Are you cancelling our date?” he snapped.

  It didn’t matter that he’d been seconds from doing the same thing, now that Donna was pulling out of it, he was mad. A little voice in the back of his head told him he was being unreasonable. He told that voice to go to hell.

  “Duncan, we’re boss and employee. This isn’t smart.”

  “I thought we’d been over this. I had a new contract drawn up to ensure you wouldn’t feel pressured into something you didn’t want to do. You can still sign it. I’m okay with that.”

  “I don’t need to sign it. And I thought you had it drawn up so that I would feel okay saying no to you,” she reminded him.

  She was right, but he didn’t have to like it. “Are you saying no to me?” His palms began to sweat as he waited for her answer.

  There was silence. He could see her in his mind’s eye, gnawing on that bottom lip of hers, trying to figure out the least offensive thing to say.

  “I’m saying that this is a bad idea. Lines will be blurred.”

  “I need to hear the word, Donna. Yes or no. Do you still want to go out with me tonight?” He held his breath.

  It took a decade for her to answer. “If we go out, it’s going to change everything.”

  He sure as hell hoped so! But the most important thing was that she hadn’t said no. A surge of adrenalin rushed through his veins, washing away his earlier doubts. Donna might be having second thoughts, just as he had, but she still wanted to spend the evening with him. This could be salvaged. If he got over himself long enough to make it happen.

  “We can forget one kiss,” she said in a rush. “If we go out tonight, that will be harder to excuse.”

  What? He’d obviously tuned out and missed something important. “Forget the kiss? Why the hell would we do that? That kiss was mind-blowing.”

  He heard her suck in a breath. “Going out with you is confusing things.”

  “Donna.” He lowered his voice, aware from their time in his office earlier that it had an effect on her, and he wasn’t above using everything in his arsenal to get what he wanted. What they both wanted. “Why is this confusing? We’re two people who know each other well, who live in the same house, and we’re going out for a pleasant evening together. We’ll eat some food. Talk.” He let that sink in, and then he went in for the kill. “Maybe we’ll hold hands, touch, kiss. I liked our kiss, Donna. Didn’t you?”

  The answer was a frustrated groan that had him smiling.

  “Have you dressed for our date already?” He poured seduction into his voice. “What are you wearing?” He leaned into the intercom.

  She cleared her throat. “My mint green sundress.”

  He knew the one she meant. It matched her eyes perfectly. “I’ve often wondered if that dress was as soft as it looked.”

  She groaned. “You are driving me nuts. You
’re deliberately trying to talk me around.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Yes. Damn you.”

  “I’m coming up to your rooms. I’ll walk you downstairs. If you still want to call this off, tell me to my face.” He hit the Off button.

  With a grin, he grabbed his car keys and wallet and jogged out of his room to get Donna.

  Chapter 16

  The date wasn’t going well. Donna was too nervous to relax, and Duncan seemed uncomfortable in the restaurant, probably because the other diners were all staring at him as though they’d spotted a Yeti.

  “Is everything okay?” Marcus, the owner, asked them for the third time. From the smile he was trying to hide, he wasn’t interested in their comfort, but in the discomfort Duncan was experiencing. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Some privacy?” Duncan snapped.

  Marcus was third-generation Italian-Scottish and had grown up in Glasgow. He was used to dealing with rude people.

  “If you showed your face around town a bit more, people wouldn’t stare. A smile would help as well, and you could try calling a halt to firing everyone who works for you over the least wee thing.” Marcus shook his head at Duncan. “I can’t do anything about the audience, but I can get Rob to up the garlic in your fettuccine, the smell might deter them.”

  Donna leaned forwards to place a restraining hand on Duncan’s arm before he could get up and punch Marcus. There were a limited number of places in Campbeltown where she enjoyed eating, and she wasn’t going to let him get her banned from one of them.

  “Marcus,” she said. “Is there anything you could do for us? Please.”

  The gleeful gleam in his eye from prodding Duncan faded as he smiled softly at her. “For you, bella, I’ll see what I can do.” With that, he swaggered off to the kitchen.

  She turned back to Duncan, to find him frowning at her. “What?” she said as she reached for a breadstick.