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

  “Is there something going on with you and the owner?”

  She almost choked on the bite she’d taken. Although, the comment was kind of flattering. Marcus was in his early thirties, muscled from MMA fighting in his free time, and his gorgeous smile was famous in Kintyre. Women queued up for a date with the man. That Duncan thought he’d choose her over the smorgasbord he had on offer was a boost to her ego.

  Although tempted to make up a sordid past between her and the restaurant owner, she thought it wiser to stick to the truth. “I’m a family friend. I went to school with his sister.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And that’s it?”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Are you jealous, Duncan?”

  Shock flashed over his face and Donna wanted to kick herself. Of course this wasn’t jealousy. She was under no illusions that she was the sort of woman men fought over, or even lusted over. She definitely didn’t inspire jealousy. Maybe if she’d had her sisters’ looks, and hair, things would have been different, but she was the plain sister, and she was fine with that. There was nothing she could do about it anyway, and she loved her sisters too much to envy them. Well, not all the time anyway.

  Before Duncan could say something that would mortify her further, Marcus reappeared.

  “If you don’t care about ambience, I’ve set up a table for you in my office.” He gave her a pitying smile.

  “We don’t care.” Duncan was on his feet before Donna could answer. He threw down his napkin, grabbed her hand and stalked towards the back of the restaurant, glowering at the other diners as he dragged her along behind him.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather date some guy who can take you out in public? Like me?” Marcus asked from behind her, his voice low and sensual.

  Donna smiled at him. He was always joking about her going out with him. She’d often wondered what he would do if she said yes.

  “Seriously, bella, I can get rid of him for you, if you want. No trouble. You know I owe you.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Bella.” He shook his head. “We all do. We owe you Julianna’s life. I’ve told you this before—all of us have—if you ever want anything, any time, you just call. And stop trying to pay when you eat here. It’s driving the family crazy.”

  And that was the reason she rarely ate at the Italian Garden. “I can pay for my meals,” she reminded him.

  “Aye, you can, but we won’t take your money.” When Duncan glared back at them, he pointed at a door at the end of the corridor, past the restrooms.

  “You sure you don’t want him gone?” Marcus’ eyes were on Duncan’s back, and for a minute, Donna wasn’t sure if he meant from the date, or from her life permanently.

  “He isn’t as bad as he seems,” she said weakly. “But thanks for the offer.”

  His lips thinned. “Expect a call from my sister.”

  “Great,” Donna muttered as she followed Duncan into the office.

  Two waitstaff squeezed out to let them in. They smiled at Donna but ignored Duncan. As she stepped over the threshold, she realised why they’d been in the room. The desk had been pushed back against the wall and was covered with a white linen tablecloth. In the space where it had sat was a small round dining table, set up exactly like the ones in the restaurant, with candles burning in the centre and fresh breadstick in a basket. Behind the table, the office window gave them a view of the harbour lights reflecting on the water. It was perfect.

  “Thank you, Marcus.” Donna rested a hand on his shoulder, went on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  A loud growl sounded from behind her, and she looked back to find Duncan standing with his hands curled into fists at his side, glaring at them.

  “You sure?” Marcus asked her again as he flicked an irritated look at Duncan.

  “Yeah,” she said on a sigh. “Unfortunately.”

  She moved to sit, rolling her eyes when Duncan elbowed the owner out of the way, so he could pull the chair out for her.

  “I’ll send in your waiter in with your food,” Marcus snapped before leaving.

  Duncan helped her push in her chair, and as Donna reached for her napkin, she realised he hadn’t moved from behind her. She stilled as his hands rested gently on her shoulders, and then she felt him lean down to her. His breath drifted over her cheek as he leaned into her ear.

  “It turns out I am jealous, and I would be verra pleased if you kept your hands off that dickhead.”

  “Duncan!” She turned to glare up at him, but it was clear he was unrepentant.

  He also wasn’t in the mood to miss an opportunity. He clasped her cheeks and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was fast and ferocious, leaving her breathless and light-headed.

  “So,” a voice said from behind them. “That’s how it is.”

  “Aye.” Duncan stroked her hair before taking his seat. “That’s how it is.”

  As Duncan and Marcus started a staring contest, Donna slowly floated back to reality. “Would it be faster if someone just peed on me to mark their territory?”

  Marcus made gagging noises while Duncan shot her a look of bewildered disgust. She shrugged and reached for a breadstick.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Marcus pointed at Duncan, who nodded once.

  As Marcus turned to leave, Donna called after him. “I’m going to need cake. Send in the dessert menu.”

  There was no way she’d get through this evening without it. Hermione was right. This date was a bad idea—on so many levels.

  ***

  It took all of Duncan’s meagre self-control not to follow Marcus and teach him not to poach from another man. If the kiss didn’t make him back off, then Duncan planned on coming into town in the morning and having a wee word with the man—using his fists.

  “Will you stop glaring at the door?” Donna said, bringing his attention back to her.

  Man, but he loved the colour of her lips after he’d kissed her. He needed to get that look into a painting. The thought of painting Donna after an afternoon in bed together left him feeling light-headed. He grabbed his water, took too large a gulp and ended up choking.

  “Are you okay?” She got up to rub his back. “We can go home if this is stressing you out. I don’t mind.” The concern in her eyes told him she was telling the truth. This wasn’t just another attempt to get out of their dinner.

  “I’m fine. I swallowed the wrong way. Sit back down and tell me what you do in your free time.”

  She froze while bending to sit. “You want to know what I do in my free time?”

  “Aye.” Was asking that something else he shouldn’t be doing? He needed a bloody dating manual.

  She sat down, smoothed the skirt of her dress and then sipped at her water. All the while keeping her eyes on him, with a look that made him wonder if he was growing another head.

  “It’s no’ a hard question,” he grumbled. “I only want to talk about something that isn’t to do with the mansion.”

  “Ooookaaay.” She put the glass down. “I hang out with my sisters. And I used to babysit for Isobel, but she’s in London now.”

  He looked around for something else to say. This was brutally painful, but outside of the mansion, he had no idea what to talk to her about. He didn’t have the patience to watch TV, and he’d lost interest in reading when Fiona died. All he did with his time was pace the confines of his home like a caged tiger, work out in the gym, and harass Donna. Well, what did you know? He did have a hobby after all—annoying his housekeeper.

  He cleared his throat. “Did you always want to be a housekeeper?” As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he remembered he’d forced her into taking the job in the first place. “Forget that. How are your sisters and the kids?” At last, a safe topic. He hoped.

  “Fine. Mairi’s starting a matchmaking business. Agnes sits her final exams for her hotel management degree soon. Isobel’s working as a receptionist at her husband’s security
company. Jack loves school, and Sophie has a London accent now.” She sounded wistful, and he imagined she must miss her niece and nephew.

  “How old are they?”

  “The kids?”

  He nodded.

  “Jack’s seventeen now, and Sophie just turned four.”

  “Difficult ages for both of them,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say and that sounded like something someone normal would say.

  “Aren’t all ages hard?”

  “Aye.”

  They lapsed into another heavy silence, and Donna nervously spilled pepper while fidgeting with the bottle, then spent the rest of her time making patterns with it on the white tablecloth. Every minute stretched until it was unbearable in its awkwardness. Which made him unreasonably thankful when the waiter came in with their meals.

  Duncan was grateful they hadn’t ordered starters because it looked like the time it would take to get through their main course would be painful enough. He tried to remember if he’d always had this problem talking to women, but he couldn’t. It had been so long since he’d tried, and when he’d been in art school, he’d talked art—or politics. The people around him had plenty of opinions on both.

  Halfway through her meal, Donna took her napkin from her lap, dabbed at her mouth, then placed it on the table. She reached over and put her hand on top of his as it curled around his fork.

  “This was a bad idea,” she said gently. “Let’s go home.”

  The word ‘disaster’ hung in the air between them, but neither of them uttered it. His shoulders slumped, and he put down his cutlery before pushing back his chair. “Give me a minute to settle the bill. Wait here.” He pointed at the table to be clear, noticing the drawing she’d made with the pepper. It looked like an eye, and it was strangely familiar.

  She saw where he was looking and blushed as she dusted the pepper away. “Go pay then and make sure you don’t give in to temptation and hit Marcus. Especially on the face. His smile brings in business.”

  “I’m not going to hit him.” Although the bastard deserved it. “I’m just going to pay the bill.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him and reached for her wine. “Yeah, right.”

  Duncan left her to it as he headed for the bar. It was tempting to blow off the date, the bill, everything, and ask the bartender to hand him a bottle of top-shelf whisky. But he couldn’t do that to Donna. He’d already messed up enough for one evening. She was right. This had been a bad idea. He’d been feral so long he had no idea how to be civilised. If Fiona had been there, she would have been disgusted with him. Thank the Lord she wasn’t.

  He froze.

  Thank the Lord she wasn’t.

  The bartender asked him something, but Duncan didn’t hear it. He was too busy waiting for the guilt and recriminations to slam into him after thinking something so abominable about his wife.

  But…they didn’t.

  Instead, he felt a lightness inside as he realised that he wasn’t the man he’d once been. He wasn’t the man who’d sweet-talked Fiona into sleeping with him a few days after he’d met her, and he wasn’t the man who could entertain a bar full of friends with stories, or debate for hours. That man had died along with his wife. But he no longer mourned who he’d once been either. Instead, he wondered who he’d become and whether Donna liked the man he was now.

  “You going to pay or what?” Marcus shoved the bartender aside to glare at Duncan over the bar.

  “I am. And you can add two tiramisus to the bill as well. Bag them to go.”

  Marcus nodded to the hovering waitress, who scurried off, and then he reached for Duncan’s credit card. “You’re an arse. You know that, right?”

  “Aye.” He glared at the man. “But I’m the arse who’s on a date with Donna. How many times has she turned you down?” He knew he’d guessed true when the man winced.

  “She didn’t think I was serious.” Marcus handed the card back to Duncan as the waitress came back with a paper bag holding his desserts.

  “Well, she’d better not start thinking it now.”

  “Or what?” Marcus folded his arms and glared at Duncan. It was no secret in town that he was a champion fighter. It was a secret that Duncan had held his own in the ring right through his twenties.

  Without signalling his punch, Duncan shot out his fist and felt the satisfying crunch of Marcus’ nose. He didn’t feel the need to say anything more. He was fairly certain he’d made his point—and he’d managed to leave the man’s business-related smile intact.

  As he strode back through the dining room, he noticed that people were no longer staring at him and he found himself grinning. Now, that’s what he called a successful evening out. All he had to do now was salvage his date. The old Duncan would have taken Fiona out for dinner and gently seduced her with intelligent conversation and sophisticated moves. The new Duncan had to find his own way, and he had to do it with a woman who was nothing like his wife. Something that gave him hope. Fiona wouldn’t like the man he’d become, but Donna sure as hell didn’t seem to mind him.

  For the first time in years, the thought of his wife didn’t bring him to his knees, all it did was make him pause and feel sadness that he was doing something he’d never thought he would—he was moving on.

  Chapter 17

  As Duncan drove them back to the mansion, Donna watched the glittering lights over the water off Campbeltown.

  “Why does Marcus and his family owe you?”

  She stiffened at the question. “I didn’t think you’d heard him.”

  “Oh, I heard him all right.” His knuckles tightened on the wheel, and she guessed that meant he’d heard everything. “Why do they think you saved his sister?”

  She stared out over the water and hoped he’d let the subject drop. But she’d forgotten just how stubborn he could be.

  “Well then?” he pressed.

  She let out a sigh. “His sister was sick, and I helped out. That was it.”

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “That was all?”

  “Yes.”

  “How sick was she?”

  “Pretty sick.”

  They drove on in silence for a few minutes, and she began to think he’d dropped the subject.

  He hadn’t. “The scars on your stomach. The ones I saw that day you stripped in the studio. They’re small and faint. Could have been from keyhole surgery.” He sucked in a breath before looking over at her. “You donated a kidney.”

  It wasn’t a question. The man certainly had an artist’s eye for detail. Most people didn’t even notice the scars.

  She shrugged it off. “It was no big deal. I had two.”

  “What if something goes wrong with yours? What then?” His knuckles had gone scarily white.

  “Between my sisters and me, we have seven kidneys. We figured we could pass them around between us as needed.”

  For a second, she could have sworn his eye was twitching. As they drove up the dark, empty road away from town and towards home, Duncan reached out and took her hand. He wove their fingers together and rested their hands on his thigh.

  “That is the most selfless thing I’ve ever heard.” He gave her a strange look. “I don’t really know you at all, did I?”

  She flushed and looked away, watching as the softly lit exterior of the mansion came into view.

  “I plan to fix that,” Duncan whispered as they drove through the gates.

  They sat in silence as he parked outside the front door. As soon as they were inside, Donna gave him a polite smile.

  “Goodnight, Duncan. See you in the morning.” She turned towards the stairs.

  “Wait a minute.” His hand swamped hers when he took it, reminding her again that he was so much bigger than she was. “It’s barely nine. This date isn’t over yet.”

  “I want to go to bed. I’m exhausted.” Their date had worn her out.

  “Later.” His eyes held a dark promise that made her stomach clench. “First, we
have dessert.” He held up the takeaway bag.

  Donna didn’t see the point in prolonging the agony. They had no idea what to say to each other, and Duncan aggravated everyone within range. She also had suspicions that he’d hit Marcus. When they’d left the restaurant, the owner was nowhere in sight, and the other diners wouldn’t even glance in Duncan’s direction. That was not her idea of a perfect date. She’d rather have been home talking to invisible people. And didn’t that say a whole lot about the state of her life? “Why can’t we just give up and go to our rooms?”

  He stopped in front of her, making her collide with his back. When he turned, he steadied her. “Because, Angel, that dinner was the worse date in history. It might have been eighteen years since I last did this, but even I could tell how painful it was. If we don’t salvage some of this evening, we’ll never be able to look each other in the eye again.”

  He had a point. “One hour. That’s all I’m giving you to redeem yourself.”

  “I’ll take it.” Without hesitation, he took her hand and led her towards the orangery.

  ***

  If one hour was all he had, Duncan wanted to make every second count. He would salvage their evening if it killed him.

  “Dragging me behind you while you move at the speed of light isn’t a good start,” Donna complained.

  He instantly shortened his stride and slowed as he felt his cheeks heat. It was humiliating. Grown men didn’t blush. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. Fiona’s legs were longer, and I’m used to that. Notice, I said longer, not prettier. I’ll take better care.”

  He moved to keep walking but was pulled back when Donna didn’t follow. He turned to see what the problem might be and found her staring at him with tears in her eyes.

  His heart sank. He’d screwed up. Again. “I shouldn’t have said anything about your short legs, should I?”

  She sniffed. “It’s not that.”

  “What is it then?” He reached out and gently brushed away the tear that had escaped to run down her cheek. “You’re breaking my heart, Angel. Tell me what I did wrong, and I’ll fix it. I promise you, I will get better at this dating stuff.”