LITMIR.BIZ

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to repeat. The problem was that men were so impatient these days, or maybe they always had been that way. But she was not going to sleep with someone just because it was expected of her...or because she was too drunk to say no. She wanted to feel attracted to a man and to feel his attraction to her. To feel frissons of red-hot desire scoot all over her flesh at his touch. To melt when his gaze met hers. To shiver with delight when he pressed his lips to hers.

      Not that too many male lips had been pressed to hers lately. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been really kissed by a man. Pecks on the cheek from her father and brother or grandfather didn’t count.

      Violet was rubbish at the dating game. Rubbish. Rubbish. Rubbish. She was going to end up an old and wrinkled spinster living with a hundred and fifty-two cats. With a chest of drawers full of exquisitely embroidered baby clothes for the babies she had longed for since she was a little girl.

      ‘Is this seat taken?’

      Violet glanced up at the familiar deep baritone voice, a faint shiver coursing down her spine when her gaze connected with her older brother’s best friend from university.

      ‘Cam?’ Her voice came out like the sound of a squeaky toy, an annoying habit she hadn’t been able to correct since first meeting Cameron McKinnon. She had been eighteen when her brother brought Cam home for the summer—or at least the Scottish version of it—to their family’s estate, Drummond Brae, in the Highlands. ‘What are you doing here? How are you? Fraser told me you’ve been living in Greece designing a yacht for someone super-rich. How’s it all going? When did you get back?’

      Shut up! Funny, but she was never lost for words around Cam. She talked too much. She couldn’t seem to help it nor could she explain it. He wasn’t intimidating or threatening in any way. He was polite, if a little aloof, but he had been a part of her family for long enough for her to get over herself.

      But clearly she hadn’t got over herself.

      Cam pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, his knees gently bumping against Violet’s underneath the table. The touch was like an electric current moving through her body, heating her in places that had no business being heated. Not by her brother’s best friend. Cam was out of her league. Way out.

      ‘I was in the area for a meeting. It finished early and I remembered you mentioning this café once so thought I’d check it out,’ he said. ‘I’ve only been back a couple of days. My father is getting remarried just before Christmas.’

      Violet’s eyes widened to the size of the saucer under her skinny latte. ‘Again? How many times is that now? Three? Four?’

      His mouth twisted. ‘Five. And there’s another baby on the way, which brings the total of halfsiblings to six, plus the seven step-siblings, so eleven all together.’

      Violet thought her three nephews, two nieces and the baby in the making were a handful—she couldn’t imagine eleven. ‘How on earth do you keep track of all of their birthdays?’

      His half smile looked a little weary around the edges. ‘I’ve set up automatic transfers via online banking. Takes the guesswork out.’

      ‘Maybe I should do that.’ Violet stirred her coffee for something to do with her hands. Being in Cam’s company—not that it happened much these days—always made her feel like a gauche schoolgirl in front of a college professor. He was an unusual counterpoint to her older brother who was a laugh a minute, life of the party type. Cam was more serious in nature with a tendency to frown rather than smile.

      Her gaze drifted towards his mouth—another habit she couldn’t quite control when she was around him. His lips were fairly evenly sculpted, although the lower one had a slightly more sensual fullness to it that made her think of long, blood-heating, pulse-racing kisses.

      Not that Violet had ever kissed him. Men like Cameron McKinnon didn’t kiss girls like her. She was too girl-next-door. He dated women who looked as if they had just stepped out of a photo shoot. Glamorous, sophisticated types who could hold their own in any company without breaking out in hives in case someone spoke to them.

      Cam’s gaze briefly went to her bare left hand where she was cradling her coffee before coming back to hers in a keenly focused look that made something deep in her belly unfurl like a flower opening its petals to the sun.

      ‘So, how are things with you, Violet?’

      ‘Erm...okay.’ At least she wasn’t breaking out into hives, but the blush she could feel crawling over her cheeks was almost as bad. Was he thinking—like the rest of her family—Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride?

      ‘Only okay?’ His look had a serious note to it, a combination of concern and concentration, as if she were the only person he wanted to talk to right then. It was one of the things Violet liked about him—one of the many things. He wasn’t so full of himself that he couldn’t spare the time to listen. She often wondered if he’d been around to talk to after that wretched party, during her first and only year at university, her life might not have turned out the way it had.

      Violet stretched her mouth into her standard everything-is-cool-with-me smile. ‘I’m fine. Just busy with work and Christmas shopping and stuff. Like you, I have a lot of people to buy for now with all my nephews and nieces. Did you know Lily and Cooper are expecting? Mum and Dad are planning the usual big Christmas at Drummond Brae. Has Mum invited you? She said she was going to. The doctors think it will be Grandad’s last Christmas so we’re all making an effort to be there for him.’

      Cam’s mouth took on a rueful slant. ‘My father’s decided to upstage Christmas with his wedding on Christmas Eve.’

      ‘Where’s it being held?’

      ‘Here in London.’

      ‘Maybe you could fly up afterwards,’ Violet said. ‘Or have you got other commitments?’ Other commitments such as a girlfriend. Surely he would have one. Men like Cam wouldn’t go long between lovers. He was too handsome, too rich, too intelligent, too sexy. Too everything. Cam had never broadcast his relationships with women the way her brother Fraser had before he’d fallen madly in love with Zoe. Cam was intensely private about his private life. So private it made Violet wonder if he had a secret lover stashed away somewhere, someone he kept out of the glaring spotlight that his work as an internationally acclaimed naval architect attracted.

      ‘I’ll see,’ he said. ‘Mum will expect a visit, especially now that her third husband Hugh’s left her.’

      Violet frowned. ‘Oh, no. I’m sorry to hear that. Is she terribly upset?’

      Cam gave her a speaking look. ‘Not particularly. He drank. A lot.’

      ‘Oh...’

      Cam’s family history was nothing short of a saga. Not that he’d ever said much about it to her, but Fraser had filled in the gaps. His parents went through a bitter divorce when he was six and promptly remarried and set up new families, collecting other biological children and stepchildren along the way. Cam was jostled between the various households until he was sent to boarding school when he was eight. Violet could picture him as a little boy—studious, quietly observing on the sidelines, not making a fuss and avoiding one where it was made. He was still like that. When he came to visit her family for weddings, christenings or other gatherings he was always on the fringe, standing back with a drink in his hand he rarely touched, quietly measuring the scene with his navy-blue gaze.

      The waitress came over to take Cam’s order with a smile that went beyond I’m your server, can I help you? to Do you want my number?

      Violet tried to ignore the little dart of jealousy that spiked her in the gut. It was none of her business who he flirted with. Why should she care if he picked up a date from her favourite café? Even if she had been coming here for years and no one had asked for her number.

      Cam looked across the table at her. ‘Would you like another coffee?’

      Violet put her hand over the top of her latte glass. ‘No, I’m good.’

      ‘Just

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