Scotland for Christmas (Harlequin Superromance) Read online

  “Then why did Sage ask you to investigate her?” Eddie asked.

  Jacob patted Alden’s back. He was freshly diapered now, and yawning, his thumb aiming for his mouth and getting ready for a big sleep, which gave Jacob some level of satisfaction.

  Jacob was getting awfully used to this little guy. The two of them were buddies now. “I’m not actually sure yet,” he said in response to Eddie’s question.

  “Attention, everyone!” Donna clapped her hands as two servers brought in a large sheet cake, decorated with the words Congratulations, Eddie! and lit with a ring of candles.

  Jacob felt happy for his friend, but he didn’t feel so great for himself—he couldn’t lie about that.

  So he carried Alden to the back wall and stood by, watching from afar while their colleagues and their spouses and partners sang and made a big deal about the celebration for Eddie’s promotion.

  Donna came over and lifted the sleeping Alden from his arms. “Thanks for being good to my baby.” And then Jacob was alone again.

  “May I talk with you a minute?” Isabel asked softly beside him.

  She’d crept up on him; Jacob hadn’t even noticed. He nodded and then followed her as she led him out of the banquet room. They skirted the crowd of his friends, who were now passing out cards and presents to Eddie. Joke gifts, it looked like, and small things that were meaningful only to their group.

  Turning away, he let Isabel lead him to the top landing on the empty stairway. The air was cooler out here. Jacob stood against the wall beside her and exhaled, leaning his head back.

  She dug inside her big handbag and drew out a package. “This is for you.” She held the packet out to him, wrapped up like a present, with foil wrapping paper and a red bow.

  He slowly took it from her. “Why? This is Eddie’s party.”

  “I know. Donna told me when she called there was to be a cake and gifts. I barely know Eddie or Donna, but I know you. And I know how bad it feels to be overlooked, especially when you really want something, so...”

  She lowered her chin. “I just want you to know that there’s somebody who appreciates you, even if you didn’t get the prize that you wanted. Not yet, anyway.”

  He stood holding her present, feeling as if something had just exploded inside him.

  “Open it,” she urged.

  His gaze down, away from looking at her, he peeled away the paper and opened the box.

  It was a soft, woolen scarf in a green, blue and black plaid pattern. “Is this your family tartan?”

  “No. This is Black Watch. It represents the most famous military regiment in my country, with a long, elite history. And it, well...it reminded me of you. What you stand for. The Secret Service, I mean. The...best and most faithful at what they do, no matter the obstacles against them.”

  He touched the soft wool, not able to lift his eyes, not able to look at her. This sweet, sweet woman. He took the scarf from the box and placed it around his neck. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

  “Isabel!” Donna poked her head into the hallway. She noticed Jacob. “Oh, never mind. You’re busy.”

  “That’s okay.” Isabel smiled at Alden in his mother’s arms and made a move to follow her, but Jacob touched her arm.

  “You could have your own someday,” he murmured, nodding toward the baby. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She smiled sadly at Jacob and shook her head. “No. I don’t think that will be possible for me. And yes, I do have to do this.”

  “Right.” He nodded. He could understand her because he was the same way. They both had their chosen lives. That’s what they’d been telling one another all evening, in essence. It honestly wouldn’t be possible for him to have children, either. Not in a dangerous job like his. He wasn’t like Eddie in that respect.

  But Isabel looked so sad. She was lonely in Scotland, too. He’d felt that when he’d been with her at the wedding. He was sure that she didn’t get out and see people, or watch films, or read books as much as she said she did, or as much as she wanted to.

  He dropped his hand, and she headed into the room with the others. He stroked the scarf around his neck. He just...wanted to do something for her. Something to make her feel less lonely. Something to let her know that she meant something to him.

  On a whim, he went in and found Eddie. “Will you watch Isabel for me? Don’t let her leave yet.”

  “Why? Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  LATER, AFTER JACOB dropped Isabel off in the SUV at her residence hall and insisted on walking her to the lobby, he caught her hand before she could press the button for the lift.

  She wondered, briefly, if he was going to kiss her again. She’d been looking at his mouth so much during the drive home, watching it as the shadows passed over them from darkness to light.

  His lips quirked when he talked sometimes. They were expressive lips. She remembered how they felt when she’d kissed them. How they tasted...

  But he didn’t lean in to kiss her. He hadn’t come close. He just passed a piece of folded paper into her hand and muttered a quick good-night before he left her alone again.

  Up in her room, with the door closed, she opened the folded paper. To her shock, it was a pencil sketch of her, most flattering, cleverly making her appear far more attractive than she actually was.

  But it was her face, no doubt about it, surrounded with flowers. Below was a stylized caption: “A Red, Red Rose.”

  She stared, blinking at his small gift. Her heart felt full to overflowing. Was this how he saw her—beautiful and worthy of romantic feelings? And what he thought of her—moved enough to express the truth of his heart?

  She carefully pinned the small drawing on the corkboard over her desk, where she could gaze at it as she worked. It would give her pleasure.

  But pinning the drawing up wasn’t enough. Impulsively, she picked up her mobile phone. She’d never done anything like this. It was late to her, after midnight.

  To give Jacob enough time to return home to his apartment, she waited twenty more minutes, watching the old battery-powered clock tick away the seconds on the side table beside her bed. Her nerves jumpy, she got up and washed her face, then changed out of her clothes and into warm flannel pajamas.

  It was time. She climbed into bed with the pillows propped up behind her. So many evenings she’d spent studying into the night like this. Calling Jacob would be more fun.

  Before she could second-guess herself, she pressed the button. She’d already programmed his name and phone number into her phone.

  “Hello?” Jacob’s low, rough voice sent a thrill through her.

  “It’s Isabel.” She had his phone number, but he didn’t have hers. “I just...wanted to say thank-you for the drawing.” She hesitated. “I really like it.”

  “I’m...glad.” He seemed awkward, not quite himself. Then again, they were in new territory. They’d been at odds ever since they’d been back in Manhattan, and tonight was a fresh intimacy.

  “Well, I just wanted to say, you have talent, Jacob. I’m lying in bed looking at the sketch over my desk.”

  “Yeah. I don’t sleep well, either.” He laughed somewhat.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” He paused. “It’s always been like that.” He paused again. “Sucks, really.”

  “I know what you mean.” She slid down, deeper under the covers, shifting the phone as she lay on her side. “I hate it, too. I usually just stay up late, working, until I finally fall asleep.”

  “But not tonight? It’s Friday.”

  “Doesn’t matter. My coursework is difficult. I usually have to work weekends, too. But tonight...I’m just thinking, taking the night off. You have nice frie
nds, by the way.”

  “Yeah, they’re good. But, Isabel...” There was a pause and his voice sounded farther away, as if he was doing something in the background, moving around as he spoke.

  Maybe he was taking off his clothes. She bit the side of her cheek and held back the happy giggle that wanted to come out.

  “...You should see the city while you’re here, too. Too much work isn’t good for anybody.”

  “Says the man who works weekends himself,” she said lightly.

  “Yeah, well, did Donna also tell you that tomorrow morning I’m supposed to go out to Long Island and help her and Eddie start packing up their things for the big move?”

  “Ouch,” she said softly. That had to be hard since they were leaving for Washington and he wasn’t.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to be out of here by seven.”

  She hadn’t meant that the time was hard, though that was true, too. “Well, don’t ask me for a wake-up call, because I’m terrible. I was late so often my first semester that I made a point to schedule no more of those eight o’clock classes.”

  He chuckled. “Damn, I don’t blame you for that.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She sighed, gazing across the room at her pencil sketch. “And thanks again for the drawing. Nobody has ever done that for me before, and I find I quite like it.”

  “It was my pleasure, Isabel,” he said in that low, gruff voice.

  “Kiss Alden for me tomorrow. He’s a cutie, that one is.”

  “Will do. Good night, Isabel.”

  As she hung up the phone, smiling, she realized that she’d shared more in her short conversations with Jacob tonight than she’d shared with Alex these past few years. Then again, Alex hadn’t shared much with her, either.

  Jacob had.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MONDAY MORNING, JACOB headed over for his appointment with Diane, the department psychologist. The weekend spent helping Eddie move his stuff had upped the urgency for him. He needed to get this transfer rolling, to convince Diane he was on the right track with his plans for Scotland.

  But when Jacob arrived at the appointed time, Diane was on the phone, so he stood in her doorway, silently observing.

  Cardboard boxes were stacked on the floor. She must have brought in some personal belongings but hadn’t yet unpacked them. In one box, laid on top of a row of books, were three framed diplomas.

  He tilted his head to get a better look. Her name was on all of them—Diane was seriously educated. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried.

  Finally, she hung up the phone and stared up at him over the top of her reading glasses. “Thank you for coming in. Sit down, please, Jacob.”

  He approached the chair in front of her and sat, handing her the folder containing his paperwork. He looked her in the eye.

  “I want you to know, Diane, I took some steps to get the bigger information we discussed last time we met. I’ve set up an appointment in Scotland, and I’m taking a week there over Christmas. I’ll interview people who knew my father and his work, and I’ll see about the information you requested to process my transfer. Then, I’ll write a report and have it on your desk by the first of the year. How does that sound to you?”

  Diane gazed across the desk at him. “A trip to Scotland is excellent. That’s a good start.”

  A start? He got a sinking feeling in his chest. But he forced out a nod.

  “I understand that you never met your father,” she said, folding her hands and gazing directly at him across the desk. “Did anyone ever speak to you about him when you were growing up?”

  “Yes,” he said tersely. “Of course they did.”

  She waited for him to say more.

  He tapped his fingers against his knee. “Aren’t you going to look at my paperwork?” He gestured to the folder he’d brought. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to put it together for her—as she’d directed.

  “Would you like me to?” she murmured.

  “What I would really love is for you to sign my transfer papers,” he cracked.

  She didn’t smile. She gazed at him quietly.

  He pressed his hands against his pants. This wasn’t going well.

  “The last time we met,” she said in a steady, neutral voice, “we talked about your mother moving from Scotland to New York with you when you were still a baby. Then—” she checked her notes “—she married a schoolteacher, I believe.”

  Jacob nodded, not seeing why this was relevant.

  “How did your mother characterize your father to you, Jacob? His job as a police officer?”

  “Ah...she didn’t talk about him, really.”

  Diane waited for him to continue.

  He cleared his throat. “My mom doesn’t talk about him because the divorce was painful to her. And I respect that because I protect her. I’ve always protected her.” His voice rose.

  Almost imperceptibly, Diane’s eyes widened.

  He clamped his mouth shut. Ratchet it down, Jake, Eddie would say.

  He didn’t want to turn her against him. He didn’t want to jeopardize this.

  “So...” Diane continued in that neutral tone, “you’re protecting your mom by being a Secret Service agent? The same sort of job that your father held when he was killed in the line of duty?”

  “No,” he said hotly. She was totally misunderstanding him. And she was venturing on territory that shouldn’t be crossed.

  He changed the subject. “My mother realizes I’m a grown man and I make my own decisions. She has three other children—my half siblings—to worry about now.”

  Another almost imperceptible widening of Diane’s eyes. “Is that why you chose law enforcement as a career—to break away from your family?”

  “No, I chose law enforcement because I’m drawn to it,” he said, irritated. “It’s important. It matters.”

  “Like your father’s death mattered to you?” she said softly.

  Where was she going with this?

  “Can you tell me about the day you first told your mom you were joining the NYPD?” Diane asked.

  That day was seared in his memory. It had been their one and only blowup argument. Daniel had jumped in, of course, warning Jacob off. Even his siblings had been present, and they’d been frightened by the harsh words exchanged.

  “No, sorry, I don’t remember,” Jacob said. Because he wasn’t tearing open that ugly wound for Diane, someone he didn’t even know.

  This was private. The relationship he had with his family wasn’t relevant to his work.

  He was a damn good special agent. He belonged in the PPD. Everybody who mattered said so.

  “Jacob, what did your mom say about you joining the police force?” Diane asked gently.

  It was clear she wasn’t going to let this go. He could tell her the truth—that his mom had screamed at him that one time, blowing up in anger. She’d said that his father had abandoned them. That his real dad didn’t care about them, and that Jacob shouldn’t try to be like him.

  Jacob had been stunned—scared, even—because it was the most she’d ever said about his father, and he hadn’t wanted to see her so upset. He’d always tried to avoid her grief by protecting her from reminders of anything unpleasant.

  “Jacob?”

  Diane wasn’t videotaping him. She didn’t have him hooked up to a lie-detector test. Lying would be easy. To protect his mom from pain, he’d lied to her all his life about all sorts of innocuous things—grades at school, boyhood indiscretions—because he’d had to in order to keep her happy.

  “My mom was proud of me,” he said to Diane. “She respects what I do, and I want her to be happy, too.”

  Only the last part was true. He did want her to be happy. And these days, he accomplished that b
y not mentioning his job.

  Diane stared at him for a long time. Her lips pressed together, she turned to his paperwork. She perused the pages. Took off her reading glasses and looked at him.

  It appeared she believed him.

  “Where is the copy of your original birth certificate that I asked for?”

  It figured. She’d zeroed in on the one document that Jacob couldn’t gather. “I don’t have it,” he said. “And they didn’t ask for it in the original security clearance, so...”

  She closed the folder and looked at him. “Jacob, I know you’ve already been through the full security clearance for special agent status, but if you want PPD, it will take more than that to satisfy me.”

  Obviously—she’d made that clear. But he kept his patience.

  “As I said to you the last time we met, there are red flags in your background,” she continued. “The psychological effects your father’s death had on you are a concern to us, and we want to dig into why you want this particular assignment, given that fact.

  “But before we can begin to do that work together, I need you to complete a homework assignment for me. Going to Scotland and conducting interviews is very important, yes, but so is my request for you to bring me your birth certificate.”

  “It doesn’t exist anymore,” he protested. “I was adopted even before Donald Ross—before my father died. At my adoption, the state generated a new birth certificate for me—which is my legal certificate—and that’s the certificate I continue to use today. The old certificate is no longer valid.”

  “Yes, I understand the law regarding adoptions and birth certificates. I am asking you for a copy of your original, Scottish birth certificate.”

  He just sat there. He knew damn well who he was born as. He also knew that what she asked for was impossible.

  She tapped her pen on the desk. “Jacob, you’re asking for a higher level of clearance and responsibility, which I have to sign off on. You need to humor me. Trust where I’m going with this.”