Page 39 of Forty, Flirty & Framed

Or I asked her to come at nine, and I'm pathologically early for everything.One of those.

My grandmother's impromptu visit has driven me from my own penthouse, and now I'm reduced to living in five-star luxury like some kind of corporate refugee.

The indignity of it all.

I tug at my collar, wondering why I bothered changing from my gym clothes into a fresh button-down.

This is a work meeting, not a?—

A knock at the door stops my thoughts.

Karina stands in the hallway, looking slightly windblown and flushed.She looks soft and semi-casual in a pair of hip-hugging, dark jeans and blush-colored wrap top that does interesting things to her collarbone.

"Sorry I'm early," she says, stepping inside."Your driver was very...efficient."

"Scottish efficiency.A national trait."

"Along with brooding and whisky consumption?"

"Stereotypes," I tsk softly."True ones, but still."

She glances around the massive suite, taking in the panoramic views, the private dining room, and the ridiculous grand piano I have zero intention of playing.

"So," she says slowly, "when you texted 'my place,' I wasn't expecting..."

"The presidential suite at the Four Season?”

“This is less presidential, and more 'the entire top floor of a luxury hotel.'"She wanders toward the windows."Did you seriously book the whole floor?"

"Privacy.It's easier than sweeping for bugs."

"Right.Because that's a normal concern for most people."

"I'm not most people."

"Trust me," she says, turning back to me with a half-smile."I'm painfully aware."

I gesture toward the dining room, where I've set up laptops and printouts."Shall we?"

She follows, dropping her bag on a chair and moving directly to the mountain of parcels in the corner."What in the name of?—"

"The latest wave of Kilted merchandise," I explain."Security has been quarantining it, but I thought we should inventory what's out there."

She lifts a plaid hoodie emblazoned with TEAM ABERNATHY across the back."Interesting quality, actually."

"Please don't tell me you're considering wearing that."

"Of course not."She folds it primly."Though the color would bring out your eyes."

I fix her with a glare that makes Fortune 500 CEOs squirm.She responds with a cheeky smile.

"Is that—" She moves toward the corner, where an actual bagpipe sits perched against the wall."Oh my god, it is."

"Don't touch it," I warn."It plays 'My Heart Will Go On' when you squeeze the bag.Ask me how I know."

"How—"

"Because it started playing when I opened the box, and I couldn't make it stop for thirty-five minutes.Thirty.Five.Minutes."