Grabbing an extension ladder from the garage seemed the wisest course. He hauled it across his yard and the bridge, the kilt chafing his balls, as Touchdown ran along behind him. Knowing Natalie was a creature of habit, he wasn’t surprised to see a few lights on downstairs and one in her bedroom. She was waiting for him in bed, and the thought of that sent a thrill down his spine. He positioned the ladder as close to the house as he could, pressing against her bushes, and extended it to her window.
As he climbed it, an owl hooted in the darkness, making him start. Now he could understand why kids snuck out of their parents’ houses. Of course, this wasn’t his parents’ house, and he was sneaking in, not out, but that was simply semantics. He felt the allure of the dangerous, the forbidden.
He could already imagine the look on Natalie’s face. When he reached her window, he dragged his fingernails against the screen. When she didn’t come to the window, he did it louder. The curtains were closed, so he couldn’t see her. After a few minutes of nothing, he became irritated. How could she not hear him? He rapped on the window. She still didn’t come.
“What in the world are you doing?” he heard a familiar voice ask from below as a flashlight pooled over him.
He turned on the ladder, blinded by the light, as Touchdown gave a happy bark from below. “I’m breaking into your room like a bad kid at camp—or a rogue Highlander. Why aren’t you in there?” he asked in what he believed to be a passable Scottish brogue.
He heard her bawdy laughter crest out. She held the flashlight under her chin, giving herself a scary Jack-O-Lantern face. “Why? Because I heard a weird noise outside, you idiot Highlander, so I came out to investigate.”
He hadn’t thought of that. “Well, go back inside and open your window,” he said in the same passable brogue. Jamie Fraser would be proud. “I’m going to ravish you.”
Even with the glare of the flashlight, he could still see her eyes roll. “You’re not serious. Get down from there before you trip on your kilt and fall to the ground.”
He shifted on the ladder to better see her and felt it move an inch. Okay, she had a point. “If you’d only cooperate, lass, I wouldn’t be hanging onto this ladder trying to have a conversation with you.”
“Oh, stop with the Scottish brogue. It’s terrible. And don’t be a jackass. You aren’t going to fit through that window. Your shoulders are too big. Did you even think of that?”
She was dissing her own fantasy? He ground his teeth. “No, I left my tape measure at home,” he said in his normal voice. “Natalie, get in the goddamn house and open your window. I’m trying to be romantic here—in case you haven’t noticed.”
She snorted. “You’re trying to get yourself killed, climbing a ladder in the dark in a kilt. Come on, Touchdown. We are not watching this.”
When she left, he turned back to face her window, hoping she would head upstairs to open it. He eyed the opening. Okay, so she hadn’t been lying. He was going to have a hell of a time getting through her window. The best way would be head first.
So sexy.
This was starting to seem less and less romantic. And to make it worse, his balls still itched.
The curtains flew back so suddenly, and with such force, he jolted in surprise. The ladder shifted again, and he immediately grabbed the sill to steady himself. She yanked up the window and stood glaring at him through the screen.
“I suppose you want me to remove the screen too?” she asked, her mouth twitching like she was fighting a guffaw.
He reached out to feel for the tabs he remembered as part of window installation. “There should be a thingamabob here to pull.”
The lamplight showcased her exasperated face. “These are custom windows designed for security. You can’t remove the screens that easily. If you have a knife on you, Jamie, you can cut through it.”
Like her voice was cutting through him.
“Then you can call the repair man tomorrow and have him install a new one,” she added.
He growled in defeat. “Fine. I’m coming down.”
She let out the sputter of a laugh. “Good. My screen thanks you.”
“And I’ll head home and change,” he said with a sulk.
“Oh, no,” she said stroking her bottom lip. “You can keep that on.”
Now she was excited? Well, he wasn’t. She was ruining his attempt to recreate her fantasy. With every rung his feet descended, his cheeks turned redder with embarrassment. He was never going to live this one down. She was waiting for him at the back door, her arms crossed over her chest. The glee on her face was too much.
“Okay, so I totally suck at sneaking out and being Jamie Fraser,” he said, pushing up his billowy white sleeves.
Blake Cunningham was wearing sleeves that billowed. He could hear Jordan say, “Shut the front door.”
Natalie’s laughter bubbled out as she pointed to his belt buckle. “That’s quite a package you have there, lad.”
He shook his head, and then the anger slipped away and he was laughing with her.
“Wait until I tell the guys about this,” she said between gales. “If only they could see you now. Oh, and your fans. You should have played for the Denver Highlanders.”