Some Like it Scottish (33 page)

Pippa stuck out her hand to him. “Alistair Philippa McDonnell. It's nice to meet you.” She gave him a firm handshake.

He fumbled with the mug. If there'd been any tea left in it, he would've doused his kilt and been forced to tour the factory buck naked.

She smiled, as innocent as the new snow outside, her professional aloofness daring him to acknowledge the switch-up. “Well, then,” she finally said, “should we have a tour?”

He seldom backed down from a challenge. “But last night—” he started.

“Let's not ruin last night by talking about it,” she purred.

Bonnie's head shot up.

Pippa—
no, Alistair
—gave a throaty laugh and sashayed away, not seeming to give a damn about her reputation.

Max trailed behind her through the double doors like her lowly servant. They went down a long corridor as a million questions rolled through his baffled brain. How had he not known that Alistair McDonnell was female? He certainly knew now by the shapely derriere in front of him.

He didn't let the subject drop. “Hold up. What am I to call you?”

She stopped and turned to him, the epitome of seriousness. “How about Yere
Excellency?”

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