My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

and pulled herblouse away from her chest several times to air out her damp skinas she glanced around the lobby. It was incredibly easy to imaginethe place as a busy hub of investments and trade. Almost tooeasy.

All the feelings of familiarity werebeginning to make her uneasy.

The muffled chorus of Queen’s “You’re My BestFriend” sounded, and with a grin Mikah pulled her phone from herpurse, answering the call with a bright, “Hey, Kris!” without evenlooking at the screen. “You must be up early.”

“Haven’t been to bed yet,” Mikah’s longestand dearest friend yawned out. “I just wanted to wish you good luckwith your meeting. This is the big one, isn’t it?”

“Aww, Kris, you really do listen,” Mikahteased. “That’s so good to know.”

“Funny, Mikes,” Kris yawned again. “I’m goingto get some sleep, but call me when you’re done.”

With mock astonishment, Mikah answered, “Andrack up your cell phone bill?”

“No, I said you call me; that way we can rackup yours,” came the playful reply.

“K, I’ll call you later,” Mikah said. “I’llwant to hear all about what must have been one hot date, too.”

Saying her good-byes, Mikah tucked her phoneaway, feeling a little more cheerful. There was nothing like a goodfriend to do that. Now, with a smile, she strode to the front desk,catching the eye of the young man at the counter.

“Good morning,” she said. “Mikah Bauer hereto see Myles Gordon.”

Her smile faded and turned to a frown whenthe young man gave her the appreciative glance up and down thatMikah had come to view with annoyance in her professional years. Itwas difficult enough for people to prove themselves in theworkplace these days without being looked at like that, and shewondered, as she often did, how the men she worked with would reactif she were to give them that same inappropriate assessment.

Clearing her throat, she caught the youngman’s attention once again, drawing his eyes upward. She arched abrow incredulously, and the man flushed. “I’ll take you to Mr.Gordon. He’s been expecting you.”

“Good idea.” Mikah followed him down a hall,wishing she could recapture the good mood of moments before.

Myles Gordon, the museum’s curator, took careof that, though. Through their long day together, he was nothingbut professional and pleasant. And almost as interesting as GoMAitself.

They talked art and debated the merits ofcertain styles as they slowly toured the museum. They got socarried away that it was almost noon before they even turned thediscussion to her mission and the pieces GoMA had that would bestdemonstrate the early Pop Art movement of the 1950s. Hours oftouring the collection with the knowledgeable curator had puttemptation before her at every turn. Mikah wanted to take them alland strip this strangely traditional building of all its moderngoodies.

The young man from the front desk, Kevin, whoMikah learned was a student from the University of Glasgowinterning at the museum, brought them lunch while they went throughthe museum’s assets and worked out the loan of a large number ofexhibits. GoMA, the most visited modern art museum in Scotland, wasa gold mine for Mikah in that respect, and she felt well satisfiedwith the nearly two dozen works she had chosen. It was with a senseof accomplishment that she managed to obtain the loan of Paolozzi’ssculpture Four Towers (a 1962 work that Mikah personallythought resembled something a five-year-old might make out of Legobricks), one of the same artist’s collages called Mr.Peanut, a mobile by Kenneth Martin, as well as works byTurnbull, Passmore, and Tilson.

Their frequent conversational tangents turnedwhat was meant to be a meeting into a full-day event. Still, itwasn’t until the museum was closing for the evening that Mylesasked Mikah if she would care to continue their lively conversationover a celebratory dinner.

He’d take her out to a “real” Scottishtavern, he said, for some local delicacies. A part of Mikah feltcertain she shouldn’t overly examine the ingredients of any givendish, knowing, as she did, the true ingredients of haggis. Thelarger part, however, knew that the food would be wonderful, andher stomach growled in anticipation.

Good food and excellent company. What moremight a girl ask for?

Exiting the museum, Mikah waited at the curbwhile Myles found his car and came around to pick her up, taking inthe sights of the square that surrounded the museum as she waited.Once again, she was taken aback by the familiarity she felt forGlasgow. She knew its layout like the back of her hand, and felt asif she might have a thing or two to say herself about where theoldest Scottish taverns might be found.

Even this square seemed familiar to her. Themuseum seemed to float alone in the center of the square, walled inby long four-or five-story buildings on each side. It was all veryGeorgian, historic. Mikah shook her head, beginning to feel a bituneasy once again.

She pulled out her phone and dialed as shewaited. It was still light out, though it was nearly nine o’clock.Much like home in the summer. Thankfully, though, the ravaging heatof the afternoon had slipped a few notches, leaving the city coolerthough still warm.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kris!”

“Mikes, how did it go?”

The line was a bit static, so Mikah pluggedone ear to better hear. “It was good, but I just wanted to let youknow I’ll have to call you later instead. I didn’t want you toworry.”

“Is everything all right?” Kris asked withsome concern.

“Fine,” Mikah said. “It’s just that thecurator sort of asked me out to dinner.”

“Oh? I thought you hated it when guys fromwork asked you out.”

“You know, I normally do, but this one kepthis eyes above my shoulders all day, so …” Mikah said with a verbalshrug.

“Is he gay?” Kris asked. “You know thoseartsy types …”

“No, I’m pretty sure he’s straight,” Mikahlaughed, knowing Kris had a good point. It wasn’t often Mikah cameacross a man who could hold a meaningful conversation on art.American men tended to consider an interest in the subjecteffeminate.

“Is he hot?”

“He’s not bad,” Mikah hedged, but Kris onlylaughed.

“Wow! That’s high praise coming from myfavorite pseudo-nun. Hmm, I can almost picture it: tall, dark,thirty-ish, in a kilt …” Kris sighed and it was Mikah’s turn tochuckle.

“Tall, blond, and forty-ish.