Fight or Flight

“Oh, don’t worry. Last night I made my quota on slimeballs.”

He shrugged and sighed. “Guess I walked intae that one.”

One of the flight attendants interrupted us to announce that we were readying for takeoff. Caleb put away his laptop and stowed his tray table.

“So …” I shifted uncomfortably. “You heard everything I said last night?”

“You mean the part about me living up tae your grand expectations?”

I covered my eyes with my hand. “I blame it on being under the influence of endorphins. Postorgasmic chitchat.” I removed my hand and frowned. “That means it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, it counts.” He bent his head toward mine, eyes drifting over my face, to land on my mouth. “And I’m thinking you sitting here means you’re after more of the same when we get tae Boston.”

I jerked back from him in denial. “Uh, no. When we land in Boston, it is the last time we ever see each other. I’m not going to sit here and lie that last night wasn’t great sex—”

“Fantastic sex.”

I flushed, pleased that he thought so. “Okay, fantastic sex. But I still don’t like you.”

His expression chilled. “So? I still don’t like you either. Doesn’t mean I dinnae want tae sleep with ye again.”

“You weren’t of that opinion when you pretended to be asleep.”

Caleb grinned, and I hated how that flash of smile sent a ripple through my belly. “That really bugged you, eh? And that was last night. I’d just had you and didn’t expect tae want you again. Now that you’re here, though …” His eyes trailed down to my breasts and on down to my crossed legs. “Aye, I wouldn’t mind another go.”

Incredulity and fury raged through me. “Another go? Another go?”

His lips trembled with laughter. “Poor word choice?”

“You’re a pig. Last night I got what I needed and I don’t want to go there again.”

In answer, Caleb bent his head until his lips gently brushed my ear and he whispered, “Liar.”

I shivered, my breasts tightening at the mere caress of that mouth near my skin. His laughter warmed the skin at my neck and I whipped my head around until our lips were inches apart. “You are a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Aye.”

“Boston is filled with beautiful women. They’ll be happy to see to you. I’m sure that accent gets you pretty far here.”

“It usually does. It’s not my first trip tae Boston.”

Of course, I was just one in a long line of American women. My jaw locked with annoyance and I couldn’t help glaring at him.

Something flickered in his gaze, and I really hoped it wasn’t triumph, because I would swing for him if it was. And then his lips were back at my ear. “I can’t remember the last time any of them felt as good as you did, though, Ava.”

Heat flushed through me as I remembered just how good he felt. I licked my suddenly dry lips and somehow managed to turn to look him in the eyes. Leaning in, I brushed my lips over his, a barely-there kiss that made them tingle deliciously. “Like I said, Caleb … treasure that memory.” I sat back in my seat, staring defiantly at him.

Instead of blasting me with a dirty look like I’d half expected, he gazed at me with something new in his eyes. Something almost like respect. Then he seemed to remember where we were and he looked around, realizing we were already in the air.

His beautiful gaze bored into me with a thoroughness that made me tense. “Looks like I owe you again.”

I shook my head. “We’re not going to be around each other long enough for you to pay up.”

Hearing the sincerity in my words, Caleb finally nodded. “Your loss.”

Despite the niggling voice in my head that told me I was an idiot for not taking him up on his offer for another go-around of guilt-free best-sex-ever, I stared determinedly at my e-reader.

Minutes of silence stretched between us as Caleb got his laptop back out and started to work. I couldn’t concentrate on my book. I started to stew over the fact that I couldn’t deny I did feel a sense of longing for this guy. Did I really need to like him to have sex with him? Really? Wasn’t sex just sex?

I glanced at his hands typing away on his laptop and flushed, remembering how skillful those fingers were. I could feel myself giving in.

Just as I opened my mouth to tell him so, he spoke first. “Stop worrying yourself over there. Like you said, there’s plenty of beautiful women in Boston. I won’t go lonely.”

Arghh!

My fingers bit around my e-reader to the point I was afraid I might crack the screen. He was horrible.

Just horrible!

And I had had sex with him.

“I hope it falls off,” I muttered.

“What?”

I gave him a blinding smile. “I hope they fall all over you.”

“You said, ‘I hope it falls off.’ ”

“Did I?” I shrugged innocently. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Aye, if I remember correctly you’re good at that too.”

I glowered at him, scowling harder as I felt the seat shake with his laughter.

Bastard. Scot.

Eight

So … what you’re telling me is that you had sex for the first time in seven years with a hot stranger who talks like a guy out of Outlander?” Harper asked.

Hiding a smile at the shock on her face, I nodded casually.

She leaned forward from her curled-up position on my couch to say, “Are you kidding around or not? Because I’m starting to think not.”

“I’m not kidding around.”

“You slept with a hot Scottish stranger at O’Hare?”

“Yup.”

Harper broke out into a massive grin. “You know you were pretty much my hero before this, but you just upped the hero worship by a hundred and ten percent.”

“Because I slept with a stranger?”

“Uh, correction—you had sex with a kilted Highlander.”

I burst into laughter. “They don’t all go around wearing kilts and swords, you know. I’m guessing most of them stopped doing that about a few hundred years ago.”

“You know what I mean!” she cried, bouncing up off the couch and making my heart leap into my throat at the way her wine sloshed around in her glass. “Just when people think they have you figured out … boom! You do something completely out of character.” She raised her glass precariously again and rolled her eyes at me when she noticed my wince. “Which is a nice vacation from coaster girl.” She placed the wineglass down on a coaster and took her seat again.

I sighed. “What is so wrong about not wanting to leave ring marks on my furniture?”

“I could say something dirty to that but I’m going to refrain.”

“Talk about shocking,” I teased.

Harper rolled her light gray-blue eyes again and shook her head. “I can’t believe you had a one-night stand.”

“Not just any one-night stand. An epic one-night stand.” I could admit that to my best friend. We told each other everything. People were often surprised by my friendship with Harper. I was thirty years old, slightly conservative, reserved with most people, well educated and, yes, I could admit it, a bit overly organized. Nothing in my apartment was out of place … or on me either. Even lounging at home with Harper, I wore yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder blouse. Makeup on and hair done. I didn’t own a pair of jeans.

Harper, on the other hand, was twenty-six years old, and had very short platinum blond hair that was cut close at the sides and left long on top so she could style it. Some days she styled it into a sharp, messy quiff, other days in a softer one with a retro vibe. The cut did not at all detract from my friend’s femininity—it just gave her an edge. She had soft features—pert nose, full lips, wide eyes, and long lashes. Then there were her dimples. Every time she laughed or smiled, these adorable dimples flashed in her cheeks. Harper was multifaceted in many ways. Looks-wise, when she was straight-faced and staring at you with those soulful big eyes, she was downright beautiful and striking with her daring haircut. But when she smiled, she was absolutely cute as a button.