Fight or Flight

She grinned. “And you said yes, of course.”

“You owe me.”

“Ava, it’s Patrice. She would never try to set you up with a cretin.”

Ten

Yet, apparently, Patrice would try to set me up with a cretin. My heart was thudding hard in my chest as the hostess led me to Patrice’s table at Deuxave, a French restaurant in Back Bay. Confusion and anger were my foremost feelings.

Because the man rising to stand from Patrice’s table at my approach was none other than Caleb Scott.

The Bastard Scot.

“Darling, don’t you look beautiful as always?” Patrice moved toward me before I’d reached the table and gently took me by the shoulders to kiss my cheeks, one after the other.

I smiled at the attractive older woman, hoping it didn’t come across as brittle as it felt. Patrice Danby wasn’t what anyone would call a typical beauty, but there was something striking and charismatic about her that made her lovelier than mere ordinary beauty. Tall, extremely slender, she had, according to photographs, always had the kind of figure expected of a model. Clothes hung beautifully on her, like works of art, and the designer houndstooth shirtdress she wore with black leather heels was no exception. Her dark blond hair was cut stylish and short, much like Stella’s.

“As do you,” I responded, my eyes involuntarily glued to Caleb Scott as he stared impassively at me.

“Let me introduce you to our guest, Ava.” She guided me over to him and I was sure my expression was screaming at him, What the hell is going on?

He looked different. Although he was still unshaven and his hair was the same, he was wearing a beautifully cut tailored suit. No tattoos in sight. He could have passed for a civilized gentleman, and this look on him was almost as hot as the henley and biker boots.

To my shock, he held out his big hand to me and politely said, “Miss Breevort.”

“Oh, call her Ava, Caleb. Ava, this is Caleb Scott.”

Gingerly, I reached out and took his hand, staring into those amusement-filled ice blue eyes, trying to find the explanation for my current predicament.

“Ava.” His voice rumbled over my name as he gently squeezed my hand. I felt a sparkle of lust fizz in my belly.

Damn him.

“Caleb,” I said softly, all the while feeling extremely confused. About a lot of things.

For some reason my saying his name made his hand tighten around mine, but then it was almost like I’d imagined it, because suddenly we were no longer touching. He took his seat quite abruptly in that well-renowned ill-mannered way of his.

A gentleman always waits for a lady to be seated first.

Oh, who cared? I wanted to know what the hell he was doing here. I took my seat across from him, ignoring the way Patrice was glancing back and forth between us as I studied his face. He just stared dispassionately at me. Had he orchestrated this? How did he manage it?

“Well.” Patrice’s voice drew my gaze back to her. Her eyes were bright, her lips tugging into a delighted smile like she knew a secret we didn’t. “Isn’t this lovely?”

“Lovely,” I murmured, taking a sip from the water glass at the table. “So, Patrice, how do you and Mr. Scott know each other?”

“You must call him Caleb.” She smiled fondly at him, a smile he returned, dumbfounding me even further. “Caleb is good friends with my nephew, Duncan. My nephew and his family are the ones we’re decorating the guesthouse for.”

Understanding dawned. “Your family from Scotland.”

“Exactly. And I was telling Caleb why we couldn’t give him the privacy of the guesthouse during his stay, and got a little carried away on the topic of the redesign. But he was so impressed by your work, Ava, I thought I should introduce you. Caleb is the CFO of Koto’s UK division. Isn’t that impressive?”

I managed only to stare at him as my brain whirred with a million questions. Had Caleb really arranged this somehow? “Very impressive.”

There was a lull of silence that caused a crease between Patrice’s brows. She opened her mouth to speak but was stalled by the appearance of the waiter. Once he’d taken our orders, Patrice continued, “Caleb was staying at the Four Seasons and we were having dinner when he told us of this whole volcano fiasco disrupting his travel plans. Well, of course we couldn’t see him stuck at some hotel for a possible two weeks. The expense is ridiculous when you have friends nearby. Even though our house is outside the city, it’s not far—just a short drive to the Koto offices.”

I looked at Caleb and found him studying his water glass. Why did I get the impression he would have preferred to stay at his hotel? And if that was true, why was he humoring Patrice? That was something someone who cared about other people’s feelings would do. Hmm.

Silence fell over the table again and I saw Patrice frown in concern. Not wanting to upset her by being rude to her guest, I offered, “Do you have a rental car to get back and forth from Wellesley Farms? I can recommend somewhere.”

He gave me a slight shake of his head. “Danby kindly offered me the use of his Maserati while I’m here.”

I almost laughed. That sounded like Danby. He and Patrice were two of the most generous people I’d ever met. “He must really trust you to remember to drive on the right side of the road.”

Patrice chuckled while Caleb smirked at me. “I suppose he must.”

My eyes narrowed at his restrained answer. Where was the cutting, biting kind of insults from the man I’d slept with?

As the seconds ticked by, we got locked in a staring contest, his expression challenging, mine likely suspicious. It was only when Patrice cleared her throat that we broke eye contact. My client’s gaze moved from me to Caleb, that frown deepening between her brows. “Perhaps it’s just my imagination, but I’ve had the feeling from the moment Ava walked in here that you two already know each other.”

Did I also mention that Patrice wasn’t stupid? I flushed, hating to be caught in any sort of pretense, and worrying over whether I should continue to bury us in more lies, which I hated to do. But I didn’t know what would be worse—

“You’re not wrong, Patrice. Apologies.” Caleb threw me a taunting smile. “I met Miss Breevort in Phoenix. We were on the same flights tae Chicago and Boston. When you said her name, I couldn’t help but want tae surprise her. Sorry for the mischief.”

“Ahh.” Patrice’s whole face lit up. “How wonderful. And what a coincidence. I bet you thought you’d never see each other again.”

“You’re not wrong.” I laughed a little hysterically and saw Caleb’s grin widen. Alarm pierced me. “I didn’t mean to pretend otherwise, Patrice, but I was caught off guard and not really sure what Mr. Scott was up to over there. He’s full of mischief all right.” I said it cheerily but my teeth were gritted.

The bastard let out a huff of laughter.

“I think it’s fabulous. In fact, I really feel like I shouldn’t even be here.” Patrice reached for her purse, giving me a knowing smile. “You two should spend lunch together alone, get better acquainted. I have so much to do, I should really run.”

Panic flooded me. “But, Patrice, you’ve already ordered.”

“Oh, I can cancel that.” She placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “I’ll see you back at the house when I see you. But please don’t feel like you have to put in too much of an appearance. I know you’re busy with work and”—she glanced at me—“you’ll have Ava to keep you company.”

“Thank you again, Patrice. Your hospitality is appreciated.”

My jaw dropped.

Did he just say thank you?

“Oh, no no. No thank yous. We like having company in that big house.” She rounded the table to me and bent down to kiss my cheek. “We’ll talk soon, darling. Have fun.”

“But Patr—”

She was already strutting away over to the hostess to cancel her order.

And then she was gone. Without her fabric samples, I might add.

Reluctantly, I turned back around in my seat and stared across the small table at Caleb. “What the hell?”