Fight or Flight

Hearing the repressed chuckle in his voice, I tensed. I felt vulnerable all of a sudden. Like I’d revealed to him something I hadn’t meant to. Perhaps I was discombobulated by the rush of affection I’d felt toward him earlier. I scolded myself for making more out of it than there was, realizing he basically already knew all there was to know about how I felt about him physically.

I lowered my voice and glanced up to meet his gaze. “I like how it feels between my thighs. I’d prefer you keep it during your stay in Boston.”

He inhaled sharply at my response. I felt Caleb’s hand fall away from my back and watched as he clenched his jaw. Finally, as we wove our way through the elegant, busy dining room with its domed ceiling lit by a magnificent crystal chandelier, he seemed to have gotten control of himself again.

“Dinnae worry.” He bent his head to whisper. “I have no intention of shaving. Especially not now.”

I grinned, a womanly grin of victory, which made his expression darken with want. He wrenched his gaze away and held out my seat for me at the table, just as Danby did for Patrice. I marveled at Caleb’s manners, wondering where they’d come from. First a thank you, now seating me at a table.

My wonder was promptly halted when the waiter took our drink order and Caleb didn’t thank him. He proceeded to forget the words “please” and “thank you” throughout the meal, as always. However, it was less obvious because Patrice and Danby weren’t effusive with the words either, although they thanked the waitress as she cleared away our dessert plates.

Still, preoccupied, I stared at Caleb, trying to figure him out. He could be so abrupt with people in a service position, and brusque in general, but he’d shown good manners to his hosts. Even toward me lately. Not that his manners bothered me so much anymore, I realized, a little shocked. It was just … Caleb. I was beginning to think he didn’t mean anything by it. He wasn’t the type of guy who was demonstrative in general, about anything, until we were in bed. In many ways, he was more reserved socially than even I was. “Taciturn” was probably a better word for it.

His apparent lack of manners wasn’t an issue now because I felt I understood him better than I had before.

Danby and Patrice were playfully arguing over who remembered the correct details of a story she’d been telling us about a vacation they’d taken in Aspen. Caleb took the opportunity to lean toward me. “You’re staring at me.”

I answered honestly. “Your lack of please and thank yous don’t bother me anymore.”

Caleb rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. “You and your manners. You’re as bad as my sisters.”

Sisters?

Plural?

“You have sisters?”

Caleb nodded. “Two sisters.”

“Really?” Patrice suddenly cut into our conversation. “I didn’t know that. Duncan never mentioned it. And where do you sit? Youngest, oldest, in the middle?”

“I’m the oldest.”

Which raised the question: what age was he? As if he read the question in my eyes, he offered, “I’m thirty-five.”

Five years older than me. I’d suspected he was around that age. It made me wonder why some sexy Scottish woman hadn’t snapped him up already. Or was Caleb Scott the permanent-bachelor type?

“Thirty-five. Then it’s definitely time for settling down.” Patrice’s gaze flew to me. “So have you two been spending much time together?”

Caleb smirked. “Ava has been very accommodating with her time.”

Do not blush, do not blush. I tried for a serene smile.

“Oh? Have you been showing our guest around Boston? Where have you taken him?”

For a moment, my brain went blank as I tried to think of a reply. I didn’t want to lie to Patrice. Thankfully, Caleb extricated me from the decision. “Neither of us have really had time for sightseeing. But Ava’s kept me company in the evening. For dinner.”

“Oh, well, I’d thank you, darling, for the sacrifice”—she grinned at me—“but having dinner with a handsome Scotsman can hardly be called one.”

I could practically feel Caleb’s smug smile on my skin. “Well, you’d be surprised, Patrice. Mr. Scott is a challenging individual sometimes. For example, he often forgets his manners,” I teased.

Danby laughed outright, but Patrice’s eyes grew round with apprehension—I assumed because she considered my comment rude.

“It’s true,” Caleb told Patrice as he locked gazes with me. “But Miss Breevort here has such fine manners. I’ve heard so many pleas from her lips they’ve got stuck in my head.”

I was going to kill him. “Please and thank yous,” I said. “You mean please and thank yous.”

Laughter twinkled attractively in his eyes, but he didn’t agree.

Thankfully, Patrice either didn’t pick up on his innuendo or was choosing to be polite and ignore it. Not so thankfully, she began to wax poetical about me. “Yes, Ava is very refined. I said that to Danby after the first time I met her, didn’t I, Danby?”

I blushed, uncomfortable with the sudden focused attention.

Her husband gave me a kind smile as if sensing my discomfort. “She did.”

Instantly engaged in her subject, Patrice leaned across the table to Caleb. “I said to Danby, that girl is a breath of fresh air. All the refinement of a society girl and none of the haughty, catty, spoiled brattishness. Not that all ladies of society are that way—” She gestured to herself. “I have some lovely friends, very generous, kind friends. But on a whole one must agree that being born into privilege can have its negative effects on a person’s perspective.”

“True enough,” Caleb agreed.

“And Ava was born into money, weren’t you, darling. Not society kind of money,” she continued before I could reply or, you know, slide off my chair and hide under the table in mortification. “But a very comfortable upbringing as far as material wealth goes. As far as parental guidance goes, that is an entirely different topic, and knowing what I know of Ava’s questionable emotional upbringing it is even more of a credit to her how spectacularly she turned out.”

Dear God, I was regretting that one afternoon Patrice and I had shared too much champagne over a lunch meeting and she’d probed about my life until I’d spilled like a split bag of M& M’s.

Aware of Caleb’s gaze on me, I opened my mouth to stop Patrice, but she forged on. “And let’s not get started on those so-called best friends of hers. It amazes me that she has faith in anyone after what she’s been through. But she is the kindest—”

“Patrice,” I exclaimed, attempting to draw her to a halt.

She blinked like an owl at me and I fumbled for a way to make her stop without upsetting her. I knew she meant no harm, but frankly this was the one time I couldn’t accept her lack of boundaries. However, I also couldn’t be impertinent to her. I scrambled for an excuse. “I forgot to mention that Harper has created a new dessert for Canterbury. You told me to tell you when she updates her menu and I thought I better mention it before I forget again.”

“Oh. Well, fabulous.” She turned to Danby, who shot me a sympathetic smile. “We’ll have to book at Canterbury soon, then, darling.” She turned to Caleb. “Have you met Harper?”

“Actually, I have. She seems … interesting.”

I scowled. What did that mean?

“Oh, very. You’ll know the story of how she and Ava met, then?”

“Actually,” I butted in, “I haven’t told Caleb that story.”

“Why ever not? It’s a wonderful story. Tell him. I want to hear it again.”

“Patrice,” Danby muttered.

She glanced between me and her husband, confused. “Oh, it’s not as if it’s terribly personal. I’ve heard Ava tell practical strangers this story, and Caleb isn’t a stranger.”

Patrice wasn’t lying. Now, however, I was just scared of Caleb knowing anything real about me. I didn’t want him to feel like I was forcing that part of myself on him.