Fight or Flight

I shimmied a little closer to him in appreciation of his playfulness and saw his eyes darken as our gazes locked. Tension immediately fell between us and a rush of exultation swooped over me. There was definite chemistry here. And that meant, Good-bye, Caleb Scott. No longer would the bastard plague my thoughts and inspire such longing.

“Sunday?” I asked softly. “Casual dinner?”

Leo’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Not Saturday, right, because that’s a typical date night.”

“And I have my chilly boat party.”

“Right.” He reluctantly dragged his eyes up to mine. “Sunday. Sounds good.”

I offered him a grin. “Great.”

“Am I allowed to compliment you?”

It was an adorable question. “Yes.”

“Then can I just say you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in Boston right now.”

It was a grand compliment. A lovely one. However, I couldn’t tell this guy that I was inured to compliments on my physical appearance. That they made me uncomfortable. Instead, I lowered my gaze, as though he’d embarrassed me, and thanked him.

“Modest too. You are perfect.”

My eyes flashed back to his. “No one’s perfect. That’s the beauty of a casual relationship. We don’t have to be.”

Leo’s expression sobered as he processed what I’d said. Then he nodded and said, in the most serious tone he’d used since we’d met, “Then I think this is definitely what I’ve been looking for.”

Twenty-one

For Patrice and Danby, the boat party on Saturday evening was an impromptu event, just for the hell of it, to celebrate life and good times with their nearest and dearest friends.

For me, the party was a celebration of moving forward. I’d finally finished Roxanne Sutton’s summerhouse project, much to my relief. Moreover, tomorrow would be the next step in putting Caleb Scott behind me. Leo had texted to tell me he’d booked us a table at a little Italian place in Cambridge. I thought it was a great choice because we were less likely to be spotted in Cambridge, and neither of us wanted to draw attention to the fact that we were on a date and give people the wrong idea. I’d told Stella that we’d decided not to pursue each other, much to her disappointment.

In general, I was feeling good. Whatever lingering melancholy I might have felt, I buried it.

“I can’t believe you let me come to this party alone,” I said to Harper, clutching my cell to my ear as the taxi let me out at the marina.

“I’m sorry. We’re busy.”

She didn’t sound sorry, and renewed uneasiness niggled me at whom she was busy with. “You’re sure about this?”

Harper gave me an irritable sigh. “I told you I believed him when he said he doesn’t need the drugs. It was recreational. He knows how I feel and he loves me enough to not touch the stuff.”

I shook my head, realizing love did really make you crazy, insensible, and irrational if it could do this to my friend. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. Look, I need to go.”

“Harper—”

But she’d already hung up on me.

Great.

By the time I found Patrice’s boat on the marina (I just followed the loud chatter and music), I was already feeling the chill in my little red dress, and I was sullen over the situation with Harper. Not exactly in the party spirit. All I’d brought with me was a silk wrap, a decision I was now regretting as security took my name before letting me on the boat. I ventured onto the unsheltered area of the lower deck, waving away a waiter’s offer of champagne. There were a few people lingering, but I could hear from the level of noise above me that the party was taking place on the two upper decks. As I considered getting off the boat to find a restroom, my savior arrived in the shape of Patrice Danby herself.

“Darling, there you are.” She floated down the spiral staircase from the upper deck. She wore an elegant pantsuit, and I envied her jacket. She grabbed my shoulders and kissed both my cheeks. “Stunning as always. Come, come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Patrice—” I hadn’t even had the chance to say hello yet. “I … um … do you think I could use your restroom?”

“Oh, no need to look embarrassed, darling. I have a small bladder too.” She reached into her suit pocket and pulled out a key card. “It opens the master bedroom suite.” She pointed to the sliding doors that led inside before handing the card to me. “Meet me on the top deck when you’re done.”

I thanked her and slipped inside the lower deck, the sounds of her politely moving the guests who were lingering there back upstairs fading as I closed the door behind me.

There was no one inside, because obviously it was out of bounds for the party. Although I doubted once people started getting drunk that they’d care to respect anyone’s privacy. I passed through the small living room and bar area, decked out in rich walnuts and expensive leathers and plush fabrics, marveling at the fact that I had a friend who owned a luxury yacht. Beside the wall where a large flat-screen television was mounted was a narrow door with a key card lock. I slipped the card into it, watching the red light turn green, and pushed down on the handle.

I gasped as I stepped inside.

As an interior designer, I’d seen beautiful and awe-inspiring homes. I’d never designed the interior of a boat, however, and had no idea one could look this opulent. Standing on thick-pile carpet, I gazed around at the semicircular room. The walls were made of glass, with two sets of French doors on either side. The only part of the wall that wasn’t glass was the nose of the semicircle, directly across from a magnificent super-king-sized bed. That wall was a frame for a beautiful gas fire that was currently lit, despite the fact that there was no one in here. There were two gorgeous velvet armchairs on either side of it.

Beyond, through the glare of the light against the glass, I could see the control deck. As I stood there gaping at such luxury, the blinds suddenly started to lower over all the windows, startling me. Confused, I looked around and found a familiar panel on the wall near the door.

The blinds were on a timer. I’d had a similar system fitted into Patrice’s guesthouse. As the blinds lowered, the lighting in the room also dimmed, giving it a romantic, intimate vibe. Very nice.

Remembering my current needs, I stopped ogling and strode toward the open doorway to my left that led into a small, Romanesque marble bathroom. When I let myself out of the room, making sure it was locked behind me, I hurried to make it onto the upper deck to give Patrice her key card back.

I didn’t get the chance, however. As soon as I stepped up onto the deck crowded with guests, waitstaff, a bar, buffet, and a small orchestra, the hostess zeroed in on me. “Come, come. I have a surprise.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me and gently pushing people out of her way as she moved us through the crowd.

God, it was breezy up here. I threw people apologetic smiles as we bumped them out of our way and noted that many women were either huddled into their date’s sides or had their wraps practically covering their entire upper body.

Only Patrice would get people out on a yacht in May.

“The fireworks are about to start and I want you to see your surprise first,” Patrice called back to me. “Here you go.” She tugged me harder, almost swinging me around, so that I tottered on my high heels and stumbled right into my surprise.

My surprise gripped hold of my biceps to steady me and the breath was expelled from my body.

I didn’t know what hit me first.

The familiar cologne, the heat that was all his, or the unforgettable feel of his large hands on my body.

“Caleb?”

He stared down at me, his expression almost frighteningly fierce; then his grip tightened to near bruising. My first thought was that he’d recently shaved his short beard, because it was now merely stubble.

My second thought, whatever it might have been, was interrupted by an intense punch of physical longing deep in my belly as I took in his familiar blue eyes and the way his suit stretched over his biceps as he held me. He always looked handsome but kind of rough and uncivilized in a suit. It was so sexy it was almost unbearable to look at him.