Fight or Flight

“Yeah?”

“One of them is the CFO of the North American division. And he’s a complete and utter nightmare. He does nothing. Delegates everything—and I mean everything—tae staff members who are struggling under the weight of their own duties and now his. Staff members who aren’t qualified and aren’t paid the six figures he’s being paid. He deflects my questions because he can’t answer them. He’s lazy, arrogant, and clueless and—” He cut off as his voice began to rise in anger.

Sympathy moved through me. He sounded so stressed. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not his boss. In fact, the little shit thinks he’s my superior because the North American division brings more money in than the UK.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s true for most companies—we’re a bigger country.”

“Aye, but the figures aren’t adding up. The company should be doing better here than it is. I suspect he’s mismanaging the financial risks the division is taking, but I can’t know for certain without getting a look at his files. And he won’t let me look at his files.”

“So how do you alert the head honchos without pissing everybody off, right?”

“Right.” He sighed. “And is it my place tae alert them?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately. “It’s obvious you care about your work and this company. You don’t cross me as the type of man who would let an injustice go on without doing something about it.” And weirdly, despite my misgivings about him in the past, he really didn’t. I suppose I’d started to realize that when he sought to protect me from the assholes at the restaurant in O’Hare.

Caleb studied me with an intensity that made my skin flush hot. “Ten days isn’t much time tae do it.”

I smirked. “But you’re going to do it anyway.”

He let out a low laugh but didn’t answer either way. Still, I knew deep down he was going to do something about it.

We shared a look of mutual appreciation, and I felt emotion begin to well up inside of me. Emotion I had not expected to feel toward him. It was exactly as I had feared. Was I beginning to like my Bastard Scot?

“There you are, darlings!” Patrice’s voice carried across the room and we both turned to watch her and Danby walking toward us. She wore a long, figure-hugging, black-beaded dress. Her arm was looped through Danby’s. Michael Danby Senior was the same height as his wife, with a trim, athletic build and a handsome boyish face that never seemed to change as the years passed. His dark eyes were always lit with good humor and kindness.

Caleb and I stood at their approach and were immediately engulfed in Patrice’s expensive perfume as she kissed our cheeks in turn. When his wife released me, Danby stepped forward to kiss my right cheek.

“You look beautiful as always, Ava,” he murmured.

“And you handsome as always.”

He smiled at my compliment and then offered his hand to Caleb. “Nice to see you again. We keep missing each other at the house.”

Caleb shook his hand. “Tae be honest, I’ve been working so late at the office, I’ve been crashing at the hotel instead. I hope you dinnae mind.”

“Of course not,” Danby said. “But the room is there if you need it.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Did he just say thank you?

“You really should use it, though, darling,” Patrice admonished gently. “Our cook, Andrea, makes the most wonderful breakfast. I’m quite sure the Four Seasons’s doesn’t compare.”

Caleb gave her a placating nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well.” Patrice stepped back to look at us standing together. “Don’t you two look absolutely ravishing together. Danby, don’t they look ravishing?” But before he could agree, she frowned at Caleb. “Although, darling, I would really like to see that handsome face of yours. Danby, make an appointment for Caleb at your Ray’s Barbers.”

“No,” I blurted out without thinking about it.

Patrice seemed bewildered by my outburst while mirth danced in Danby’s eyes. Caleb looked at me with knowing laughter twitching his lips. I flushed, giving him a side-eyed glare before I smiled somewhat sheepishly at Patrice. “I just mean … that … I, uh … well, I think Caleb should make that decision. Maybe he likes all that stubble.”

She eyed us in suspicion and growing understanding. Something like delight crept across her features. “It’s no longer stubble, Ava. It’s a beard.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed. You could still see the shape of his jawline. Surely that didn’t count as a beard? And quite suddenly I realized I was studying him while he stared back at me, apparently still trying not to laugh.

“You seem awfully invested in the subject, darling?” she teased.

I frowned and looked away. “I’m … I’m not.”

“Ava’s right.” Caleb came to my rescue. “I told her myself I’m not really the clean-shaven type. That’s why she spoke up for me.”

“Oh.” Patrice nodded, eyeballing us dubiously. “I see.”

Oh God. “Time for dinner, I think.” Danby slid his arm along his wife’s waist to turn her back the way they’d come. “I’m starved.”

“Yes, dinner, all right.” Patrice looked over her shoulder at us, but we waited a moment or two for them to get ahead of us.

I felt Caleb’s hand on my lower back, gently nudging me forward, and I tried to shrug off my embarrassment. Apparently, he had no intention of letting me. “So what is it you like about the facial hair the most?”

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.”