While Caleb vented about his day at the office, I tried my best not to be distracted by the longing in my chest, that harsh pang of feeling I got anytime I remembered tonight would be the last night we spent together.
When we met at my favorite Italian restaurant in Back Bay, one of the first things I wanted to ask him was when he was leaving. It seemed even more crucial to know since he’d been unable to meet me the night before. Things at the office had exploded and Caleb was up to his neck in the disaster. He video-called me from the office to show me him standing in the North American division CFO’s office surrounded by piles and piles of files.
That meant that if he was leaving sooner than expected, tonight was all we had. However, I didn’t want to seem desperate or upset when the guy was clearly stressed out.
“Long story short,” he said, sipping at the Scotch he’d ordered, “the bastard was not only lazy—he was using company money for private investments. Savvy investments too. If only he’d used that savvy tae do his job right, I wouldn’t be sitting here having not slept for thirty-six hours. Anyway, I presented my findings tae the CEO. He took it tae our bosses in Tokyo. A few hours later we dragged the sleekit wee bastard into a conference call and he was fired.”
“My God, what an idiot.” I shook my head, thinking about all the people who would kill for a chance at a six-figure salary.
“Aye, well, they wanted me tae stick around and interview new candidates for the position, but I’m needed back in the Glasgow office.” He stifled a yawn with his fist as my heart began to thump hard in my chest.
“When do you leave?”
Caleb’s gaze suddenly intensified as he leaned back in his seat. “Thursday morning. I dinnae think I’ll be much use tae you tonight, but that still gives us Wednesday.”
I winced. “Actually, it doesn’t.”
He scowled. “Why?”
“Do you remember when I mentioned the difficult client I have right now?” At his nod, I continued, “She’s demanding I head back out to the house on Nantucket tomorrow. I won’t be back until Thursday.”
The frown lines between his brows deepened. “Nantucket isn’t far.”
“It’s about a four-hour trip from here. I have to be there at ten a.m. tomorrow morning, so I’ll leave around five thirty.”
“And you’ll not be back tomorrow evening?”
“If it was anyone other than Roxanne Sutton, I’d say yes, but that woman will trap me there for as long as she legally can.” I let my frustration show. “I’m sorry. I thought we’d at least have one last night together.”
“And we will.”
“But you’re tired.”
“Ava.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m not leaving Boston without another taste of you.” He glanced around, missing my cheeks flush with arousal, and spotted a waiter. Waving the man over, Caleb ordered, “A pot of black coffee.”
I snickered as the waiter hurried off to do his bidding. “The things a man will do for sex.”
Caleb grinned. “Not just any sex.”
Pleasure shifted through me at the compliment.
“Let’s make this meal a quick one, eh?”
I nodded my agreement. “That sounds like a plan.”
“So …” He leaned back in his chair. “You promised me last night you’d tell me how it went with Nick.”
Unwilling to spend our last few hours together discussing my ex, I gave Caleb a quick summary of events, watching his features harden with anger as the story went on. “But thankfully he’s gone now and I don’t really want to spend any more time talking about the asshole.”
“What a prick,” Caleb said vehemently, just as his coffee arrived. The waiter’s eyes rounded at the aggression in Caleb’s voice as he placed the coffee on the table, but my companion didn’t even notice. He was too focused on me. I gave the waiter a reassuring smile and he hurried away.
“It’s done. Let’s talk about something else.”
His expression said he wanted to call Nick a few more names first, but he poured himself a coffee and made an effort to look relaxed. “What do you want tae talk about?”
On a rush of sentimentality I shouldn’t be feeling, I blurted out, “I want you to know I’ve had a lot of fun with you these past few weeks. I’m glad we decided to be friends.”
“With benefits,” he teased.
I smiled. “Yes, definitely. It’s been far more pleasurable than the usual friendship.”
He lowered his gaze to his coffee, shielding his thoughts from me. “You know, I was thinking that at some point I’ll be back in Boston again. Probably near the end of the year.”
My pulse raced at the thought of seeing him again. “Oh?”
“If you’re not attached, I’d quite like us tae do this again when I’m in town.”
“I’d like that.”
Caleb’s eyes finally found mine. “Aye?”
“Yes.” I nodded, serious. “I’m going to miss you in my bed, Caleb Scott. And in a hotel bed. And against the wall. And in the shower.”
He grinned, wicked and full of want. “Don’t miss me just yet. We’ve still got tonight.”
Nineteen
SIX WEEKS LATER
I can’t believe you dragged me to Faneuil Hall on my day off,” Harper grumbled after the third tourist in five minutes bumped into her.
I hid a smile, heading toward my target. “It’s raining, it’s miserable, and you know what that means.”
“Clam chowder, yeah, yeah.”
“Not just any clam chowder. The best clam chowder.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Hey, don’t let the fact that it’s produced in a heavily populated tourist area sway your judgment.” I threw her a mock look of annoyance as we wandered into the Irish pub I’d been heading for since the moment I stepped out of my apartment that morning. “This right here is the best clam chowdah in Boston.”
“Yeah, apparently everyone else thinks so too.” Harper gestured to the busy pub.
Damn.
No seats.
Disappointment hit me much harder than it should have considering this quest was merely about food. But lately, when anything went marginally wrong, I seemed to take it dramatically badly. “Oh man!”
“We’re just leaving.” A woman sitting at the bar called to us, her accent drawing my attention.
“Aye, ye can have oor stools,” the man next to her said as we slowly made our way over.
Scottish.
A pang of longing hit me dead center of my chest and then spread out like a burn across the entire area.
“Hey, thanks,” Harper said as we watched them pull on their jackets and get up off the stools.
“No problem. The clam chowder is bloody amazing.” The woman gave us a cheery smile.
“You’re from Scotland?”
She nodded. “Aye. Glasgow. Just here on a wee anniversary trip.”
“Oh?” I wanted her to keep talking. “How long have you been married?”
“Thirty years,” her husband announced proudly, either because it was an impressive amount of time or because he’d actually remembered.
“Wow.” Harper shared a wide-eyed look with me. “Uh, congrats. That is awesome.”
“Yeah, congratulations.”
“Oh, thank ye,” they said in unison.
“Here ye go.” The woman stepped aside, patting the stool at the bar. “Enjoy.”
Disappointment flooded me anew to realize they were leaving. “Oh, okay. Have a wonderful trip.”
“Thank ye,” they said as they left.
Harper practically had to haul me onto a stool before someone else could take it, because I was busy staring after the Scottish couple, pining.
It had been six weeks since I’d heard the accent.
Six weeks since I’d heard his voice.
Well, I best be off,” Caleb said suddenly.
We were lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, taking time to catch our breaths after enjoying a couple of rounds of our usual epic sex. There had been no soft kisses or sweet touches this time, as if we were both mindful that we had to keep this as it should be or it might feel like a tender good-bye.