He stopped on the middle of the bridge and leaned his elbows on the railing, turning his head to look at me. I settled next to him, feeling his eyes move over me in a way he’d been too polite to allow before. Soon, possibly, Leo Morgan could make me forget about my Bastard Scot. And why shouldn’t he? He was far more personable than Caleb.
“I’m definitely not. And obviously you’re not looking for a husband. Since this is going to be casual, I’m not going to ask why. I’m curious”—he flashed me a grin—“but I won’t ask.”
I nodded in approval. “You might actually be good at this casual thing.”
“Yet … it’s not something you do a lot?” He raised an eyebrow. At my pointed look, he chuckled. “Hey, I said I was curious.”
I merely shrugged, my gaze drifting over to the couple in a swan boat as it neared the bridge. “It wasn’t something I thought much about. I didn’t want anything serious, so I didn’t date. Then, a while back, I kind of accidentally fell into something casual. It worked for me.”
“But it ended?”
“It was very short-lived.”
“And you and I, if we end up having the right chemistry … would there be expectations for duration? The relationship,” he hurried to add. “Not the sex. I can confirm that I have fantastic endurance.”
I burst out laughing at his roguishness. This could work. So far, I liked him. He made me laugh. He gave me the tingle. And we were on the same page. “That’s the beauty of a casual relationship. One of us can end it at any time without any hurt feelings.”
“This feels surreal,” Leo suddenly said. “I’ve just met you and we’re standing on a bridge, discussing casual sex and the rules. I did not expect that this would be my afternoon while I was brushing my teeth this morning.”
Realizing it was weird and hoping it wasn’t sleazy, I bit my lip. “I’m not suggesting we jump into anything. I thought we could just go on a few casual dates, see if we like each other enough to enjoy the other benefits of a casual relationship.”
“I got you,” he reassured me. “You don’t cross me as the type of woman who has sex with a guy she met an hour ago.”
No, not an hour ago.
“I’m still trying to figure out if you’re real.” He reached out and gently pinched my arm, making me laugh and smack his hand away. “Okay, you’re real.”
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.