When that individual’s hand suddenly rested on his chest, I dragged my gaze from Caleb to her. I tensed.
An attractive, very tall platinum blonde was smiling up at him flirtatiously. She was dressed in a suit much like my own, except she was all model-like lines and legs that went on forever. “Well, my offer still stands,” I heard her say in a throaty voice. “If you need someone to show you around Boston, I’m born and bred.”
Caleb nodded, thankfully not breaking a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, I just need you tae get your team tae where you are. If not, then you’ll need tae clean house, Jen. You have two more weeks and any deadweight still remaining needs tae go.”
She dropped her hand but that smirky little smile of hers didn’t leave her face. “It won’t come to that.”
“Good.” He glanced over at me, apparently having sensed me there already if his lack of surprise was anything to go by, and I more than liked the subtle softening of his expression. “My lunch date is here. This meeting is over.”
I smiled at him and flicked a look at “Jen.” She drew her suspicious gaze over the entire length of me and muttered, “Of course,” before walking away. I didn’t bother to see if she looked back at us. I was too busy forcing myself not to run at Caleb and throw my arms around him.
“Hey.”
He gave me that little half-smile I loved as he closed his office door behind him. “Hey yourself.”
Kiss me.
As if he heard my silent plea, he leaned down when I reached him and brushed the softest kiss across my lips. They tingled as if telling me they wanted more.
“Liz,” he said over my head as he slid an arm around my waist. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
“You have a meeting in forty minutes,” she said, grimacing apologetically. “Your meeting with Miss Granton ran over a little.”
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll be back in forty minutes.”
While he led me back the way I’d come, his hand resting possessively on my lower back, I tried to stifle the urge to ask about Miss Jen Granton and found I couldn’t. I kept my voice light as I asked, “Who is the platinum blonde?”
Caleb hesitated a second before he answered, “The head of marketing.”
“She wants to sleep with you,” I told him, as if he didn’t already know that.
“Aye, well, she can want.” His hand pressed deeper against my back. “I dinnae shit where I eat.”
It took everything within me not to stiffen at his comment, which should have been, I dinnae want tae have sex with anyone but you.
“You aren’t jealous, are you?” he asked, a hum of amusement in his tone as we stepped onto the elevator.
It was thankfully empty, so I could retort, “Kiss my ass.”
“With pleasure,” he murmured in my ear.
Still irritated, both at him and at myself for my jealousy, I stared stonily ahead and attempted to ignore his roaming hand.
Caleb sighed and stepped away from me as the elevator stopped and more people got on. It wasn’t until we hit the ground floor that he returned his hand to my back and gently led me forward.
“You have no need tae be jealous,” he said conversationally, holding the exit door open for me. Our eyes met as I moved to go ahead of him and I was halted by his next words. “You’re all I need.”
And even though it was what I wanted to hear, I couldn’t help the melancholy that swelled over me, because what he didn’t add at the end of the sentence were the words “for now.” Yet those words hung between us anyway, and I scooted out past him, forcing my gaze away so he couldn’t see the turmoil in it.
“How is Harper?” Caleb sought to change the subject as we joined the crowd on the sidewalk. It was a hot day, the sun beaming fiercely against my head, and I felt envious of the businessman in front of me wearing a fedora. I wished hats were more fashionable with female business attire. It would be cute—very 1940s—and serve the purpose of protecting my scalp from burning during the summer.
“Harper?”
I’d wanted to talk about this with him, so why was I stalling? Was it the reminder that he wasn’t going to be my permanent shoulder to lean on?
Sighing, I shrugged. “She won’t talk to me.”
At the hollowness in my voice, he took my hand in his, drawing my eyes up to his face. “She’ll come around. She knows you love her, Ava.”
“I’d do anything for her.”
His grip on my hand tightened and something flashed in his gaze that I didn’t quite understand. “Aye, she knows that too. You’re the only one she’ll talk tae and she needs tae talk about it. I know you dinnae want tae push but you need tae at least try tae feel her out about what happened. She’ll get mad at anyone who tries, but you’re the only one who might actually succeed in getting her tae open up.”
His words of advice settled over me and I decided he was right. As much as the thought of confronting her about her emotions frightened me because I didn’t want to push her away, I knew she needed to do it before she buried what she felt. Burying it would only mean the distinct possibility of it being unearthed sometime in the future. Still, I had to ask, “I did the right thing?”
“You know you did. Stop beating yourself up about this.”
“How would you feel if it happened to one of your sisters? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t blame yourself for not having stepped in sooner. I know you, Caleb.”
He nodded, his eyes turning to ice chips at the thought. “You’re right. I would. But I’d like tae think my friend Ava would tell me that the blame didn’t lie with me.”
I smiled softly at his reply, the warmth of his words easing some of my tension. I squeezed his hand. “I would. Thanks. Not just for saying that, but for everything you did for me and Harper on Saturday. You and Jamie.”
“You dinnae need tae thank me for that.” He let go of my hand but only to slide his arm around my shoulder and tuck me into his side as we made our way to the café.
I felt safe tucked into him.
Dangerously safe.
The Lutons lived in a midcentury ranch house in Winthrop, a mere thirty minutes from the city. The shingles were a saltwater taffy blue, and I knew from Harper that they’d put a lot of work into restoring the large detached family home.
I’d decided against dinner at seven and called Gillian to ask her if I could visit that afternoon instead, squaring it away with Stella that I’d catch up with work after my trip out there to see Harper. The idea of trying to talk to her, to get her to open up to me, while surrounded by the Lutons and their kids sounded impossible—because it would be impossible.
I parked in their drive at the side of their house, feeling ridiculous that my heart was slamming against my rib cage. After my quick lunch with Caleb, I still hadn’t relaxed and I knew I wouldn’t until Harper and I had an honest conversation. Something I felt we could do now that she’d rested up a bit.
“Hi, Ava.” Gillian stepped out of the front door onto the porch as I made my way around the garden to the front stoop.
“Hey. How are you?” I asked as I climbed the steps.
She gave me a tired smile, surprising me. On all occasions that we’d spent time together there was a constant bronze glow to Gillian’s skin and a brightness in her hazel eyes that matched this irrepressible aura of energy that athletes seemed to have. Today both her skin and gaze seemed dull. She looked exhausted. “I have three kids and a belligerent houseguest who has quite frankly made me terrified of my kids becoming teenagers. Other than that, I’m fine.”
I passed her, walking into the beautiful entrance to their home. Ahead of me was an expansive oak staircase with a light gray carpet runner up the center. To my left was a formal living room with a baby grand piano in the corner. To my right a larger family room, with a lived-in corner sofa, armchair and stool, coffee table, television center, and lots of knickknacks. Both rooms had a central feature modern glass-box gas fireplace, neither of which was lit since it was June.