Fight or Flight(46)

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.”