‘I don’t think there is any such thing as a professional kiss.’ She tried to lighten the mood. ‘Except if there were kissing championships, then you would have reached professional level.’ Oh, she was waffling now and Cal was pushing in his bar stool and wiping non-existent dust from the bar. He’d moved on already.
‘Look, Bea. You are a stunning woman and I think you probably know now how attractive I find you. But I never mix business with my personal life. It would only end in disaster. I’ll get you a taxi.’
Wow!This sudden coolness shocked Bea and his words whipped her back to their first meeting in the coffee shop where he’d blasted her with his cool air of intolerance and acted like she was an idiot. She should have seen it then. Known his disposition was so diametrically opposed to her own and that he had the capacity to hurt her with his words. But she was also being cast back further, back to life with Josh where she didn’t know where she stood from moment to moment and any attempts at affection were rebuffed. Both men had made her feel like a fool. Well, she wasn’t having that any longer. She wouldn’t tolerate another Josh. As much as she liked Cal, this was never meant to be anything more than a trip to help her write and she didn’t need a muse to help her do it. If he thought kissing her was a mistake, then so be it. He wouldn’t get to kiss her again. So, as matter of fact as she could, Bea turned away and strode to the staff room to grab her purse. She would walk away from the shame before it could strengthen its grip on her any further.
Chapter 21
Cal
Cal had fully intended not to flirt with Bea, but that had apparently been too difficult for him. He’d stupidly come in with that silly comment about her Manhattans, and when she’d complimented him, he’d got stage fright and walked away like an idiot, to clean. But because he was sure she was watching him, his blood had pumped harder. You could have cut the sexual tension in the room with a knife.
Thoughts were whirring in his mind.Just talk to her about stuff: any stuff that isn’t sex stuff.He could barely even remember what they’d talked about because of that kiss. My God! That kiss! It was incredible. Bea knew exactly what she was doing, and boy did she do it well. It amazed Cal he’d had the willpower to pull back. But something had flashed across his mind. He was getting carried away again, putting his lust for a beautiful woman before any sense. Exactly what had got him into a mess with Elisabetta and he’d sworn he’d now avoid. And if Cal was good at anything, it was sticking to the promises he made himself.
While Bea was through the back getting her bag, Calpicked up his phone to call her a taxi. His hands smelled of her perfume.Fuck.He was getting turned on again. He put the phone on speaker and poured a shot of whisky.
Bea emerged as Cal was hanging up the phone. ‘Your taxi will be here shortly,’ he said, wishing he didn’t sound so matter-of-fact.
‘Okay, thank you.’ There was nothing about Bea’s polite manner to suggest upset at what had happened. Cal half expected her to be frosty with him, but when her taxi arrived, she said, ‘I’ll see you next Saturday.’ Then she let him unlock the door and watch her walk up the close to the safety of the Royal Mile, those beautiful curves accentuated under the Old Town lamplight.
Cal’s instinct was to reach for another drink to douse his arousal. How on earth had he found it within himself to reject her? He raked his fingers through his hair. And had he made a colossal mistake? Should he have taken her to bed with him? Judging by the calibre of the taster session, it would have been mind-blowing.
Too late now. Once again, he’d have to use his imagination. Then Cal realised the pointlessness of refusing to take things further with Bea. She was going to be in his bedroom, anyway. She’d been there since he’d met her, seeping into his psyche. But it was too late now; she was in a taxi home and no way was he going to text and ask her to come back. The moment was gone and Cal had blown it spectacularly.
Chapter 22
Bea
In the taxi, Bea sighed and pulled the piece of paper from her purse where she’d put it several weeks ago. She considered the handwriting. It was attractive: neat, yet complex enough to suggest an interesting character at the other end of the pen. Craig. She liked the sound of that name. It was solid and dependable. Cal was a solid name too, but Cal wasn’t interested in her, so maybe she could have some fun with Craig instead. After all, she’d come to Scotland for fun.
The next morning Bea sat down to write with fresh creative material in her head. The kiss with Cal might have been a dead end in real life, but it was going in the novel, that was for sure. Except in the novel, it would lead somewhere. She wouldn’t leave her heroine hanging out on a limb, like Cal had her
The inspiration of the kiss also led Bea to finish and publish to her website the ‘Hal Hunter’ short story she’d begun the day she’d met Cal. She put a quick post on her social media to let her fans know it was there, describing it as an apology gift for not being around much during hervacation, and a small taste of the novel to come, and said that she hoped they loved it.
The only problem about having such rich material to work with was that Bea got increasingly turned on by the thoughts in her head and the scenes going down on the page. She wanted kisses that weren’t stopped short with apologies, hot skin against hers, lustful weeks of longing finally unleashed. Not for the first time since penning this story, Bea slipped her hand between her thighs and imagined an unbridled Cal Butler let loose on her body.
Oh, how she wished she had someone to help her unravel all her tension. A Scotsman. She picked up Craig’s note sitting by her laptop. He’d been cute. Why not?
Less than an hour after she sent him a text, Craig replied saying how glad he was Bea had got in touch and would she like to go out for dinner. Bea agreed that would be lovely, and they arranged to dine midweek at a restaurant he recommended in nearby Bruntsfield.
The dinner went well. Craig picked Bea up in a taxi. He’d made an effort with his outfit and behaved like a gentleman. Bea enjoyed his company, and they chatted across a vista of topics accompanied by a delicious meal and well-chosen wine. After the meal, Craig walked Bea to her apartment where he gave her a kiss on the cheek, told her what a lovely time he’d had and asked if she’d like to meet for coffee the following week. She agreed and Craig said he’d be in touch.
On paper, it was all perfect. The man was good-looking, well dressed, smelled good, had impeccable manners and wasn’t lacking in the conversation or humour department. He told Bea several times throughout the meal how stunning she was, and she could honestly compliment him back. But they had zero chemistry. No knowing intensity as theireyes met and refused to unlock. The sex would no doubt be decent, but decent was all it would be.
Bea sighed as she got into bed, still thinking about the faultless yet lacklustre date. Before this trip she wouldn’t have considered sparking-off-the-grid-electricity a prerequisite for being with a man. But now her standards had soared, and she knew exactly why. Cal Butler. Since meeting Cal, something had changed. And quite frankly it was annoying because it was impeding her ability to enjoy herself.Damn Cal Butler and his total hotness.
Still, Craig could be a good choice. He wasn’t bothered that she was only in town for a short while and said it would be an honour to spend a bit of time with her. He was a hot Scotsman, and that’s what she wanted.
So, for the rest of the week, Bea toiled on her novel and tried to replace any thoughts of Cal with those of Craig. She was successful in one out of two of those endeavours.
On Saturday, Bea got ready and headed to Butler’s for her shift. It would be the first time she’d seen Cal since their kiss a week previous, although she’d seen him plenty in her mind and kissed him many more times, despite her attempts to keep focused on work and to think only of Craig.
‘Evening.’ Cal was the model of professionalism when Bea arrived at the bar. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good thanks.’ She wasn’t about to say,Oh, I’m great apart from the fact that I’ve been tortured all week by thoughts of you ravishing me in kisses and tearing my clothes off.
‘That’s good,’ said Cal. ‘But listen, I don’t know if you’ll be fine once I tell you what I’m about to.’
What’s this?Myriad possibilities flew roundBea’s mind. Was he about to apologise again for last week? Admit he made a mistake. Or was he going to say he she was fired because he couldn’t shake off thoughts of her in his bed? That would be better than an apology. He’d no longer be her boss and wouldn’t have to worry about professional boundaries.
