“Meaning he wants to get into my pants,” she scoffed.
“No, I actually think he really means he wants to paint you. Apparently he doesn’t sleep with the models because his art is more important to him than sex. From what I’ve gleaned about him, I think that’s true.”
“Well, whatever.” Harper shook her head, seeming a little dazed by the idea. “I don’t have time to be some guy’s model. Doesn’t he know I am a very important person?”
“I don’t think he got that memo.”
“I’ll slip it under his door. ‘Hey, weird Scottish dude. I make very important art too. And mine tastes better than yours so I win. Find another muse, Mini-Quinoa.’ ”
I burst out laughing, my love and affection for my friend pushing away the pain I felt at seeing Caleb. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Lucky for you, that’s something you’ll never have to know.” She stuck her tongue out at me playfully and skipped ahead. “Now let’s find a bar. There are many sorrows to be drowned!”
Isn’t that the truth, I thought as I hurried to catch up with her in my strappy heels.
Thirty-one
My carry-on suitcase bumped along behind me as I walked down the Jetway to the plane. The nice thing about flying first class—besides the more spacious seats and complimentary dining—was getting on the plane first. There were very few things I disliked more than waiting at a gate to board a plane. At least once you were on the plane you could get settled and crack open a book or put on a movie.
Not that I had been expecting to be getting on a plane at all. This was the second time in as many weeks that Stella had put me on one at the last minute.
The Monday after I saw Caleb with Jen Granton at the bar, I’d walked into the office to start my day only to be interrupted by Stella. She’d perched her pert ass on my desk and announced, “You need a distraction.”
I wasn’t going to lie. A distraction would be wonderful. “What kind of distraction are we talking about?”
“Chicago.”
“Chicago? The musical?”
Stella smirked. “No. The city.” She handed me a slim portfolio. “Calum Scotia. Banker. Divorced. Looking for a design overhaul on his penthouse apartment in the River North area. East North Water Street.” Her smile was smug. “Quite the property and quite the find.”
“How did he find out about us?” I asked, reading through the information Stella had collected on the potential client and what he was looking for.
“He’s friends with one of our Boston clients. She recommended us.”
“And you want me to go out there?” I felt my excitement build as I looked over the photographs of the property’s current condition. The design was about fifteen years out of date and very feminine. But the duplex had extraordinary views and stunning high ceilings and vast spaces. There was a lot of fun to be had with it.
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why such late notice?”
She shrugged. “He gave us late notice. He has a few other designers coming out to give him their pitch. I don’t want to lose out on this. We haven’t had work in the Chicago area in a few years.”
“Fine,” I agreed. In fact, it was more than fine. This was just what I needed right now. Although, I said, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle this design on top of everything else.”
“You’ll make it work.” Stella patted my hand reassuringly as she hopped off my desk to leave. “The best thing for you right now, sweet Ava, is to throw yourself into your career.”
I studied the portfolio again. This place would be worth the stress. “Okay.”
“I’ve booked you on a first-class flight leaving tomorrow morning at nine fifteen. Oh, and a suite at the Sheraton Grand. It’s not far from Mr. Scotia’s apartment.”
“That was presumptuous!” I called after her.
“I knew you’d say yes!”
And my boss is always right, I mused as I boarded the plane. I had a window seat, and whoever was sitting in the aisle hadn’t shown up yet, so I managed to get my luggage into the overhead bin without knocking anyone on the head. I winced at the memory and threw it away.
This business trip was a distraction, I reminded myself.
Settling into my seat, I pulled down my tray table and placed the portfolio with the photos and info about the client on it, along with a sketchpad. Keeping my brain occupied was of the utmost importance, and although I usually waited to sketch until I’d seen a space in real life, I decided to get a head start on my ideas.
Soon I was so lost in my drawings that I forgot where I was. The slight jolt of my chair filtered into my awareness and I realized the person sitting in the aisle seat had arrived. I didn’t bother to look up, but I felt their heat. As I sketched ideas for the kitchen, however, the tantalizing scent of a familiar cologne began to invade my senses and my pencil scratched to a halt on the page.
No.
Not possible.
Slowly, I think because I feared it was him, and feared that it wasn’t, I turned my head to the right and felt the breath knocked out of me at the sight of Caleb Scott sitting beside me. He stared at me with such tenderness and affection my lungs tightened with the ache of seeing it. Caleb wore his usual uniform of T-shirt and jeans, so all his tattoos were on display. I preferred him like this, I decided finally. The suits were hot. But this was the Caleb I first met, and the biker guy look suited him better than Armani. All the longing and loss I’d felt became so acute now that he was in front of me. Strangely, it hurt more than it did when I couldn’t see him.
“How?” I whispered, not knowing what else to say. I was so confused.
What was he doing here?
The corner of his mouth tilted up attractively. “I know a guy.”
I let out a noise of disbelief. “You know a guy?”
“I know a guy.”
That didn’t clear up my confusion. Caleb was here. Sitting in the seat next to mine. And I had no idea how he’d managed it. But more important for me to know was his reason for being here.
“Why?”
He reached out and took my hand in his, his thumb caressing my knuckles. “Because I can’t regret you for the rest of my life. I won’t.”
Shock, elation, fear, bafflement … I didn’t know what to feel. “What does that mean?”
“It means there is no Calum Scotia in Chicago.” He gestured to my sketches. “Just a Caleb Scott.”
“Oh my God …” I shook my head and squeezed his hand, cursing myself for not having worked that one out.
He grinned unrepentantly.
“Stella?”
Caleb nodded. “I didn’t know how tae do this. I was worried that if I even tried, you wouldn’t give me the time of day. So I remembered the last time I had you trapped.” He chuckled. “You couldn’t escape me on our flights. And Jamie has an exhibition in Chicago this week. I called Stella tae see if she’d help me and she agreed. She gave me your identification details and I booked us on the flight together. She came up with the Calum Scotia stuff.”
“I’m going to kill her.” I thought my heart might pound right out of my chest.
He tugged on my hand, his eyes darkening. “Does that mean you aren’t willing tae give me another chance?”
Hope began to build, swelling inside of me until I felt uncomfortably stretched by it. It was at once a wonderful and horrifying feeling. “Is this real?”
Turning toward me, Caleb took hold of my other hand and brought them both to his chest. I could feel his heart banging hard and fast against my palm. “I want tae be with you, Ava. Do you still want tae be with me?”
There was a part of me that whispered I should leave him hanging after the weeks of hell he’d put me through, but staring into his face—a face I loved—I couldn’t. “No more running away?”
“No more running away, wee yin. Never from you. And I am sorry I ever did.”
Recognizing the sincerity in his voice, I slid my hand up to cup his face, to feel the familiar prickle of his stubble beneath my palm, and I reached for him.
He reached back.
Our kiss was deep, tender, and filled with such longing.