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, Cal picked 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.