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 her vacation, 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 their eyes 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 round Bea’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.
‘I’m afraid it’s just you and me tonight,’ Cal revealed. ‘Kitty fell and twisted her ankle on the way in and I can’t get anyone else. To say I’m annoyed is an understatement, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Except apologise to you. It’s going to be a full-on night.’
That’s it? Bea thought. A busy night on the bar with Cal Butler didn’t sound bad at all. There might be some awkwardness after last week, but they would probably be so busy that it wouldn’t be noticeable.
‘Not a problem at all. I’d rather be busy.’
‘I’ll make sure you’re well compensated.’
Bea imagined the perfect compensation: Cal wrapped around her, naked, huskily divulging his deepest desires into her ear in that rich Scottish accent.
She nearly said, ‘I look forward to it,’ but stopped herself in time and issued her body with a strict reminder that Cal was her boss and not interested in such indulgences. More was the pity.