by Melody Grace
“Note to self, burn my khakis.” Cal’s voice was light. She looked at him again.
“This is my long-winded way of saying ‘sorry.’ ”
“Then apology accepted,” Cal said. He paused. “And if it helps, I know what you mean, about not belonging.”
Eliza wondered how someone like him—handsome, confident, wealthy—could have ever felt like an outsider, but then he continued.
“After my parents died, it felt like I didn’t have anywhere to call home anymore. I was just finishing college,” he said, toying with the label on the water bottle, “so it wasn’t as if I were some little orphan boy, but still, I felt . . . adrift. I spent the holidays with family, they always made sure I had a place to go, but . . . They weren’t mine, the way Mom and Dad had been. I’d watch my cousin, Tish, and her parents together, and I would resent them.” Cal gave a hollow laugh. “Even after everything they were doing for me, I was still jealous that they had each other, and I didn’t have anyone. At least, it felt that way for a long time.”
Eliza watched him grapple with the old memories. Then he gave a faint smile. “So, I hope I’m not like those assholes from school.”
“You’re not. I mean, look.” She gestured weakly. “I screwed up our date in the most spectacular way, and you’re still being nice and taking care of me.”
Cal shook his head. “I’ve done my share of screwing this up, too. I mean, I get it: I didn’t think about what it meant to have you fired. You were a name on a piece of paper to me, but that was your job, your life. And tonight . . .” He sighed.
“It’s three a.m., so technically, it was last night,” she joked.
He gave a strangled laugh. “I just assumed Beachwood was the move. You know, wine, candlelight . . .”
“Excruciating food poisoning.”
“It gets the ladies swooning every time,” he quipped. “But I know, I should have put more thought into it, instead of just rolling out the same old routine. You’re different.”
“Gee, thanks,” Eliza said.
Cal met her eyes. “That’s a good thing.”
“So, those are your moves?” Eliza asked, flushing.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, a lazy, heart-stopping smile, and despite feeling like a rag doll, Eliza still felt that jolt of chemistry, hot in her blood.
“So what would have come next?” Eliza asked slowly, holding his gaze. “If I hadn’t needed to rush straight for the nearest bathroom.”
“Well, it’s a beautiful night. We could have taken a walk on the beach . . .” Cal said.
“That sounds nice.”
“And then, maybe I would have challenged you to go skinny-dipping.”
“Why, Mr. Prescott.” Eliza acted at fanning herself. “On the first date?”
He laughed. “I think we’re past that, don’t you?”
“Well, we are now. I usually don’t become this comfortable in a man’s bathroom until the fifth date, at least.” Eliza managed a smile.
“Then I guess I still have moves, after all.” Cal grinned, and she laughed.
“Easy there. I don’t think it counts if we spend the night together moaning in pain.”
“It’s been a while since the last attack. I think the worst might be over.” Cal looked around, and then tapped on the side of the wooden cabinet.
“Dear God, please.” Eliza yawned. “I’m too tired to vomit anymore.”
“Poor baby.” Cal’s tone was still light, but the words gave her a strange warm feeling in her chest all the same.
She snuggled lower, and tugged the duvet to cover her up. “Just so you know, this turned into a pretty great date.”
“And just so you know,” Cal said, his voice sleepy. “If I hadn’t been vomiting for five hours straight, I would be kissing you goodnight right now.”
Cal reached his hand across the bathroom floor, and nudged Eliza’s fingers. She laced them through his, and she squeezed.
“And I would be kissing you back.”
10
Eliza woke on a mattress of clouds, enveloped in the softest blanket in the world. Or maybe it just felt that way compared to the bathroom floor. She lifted her head and squinted at the unfamiliar surroundings. She was in the guest bedroom, she figured: a neat, pink room illuminated by sunlight burning the edges of the closed drapes.
How did she get here?
Cal must have moved her after she passed out. Eliza’s heart caught, and she snuck a look under the covers, but she was still dressed in those ratty shorts and her sweaty, wrinkled top from last night. Was that better or worse than the alternative? Eliza wasn’t sure, but she was relieved at least to find a glass of water and some Advil on the nightstand.
She slowly sat up and waited for her stomach to lurch. Nothing.
Hallelujah!
Eliza got up and cautiously pushed the door ajar. She could hear music and the sound of somebody moving around, so she padded barefoot down the hallway, adjusting to the bright daylight.
“Hey.”
Eliza paused. Cal was in the kitchen, looking more handsome than any man who’d spent the night vomiting had a right to be. His hair was damp from the shower, and he was bare-chested, wearing a loose pair of sweatpants, with a coffee mug in one hand and a spatula in the other.
Her heart shivered. Just a half-beat, a flicker in her chest, but she felt it, everywhere.
She knew him now.
“Hi.” Eliza gulped. “Feeling better?”
“Finally.” Cal smiled at her, warm and easy, and it was enough to make her forget she was a walking disaster in last night’s clothes.
For five whole seconds.
“What time is it?” Eliza looked around. The back door was open, and the sun was high in the sky.
“Almost one.”
“In the afternoon?” she yelped.
Cal chuckled. “I figured I’d let you sleep. Something tells me you’re not a morning person.” He strolled closer and offered her a mug. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” Eliza took a gulp, her brain still foggy.
“Are you up to eating?” Cal asked. “I made some bacon and eggs—” Eliza shuddered. “Or there’s toast,” he finished. “Dry toast.”
“That’s probably safer.” Eliza clutched her mug, watching him move effortlessly around the small space. “How are you so bright and shiny?”
“I bounce back fast.” Cal flashed a grin. “And I have an iron constitution. Most of the time.”
He stuck a couple of slices bread in the toaster, refilled their coffee cups, and assembled two plates, nudging Eliza out to the back porch. She took a long, steadying breath of sea air and finally felt more stable.
“Wait,” she said, looking around properly for the first time. “You live in the Pink Palace? I love this house! My mom tried to start a campaign to get Marion to repaint it, but she just laughed in her face.”
Cal rejoined her, wearing a loose T-shirt this time. “That sounds like Marion. She’s my godmother,” he explained. “So I’m using it as a home base. I’m supposed to be looking at properties later, with June Somerville. You know her?”
“Yup.” Eliza laughed. “Watch out for her. She has a thing for younger guys.”
Cal blinked. “Thanks for the warning.”
Eliza nibbled her toast. She was ravenous, but she wasn’t about to risk another night on the bathroom floor. She snuck a look at Cal, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Last night, their defenses had been down, but now, in the harsh light of day, she wondered what was going on in his head.
“So, last night was . . . interesting.” Cal gave her a mischievous grin across the table.
Eliza relaxed. “Unforgettable, you could say,” she agreed.
“I’ll pretend that’s because of my charm and good company,” Cal said, smirking. “And not the—”
“Part that we will never speak of again,” Eliza finished for him.
“Deal.” He toasted his coffee cup to hers. “Do you have much planned fo
r the day?”
Eliza shook her head. “I have the day off from the restaurant, so I was going to help out with some things at the house. And sleep,” she added, stifling a yawn. “All the sleep.”
Cal paused, glancing away for a moment. “If you wanted, we could—”
He was interrupted by woman’s voice. “Cal? Are you here?”
Cal looked surprised. “We’re in the back!” he called, and a moment later, a polished blonde woman rounded the side of the house, toting a leather overnight bag.
“Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been knocking forever. And traffic was a nightmare coming down.”
Eliza’s heart sank as Cal got to his feet, greeting the woman with a hug. Her mind raced with the possibilities: Girlfriend? Casual hookup? He hadn’t mentioned a sister . . .
“Did they ticket you for speeding again?” he was teasing her.
“That was one time!” the woman protested, socking him in the arm. “And he never actually wrote the ticket, we went for dinner instead. What is this place?” She pulled down her sunglasses and peered around. “You can practically see it from space.”
Her eyes alighted on Eliza, and she arched one perfectly-sculpted brow. “Oh, you have company.”
Eliza gave an awkward wave. “Hi.”
Cal smiled. “Tish, meet Eliza. Eliza, this is my cousin, Letitia.”
Cousin. Eliza felt a wave of relief—which was quickly followed by a bigger wave of embarrassment. Tish was wearing designer jeans and a casual white button-down, but everything about them screamed money and style, while Eliza was still in last night’s clothes.
Her sweaty, wrinkled, possibly vomit-stained clothes.
“Wait, didn’t Dad tell you I was coming?” Tish turned back to Cal. She saw the blank look on his face and sighed. “So, you don’t desperately need my help preparing for the board meeting next week?”
Cal made a face. “I didn’t even know there was a meeting scheduled.”
“It was in the email sent out Monday. Please tell me you’re at least checking emails,” she added, her voice turning plaintive. “I know you’re doing this whole ‘vacation’ thing”—Tish said it like a dirty word—“but the Prescott Group doesn’t stop working when you do.”
This was definitely family business. Eliza got to her feet. “I should go,” she said, putting down her coffee.
“No, don’t.” Cal turned back to her. “This won’t take long.”
“Really, it’s fine. My mom will probably have called the police by now,” Eliza added brightly. “And I really need to take a shower.”
Cal grinned. “OK, I’m not going to argue with that one.”
“Gee, thanks.” Their eyes caught, and Eliza felt her skin prickle again. Why did it feel so intimate, just looking at this man in broad daylight? She looked away. “Are my things . . . ?”
“By the door. I’ll drive you.” Cal moved to join her, but Eliza shook her head.
“I can see myself out! It’s just a short walk. Tish, great to meet you,” she babbled. “Cal . . . I’ll, umm, see you around.”
Eliza turned on her heel and fled into the house, grabbing her things and rushing out the door before they both could take in the true extent of her grossness.
Or smell it.
* * *
Cal watched Eliza bolt out of the house and wondered if he should go after her. Any other girl, he would insist on driving her home, but Eliza was so stubborn, he didn’t want to put his foot down and overrule her—and risk ruining the fragile détente they’d miraculously created.
The scallops had been good for something.
“She seems . . . nice.”
He turned back to Tish, who was watching him with an amused look.
“Very, down to earth,” she continued. “Au naturel.”
“Nice try.” Cal sat back down and finished wolfing his breakfast. “You’d look under the weather too, if you’d spent half the night up with food poisoning.”
Tish burst out in a peal of laughter. “She didn’t?”
“We both did.”
Tish joined him at the table, looking around with naked curiosity. “Well, at least you’re finding some kind of distraction out here. That’s what you wanted, right? A break from reality.”
“Eliza’s not just a distraction.” Cal was surprised how forceful his response came out, but it was true. And after last night . . . he wasn’t sure what Eliza was, but it was a hell of a lot more than just a passing temptation.
Tish arched her eyebrows, but didn’t press. “Dad is worried about you,” she continued. “And so am I. I get it, you pushed yourself too hard with the takeover and all the layoffs, but you can’t hide out here forever.”
“Why not?” Cal said, half-joking, but Tish frowned.
“Because you’re CEO of the company, and you have thousands of people looking to you for leadership. Honestly, Cal, anyone would think you didn’t want to be the one in charge.”
“Well, when you make it sound like such a party . . .” Cal said dryly.
Tish rolled her eyes, but she was smiling all the same. They’d grown up together, playing during family vacations, and then later, sneaking out to parties together as teens. After his parents had passed, they’d become closer. Well, as close as it was possibly to get to Tish, who kept her feelings under lock and key. She focused all her energy on the company instead: business school, then internships and board meetings, running the PR department with an iron fist. Cal often thought she would make a better CEO than him, and Tish probably agreed, but the Prescott tradition meant he would sit in his father’s seat, the best man for the job.
“So, what are you waiting for?” Tish opened her bag and pulled out her slim laptop and a bundle of files. “There were some numbers in the last quarterly we should talk about, and have you seen the figures out of Tulsa?”
Yup, she was all business.
* * *
They worked all afternoon, until Cal put his foot down. “You didn’t come all this way to stare at a computer screen,” he insisted, dragging her into town for some ice cream. “Besides, didn’t you tell me that productivity declines after three hours?”
“Technically, we should be working in twenty-minute bursts,” Tish corrected him. “That’s when studies show peak attention is maximized.”
“She’ll have two scoops,” Cal told the guy at the window. “And extra sprinkles.”
Tish made a noise of protest, but she happily took the cone in the end. Cal claimed his rocky road, and they started strolling across the square and down towards the harbor road. “It’s very . . . charming.” Tish sounded suspicious, taking in the children playing on the green, and the group of older women doing yoga in the shade of the oak trees. “Not your usual scene.”
“I don’t have a scene.” Cal licked his ice cream, but Tish hooted.
“Tell that to the concierge in Aspen. Or St. Barts. Or—”
“OK, I get it,” he cut her off. “And maybe I felt like a change. A slower pace, less drama.”
“You do have a skill for finding the drama. Or rather, finding the girls who love it.” Tish gave him a sidelong look. “So, about this Elizabeth . . .”
“Eliza,” Cal corrected her. “And what about her?”
“Is she a local?”
“Would it matter if she was?” he challenged, feeling strangely protective.
“No.” Tish looked thoughtful. “But it would make long-distance harder. I mean, with the hours you work, and the travel . . .”
“We’ve been on one date,” Cal objected. “Maybe don’t get carried away planning our future just yet.”
“Of course, what am I thinking?” Tish grinned. “You don’t do real relationships. I’ll be surprised if you make it to next week.”
Cal frowned. “I’m not that bad.”
“Really?” Tish licked her cone. “You haven’t dated anyone seriously since . . . Charlotte Fortescue, wasn’t it? And that was three years ago.”
Cal pau
sed. He’d been so busy with the company, he hadn’t had time to really get involved with anyone, but still, he didn’t realize it was that long since he’d been on more than a handful of dates with the same woman.
“What happened to Charlotte, anyway?” Tish continued. “I liked her.”
“So did I,” Cal said, remembering their six-month relationship. “But she also liked my friend James, and the dive coach, and her tennis instructor . . .”
“Probably for the best.” Tish made a face. “You guys wouldn’t have lasted.”
He turned, surprised. “Why not? Uncle Arthur and your mom were always telling me she’d make the perfect addition to the Prescott family.”
“Perfectly boring.” Tish curled her lip. “I mean, she was pretty, I guess. And polished, and from a good family . . .”
Cal laughed at her expression. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“Oh right, I forgot, your idea of a great date is someone who just bats her eyelashes and agrees with everything you say.”
“Hey!” Cal protested. He thought of Eliza, with her stubbornly sarcastic comments, refusing to fall for his usual charm. She definitely wasn’t agreeable. Which is why he couldn’t get her out of his head.
She was different. Infuriatingly, intriguingly different from any woman he’d known.
“So maybe my past dates have had a few things in common,” Cal admitted, thinking back over the list of beautiful socialites he’d been involved with over the past few years. High on elegance and drama, low on in-depth conversation.
Tish snorted. “Understatement of the year.”
