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“Caleb, I have a confession.”
If you only knew, Brooke, if you only knew . . . “Oh? Please tell me then.” Maybe teasing would help diffuse all of the blood that had suddenly decided to travel south to the region of my cock.
“Our conversation last time—about west-side verse south-end—it was horrible of me to say those things to you, and I just wanted to let you know I don’t really feel that way. Nobody can change who their parents are or how much money their family has, only how they choose to use it. You were very kind to me the night we met and offered your help. I want you to know I did notice your random acts of kindness to a complete stranger, and I do thank you very much for being such a gentleman. And for the beautiful flowers as well. I’m very sorry for the things I said to you when we spoke last time.”
Was I hearing this? She was reaching out to me for some reason.
“Are you still there, Caleb?”
“Yes. Yes I am.”
“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me for being a tad cunty with you?” Only a Brit could say cunty and have it sound classy and funny as she just did.
“It’s forgotten, Brooke, but only on one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“You let me take you to dinner on Monday.”
“Hmm . . . I don’t even know your last name, and you don’t know mine,” she said cautiously. It didn’t bother me, though. I liked that she was careful about who she went with. She was smart.
“Actually, I do know your last name is Casterley.”
“So, you have been stalking me after all.” Yep, she was smart.
“Only in the most honorable way, Brooke. I’ve thought about you a lot since that horrible cocktail party, and I felt really bad about what happened. I just want to be able to talk to you over some good food and get acquainted in a normal environment.”
“Unfortunately the reception where I met you was a normal environment for that shit-show of a job. I’m so glad I quit. I hope your suit wasn’t ruined. I’d be happy to pay for the cleaning bill if you drop it by Harris & Goode.”
“The suit is taken care of, Brooke, and I am very glad you quit the shit-show of a job, too. Your boss was an ass.”
“You are right about that, Caleb, but you still haven’t told me your name.”
“It’s Blackstone like the island. It’s a fairly common name around here.”
“Yes, I remember Massachusetts state history in high school. The Reverend William Blackstone was the first European settler in the area and settled in what is now Boston Common in 1625. I’ve seen the statue.”
“You were a good student, Brooke, but you still haven’t told me your answer about dinner.” It was fun to copy her choice of words.
“The last ferry to the island leaves at eight thirty on weeknights. Can we make it an early dinner, Caleb Blackstone?”
“We can do whatever you want, Brooke Casterley.”
“Ah, you’re a stalker, thanks for reminding me.” She had a natural wit I really liked. A lot. When she teased it turned me on.
“A nice stalker, though, and before you ask, I found out your name when I stopped in at Harris & Goode for a consult late yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh? Are you in need of a designer, Caleb?”
More than you will ever know . . . and only one designer in particular. “I think you’ll get all of the details on Monday morning from Mr. Harris.”
“So a stalker and a master manipulator both?”
“Nice, Brooke, only in the nicest possible way.”
She laughed again. The sound of her laughing did something to me. Something very sensual and erotic—to the point I knew I’d be back with the soap and my hand in the shower as soon as we hung up. When in the hell have I ever had to do that with one woman in mind? Ever?
ISLAND air smelled different. Clean and sharp with scents of the sea and t
