Even if things with Syd never got the chance to be explored to their full potential, he just didn’t want to be that guy anymore. When he was younger he had looked to his parents for an example of what a lasting relationship should be like, and they had raised the bar high, setting a gold standard in his books. He was finally at the point in his life where he was not only ready, but eager to reach for that bar. Besides, he liked Sydney way too much so far to fuck ’n’ chuck her, and he’d be damned if he’d add to the sadness that lingered in her eyes.
He frowned and concentrated on wrapping the salmon fillets, sliced lemon and dill in foil, and placing them in the oven. He heard movement behind him and he turned.
Wine glass in hand, Syd smiled up at him. “And he cooks, too,” she said, trying to peek over his shoulder.
“You should see me chop, darlin’. It is a sight to behold.”
“Ooo, an exhibitionist. I like.” She set her glass on the counter. “Let me help,” she offered, reaching for a knife with one hand and grabbing a tomato with the other.
“No, no. It’s okay, Syd, you’re my guest. I got this,” he said, carefully taking the knife away from her.
“Hey!” Syd cried. When Caleb reached to take the tomato back, Syd pulled away, giggling. “No! My tomato!”
She whirled away from him, holding the vegetable close to her. He reached out, trying to snatch it.
“Syd, come on, darlin’, give up the tomato.”
“No!” she squealed as he looped his arms about her waist, trying to steal it from her.
Arms still wrapped around her, Caleb rested his chin on her bare shoulder. “Please?” he whispered at the curve of her neck.
Her body went rigid then at once relaxed against him. She turned her face to his, their nose now inches apart. “You want it back that bad, eh?”
He nodded and brushed his lips lightly on hers. “Yeah, I do. Can I have it now, darlin’?”
She pulled away to get a better look at him, and took her time licking her bottom lip. She glanced up at him beneath long lashes and whispered, “No.”
Caleb burst out laughing. “Okay, Syd. Fine. You win, you can slice the damn tomato.”
She held up the juicy red sphere triumphantly. “Woo hoo!” she cried.
He plucked it from her fingers.
“Hey!” she laughed. “You cheated!”
“So did you,” he chuckled. “Bad girl, distracting me by licking your lip like that.”
She picked up her wine glass. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?” she asked, teasing him.
“Darlin’, a blind man on another continent would’ve noticed.”
She flushed and reached for the wine, refilling her glass. She tipped the bottle in his direction. “More?”
“Naw, I’m good, thanks.”
She chuffed. “That I’ll have to see for myself, Mr. Jones,” she muttered, leaning against the black granite counter, jutting her hip to the side.
Caleb nearly chopped off his finger.
Concentrating was out of the question with her standing there like that, observing him. “So,” he said, desperate to take his mind off her curves. “Yesterday you told me all about Christou’s, but not too much about what it is that you do there exactly, besides that you help manage the restaurants. Are you an owner?”
“Mmm,” she mumbled, taking a sip of her wine and wagging a finger at him. “No. No, they’re not my restaurants, they’re my father’s. Managing them keeps me busy enough as it is. I’m forever flitting from city to city, making sure each location is running smoothly and turning a profit, or at least trying to get them to turn a damn profit. I’m involved in working with the head chef—who happens to be my brother, by the way—to create new menus and dishes to entice more patrons to come to the venue. I do hiring and, unfortunately, firing of staff.” She frowned. “As of late, I’ve been letting people go much too often. The restaurants aren’t doing so hot. Not sure why just yet, but we’re working on figuring it out.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, Syd.”
She shook her head. “If everything goes as planned, we’ll be opening a new location in Toronto sometime in August. Things should pick up. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
He set the green beans to steam. “What other locations do you guys have besides Banff? I’m assuming you have one in your hometown, too?”
“Yeah, we’ve got one in Vancouver, Banff and Seattle. One in Toronto, as I mentioned, but also exploring opening one in Montreal, maybe next spring or toward the end of next year. I closed the Ottawa location about two months ago.”
“So you really do travel all over the place,” he commented.
Syd nodded, taking another sip of wine. She licked a drop from the rim of the glass, probably not realizing how sexy the innocent action was. “I’m on the road two weeks out of a month, more or less.”
“Your friends must miss you.” Caleb took the salmon out of the oven and carefully opened the little foil packets, mindful of the steam escaping them.
She shrugged. “Not so much. I’ve really only got one good friend. The rest I’m kinda distant from.” She pursed her lips. “Life takes you in opposite directions, you know? You end up on different ships. Mine seems to be sailing an empty sea at the moment.” She frowned again and stared into the depths of her near empty glass. “All good, though.”
He plated the food and brought it to the table. “Your boyfriend must miss you something fierce.”
She sat across from him and raised an eyebrow. “We already established this. There is no boyfriend.”
“I just can’t believe there’s no man in your life, Syd, I’m sorry.”
She sighed and drained her glass. “Do I have male friends? Yes, a couple acquaintances. But do I have a man in my life, a partner who loves me and who I love with all of my being? A soulmate, so to speak? That,” she said, jaw clenching almost imperceptibly, “that doesn’t exist.”
Chapter Seven
After dinner, they retired with their drinks to the roaring fireplace in the living room and continued their conversation.
They had touched upon the topic of Caleb’s youth and all the trouble he had managed to get into. He jutted his chin toward her. “So, now that you’ve heard my closetful of dirty secrets, it’s your turn to fess up.”
“Oh, CJ, I’m not quite sure anything I say could top that story you told me about you and your brother losing a drinking bet in high school and having to go in the next day wearing skin-tight pink tanks and tutus,” she admitted, laughing hard. “That’s a gem.”
He groaned. “The scary thing is, I’d bet anything that Pat has a picture of us in those damn poofy pink things. He’s probably waiting for the opportune moment to bring up the fiasco in an interview or something, and he’ll just happen to have a snapshot handy. New topic, before you ask us to dig up that dreadful image for you to poke fun at. What about you, Syd? What were you like as a kid?” he inquired. “I see you as being a bit of a wild child.”
Syd chuckled. “Yeah, eh?”
He snorted.
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“You are so Canadian,” he teased.
“What do you mean?”
“That’s about the third or fourth time today you’ve said ‘eh’.”
She stared at him, her expression flat. “I have not.”
Have I?
“Yes, darlin’. You have.”
“No. It wasn’t me,” she said, beginning to giggle.
“Then don’t say it for the next half hour.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh no. I can’t promise that.”
“Well, you claim you don’t say it, so it should be a breeze,” he retorted.
“This was supposed to be a fun night, and you’re going to make me work and use my brain. That’s not fair, damn it.”
“You’re a chicken. A pretty chicken, but one nonetheless. You’re afraid you’re going to lose.”
She shrugged. “Lose what? Give me an incentive, then.
What’s at stake?”
He pursed his lips. “If you win, you can ask anything of me—within reason—and I can’t refuse. Vice versa if you lose.” Syd squinted, skeptical, and he smirked back at her, egging her on. “And you will lose.”
“Oh! Oh, there, Mr. Jones! Game on.”
He smiled and nodded. “We’ll start from…now.” He pressed a button—setting a timer on his watch, she assumed. “So, answer the question. Wild child?”
She smiled back, taking off her chandelier earrings and placing them on the coffee table. She rubbed at her ears. “Yeah, I was a wild child. Man, I got into more trouble than my parents would care to remember,” she laughed. “In my teens I was just plain rebellious. It didn’t matter who, it didn’t matter why, I wanted to do the opposite of what was expected of me. I never did as I was told. I was good in school, but only because I wanted to do well. Anything else I was told to do, I never did.”
Syd leaned back and sighed, content. She loved talking to him, and she appreciated that he seemed to take a real interest in her. “They’d ground me, for example,” she continued, “and I’d sneak out a window. They didn’t want me to date someone, and I would find a way to make it happen, whether I was into the guy or not. It didn’t matter. My mom refused to let me color my hair, so one day I came home with platinum-blonde locks.”
“You, as a blonde?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah. Suffice it to say it was not a good look for me, and it was very short-lived. And no, I don’t have any pictures. I hope,” she laughed. “Anyways, I gave them a lot of back talk, too. Disrespectful at times, downright bitchy at others. I’m lucky they loved me as much as they did,” she reflected.
She took a sip of wine before going on. She glanced up at Caleb, who was smiling softly, waiting for more.
“In my university days and a few years thereafter, I was insane. Capital ‘I’. Lots of drinking. Lots of men. Too much fun, half of which wasn’t actually all that fun, thinking back on it now. I met a guy at school,” she continued, her voice tight. “We were pretty serious, but it didn’t work out. It turned me off guys for a while, to be honest, but then I went back to my old ways.” Syd carefully placed her wine glass on the floor beside her and reached up to pull the elastic from her hair. Her long tresses fell across her shoulders and she used her fingers to fluff it a bit, fully aware that Caleb was staring at her, jaw clicking.
She paused a moment and stared into the fire, working to rein in her emotions. She sighed, recalling painful memories. “Then things…changed.” Her eyes began to water, and she shook her head. “Ah, damn it, I’m sorry.” She closed her lids tight, willing the tears to go away.
“Baby, it’s okay,” he said, his voice gentle.
Syd dropped her chin to her chest and shook her head again.
Caleb scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. She relished being in the comfort of his arms, how the concern was genuine. He was strong and reassuring and the sensation of him all around her made her feel like a woman again, instead of a fucking business deal.
They sat in silence for several minutes as Syd composed herself. She appreciated he didn’t press her to continue until she was ready. He let her take whatever time she needed. This was hard to talk about, but she believed she owed him an explanation for her sudden tears.
She took a deep breath. “Nine years ago,” she whispered, “my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer and passed away.” It was as if her heart were in a vise, the pain gripping her as it did every time she thought about her mother. “She was everything to me, Caleb. She was my rock, my solace, my laughter.” She swiped at a fresh tear that had escaped. “My father—my real father—passed away when I was six.”
“Shit, Sydney. I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, smoothing her hair.
“It’s been a long time. It is what it is, right?” She sighed sadly. “When Mom passed on, I kind of changed my life. That’s why almost none of my old friends care too much for me. I’m much more reserved now. I don’t need to go out to bars or clubs, trolling for fresh meat.” She shook her head. “I can live without that, trust me. I don’t need to be bouncing from man to man. I did my time.”
She picked up her wine and took a swallow, leaning back against Caleb’s shoulder. “It sucks, you know. I miss her, and could really use her strength and optimism these days.”
“I know what you mean,” he agreed. “It’s how I think about my dad, too.”
“Oh crap, that’s right.” She frowned, recalling something she’d read months ago in a celebrity magazine about Caleb’s father passing. “I’m sorry, CJ.”
He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “It’s okay. We were super close, and sometimes it still hurts like a bitch, but we’ve got our memories, right? Those we’ll cherish forever. I was blessed to have him in my life as long as I did and Pat and I need to stay strong for our mother. And,” he added, giving her a squeeze, “I’m betting you have more strength than you give yourself credit for, Sydney.”
She shook her head. “I highly doubt that.”
His watch beeped, snapping them out of their somber moment. “Well, good job, my dear! Half an hour and no ‘eh’.”
“I did it! I did it!” She sat up straight and grinned, trying to infuse laughter back into the evening. “I told you I could do it.”
“Sure you did, Syd. You were so thrilled at the prospect of the challenge.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled with delight when she stuck out her tongue at him. “So, you won. What do you want your prize to be, darlin’?”
She turned and studied him. There was a slight five o’clock shadow on his baby face. His full lips were curved into a soft smile. His big, blue, soul-searching eyes danced in the glow of the fire. The planes of his face made her ache to touch him. She reached up and pushed a chunk of blond hair away from his eyes.
All she wanted was, for the first time in forever, to feel loved.
Thank you, liquid courage.
“I want you to kiss me. And not some sissy kiss like before.”
He appeared taken aback. “What? Syd, I mean, not that I have any problem with kissing you, believe me, but I have a feeling that’s the wine talking,” he said, voice wavering.
“I’m not drunk, CJ. I may be a bit buzzed, but I can think clear enough.”
“Yeah, but…” he began.
“Look, I thought you said whoever won gets what they ask for, and the loser can’t refuse. Now kiss me.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I did say that. But, Syd, look, I don’t want to do anything that tomorrow morning you’ll regret. So maybe—”
“Oh, shut up and kiss me already,” she whispered, pulling his face toward hers.
Chapter Eight
The moment their lips met, a jolt ran its course through Caleb’s system from top to bottom. This wasn’t an innocent, almost chaste kiss like the one they’d shared earlier. Far from it. This was different. It was deep and longing, tender and brimming with passion waiting to be unleashed.
Syd looped an arm around his neck and brought him closer, kissing him fervently. She traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, featherlight, begging for entry. More than happy to oblige, he parted them, his tongue meeting hers in a slow swirl that made his pulse quicken and his groin tighten.
He broke away and scanned her face. Her eyes, now the shade of dark jade, were shiny with want. Whether she admitted the wine had skewed her judgment or not was irrelevant. It was clear the alcohol had affected her, and he didn’t want this to happen. Not like this.
He brought his hand to her cheek and caressed her soft skin lightly. “It’s late.”
“I know.”
“What time is your first meeting tomorrow?”
Her eyes focused a bit. “Eleven.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you just sleep here? There’s plenty of room and I’ll drive you back to the hotel tomorrow morning.”
She raised a corner of her mouth in res
ignation. “Sounds like a good plan, Mr. Jones.”
He kissed her forehead. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s hit the sack.” He helped her to her feet and hit the switch, turning off the gas fireplace. He took her hand and led her up the stairs to one of the bedrooms.
He opened the door and as she crossed the threshold he said, “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
She turned to look at him, her face going through a medley of changes—a stunned expression turned to disappointment, and that in turn morphed into embarrassment, and finally a small smile touched her lips. “You, too. See you in the morning,” she whispered, shutting the door.
He turned away from her room, froze a moment and pivoted back to knock at her door. She opened it and smirked. “Can I get you a T-shirt or something to sleep in?” he asked quickly, willing himself not to focus on the curve of her lips as she smiled up at him.
The sexy smirk stayed on her lips a moment before she answered him. “No, that’s okay. I’ll sleep in the nude tonight.” She winked at him. “Sweet dreams.”
Syd closed the door, leaving Caleb to groan quietly in the hallway. “Aw, man,” he wailed, heading to his room for the night.
His alarm went off at eight a.m. and Caleb slapped at the small white clock radio, nearly knocking it to the floor. He was awake anyhow, as he had been for the better part of the night. The thought of Sydney down the hall from him naked beneath her blankets had him restless and had made him toss and turn all night. He wasn’t sure if she was serious or teasing, but the thought alone nearly did him in. There was no denying he wanted her—and bad.
He rolled out of bed and put on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, adjusting himself so that the bulge wasn’t quite as noticeable. They had to get out of the house at ten in order to get Syd back to her hotel in time to change and make it to her meeting. He stepped into the hall and, greeted with silence, went to wake her.
Little White Lie Page 4