A Dog and a Diamond (12 page)

On Wednesday, almost a week from the day he'd left Chelsea in the early hours of the morning, it was with all
this
forefront in his mind, that Callum drove into Bend to meet Lachlan for a late lunch. They'd arranged to meet at a café in the Old Mill District, rather than the fancy restaurant Lachlan currently worked at so the owner wouldn't hear them plotting. As he climbed out of his SUV, he looked over and did a double take at the sight of Muffin sitting outside the front of the café, his leash looped around a fire hydrant. At least he thought it was Muffin, but maybe he was hallucinating. He'd certainly been imagining Chelsea all over the place. Twice in the last few days he'd gone out to the tasting floor and mistaken a customer for her.

Trying
not
to think about her was almost as bad as thinking about her.

He strode toward the dog, half hoping he'd see Chelsea inside the café, half hoping he wouldn't.

“Hey, buddy.” He stooped to ruffle the fur on Muffin's head and the dog leaped about like a total lovable lunatic. No doubt about it, there was no welcome so wonderful as that of a dog; maybe he should detour via that shelter on his way home and adopt one. Something big like a German shepherd that would require a ton of exercise—running with it could help burn off the pent-up tension that had set up residence inside him these last few days. A dog would also keep him company on lonely nights and likely be less stress than a woman. This thought led him into the café, but the moment he spotted Chelsea it evaporated. His heart caught in his throat and muscles all over his body locked up at the sight of her sitting at a table with
another
man.

A bell above the door sounded, announcing his arrival and Chelsea looked up. Her mouth opened and color rushed to her cheeks; she held his gaze that fraction too long before blinking and then turning back to her date. That thought sent his blood racing, but then he realized that she could simply be in the middle of one of her professional breakups. Even still, Callum couldn't help the rush of jealousy that hit him like an actual physical blow.

He stood in the doorway like a total idiot, glancing around for his brother, wishing they'd chosen someplace else to meet. They lived in the same damn house for goodness' sake, but Lachlan had a strict rule about not taking his work home. All his free time he spent with Hamish.

Speak of the devil. A hand landed on his back and shoved him forward right into the café. Lachlan spoke far too loudly. “Hey, bro, isn't that your new girlfriend over there? Who's the dude?”

Callum met his brother's gaze, glowered and then hissed, “She's not my girlfriend. Just a...
friend
.” He almost choked on the last word, like it were a fur ball in his throat.

“Sorry. My mistake.” Lachlan didn't sound apologetic in the slightest. “You guys seemed pretty tight at Thanksgiving. Do you want to go talk someplace else?”

While that might be a sensible move, Callum couldn't bring himself to leave. He hadn't expected to see Chelsea today, and now that she was only a few feet away, he couldn't keep his eyes off her. “No, this is fine. Shall we sit?”

Lachlan nodded and the two of them crossed over to a table in the corner. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—his brother sat first, taking the seat with a direct view of Chelsea. Ignoring the disappointment in his gut, he sat down and pulled out his iPad, ready to hit Lachlan with some of his ideas about the restaurant.

Lachlan glanced down at the menu. “Are you hungry? I think I might just grab a coffee.”

“Coffee will be fine,” Callum replied; he didn't have the mental coordination to eat and talk to Lachlan with Chelsea a few yards away, whose presence was a major distraction.

A waitress arrived and Lachlan ordered for them both. Then he looked directly at Callum. “Before you start, I just want you to know I love the idea of opening a proper restaurant at the distillery and I'm 99 percent on board.”

“What's the 1 percent that's holding you back?” Callum asked.

“I want full control.”

Callum raised an eyebrow. “That's it?” He chuckled, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“I mean it,” Lachlan said. “I know you're struggling, trying to get everyone behind some of your ideas, but I have complete faith that you can turn the distillery around. I don't want McKinnels to die a slow death. I believe a restaurant will help immensely, but not if everyone feels they have to put their mark on it. We all need to stick to what we do best.”

Callum nodded. “I completely agree. Just one thing—I don't know how we'll convince him, but I'd like to try to get Mac involved in building the extension. I'm worried about him. It's not good to sit around all day doing nothing. The guy needs purpose in his life.”

“You're just scared he'll drink all the profits if he doesn't snap out of his funk.”

“Damn straight I am,” Callum said, resisting the urge to twist his head to see if Chelsea was still with that guy.

Lachlan smirked. “She's still there. The poor dude looks quite cut up, though. I wonder who he is.”

“She's dumping him,” Callum said, before thinking better of it.

“What?” Lachlan frowned, disgust flashing across his face. “So you're dating a woman already in a relationship?” His ex-wife had betrayed him before she left and he couldn't abide cheaters.

“No. I told you, we're not dating and she's not dumping him because of me. She's dumping him on behalf of someone else.”

“Whoa!” Lachlan leaned back in his seat and held up his hands. “You've lost me.”

Callum inhaled in frustration and quickly filled Lachlan in on Chelsea's bizarre career, so they could get on with what they were supposed to be talking about. As predicted his brother thought this both surprising and hilarious.

“So let me get this straight,” Lachlan said, his voice thankfully low enough that only Callum could hear. “Bailey hired Chelsea to dump you and then you hired her to pretend to be your date?”

“I didn't hire her and it doesn't matter. We're not here to discuss Chelsea.”

“Thank God Mom thinks I'm a lost cause when it comes to relationships, and I don't have to go to the extremes you do,” Lachlan said, shaking his head.

Callum thought about just how far he'd gone with Chelsea the other night. And then he succumbed to the burning need to turn his head to look at her. His chest tightened as she stood, her caramel hair swishing across her back as she offered the poor man a sympathetic hug, patted him on the arm and then started out of the café. She didn't look at Callum and something inside him squeezed. Was she annoyed? Was that how things were going to be between them? He wanted to be a good memory, not one she regretted. Feeling bad about the way he'd left things the other night, he suddenly needed to apologize more than he needed oxygen.

He shoved his chair back and stood, barely even flinching as it scraped against the floor, sounding like nails scraping down a blackboard. “Be right back,” he said to Lachlan, and then he turned to hurry after Chelsea, almost bumping into the waitress as she carried over their drinks.

“Sorry,” he apologized and then hightailed it out of there.

Chelsea was speedy, and by the time he stepped out of the café, she'd unlooped Muffin and was striding down the sidewalk like she couldn't get out of there fast enough. For a brief moment, he thought about letting her go, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, he jogged the few yards to catch up with her, calling her name as he tapped her on the back.

She spun around, the terror in her eyes surprising him. “Callum!”

Did she think he was going to hurt her? He held up his hands. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.”

She bit her lip, glanced from side to side as if checking their surroundings and then finally met his gaze. “You didn't.”

Muffin jumped up at him and although Callum scratched the dog's neck, giving him the attention he craved, his gaze stayed on Chelsea. They stared at each other a few long moments and, finally, she broke the silence.

She nodded back toward the café. “Were you and Lachlan discussing the new restaurant?”

“Yep.” But that's not what he wanted to discuss with her. “Chelsea, I...”

“Yes?” She prompted when he stalled.

Damn she was beautiful. Her cheeks were a rosy red—whether from the cool air or something else he couldn't tell but he'd never felt so tongue-tied in his life. “I just wanted to say I'm sorry about how I left things the other night.”

She raised her eyebrows and reached up to tuck some flyaway hair behind her ear. “Why? We were both perfectly clear on what we were doing. You don't need to feel bad. I had a great day. And night.”

“Well. Great. It's just...” He wasn't a one-night-stand kind of guy. They were only a few feet apart and he knew he couldn't walk away again. “I was wondering if you'd like to get together again sometime?”

Thank God no one but Chelsea could hear him. His brothers would never let him live it down if they heard him fumbling over asking a woman out.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and then she rubbed them together. “You mean, like a date?”

What was the correct answer here? He didn't want to scare her off. “If that's what you'd like or we could just, you know, hang out.”

“Hang out?”
she echoed him as if she'd never heard of the concept before.

His pulse picked up. “Yes. That's if you want, but if you'd rather not.”

“Oh, I want to,” she admitted. The way she looked at him and the tone of her words indicated she understood that when he'd said “hang out” he'd imagined doing so without any clothes on. “I think hanging out is a good plan. When were you thinking?”

“Does right now sound too desperate?”

Her whole face lit up and sparkled as she laughed. “Right now sounds great, but, what about your brother?”

“Who?” For a second Callum forgot there was anyone else in the world except the two of them. “Oh, him. Right. We're pretty much done. He said yes to opening the restaurant, but he's a control freak and wants to do it all himself.”

“That's great. I think.”

“It is.” He nodded. “I have plenty to keep me busy, and I know Lachlan will do a good job.” But he didn't want to talk about Lachlan, the restaurant or the distillery. He didn't want to talk period. “Did you walk? Do you want me to give you a lift back to your place?”

She grinned and looked at him in a way that turned his insides liquid. “What about Lachlan?”

“What about him?” Callum asked as he closed the distance between them and gave in to the compulsion to kiss her.

Chapter Nine

I
t was official. Chelsea needed her head read. So much for one night, so much for not getting involved with Callum McKinnel. Fate be cursed for throwing them into each other's paths again. How the hell could she say no to that delicious face asking if she wanted to hang out with him? How could she keep any kind of clear head when he was kissing her like the world would end if he stopped?

Summoning all the willpower she had, she grabbed on to the single cell of common sense in her body and palmed her hands against his lovely, solid chest. “Someone might see us,” she hissed, trying to summon some kind of care factor when all she could think about was kissing him again. And then some.

Callum pouted as he looked down at her. He was sexy when he smiled, but damn near irresistible when he scowled. “Ah right, your business reputation and all.” His tone said he had little respect for what she did and while perhaps she
should
care about that, she didn't; what he thought of her career didn't matter. All that mattered right now was getting naked with him again, but doing so on the sidewalk would be unwise on a number of levels.

“Yes, my business,” she whispered. “And the fact I don't want either of us to get arrested.”

He chuckled at that, then took Muffin's lead from her hand and grabbed hold of it with his other hand. “I'd say your place or mine, but yours is closer.”

Her hormones wouldn't have let her argue even if she wanted to. Which she didn't. She'd been jumpy and on edge these last few days—feeling someone was watching her—and when Callum had tapped her on the back, she'd almost jumped a mile. She welcomed the chance to take her mind off her paranoia for a couple of hours.

Callum all but dragged her to his parked SUV. As if they'd done this a hundred times before, he opened the passenger door for her and Muffin jumped in first. They laughed as the dog crossed over to the driver's seat and settled in for the ride. Chelsea climbed into the SUV and, as she clicked her seat belt into place, he closed the door and jogged around to his side. She dragged Muffin over to her long enough for Callum to climb into the car, but the moment he sat down, the dog scrambled onto his lap.

Once again, Callum navigated the short distance to her place with Muffin hindering his view. It was the funniest, yet most endearing, sight she'd ever seen.

The nosy old lady from next door was out front in her garden when Callum parked in Chelsea's drive. Knowing what it felt like to be lonely, Chelsea often stopped to chat, but not today. Today she and Callum all but ran to the front door, trying not to trip over Muffin as he wound in and out of their legs, catching their excitement. On her porch, Callum took her key from her hand and unlocked the door—a little voice inside her considered objecting to this controlling action, but it could barely be heard over her screaming hormones. Sometimes scruples weren't worth the effort.

They stepped inside, and Callum had barely kicked the door shut before he spun her round and pressed her up against it. She felt his firm body mold against her as he smashed his mouth over hers. If she'd thought their previous kisses hot, they had nothing on this one. Ravaged,
beautifully ravaged
—these were the words that entered her head as he slipped his hands inside her coat and roved them all over her body. Her head fell back against the door as he slowly, tantalizingly rid her of her clothes until she was standing in her hallway naked and he was still fully clothed.

“You're freaking gorgeous,” he said, his voice low as he looked and touched his fill. Shivers flooded her entire body, yet she was hotter than she'd ever been before.

“I was thinking the same about you,” she whispered back, “but I do think you're slightly overdressed for the occasion.”

“Am I? Sorry.” Callum chuckled and gazed hungrily at her. “What do you suggest we do about that?”

In reply, she reached out and yanked his jacket off him, hurling it onto the pile of her own clothes at their feet. It looked and felt expensive, but she didn't care and he didn't seem to either. Next she stripped him of his shirt and pants, and her breath hitched as she stopped to admire him. Not sure if she'd ever be lucky enough to have him like this again, Chelsea took a moment to admire every chiseled muscle. His hands hung at his side as she reached out and ran her finger over his lips and then down his strong neck over his hard chest and even lower. His muscles tightened beneath her touch and when his erection flared large and proud, she had to bite her lower lip to stop from whimpering. She dropped to her knees, wanting to taste him and wanting to drive him crazy as he had done to her.

Callum groaned as she took him into her mouth and she glanced upward to see him palm his hands against the wall. She smiled around his penis, loving the taste and the feel of it in her mouth. It wasn't long before she felt him twitching inside her and then his hands were in her hair, yanking her back. He wasn't gentle but that only enhanced her arousal.

“Stop,” he growled, “before it's too late.”

“Too late for what?” she asked, looking up at him and smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Knowing what she could do to him was like a heady drug and she didn't
want
to give it up.

“This,” he said, hauling her up and into his arms. He kissed her hard on the mouth as he lifted her up and dragged her legs around his waist. He slammed inside her and she cried out in surprised pleasure, loving the feel as he filled her completely. He was strong and had stamina and he took care of her, refusing to let go himself until she was a writhing, needy mess. And then he took it home, thrusting hard one final time and taking them both over the edge.

She clung to him, their skin hot and sweaty despite the temperature outside, as her heart rate slowly returned to normal. Or as close to normal as it could be with a naked Callum still in close proximity.

“Jeepers,” he muttered after a few long minutes.

Chelsea laughed. “That's one word for it.”

“Sorry,” he said, “I got a little carried away. Next time I'll try to make it to your bedroom.”

Sorry? Carried away?
She had no complaints whatsoever. But,
next time
?

“Is that too presumptuous of me?” he asked as if he could read her mind.

She swallowed, unable to think straight with him still inside her. “Shall we take this conversation to the kitchen? Do you want a drink or something?”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He gently eased her down his body and she thought again how strong he was to have been able to hold her like that for so long.

“Do you, uh...need to use the bathroom or anything?” She nodded toward his groin.

He grinned. “Do you? We could save water.”

And man, it sounded like a line but she fell for it anyway.

Much later, once they were both dry, dressed and sitting on the bar stools at her kitchen counter sipping hot chocolate, she broached the issue of next time. “Did you mean it about seeing each other again?”

His lovely long fingers wrapped around her favorite mug—with a cocker spaniel that was almost Muffin's doppelganger painted on the front—he looked right into her eyes again. “Yes. I don't know what it is about you, Chelsea, but I've spent the last week trying not to think about you so I could focus on my work. Problem is, trying not to think about you is almost as distracting as thinking about you.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she pursed her lips together to stop the ridiculous smile that threatened to burst onto her face. It might not have been your standard sweet nothing—he'd almost made her sound an inconvenience—but no one else had ever said something that made her glow so much inside. She should run a mile in the opposite direction.

“So yes,” he said, “I meant it about seeing you again. I'd like that very much. What do you say?”

Lord, it was tempting. But was it worth the risk? To her or his heart she wasn't sure, all she knew was that she didn't do relationships.

He raised his eyebrows as he gazed down at her. “It's not algebra, sweetheart. I'm simply asking if you want to hang out with me on a more regular basis?”

“Like a relationship?”

He nodded. “If you're asking if I'll be monogamous then a 100 percent yes, but I'll admit, I'm not looking to rush into marriage or anything.”

“Well, good,” she said, “because I'm warning you now, I'm not great with commitment. You should know that I'll probably get sick of the sight of you within a couple of months.”

He laughed as if he found this notion hugely amusing. “Then, let's agree to take things one day at a time. What do you say?”

Oh shoot, what am I getting myself in for?
“I guess I say, yes, but what about your family? What about my business? Do you think—”

Callum put his index finger against her mouth to silence her. “I think you're overthinking this. Let's just have fun together, okay?”

She sighed. “Okay.” And then he smiled and kissed her again and she forgot why this wasn't such a good idea after all.

When they finally came up for air again, Callum gestured to the half-finished jigsaw puzzle on her small kitchen table. “You like puzzles?”

She remembered how she'd had one on the go the day her house was broken into and how he'd picked up the scattered pieces and put them back into the box.

“Yes. My granddad always had one on the go and I used to help him. It was our thing.” She smiled nostalgically. “Stupid but it kinda makes me feel close to him even though he's gone.” And it gave her something to do on long lonely nights when she thought she'd go insane if she had to watch any more crap television.

“That's not stupid,” he said, pushing back his stool, then standing and walking the few steps to the table. He glanced down at the puzzle, then looked back over to her. “May I?”

“Please, go ahead.”

Callum bent over the table and his brow furrowed as he studied the pieces. “Got one,” he shrieked after a few moments.

Chelsea couldn't help but smile at his joyful expression.

She slid off her own stool and went over to join him, immediately finding a piece she'd been looking for. She pushed it in between four other pieces. “Bingo.”

Callum grinned at her. “I reckon this could be addictive.”

“It is. Trust me.”

For a few minutes they sat in comfortable silence, shuffling through the puzzle pieces, congratulating each other and sharing the joy when one of them found a bit they could place. Finally, the dog she'd been working on for days started to take shape.

“This dog is a dead ringer for Muffin,” he said.

She nodded. “I know. I couldn't resist it when I saw it. Just as I couldn't resist him.”

“I'll bet he was cute as a pup.”

“I wouldn't know; I got him from a shelter when he was a few years old, but I'm sure he was adorable. The hardest part was leaving all the other homeless animals behind.”

“That was a charitable thing to do. Most people can't resist getting a puppy.”

“Most people don't know what it's like to be passed from pillar to post all their lives. I do. I never want to feel like that again.”

She didn't know why she was telling him this—it had taken her years to open up to Rosie and she'd never confessed her feelings to anyone else. “Anyway, I wanted to give a dog who really needed me a home.”

Callum didn't say anything, but he reached out, took her hand and squeezed it. The simple gesture had tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them back, not wanting to cry like a big baby in front of him. After a few moments, he let go of her hand and looked at his watch. “I guess I'd better be heading back to the distillery.”

He sounded as reluctant to go as she was to let him but she simply nodded, not wanting to appear needy in any way whatsoever.

As he pushed the stool back and stood, the phone on the wall began to ring and Chelsea's heart leaped up into her throat at the thought it might be her frequent caller. She scrambled across the kitchen, yanking the cord out of the wall before her answering machine had the chance to request a message.

Callum raised an eyebrow and she summoned a carefree smile to her face. He was the kind of guy who would freak out if he heard her heavy breather, and she didn't want him to worry about her. The police didn't seem overly concerned, so why should she bother him with it.

“I've been getting all these sales calls lately. I'm over it,” she said, and then to distract him she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

“Jeez,” he said, running a hand over his beard when she pulled back, “if you kiss me again like that, I'm not going to be able to leave.”

She shrugged apologetically. “And the problem with that is...?”

He shook his head and smiled. “
Vixen.
I really have to go before Sophie sends out a search party, but I won't be staying away for long. And that's a promise. Are you free tomorrow night?”

She was of course—her social calendar was as bare as a newborn's bottom—but she didn't tell him that. “How about Friday night?”

He nodded. “Okay. I'll pick you up, we can go out for dinner or something.”

The speed at which this was going made her head spin. She felt the need to call a few shots. “How about I come to you this time? We can order pizza. I still feel like it's a bit early to be seen out in public with you. I know Bailey was the one to end your engagement, but...well, I don't feel like we should rub this in her face.”

“Fair point. Scrap the pizza. I'll cook for you.”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “I thought Lachlan was the chef in your family?”

“I'll concede he's not bad, but wait till you see me in an apron!”

“Now that is something I can't wait for,” Chelsea said as she and Muffin escorted Callum to the front door. There she kissed him goodbye, the both of them pulling back just as things threatened to get out of control again. She couldn't help grinning as she stood on the porch waving him off.