Barbara McCauley - Callan's Proposition

“I was not.” Bracelets clacked loudly as Ruby jammed her hands on her well-endowed hips and frowned at her sister. “You were supposed to. I called for the taxi.”

“You’re arguing again, Ruby.” Forever smiling, Emerald faced her sister and waved a finger at her, which also set her own bracelets clacking.

Great, Abigail thought. Just what I need right now—dueling bracelets.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abigail interjected before the discussion could escalate. And knowing her aunts, it most certainly would. Awkwardly she leaned forward and hugged each of them. “It’s…it’s wonderful to see you.”

In spite of the situation, Abigail was surprised that she actually meant it. Her aunts might be eccentric and flamboyant, but she loved them both. They cooed over her, smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek, then glanced at the man whose arms she’d been in less than five minutes ago.

Abigail drew in a deep breath, then said in a rush, “Aunt Emerald, Aunt Ruby, this is Mr. Sinclair.”

Two sets of confused eyes looked back at her. “Mr. Sinclair?”

“My employer.” As delicately as possible she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I believe I told you about him.”

“You call your fiancé Mr. Sinclair?” Ruby asked.

She bit the inside of her lip. Time to face the piper.

She sucked in another deep breath. “He’s not—”

“—Mr. Sinclair to you lovely ladies, of course,” he said smoothly. “It’s Callan.”

Breath held, Abigail watched as he moved beside her and casually slipped an arm around her shoulders. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gave her a pinch. “Sometimes Abby can be such a tease.”

Shocked, Abigail stared up at “Callan.” He’d called her “Abby” and said she was a “tease?” She had to be having a hallucination. Some bizarre aftermath of too much alcohol. But when he squeezed her shoulder, he certainly didn’t feel like a hallucination. He felt strong and solid.

“Abby’s told me so much about you both,” he went on. “I realize how strange this must look, finding us like this, but the truth is, we were up so late last night talking about your visit, we fell asleep right here. Isn’t that right, Abby?”

Well, technically his explanation was correct, Abigail supposed, and looked back at her aunts. They beamed with pleasure.

She smiled weakly at them and shifted from one bare foot to the other. Obviously, part of taking off her clothes had included her shoes. “Well, actually, Aunties, the truth is—”

“The truth is,” Callan said, interrupting again, then paused and leaned toward her aunts as he whispered, “Abby had a little too much to drink last night. She never could hold her alcohol very well, you know.”

Emerald and Ruby glanced at each other and nodded compassionately, then Ruby said, “It’s a recessive gene in her father’s side of the family, I’m afraid. The Bliss side of the family is quite tolerant of the spirits, though we only partake on special occasions, of course, and even then with the utmost discretion.”

Abigail choked back a laugh. Discretion was hardly a word that was used synonymously with the Bliss name, and as far as special occasions, the sun rising and setting every day would most likely be considered special to her aunts. But it certainly was true that they were able to consume endless amounts of liquor without any of the side effects that plagued most people, including herself.

Especially herself, Abigail thought as the memory of the previous night began to emerge all too vividly in her mind.

She’d shown him her breasts, for Heaven’s sake. What he must think of her, exposing herself like that to him. How could she ever face him again?

She couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

But at the moment, however, it seemed as though she had no choice. He still had his arm looped possessively around her shoulder and held her snugly against his broad chest. The heat of his body shimmered through his shirt and radiated through her body all the way down to her bare toes.

“Well?” Ruby’s gaze dropped to her hand, and Emerald leaned forward expectantly. “Let’s see it, dear.”

“See it?” Abby had no idea what her aunts were talking about. “See what?”

“Why, your ring, of course,” Emerald said. “We’ve been so excited ever since we heard the good news.”

“Oh, Aunties, I’m so sorry, but—”

“—we just haven’t found the right one yet,” Callan finished for her. He gave her shoulder a big squeeze. “Something that important has to be perfect, don’t you think?”

Startled, Abby stared up at Callan. What in the world was he talking about?

“Absolutely.” Emerald gave an approving nod. “Mustn’t rush things like that and be sorry for it later.”

Ruby’s expression was thoughtful. “Well, you know, Em, your second marriage with Artemus was rather hasty, may he rest in peace, but you have a lovely two-karat solitaire to remember him by.”

“Not nearly as lovely as that three-karat cluster your third husband gave you,” Emerald replied. “That puppy was the size of a Volkswagen, bless the man’s heart.”

They smiled in fond remembrance, sighed, then quickly turned their attention back to Abby and Callan.

“We’ve love to stay and chat, dear,” Emerald said, and gave her niece a pat on the cheek, “but the taxi is waiting. We’ll call you when we get settled in town.”

“You aren’t staying with me?” Abigail asked incredulously.

“Of course not.” Ruby batted her eyes at Callan. “We wouldn’t dream of imposing.”

Since when? Abigail wondered. Her aunts loved to impose. And the one time she wanted them to, they weren’t? “But—”

“Don’t you worry about us, darling.” Emerald slipped her arm through Ruby’s. “We have rooms at a quaint little place in town. Squire’s Tavern and Inn. The travel agent said that the accommodations and food there are five-star.”

Abigail wasn’t sure about the accommodations or food, but she could personally vouch that the drinks there were at least five-star. She was currently seeing dozens of stars from the drink she’d had there last night.

She groaned silently, remembering that Reese Sinclair owned the inn. It would only be a matter of time before her aunts learned the truth, and Abigail Thomas would be the laughingstock of Bloomfield County. I’ll change my name. Move to a small mountain town. Dye my hair and have plastic surgery.

Gauze flowing, her aunts were halfway to the door when Ruby called over her shoulder, “We insist you both join us at the tavern for lunch. One o’clock sharp, dears. Emmy and I can’t wait to hear all the details of how you two got together.”

“Aunties, wait.” Abigail slipped out from under the arm Mr. Sinclair had draped around her shoulders and started after her aunts, but he caught hold of her hand and held her beside him.

“We’ll be there,” he said cheerfully and waved.

Bracelets clacking, Emerald and Ruby waved back, then exited the room with all the grace and grandeur of royalty.

Abigail closed her eyes, praying this was all a nightmare that she could now awaken from, and her boring little life could go right back to boring. She slowly opened her eyes.

Mr. Sinclair’s face was no more than a foot from hers, and the hint of a smile touched his lips. She sucked in a breath as she stared at that mouth. It was much too close to her own.

“There,” he said casually. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

“Wasn’t so bad?” Moaning, she pulled her hand away from his and sank down on the couch. “I didn’t tell them the truth about us, and now we’re supposed to meet them for lunch? In a public place? That happens to be my definition of bad, Mr. Sinclair. Very bad.”